by Melissa West
A bell rings through the hall, signaling the ten-second warning to get to class. I round the corner and slip into history just as the final bell rings, my mind traveling back to Jackson. He was a transfer student, something that rarely happens here. I remember all the girls going crazy when he first arrived—a new boy in Sydia. But he just seemed…lost. We never really spoke until one day in eighth grade English when he loaned me a transfer pen. I had forgotten mine, and it was a test day, which meant I would fail and be unable to make up the grade. I remember being on the verge of tears, and then Jackson slipped one of his pens onto my desk. He never looked at me or said anything at all, but I’ve never forgotten it. Just like last night, he protected me. He could have let me fail. It was nothing to him.
Now I’m left wondering how many times he’s looked out for me over the years and I never knew it. The question is, why?
…
Class for the day finally ends. I stare out over the orchards behind our school. From the grassy hill above the field of trees, everything’s visible. It’s a warm day, full of giant white clouds dotting an expansive blue sky. This type of weather brings everyone out to stand among the rows and rows of trees after school, all of them bright green and full of perfectly ripe fruit thanks to the Ancients.
Ancients…
I scan the field for him, and instead spot a boy being chastised by Professor Vang, one of the Lit professors, likely for stealing fruit. The boy pulls an apple from under his shirt, then an orange, a pear, and before long, Professor Vang’s exasperated and sends the boy back to the school for his punishment.
We’re allowed to eat as much as we like while at school, but taking even a single piece of fruit off school property is considered stealing, punishable by law. Most kids abide by the rule, though I can’t blame the ones who try for more. Food pills, while nutritionally adequate, don’t provide the joy of real food. The excitement we get from biting into a juicy orange on a warm day. The comfort of warm soup in the dead of winter. Most of these kids rarely get that satisfaction, which is why I sit on the hill, never venturing into the orchards. Even though there’s plenty, even though these orchards are really here for the Prospect kids like me, I can’t bring myself to take a piece of fruit.
I start to look away when my gaze lands on Jackson. I study him, searching for something that differentiates him from the rest of us. He has stripped off his jacket, so he’s wearing just a fitted white T-shirt and the brown government-provided pants. A small girl walks up to him and motions to the apple tree behind him. He plucks an apple from the tree and hands it to the little girl, who looks as though he’s just made her entire day. For a second his eyes drift to mine, and then someone shouts his name from behind. It’s Mackenzie Story. Gorgeous, blond, hate-worthy perfect Mackenzie Story.
Jackson smiles when he sees her. She runs to him, wrapping her arms around him. He laughs at something she says, then breaks free only to pull her back into a deep kiss. I look away, feeling the tiniest prick of envy in my chest. Not because I want him or wish I were her, but because I wish someone would kiss me like that, hold me like I was all that mattered in the world. Instead, I’m treated with delicacy, no one getting too close unless it’s for combat training.
I lean on my elbows and tilt my head back until I feel the sun warm my face, soothing away the mixture of emotions moving through me. Doubt. Confusion. Excitement. Every element of my life is planned out, and for once, it feels nice to know something others don’t. Jackson Locke is an Ancient. The curiosity is almost too much to stand—why is he on Earth? Are there others?
I’m about to get up when someone leans over me, casting a shadow on my face.
“Hello, sunshine.”
“Hello, yourself.” I squint in the sun, taking in Law’s full profile. Without Gretchen around, he relaxes into his role, something that came so much easier to him than to me. Because Lawrence isn’t just any boy. He’s the president’s son…and my future husband.
CHAPTER 4
“Ready to go?” Law reaches out to help me stand, his touch lingering. His smile is bright against his olive skin, and I find myself staring at him, wondering where the boy I’d grown up with went. He looks so mature, so ready for his future, not at all the kid who used to be afraid to go outside at night. No, now he’s…I don’t know, an adult.
I remember when our parents told us their plan a few months ago. How a union of the president and commander would strengthen the American people’s faith in our system. Law nodded along as though the plan made perfect sense. To him, it was just another box to check off on his list of responsibilities. Career—check. Wife—check. We had always been best friends, so he knew me, was comfortable with me. But for me, it went against everything I had ever been taught about being an Operative. We’re taught to think on our feet, be our own person.
How could Dad not see the irony of teaching me to think on my own and then taking away one of the most important decisions of my life? It was wrong. It is wrong. And there is nothing I can do to change it.
He loosens his grip once I’m up, allowing our fingers to dangle together. He has that easiness, and I can’t help but go along.
Law gives me a quizzical look just as my phone buzzes, saving me from an explanation. I touch the screen, and a message appears.
Come see me after school .
“Great,” I say as I lock the phone and shove it back in my pocket.
“What is it?” Law asks.
I lift my eyes to his, shaking my head. “Dad. He wants me to come to his office.” I grab my things and walk over to the far right side of the hill, Law falling in step beside me.
There’s a path below that leads around to the auto-walks in front of the school. Near the bottom the drop is steep, and I’m about to just jump down that last section when Law stops me with his hand.
“Here, let me help,” he says. His long legs clear the drop in an easy step, and he turns to hold his arms out to me.
I laugh. I’m in Pre-Op training and have received personal lessons from the commander. I can handle a stupid jump. I open my mouth to say as much, but then I see the seriousness in his eyes and realize it isn’t that he thinks I can’t do it; it’s that he wants me to lean on him.
It’s a strange thing for me to have someone wanting to take care of me that isn’t my mom. Most assume I’m tough enough to handle myself, and I am, but still it’s kind of nice.
I force a smile down at him and say, “Thanks,” before taking hold of his outstretched hand and leaping into his arms. He catches me around my waist and eases me to the ground, keeping his hands relaxed at my hips. My breath catches as our bodies press together. It takes me a moment to meet his gaze, and when I do, I find myself flushing. I am so confused.
I just want everything to be the way it used to.
No Ancient Jackson. No husband Lawrence. No complications. I tell myself it’ll get better. It has to get better.
Law clears his throat as he releases me. “I think I’ll hang at your place for the address,” he says. “Sound okay?”
I glance up, confused. “Are you skipping it tonight?” The address is a televised meeting of the four worldwide leaders with Zeus, the Ancient leader. They discuss the treaty, any issues, and then close with a reminder of our responsibility. It’s basically the same thing every month, and Law always attends.
“Yeah, Mom wants me to watch body language. She said I’d learn more watching on the T-screen. And since your parents will be at the address like mine, I thought we could watch it together. You know, alone.”
There it is—the word I dreaded the most.
I force myself to smile again, even though in my head I’m having a mini panic attack.
We reach the tron and separate, giving me a much-needed chance to think through how I’ll get out of it. Law boards the south tron home, me the north to Dad’s office. The tron holds for a few more people to board. I reach down for my training tablet and almost miss Jackson sliding in behind me. I f
reeze mid-motion. He never takes this tron.
My nerves kick up. I wonder if they’ve requested him for early Op training, too. He has the test scores for it and excels at combat training. But then Dad would have an Ancient on his team. I can’t let that happen.
The tron announces the next stop, and then all doors close. We pass the croplands, also known as Life Park, full of fruit and vegetable fields that stay green all year round, like the orchards. Again, the Ancients. Most seem to think the Ancients are part plant or something and that’s why they can travel between planets through the trees instead of just—
“You know,” Jackson whispers, “you really shouldn’t stare. It’s rude.”
“What? I’m not looking at you. I’m looking at the crops. Not that it’s anything to you.”
“Yes, but there are people out there. Poor people. Wouldn’t want to be caught judging them.”
“What are you—?”
“So what’s up with you and Mr. President, anyway?”
I shake my head, locking my jaw to keep from screaming. How is this arrogant boy the same one who gave that little girl the apple or me the transfer pen all those years ago?
He laughs, deep and pure. The sort of sound that would make me smile if he were anyone else and if I didn’t want to jab out his eyes right now. I start to respond when the intercom announces our arrival at Business Park. I exit the tron onto the auto-walk that lines the road, refusing to acknowledge the boy who follows me off.
There isn’t a single tree—not a real one—anywhere in sight. Instead, composite trees decorate the open areas. But looking realistic isn’t the point. The trees are there to soften what is considered the scariest place in the city. Few citizens come here beyond the Chemists, Engineers, and Parliament—the Trinity.
The Engineers aren’t so bad. Though I guess I’m partial. Soon I’ll become one. They maintain civil order, organize getting food and supplies out to the country, and ensure the Ancients keep to the treaty. The Chemists…well, most hate them. Their job is to create efficiencies in our world, or as Mom puts it, to steal the things we love little by little. It’s an odd thing to say, considering she is one.
Parliament worships the Chemists, but they would—they’re the government. What they do beyond bossing everyone around, I’m not sure, though I do know Parliament makes all the decisions, good or bad. Parliament is the only other section of the Trinity where leadership passes within a single family—the Cartiers—and Lawrence is the next in line.
The Engineer building comes into view, and then the larger Parliament building, followed by the Chemist building. The city developers didn’t worry with fake plants here, only the three metallic buildings encircling the Pride Fountain—a giant water fountain filled with holographic water. It’s a group of soldiers holding a flowing American flag. But that isn’t the unsettling part. If you look into the depths of the fountain you’ll see flashes of people trapped below the surface. Parliament claims the people represent our past enemies, but we all know better. The people aren’t people at all. They symbolize the Ancients.
I focus back on the Engineer building, hoping to dislodge the guilt forming in my stomach. I hate keeping things from my dad. I tuck my hair behind my ear and catch Jackson walking up behind me. “It’s called an auto-walk,” I say, annoyed.
He smiles. “I prefer to control my speed.”
I turn on him, spreading my stance so I don’t fall. “What are you doing here?”
“I have an appointment.”
“With who?”
“Who do you think?”
I stifle a gasp. Dad. No, he can’t. Dad wouldn’t see a Pre-Op, no way, unless I’m right and he’s been requested for early training. I’m torn between fear and jealousy. “Not yet,” I say. “We need to talk first. I have to know what you’re doing. What are you doing?” I drop my voice and peek around to make sure we’re alone.
Jackson doesn’t break eye contact. “Ari, there’s a lot going on. I can’t explain now, not here. Tonight. Please just trust me.”
“Trust you? You’re about to see my dad, Jackson. Why? Why are you messing with him? Leave him alone. Leave us alone. Go back wherever you came from.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then don’t expect me to trust you, and don’t expect me to keep this a secret. I can’t. I have to tell him.” I rush forward, off the walk, when Jackson grabs my hand. I see a flash, and then I’m in the middle of a field. The land is burned black, the sky orange. There’s nothing, no sounds, no movement…no one.
Jackson releases me, and I try not to stagger as the world rushes back. I suck in a sharp breath. “What was that?” No one had ever mentioned Ancients could project images or whatever that had been.
“You don’t get it. This isn’t a game. You have to trust me, or everyone you know will die.”
I stumble back. “You can’t—”
“It isn’t me, and it’s already done, already started. Everything changes today. I can’t stop it.” He looks past me, and I turn to see the guard to the Engineer building watching us. Jackson smiles at him. “Girls.” He shrugs. “She forgot something at school.”
The guard smiles back. I can’t breathe.
I struggle to keep my hand still as I lift my keycard for the guard to scan. He waves me inside and the smell of machinery fills my nose. Any other day I would hypothesize about what they were working on, what new invention, but today I feel too sick to think about anything at all.
I step into the elevator and press the third floor button, but Jackson reaches in, stopping the closing doors. I grimace.
“I’m sorry I had to do that. I needed you to see what could happen. I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you, but at least wait until I can explain.” He bends down in front of me so we’re eye to eye. “Can I count on you to keep this a secret? Just please—”
“All right,” I say, knowing that it’s my fear talking but feeling too gone to stop myself.
He relaxes against the elevator wall. “Thank you.”
The door beeps and an announcer welcomes us to the executive suite. I rush through the doors and down the hall toward Dad’s office, while soft footsteps sound from behind me.
I press the buzzer beside Dad’s door. “It’s Ari.”
“Come in,” Dad says.
I tighten my posture as I enter the room. Something about my dad makes me feel so inadequate in every way. It’s like if I can stand straight, act like an adult, maybe he’ll think of me as one.
“Sir,” Jackson says from behind me.
Dad’s eyes pass over Jackson, his demeanor projecting the distaste he feels for pretty much everyone.
“Can I help you with something, son?”
Jackson clears his throat. “Yes, sir. I’m Jackson Locke. I believe you requested to see me?”
But then the impossible happens. Dad removes his glasses, marches over to Jackson, and shakes his hand. “Yes, yes indeed. Your last statistical essay was genius. I’ve requested to have you transferred to my sector for early training.”
My head jerks back and forth from Jackson to Dad. This can’t be happening! I’m the one advancing to early training. Ancient Boy is now a genius, too? That’s just great.
“Cybil,” Dad calls.
A beep fills the room and then a voice. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m ready for you,” Dad replies.
A petite woman with shiny black hair enters the room. I know all the Engineers and Operatives, yet I’ve never seen this woman before. I look from her to Dad, confused, but know better than to speak before spoken to, especially in front of his staff.
“Ari, meet Cybil, your new private trainer.”
My mouth drops. “Private? I thought I was training with other Pre-Ops.”
“You’ll receive private lessons,” Dad says. “You aren’t ready for Op training. Not yet.”
My heart sinks. Of course he would override Coach Sanders’s request. I peek at Jackson, my entire bo
dy numb from embarrassment, but he doesn’t return the look. Dad leads him out of the office without a second glance my way.
Cybil clears her throat and smiles at me.
“Are you new?” I ask.
“Me? No, I’ve assisted for years and was just promoted when your dad assigned me to your training.”
I cringe. “Sorry.”
“Nonsense. I’m excited to train you,” she says with a smile. “Now let me show you around.”
I follow her back down the main hall, wanting to tell her that I’ve already seen most of the Engineer building but not wanting to come across as rude. I expect her to stop at the elevator, when instead she walks to the end of the hall and to a floor-to-ceiling painting of President Randolf Cartier, Lawrence’s grandfather, who died a few years ago. She slides her hand behind the right side of the frame and within a second, the painting swings open, exposing a hidden entryway.
Cybil motions me forward, and once we’re both inside, turns on me. “Your father lied in his office,” she says, her tone indifferent. I start to question what she means, but she raises her hand. “You’re not receiving personal Op training. That was said for Locke’s benefit. Your father wants you to experience more than that of an Operative. He wants you to learn his work, commander work. We’ll meet daily after school.”
Goose bumps rise across my body. “So when you say you’ve been an assistant, you mean…”
“Special Projects Assistant to the commander. I organize Engineer advancements, research, development, that sort of thing. I also monitor tracking.”
“Tracking what?”
Cybil releases a curt laugh. “You’ll see. Follow me.”
She starts down a long hallway that looks like it should be part of the tron instead of the inside of a building—glaring metal walls with nothing but hiccups of black doors to break up the silver. The walkway is lined with lights on the floor and the ceiling. There is no one else in the hall, no sound coming from the doors. I release a breath and see the air puff in front of me.
