Mira recovers and catches my fist as I lash out again. “I take it you were viewing an important memory when the program kicked in?”
“Yes. Very important.” My throat feels raw, my spirit ripped to shreds. I sink down onto the sofa.
Mira caresses my cheek with the backs of her fingers. “There, there. All is not lost.” She throws the pillow at Eli, and he deflects it in the air long before it can hit him. “It is time you try materialization out for yourself.”
She glides off the sofa and extends her hand out to me, as if to help me up. When I refuse it, she simply chuckles, wiggles her nose, and makes the sofa disappear right out from under me. I crash to the floor, where the thick rug dulls my landing somewhat.
“It may seem like magic to you”—Mira winks—“but here in the afterlife you have the power to change the code of your surroundings with only your mind.”
“Yeah, yeah . . . old news, Mira. But apparently I’m still too weak.”
Mira gives me a tight, preachy smile. “I suggest you practice, then. You can start by trying to repair your memory.” She forms an O with her lips, puts her hand under her chin, and blows. A cloud of gold dust sparkles and shimmers as it drifts slowly downward, forming a mirage of the sofa, which then solidifies. She sits down with a flourish. “If you want it badly enough . . .”
I give the three of them the most scathing look I can muster, then enter my chamber to try to find a way to repair my precious Neil memory. I can’t lose it permanently. It will feel too much like I’m losing a part of Neil, too—and an important part of myself. Even though I know my memories are a pale substitute for actually being with Neil, they fuel my dream of seeing him again. They give me the strength to go on. And strength is what I need if I’m ever going to be able to save Neil and my friends.
The hologram screen flickers when I pull up memory number 32105, taunting me. I concentrate on my desire to purge it of Eli’s imprinting. As I am swept into the memory, heat rushes through me. I’m there in that forest that day, but I’m also somehow not. I experience the highs and lows of my roller-coaster meeting with Neil in a sort of split-screen reality. I feel the warmth of his skin, the nearness of his breath—but at the same time, it’s as if I am also outside my body, observing the proceedings from another dimension. When I touch Neil’s lips and close my eyes, I’m blasted with the squeal of tires and shards of glass. I surface in my chamber, gasping for breath, horrified to see that I’m covered in tiny cuts. It’s the pain of one thousand cat scratches, and it’s all I can do not to roll myself into the fetal position and surrender.
I wince as my sliced-up fingertips graze the control grooves, but I press on anyway. And I’m once again back in that glorious spring day, breathing the fresh air and anticipating Neil. As I relive the memory, I fight to keep myself as detached as possible from physical Felicia, though I long to feel the full weight of Neil’s hand in mine. My success will depend on my absolute control of the situation. But when I see the naked look in his eyes, my resolve melts away and I fail for a second time.
It’s like that a third, a fourth, a tenth time. Each time I emerge with more cuts, more pain.
As I go in for the eleventh time, I am exhausted. My concentration is shot, and self-doubt nips at me from all sides. The sights and sounds of my memory barely register anymore, as if I am no longer viewing the original but a copy many times removed. I feel myself floating above it all, a neutral observer of a scene where I have no stake in the outcome.
The moment of truth arrives. I observe how physical Felicia reaches up and touches Neil’s lower lip lightly with her finger, and how she closes her eyes. I brace myself for the impact of sharp flying glass, but it doesn’t come.
In an instant I’m snapped back into my body.
The heady fragrance of pine swirls around me, and my heart hammers in my chest. Neil removes my finger from his bottom lip. “Felicia . . . ,” he says, his voice raw, and I stop him from asking my permission the only way I can, by kissing him first. And then the buzz of connection between Neil and me explodes into a fierce passion of exploring lips and hands.
An owl hoots, loudly enough that I startle. My eyes fly open, and for a second I’m disoriented by the heavy darkness. I’d be set adrift if it weren’t for the anchor of Neil’s hand on the small of my back and his arm around my neck. I am not afraid.
“Did you hear that?” Neil whispers into my ear. It tickles, and my shoulder bucks involuntarily, knocking against his chin.
“The owl?”
“No . . .” His body goes rigid, as if he’s straining to hear something. “They’re singing. They started the campfire songs without me,” he says with genuine surprise. Of course. As the worship leader, Neil would be the one they would wait for to get started. We must have been away a long time for them to give up on him.
Sudden insecurity claws at my stomach. “Oh. Well. We better get back, then. It’s your reputation on the line.”
“Do you think that’s the only thing I care about?” he asks, a sharp edge creeping into his voice. “Because it’s not. I care about you. Even if you asked me to stay here all night long with you, I would do it.”
As soon as he says it, I feel it in my bones that it’s true. For some unfathomable reason, Neil believes I’m worth fighting for, worth giving up his high standing for. But still, I don’t want it for him. I know I could be selfish, like I have been every day of my life up to this point, and stay here wrapped in his arms, forgetting everything but this buoyant feeling of finally finding a place where I belong.
“We have more than tonight,” I say, reaching into his pocket for his flashlight. I slide the switch, and a beam of light comes between us. “I think we should go back.”
When I look up, I can see the conflicting emotions flitting across his face. “It’s okay,” I assure him. “Really. I feel like singing, you know?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You got it.” He takes the flashlight from me and then laces his fingers through mine. We walk slowly, and not only because it’s difficult to find our footing in the dark.
When we reach the edge of the forest, the roaring campfire jolts me back to reality. The youth group is arranged in a semicircle around it, in small groups of two and three, blankets thrown over their shoulders to ward off the chill. Pastor Joe is playing the guitar, and everyone’s singing one of those happy, cheesy camp songs that make you laugh so much, you screw up the words.
We find an empty bench at the edge of the crowd and sit down, so close that our legs and shoulders touch. Neil drapes a blanket around our shoulders, and it’s only then that I dare to look up and see the reactions of the others. Savannah flips me a thumbs-up when she notices me, and I duck my head to hide my smile.
Even though Andy looks a bit pissed off, no one stands up and demands that I return their golden boy to them. I shift to lay my head on Neil’s shoulder and wrap my arms around his waist, feeling how his body trembles as he sings. The sound of it washes over me, and I close my eyes, content.
The singing stops abruptly. I’m back in my chamber. I roll onto my side and support my head on my arm as I think about what I’ve accomplished. I’ve managed to repair a memory with my mind. And that’s when I realize that all my cuts are healed, and I feel . . . strong. Powerful, even.
I emerge from the chamber with a renewed sense of purpose and survey the hive. Eli’s not at his bank of computers. He’s not here at all. Mira and Julian are seated in front of a chessboard, already deep into a game, moving the pieces with their minds. I sit on the stair and watch them.
Julian makes a move, and Mira squeals. “Oh, no, no! You will not take my queen!”
Why are they sitting around playing games? I run my hands down my starchy white shift and suddenly wonder why I am still wearing it. I close my eyes and form a mental picture of one of my most comfortable outfits back on Earth. My favorite pair of boot cut jeans, an emerald-green silk blouse with a frilly collar, a gray cashmere V-neck sweater, and m
y worn-in brown leather boots. I also imagine my long hair pulled back in a smooth ponytail with a green velvet-covered hair band. It’s exactly what I looked like on my first “date” with Neil.
When I feel the supple fabrics of my Earth clothes, I open my eyes and am overcome with the desire to see my reflection. My compact mirror appears in my hand. I peer at myself. Okay, a much paler version of myself. One with impossibly red lips and dark hair. One that looks like Snow White.
I set the compact down beside me and smile. It feels amazing to have these pieces of home, these pieces of myself I thought lost forever. I am overcome with the urge to dance, so powerful that I don’t even care with whom. I sway to an imaginary beat in my head and spin around in circles across the hive until I fall into Julian’s lap, laughing.
When I look up at his face, I stiffen. His lips are parted and his stare greedy. He runs his hand over my forehead, my scalp, and then smoothly yanks my hair band out, setting my hair free to fall around my shoulders.
I leap out of his lap. “Wanna dance?” I ask, pulling him to his feet.
Where our hands meet there is a low hum of electricity, nowhere near the levels of intoxication I felt for him before. Am I conquering my addiction to him at last?
By the confusion I see in his expression, I can tell he senses something has changed between us. My hate for him has diminished, but so has the desire. I give him a sad smile and squeeze his hands gently before letting them go. “Never mind. Don’t want to interrupt your game.”
“Are you forfeiting, Julian?” Mira asks with a nasty little smirk. “So unlike you.”
As he sits back down, he glances at me. “No,” he says forcefully, turning his focus back to the board. “I am in it to win it.”
They continue to play, and I decide to do my nails. I could probably employ the Mira method and imagine them already done. But the painstaking process that goes into making your nails shine—the soaking, shaping, buffing, coloring, topcoat applying—I’ve always found it cathartic. And the result makes me feel finished, ready to face anything.
I drag the coffee table closer and move my hands in a circular motion above it, willing all of my nail-care supplies to appear. When they do, I busy myself with the attainment of the perfect polish, scrunching up my nose at the strong chemical odor. It’s strangely satisfying, though, to finally smell something, after what seems like centuries of thinking I’d lost that sense for good.
Oddly enough, when I finish and look up after admiring my pearly pink nails, the hive is empty. Was I that engrossed in my work that I didn’t even hear Julian and Mira leave?
Excited to finally be alone, I decide to see this as a sign that now is the time to rescue Virginia. I owe it to her to at least try. And when I find Neil, I want him to be proud of the person I’ve become, a friend to rely on. Before I can change my mind, I knock out the code and slip out into the corridor.
All clear outside as well. Where could they be? I break out running, this time in the direction Julian pointed me in. Once I pick up Virginia, will I be able to find my way back here? Do I even want to? Or can I maybe make it on my own now?
My boots are too clunky to run in. I pause long enough to morph them into a pair of gray running shoes to match my sweater. Thinking I hear the low buzz of the scanner drones, I leap to the nearest alcove between hives and crash straight into Julian.
He laughs. “You should have seen the look on your face when I made that buzzing sound,” he says. He mimics how freaked out I must have appeared.
“Ugh. Not funny, Julian.” I punch him in the arm. “What are you doing out here?”
“I had a hunch you might make a break for it when you saw you were alone.”
“Where’d Mira go?”
A shadow crosses over his face. “Eli got news that a hive collapsed in another quadrant, and they went to check it out.”
“Did they cause it? Have they hurt more people?” I hate that Eli’s tactics are so brutal.
“Hey, the hive collapsed on its own. We had nothing to do with it.” He grabs my wrist. “I told you being out here alone isn’t a good idea. Where are you going?”
I wriggle away from him and start walking. Though I’m not entirely convinced they had nothing to do with the hive collapse, it’s not my main concern right now. “I’m going to get Virginia. I’ll come back.” The last part might be a lie. I’m not sure yet.
“You’re nothing if not persistent.” He falls into step beside me. “You’ll need my help. Virginia will be weak. She’s safer in her hive than running around out here with only you to protect her. Especially when you can’t even protect yourself.”
I hate that Julian is right again. I do need him. Despite being strong enough to materialize hair, clothes, and nail supplies, I doubt I’d be able to defend myself against a scanner drone—or something worse, because I don’t know all the rules here. And of course I still hold out hope that he’ll lead me to Neil eventually, so it pays to stay on his good side as long as I can stand to. “But won’t you be going against Eli’s wishes if you help me?”
He bristles. “Eli’s not in charge of everything. And this is important to you.”
It’s great he finally understands that. “Fine. Come with.”
Julian leads me through the maze of turns back to my old hive. There are no signs of imminent collapse in these sectors, though when I look closely, I detect hairline cracks in the infrastructure, cracks that etch out random patterns like glaze on a ceramic mug.
I practice homing in on Virginia’s brain waves while at the same time protecting my explorations. In my attempt to do both, I effectively end up canceling my own weak signal. This is obviously going to take more training. Coming without Julian would have been a massive mistake.
At least my mental conditioning is vastly improved since Julian first broke me out, allowing us to make much better time than before. In fact, when Julian tells me we’ve arrived, without a single pit stop to plug in, at first I don’t believe him. It’s not until we step inside and I recognize the supine shapes of my fellow drones that I allow myself to get excited.
I bound up the stairs to Virginia’s chamber and gaze at her. Even in her resting position her half smirk shines through. I glance down at Julian and see him inspecting the jagged edges of my former chamber.
“It took a real hit,” he calls, his voice booming through the hive.
Virginia stirs, twitches her nose, like she senses something is amiss. She opens her eyes, and I put my finger to my lips. “Shhh . . . ,” I say, trying to mimic the honey tones of Mira’s most soothing voice. “It’s me. I’m back.”
She scoots away from me, her eyes bulging. “Who the hell are you?”
CHAPTER 13
I FEARED AS MUCH. The Morati’s doping gas has made Virginia forget me, like it made her forget Beckah. “I’m your friend. Felicia.” I enunciate every word and will her to remember our bond.
But my attempt only seems to annoy her. “How’d you get in here? Why do you have hair?”
“I’m here to rescue you.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize it’s the wrong tactic to use with her. She stares me down. “Look, I don’t know you. And I don’t need to be rescued.”
“Want to hear something random?” I lean over as if about to share a hot piece of gossip, and I know Virginia can’t resist gossip.
She nods.
I lower my voice to a whisper. “There’s a boy in the hive. He has hair too, and he’s incredibly easy on the eyes.”
“Seriously?” She shifts position so she can peek down, and her eyes lock with Julian’s. She smiles in appreciation. “Wow, he is hot.”
Virginia’s complete one-eighty makes me giggle, and as she lifts herself out of her chamber, Julian laughs too. Virginia practically skips down the steps, and I follow her, hopeful I can convince her to come with us and preempt any plans Eli might have for overloading her brain. Even if she doesn’t remember me, she’s still my friend. A
nd I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.
She stops in front of Julian and reaches out to touch his face, as if to make sure he’s real and not some figment of her imagination.
He flinches slightly when her hand makes contact with his skin. “I’m Julian,” he says, encircling her wrist and giving her a dazzling smile. He pulls her hand away gently and then readjusts his grasp so he can shake it in greeting.
“Don’t know what y’all are doing here, but it’s fine by me. Certainly breaks up the monotony.” She surveys the hive. “Where’re you going to plug in?”
“We’re not staying,” Julian says. “This is a prison, and it’s time you escaped. Let me show you something.”
Julian leads Virginia over to the flat expanse of wall and taps in the code, triggering the door. “Take a look.”
“Whoa!” Virginia peeks out cautiously and turns her head right, then left. Shuddering, she backs up and presses herself against the nearest chamber. “I think I’d rather stay locked up.”
I groan. Why does she have to be so difficult? I don’t want to have to force her to come. “If you join us, we can show you how to get your hair back.”
She shakes her head back and forth. “No way. I don’t want my hair that badly.”
Julian gives me a What now look as the door shuts seamlessly. I tap the side of my forehead in an I’m thinking about it gesture, and he nods.
“Why don’t you sit with me, and I’ll answer any questions you might have.” He takes up his cross-legged, straight-backed yoga pose in the middle of the floor, and Virginia plops down in front of him eagerly. She really must be boy crazy.
“Can I check out your chamber for a minute?” I ask.
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