Lucky me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
At the start of open rec, I find Charlie over by the pool table. The butterflies taking flight in my stomach are both troublesome and elating. It’s like I’ve been transported back to the sixth grade, to the first middle school homecoming when Aaron Breckman asked me to dance. Slow dance. It was right before he got sick, and I haven’t had that same feeling since.
“Hey,” I say, sliding up next to Charlie.
“Hey, yourself.” Our arms brush together and he smiles.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
He waves his hand. “Yeah, but he’s always late. Besides, it’s just pool.”
“Do you have a minute to talk?”
“For you? Of course.” He looks around the game lounge, which we have to ourselves. “And there’s no one here but us chickens.”
I can’t help but smile. “What?”
“Just something my grandpa used to say.” He drops onto a couch that’s directly behind the pool table. He pats the cushion just like he did at Morning Meditation. “What’s up?”
Rather than join him, I step back and sit on the edge of the table to stall a moment longer while I muster the courage to have the conversation I’m dreading. “It’s just … I only met you yesterday, Charlie, but … ”
“Hannah, right?” he asks, his voice soft.
I nod, unable to meet his gaze. “Maybe we should—”
Herc appears, walking out from the library, his face alight with scorn. His eyes narrow as he looks from Charlie to me and back to Charlie. “What’s she doing here?” he demands.
“The same thing everyone else is, jackass.” I say. “Hanging out, being dead. The usual.”
Waves of disdain flow off of him like flames. “Was I talking to you?”
“We’re just talking,” Charlie says. “What’s the matter with you?"
“Just talking, huh?” He looks at me with disgust. “The hell you think you’re doing sitting on my table?” He spits out the words like a cobra expelling its venom. I can almost hear his hiss.
“Apparently Crosby didn’t knock enough sense into you this morning,” I say.
Herc steps closer. “And apparently getting T-boned by a semi yesterday didn’t knock enough sense into you.”
I jump down from the pool table. “What did you say?” I demand. “How—”
“Knock it off, Herc,” Charlie interrupts. “Just stop it. You’re better than this.” The silent exchange unfolding between them is impossible to read, and the sympathetic look in Charlie’s eyes leaves me baffled.
My anger ratchets up. “Better than this? I seriously doubt it.” I stare daggers at Herc.
Charlie tries to intervene. “Both of you, stop. Herc, you’re out of line. Just go cool off. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You’d be wise to listen to your roommate.” My mood is morphing into dangerous fury, hovering near the boiling point.
Herc sticks his finger right in my face. “The only good bitch is a dead bitch. Except when she’s the nosy new bitch on my floor.”
My hand flies without restraint, slapping him hard across the cheek. His face snaps to the side as it absorbs the impact. I keep my hand up, ready to strike again. “Say it again. I dare you.”
His eyes smolder with rage. “That was your freebie. Put your hands on me again and it’s a different story.”
“Herc, that’s enough!” Charlie grabs his shoulder and tries to turn him away from us. “Just walk away. We’ll talk later.”
Herc gives Charlie a hard stare, but he finally stalks off toward the elevators.
I direct my rage at Charlie. “Really? You stick up for him? What he said—that’s okay with you?”
“Come on, Dez. You know me better than that.” His voice is soft, the hurt clear. He reaches for my hand, but I snatch it away.
“Do I? I thought I did, but we just met yesterday, so what do I really know?”
The pain reflecting in his eyes is turning into anger. “That’s not fair.”
“You want to talk fair? So I should just sit back and let him call me ugly, hateful things? Like it’s nothing?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. He shouldn’t have said that, but once you hear what he’s been through, you’ll understand.”
“Oh, poor little Herc.” I shake my head, completely taken aback by how wrong I’ve been about Charlie. “What a load of crap.” I look away, disgusted. “I have to go. Have fun with your game of pool.” My voice shakes. I will not let myself cry in front of him, but I know the tears are coming. “You can tell Hannah she doesn’t have to worry anymore.” I spin to walk away.
And crash into Franklin.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The silence is oppressive, radiating outward from the enormous desk where Franklin sits in his even more enormous and fancy suite. Franklin’s attention, for the moment, is focused on an open copy of the conduct manual.
Hannah has been summoned to the meeting as well. She sits between Charlie and me, providing an awkward buffer.
Not daring to speak, I focus instead on my new surroundings. Exotic wall hangings from what I assume to be far-flung corners of the world, or otherworld, decorate the space. The entire wall behind Franklin’s desk is a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, boasting an impressive collection and not one spare inch of space.
Charlie leans forward to look around Hannah. “Dez, I know you’re upset—”
“Don’t bother, Charlie.”
Franklin points an index finger at us, not bothering to look up from the manual. “Not a word. Not one single word until after those you use to explain what in the hell happened.”
“Ask Herc,” I say.
Hannah looks at me, horrified. A clear message of Have you lost your mind? is transmitted through her eyes.
My words are enough to pull Franklin from his reading. “Someone has been dispatched to locate him. Right now, I’m asking you.”
“Fine,” I say, steeling myself. “But first, I want to know how Herc knows how I died.”
“What?” Franklin seems genuinely baffled.
“In the middle of all the crap he was saying to me, he said something about it.” My throat burns. I swallow back a wave of nausea. “Did you tell him?”
“I haven’t shared the details of your death with anyone. But I promise I’ll look into it.” He jots a quick note on a file folder. “Now, why don’t you tell me what exactly happened out there?”
The words tumble out as I explain the confrontation with Herc, leaving out any mention of the interrupted conversation that started it all. I finish with an angry glare directed at Charlie.
He leans forward and gives me a pleading look.
“Leave me alone,” I mouth back at him.
Hannah stands. “Move over,” she orders me, pointing to her chair.
“I don’t think so, Hannah.”
“Move it. I’m not sitting between you two. Especially when I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
“We’ll get to that,” Franklin says, “but first I want everyone to sit down and calm down.”
“That’s fine,” Hannah says. She points again to her empty chair. “Move over, Dez.”
“Forget it,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Enough!” Franklin barks.
Charlie, Hannah, and I jump as one, startled by his anger.
“Dez, move.” Franklin points to the empty chair. “Hannah, sit. Everyone, quiet.”
Hannah and I quietly shift spots.
Franklin rubs his face and exhales a long, frustrated breath. “I’m going to tell you some things. When spoken to, I want you to answer only what I ask, and nothing more. Am I clear?”
The three of us nod.
“Good. Let’s start with why I’ve asked Hannah to join us.” With a pen, he puts an “X” next to a passage in the conduct manual. He heaves the tome across the desk, and it lands with a thud. “Read it. All three of you.”
The teenage soul
is more prone to emotional attachment and feelings of romantic love than its adult counterpart. It is natural to develop strong feelings for those who share your journey at Atman. However, it is crucial that all residents avoid amorous entanglements as such relationships can hinder progress, interfere with focus, delay ascension through levels, and, in some cases, prevent moving on. A healthy kinship is beneficial to the therapeutic process, but feelings and relationships beyond the confines of a supportive friendship should be avoided at all costs.
“You’re a level nine, Hannah,” Franklin says. “We expect more of you.” She opens her mouth to object, but he waves her off. “You know full well how it goes. We have eyes everywhere, and this is your official warning. You should be adopting a leadership role on this floor, not falling prey to petty romantic jealousies.”
Her cheeks turn red. “I won’t let it happen again.”
“Good.” Franklin straightens a stack of papers on his desk. “Charlie, I know you were sticking up for your roommate. Given his background, it was reasonable, but you have to understand where Dez is coming from.”
“I’m really sorry.” Charlie hangs his head. The sorrow on his face puts a small crack in my granite wall of anger.
“As to the matter of Herc’s behavior,” Franklin says, “I will make it crystal clear that it is not to be repeated. You shouldn’t have any more trouble with him, Dez.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“But I expect no antagonism from you, understood? You and Herc will work out your differences.” He looks up at the clock on the wall, then back at us. “You three have a little over an hour left in open rec. I am giving you permission to go to the park, the cafeteria—wherever you need to go to work out your differences. I want whatever this is between you three settled by Sharing Circle. Do I make myself clear?”
We all nod, silent.
Hannah leads the way back to the lounge, where, per her suggestion, we agree it will be best to meet up in twenty minutes in the cafeteria on the first floor of our tower. The cooling-off period will do us all some good, she says.
I flop onto a couch facing a window with a view of the beautiful, forbidden Atman City. I close my eyes and lean back, my thoughts drifting to the phone call that ended it all. I’m stuck here because my phone rang and I chose that moment to make the dumbest—and last—decision of my life. I guess an acceptance letter from an Ivy League school doesn’t mean you aren’t an idiot.
My future was in biomedical engineering. Not this.
I was going to cure Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, maybe even cancer.
Serves me right for getting cocky and thinking I had a bright future, when I had none at all.
The sound of Bobby’s approaching footsteps gets my attention. “Would it be too forward of me to join you?” he asks.
“Of course not. Have a seat.” I pick at a loose thread on the couch.
“I’ve just been informed you were subjected to a most unpleasant exchange with one of the more challenging members of our floor.” He shakes his head in dismay. “Quite distasteful.”
“That seems to be Herc’s style.”
“I have an observation of life and the universe I find germane to the conversation.”
“Well, let’s hear it.”
“In the interest of full disclosure, I must clarify. It is an observation, not my observation.”
“Duly noted, Bobby,” I reassure him.
“I find the topic of intolerance and hostility toward our fellow man—or woman, as the case may be—to be endlessly fascinating, if only for one important reason. Upon witnessing the events involving you and young Heracles—”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “His name is Heracles?”
Bobby chuckles. “No, no. His name is Hercules, but I quite enjoy referring to him in the original Greek form, as it seems to cause great irritation on his part. I succumb to childish urges on occasion, you see. If I am in the right mood, I’ll call him ‘Son of Zeus.’”
“Does he even get the Zeus reference?”
“No.”
Funny guy, that Bobby. “So, what were you going to tell me?”
“Yes, to the original point. The fascination I have with those who promote hatred and intolerance is they fail to understand a universal truth. The famed cosmologist Allan Sandage beautifully said, ‘Every one of our chemical elements was once inside a star. The same star. You and I are brothers. We came from the same supernova.’ This is, in fact, quite true, despite Sandage’s dalliances in the decidedly unscientific realm of religion.”
He gives me time to let the words sink in, then stands and makes an abrupt departure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hannah is waiting for me at the cafeteria’s entrance.
“Any trouble finding the place?” she asks.
“Directions aren’t my strong suit, but it’s not too hard to find a gigantic cafeteria.” I look past her, searching for Charlie in the enormous space. “Are we the first ones here?”
A guilty look spreads across her face. “Charlie and I lied. We came right down here after we left Franklin’s. We figured it’d be best if we hashed out our differences first.”
“Fine by me. I’m pretty much over him, anyway.”
“Just give him a chance, Dez. He deserves it.”
“We’ll see.”
“Before we go in there, I owe you an apology. You’re brand new here, and you’re my roommate. I’m supposed to be helping make things easier for you. Franklin’s right. I haven’t been acting like a level nine, and I promise I will be better from now on. Okay?” She steps closer and squeezes my shoulder.
I shrug. “I haven’t exactly made things easy for you, either.”
“You want to start over?”
“I’d like that.”
“Well, then, let’s go.” She leads me to a table where Charlie is waiting.
“Hey, Dez.” His voice is soft, fatigued.
Hannah sits down and gives him a reassuring pat on the back. He slides an arm around her waist.
An unexpected lash of jealousy hits me.
“Before you say anything,” Hannah says, “Charlie and I think it would be best if we told you about Herc.”
“I don’t care about Herc,” I say.
“If you know what happened to him, you might understand why Charlie stood up for him.”
Charlie stares down at his fidgeting hands. “Nobody is saying how he acted is okay.”
“Then why did you stick up for him?” I demand.
“Just hear us out, okay?” Hannah says.
“Fine.” I try to slow my furious, racing thoughts.
“Herc’s life was a nightmare,” Charlie begins. “His dad, Alonzo, was a cop with the Chicago Police Department. He had a nasty reputation—police brutality, beating up suspects, taking bribes. Just an all-around scumbag. He beat up Herc’s mom, even when she was pregnant, but she never reported him. Her husband was a cop, so who would believe her?”
As much as I loathe Herc, hearing all the gory details of his life makes me squirm in my chair.
“Herc got the same beatings as his mom did. A neighbor reported Alonzo, but nobody ever did anything about it. The worst of all of it is that’s how Herc died. … ”
“His dad killed him?”
Hannah picks up the story where Charlie left off. “One night, when Alonzo was drunk, he went after Herc with his police flashlight. He fractured Herc’s skull, broke his ribs, and broke his arm, too, I think. The skull fracture caused a brain bleed. Herc was on life support for a week before he was declared brain dead. His mom never left his bedside, even with her own arm in a sling, broken by the same flashlight when she tried to defend her son.”
“And there’s more,” Charlie says.
I wince.
“The cops had no choice. They couldn’t look the other way. When they got to his house and were walking up the sidewalk to serve the arrest warrant, they heard the gunshot. Alonzo killed himself to avoid jail.”
“How could you?” Hannah asks.
“Still, wow. That’s awful.”
“How he acts isn’t okay,” Charlie says. “But I have to at least try to help him get better.”
“I get it,” I say, deferring to the awful that was Herc’s life.
“I won’t let him talk to you like that. Not again,” Charlie promises.
“I can stick up for myself.”
Hurt flashes in his eyes.
“But thanks,” I add. “So, how do you know all this about Herc, anyway?”
“After your thirty-day eval,” Hannah says, “you go through a group session where all the gory details of your death are put out there for everyone to hear. It’s supposed to be cathartic.”
My stomach ties in knots. “Great.”
“It’s hard,” Hannah says. “But the thing is, you really do feel better after. And it’s not just a one-way thing. Everybody on ninety-five will share their stories with you, too.”
An uneasy truce hangs over us. No one seems ready to be the next to speak, so I grab the bull by the horns. “Okay, you two,” I say, diving into the reboot of our relationship. “What’s Bobby’s deal?”
Charlie and Hannah look at each other, hitching their shoulders at the same time.
“You want to handle this one?” Hannah asks him.
Charlie checks the clock on the wall. “Less than half an hour. Is that enough time? Bobby’s hard to explain.”
“Why don’t you start with his bracelet?” I offer.
Charlie smiles, the last of the awkward tension seeming to melt away. “He’s managed to hack the thing.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“No idea,” he says. “But apparently he’s done it so many times the SGA staff has given up.”
I struggle to find a thread of logic. “How do you hack something that … ”
Life, A.D. Page 10
