On the death-and-world-destruction scale, making an ex uncomfortable doesn’t register as important. At least, it shouldn’t. So why do I already feel like an ass about it?
“Are you guys seeing each other or something?” I say to Micki. If she’s going to dig into my personal life, I figure I can return the favor. “Is that why you’re telling me all this?”
My question catches her completely off guard. She jerks, and her jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
“You and Levi. I’m not interested in him, OK? So you don’t have to try to put me off. I’m already so, so far off.”
The teasing glint is gone from her eyes. They’re steely and sharp. “You think I’m telling you this because I’m some jealous girlfriend looking to sabotage things? You can’t be that stupid.”
“You’ve been working together for years, and you live here together on the boat, right? It’s easy to assume you’re a couple.”
“He’s my partner. He’s like a brother to me. That’s all.”
“What, you’re not into the frowny, broody, hipster type?”
She pins me with her eyes. “I’m not into the male type, period.”
And now I’m back to fidgeting in my seat. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I just figured…I mean…you said he was hot two minutes ago.”
“I’m gay, Alex. I’m not blind. I know a good-looking guy when I see one. Doesn’t mean I want to hold his hand and wear his promise ring.”
Open mouth, insert foot. It’s becoming such a regular occurrence for me it should be considered exercise. “I’m sorry. I’ve never actually had a gay friend before. I’m probably going to say a lot of stupid things.”
“Wait, we’re friends now?” She acts shocked. “I thought you didn’t have any of those, let alone gay ones.”
“I don’t have many.”
“I wonder why.”
Touché.
“You know,” she says, “You might want to consider making a few before your time’s up. Porter, Levi, and I can’t attend your funeral, you know. Too suspicious. Don’t you want more than a handful of people there? More than a handful to miss you when you’re gone?”
She doesn’t know it, but I’ve thought about that very thing before. And she’s right. I don’t know of anyone from school who’d care enough to attend, except Jensen.
Maybe because I never cared enough about any of them.
Last year, when two seniors were killed in a car crash by a drunk driver, almost the entire school attended their funerals. I say almost because I stayed home. I was alone in my attic, converting Malena Anderson’s factory car stereo into a touchscreen GPS system that synced with her smartphone. It seemed important at the time. Not so much anymore.
I’ve met lots of kids through my fix-it side gigs, but to them I’m the girl behind the counter frothing their lattes. I’m not someone they invite to a party after the big game, or call on the phone to complain about their parents.
I’m no one.
“You’re right. I should make more of an effort to get along with people. Even you.”
“God, Alex, that’s so sweet of you.” She turns back to the computers. “Now I totally feel like renting movies and eating ice cream in our jammies.”
“I really am sorry. I thought you were being cruel before, about the Levi thing.”
The tension in her shoulders loosens. She inspects her red nails and shrugs. “Well, maybe I was trying to poke at you, a little.” She looks up. “I’m sorry too. What do you say we change the subject?”
“I’d say that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”
She laughs, the kind of larger-than-life, confident laugh I heard in Chicago.
“So,” I say, scratching around one of the pads taped to my wrist. “You weren’t raised in Detroit, were you?”
“I was raised everywhere, honey.” She wheels over to the printer in the corner and starts thumbing through a stack of papers feeding from the machine.
“And your parents? Were they really from Dubai?”
She stiffens. “I have no idea where my parents were from, and I don’t care. They gave me up, handed me over to a psycho. I don’t give a shit about them.”
She bangs the stack of pages on the desk to make the edges even, harder than she needs to. The anger hovering above her shoulders makes me think she does care. We all care where we come from, we all want to know the answers, the missing puzzle pieces that define the beginning of our story. But not caring? It’s a way for her to punish her parents, even if they’re not around.
I’m a teenager. I know the technique well.
“What do you mean they handed you over?”
“Not all of Gesh’s pawns were born and bred in captivity like you. Some of us were donated to The Cause for a payoff. Ever heard of human trafficking?”
“Your parents sold you?”
“Must’ve been a tidy amount,” she says. “Enough to line their pockets and keep them quiet about it for the rest of their lives.”
I shift in my seat, wishing I hadn’t chosen this particular subject. I wanted to get to know her, not prick at old scars.
“Others,” Micki continues, “like Levi’s mother, were Gesh’s devoted followers back in the sixties. They volunteered to have children for him, then handed them over.”
Good Lord. Poor Levi. Poor Micki. I can’t imagine growing up without the comfort and support of my family. To have no one but scientists raising you, your single purpose in life to serve and fight for The Cause. Destined to be a Sub or a Descender, based on the frequencies of your brain.
“What about me and Blue? Were we donated too?”
“Test tube babies. Surrogate mommies. You weren’t donated for The Cause; you were created for it.”
I’m quiet for a long time while she flips through the pages she printed, reading them over to herself. Levi returns with two steaming mugs and holds one out to me.
“No thanks,” I say. “If I drink anything else I’ll be camped out in the bathroom.” I try to smile, but it comes out awkward. Lopsided.
The corners of his mouth don’t even flicker at my stupid joke, and he doesn’t pull the mug away. “It’s for the test run to Limbo. It’ll help you relax.”
“Oh.” I take the mug, feeling stupid, and try not to gag from the smell. I down the tea as fast as I can without breathing in, doing my best not to cringe from the aftertaste, which is even worse for some reason. It smells like bad breath and tastes like feet.
Levi sits in the chair beside me and drinks from the other mug. Micki rolls his sleeves up and sticks wires to his skin like he did to me. For the first time, I catch a glimpse of the tattoos Micki mentioned.
Soft, black tendrils of a vine wrapped around his forearms.
Ivy.
I look away. “So, what’s the plan? I ascend to Limbo and see if I can pull Levi with me?”
Micki nods. “That’s the plan.”
Levi sips his tea, like he relishes the flavor. He looks so cool and peaceful, like he’s having coffee at a corner café in France. Even in this windowless room, under stark, fluorescent lights. The way he moves, holds his mug, looks off into the distance, like he’s contemplating the meaning of life at every moment. I’m suddenly nervous about being in Limbo alone with him. I like him. I want to trust him. He seems to care about me. But now I feel awkward, thanks to Micki. At the moment I’d rather hang out in Limbo with Tabitha than Levi.
“Here we go,” Micki says, handing Levi and me each a pair of headphones.
We slip them on and recline in our chairs. Slightly throbbing sound waves hum in my ears, slithering into my head and making me feel disoriented. The tea and the droning sound waves work their magic. My heart beats slower, my thoughts fade into the background.
I don’t know how long I lie there, listening. It feels like hours, but when I crack open my eyes, Micki is still standing between us, messing with the brain wave monitor.
She claps her hands togethe
r. “It’s go time.”
I don’t need to reach for my Polygon stone; I have my déjà vu sitting in the seat next to me. I reach out for his hand. He takes it, and we’re gone.
Chapter 15
Superheroes
I don’t know if it’s the tea, the sound waves, the theta brain frequency, or Levi’s presence, but this time when I enter Limbo, things are clearer, crisper. I hadn’t noticed how muddled it was before, when I went in alone. It’s like getting new glasses after wearing an old prescription for too long. The Black feels flexible now, moving in and out like a breath. It feels like I’ve been here a million times before. It’s as familiar as the ceiling rafters in my bedroom.
Levi stands beside me in my garden, his hand still in mine. I expect him to gape around in awe, but he’s cool as a cucumber. He lets go of my hand and moves through my soulmarks toward my fountain.
“I take it you’ve been here before,” I say, following him, winding through the shafts of light.
“A few times.” He sits on one of my benches, casually, like he’s at the park feeding the pigeons.
“Aren’t you tempted at all? By the soulmarks?”
“You mean am I tempted to travel back in time?”
I nod, stepping up to my fountain. Dipping my fingers in the warm water.
“I’m tempted in the same way any thinker or philosopher would be tempted. I’m tempted to know what it’s like. To walk where my idols have walked. Maybe sit and have a chat with them. But on the other hand, I’m tempted the way the president is tempted to press the button on a nuclear war.” I furrow my brow, so he elaborates. “What you do, Alex? Descending? It’s one step away from mass destruction. So no. I’m not tempted. I’m not as confident as you.”
I let out a dry laugh. “I’m not confident. And when you put it that way, it makes me feel like even more of an ass.”
“Why’s that?”
I wring my hands. “Because I enjoy it. I’m selfish. I’m like those gun enthusiasts who don’t want to give up their guns. They know guns cause destruction, but they won’t give them up because they like them too damn much. They like the feel of the steel in their hand. They like being in control. They like having the higher ground, feeling invincible, wielding something more powerful than themselves. They like it, and they won’t give it up even if what they like is destroying the world. And because I like traveling so much, I obliterated an entire timeline. I’ve already caused mass destruction, and I’m ready to go back for seconds.”
He frowns. “What makes you think that other timeline is any better? Without the Variant, without you destroying Gesh’s life as he knew it, he would’ve gone full steam ahead, no obstacles. Because of you, he had to start all over. He’s seventeen years behind in his grand plan, whatever it is. So all this? This is the best it could be, in my opinion. A world without boundaries for Gesh is a world I wouldn’t want to live in.”
“So what’s stopping him from going back and creating another Variant? Changing all this? Erasing the impact I made on him?”
“How would he do that? He’s not like you. He can’t descend into his own body, because he doesn’t have a soulmark. He’s still alive. He’d have to descend into a body that died, one that has a soulmark in Limbo. And even if he did, how would he know what kind of impact to make? How would he know the Variant he created would turn out in his favor?”
“All he’d have to do is go back in time and make sure Ivy was never created. Then I wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be screwing up his plans.”
Levi shakes his head. “No, he wouldn’t do that. He needs you for whatever he’s planning just like he needed Ivy. It’s our job to make sure we take him down before he gets his hands on you.”
“You mean kill him.” I don’t say it like a question, because I already know the answer. I dip my hand in the fountain again, then lift it out, the memory of water pooling in my palm.
Levi nods, and we’re quiet for a while, wrapped in the Black. My perception of him is exactly the same as in Base Life. He’s wearing the same clothes, and every hair is perfectly in place. But I didn’t notice his sleeves were down until he pushes them up, and I see the tattoos again.
I avert my eyes. The Black becomes a thick blanket of Awkward. I want to say something smooth, act like the tattoos don’t bother me, break the ice so things aren’t so weird between us, but it’s too awkward to talk about the awkwardness.
“So,” he says, hands clasped together, elbows on knees. “How’s school going?”
I cringe a little, leaning my palm against the edge of the fountain. “Can you not ask me about school like that?” He looks so much like a concerned parent when he says it, and so far from the eighteen-year-old boy I saw half-naked at AIDA HQ two months ago.
And now I’m thinking about him being half-naked, and what tattoos I’d see wrapped across his chest and back, and wondering if my soul is flushing as red as I feel.
“Why not?”
“It makes you sound old, and I can’t think about how old you are right now.”
He makes a face, totally confused, then shakes his head. “I’m not even going to ask.”
“Thanks. Don’t.”
“When were you planning on going back?”
My hand slips and plunges into the water. “How did you know I haven’t gone back to school?”
“We keep an eye on these kinds of things. So? When?”
“I was thinking along the lines of never?” I wring the perception of water from my sleeve and flick droplets from my wrist.
“You have to go to school.”
“Why? Why do I need school if I’m never going to graduate?”
I’m dying, Levi. Don’t you know that?
“Because life must go on. We have to keep up appearances. We can’t risk doing anything suspicious. All the greatest superheroes had other identities. They had real, everyday lives to keep them grounded and their secrets safe. They had people to live and fight for in the real world. Superman had Lois Lane. Spider-Man had—”
“Mary Jane.”
“I was going to say Gwen.”
I fold my arms, both of which are completely dry now. I’m starting to get the hang of manipulating the perceptions. “Are you arguing for argument’s sake?”
“I’m just saying. You need to be Alex too. You need to be more than Number Four.”
“I’m trying to tell you, I can’t. I don’t know how. Not after all I’ve seen.” I sit down next to him. “I don’t know if I’ve ever known how. And Superman? Spider-Man? They’re fictional. What do DC and Marvel know about being a real-life hero? It’s not as easy as they make it out to be.”
Levi makes a gruff sound in his throat, like a harrumph that isn’t meant to be grumpy, which for Levi is the closest thing to a laugh I’ve heard. “If you’re anything to judge by, then I think they’ve gotten a lot right.”
I actually do laugh, for the both of us. “Like what? My ability to ruin everything on a daily basis? Or how I’m completely incompetent?”
“I was thinking more of how you never give up. You could be selfish, curled up in a ball, wailing about your impending death, waiting until it comes for you. Instead you’re here, ready to do whatever it takes to save your sister. You work until the job is done, until what’s broken is fixed. Now that’s a Marvel-worthy hero. But you’re right. You don’t have an outlet. You can’t take your glasses off and clock out. You’re tortured. I can see that. It’s not a game to you. It’s your life, like it or not. And you choose to live on. That’s a real hero.”
“A hero who can stop going to school?”
His eyes narrow.
“Come on,” I say, pleading. “I hate it there. I can’t focus. And everything they teach feels worthless anyway, compared to what I know. I don’t feel safe there. I feel like I’m prey, surrounded by predators.”
“I hear you.” He stares at the fountain, thinking for a while. “Let me do some digging and see what I can do. Until then, school?�
��
I heave a sigh through my nose. “School.”
I let go of the Black, and we both disconnect from its grasp. We open our eyes to harsh overhead lights and Micki standing between us. She hasn’t moved an inch since we left.
“All done?” she says. “I barely blinked.”
“We’re good to go,” Levi says. He gives me a nod, like he believes we can do this thing, then lets his hand slip from mine.
Making Amends
It takes two days for me to make good on my promise to return to school. I head back the very day I’m scheduled to leave for China. I’ve read three books about the history and culture of the Qing Dynasty. Micki read half a dozen. She thinks we’re ready, even though I’m not so sure. She assures me I’ll learn what I need along the way, with her help. That’s how they used to do it back at AIDA. And to ease the bundle of nerves in my gut, she suggested I make use of my day by going to school. It’s either that or sit at home waiting until I can steal away to the library (a.k.a. Porter’s boat), my knees bouncing, my stomach raw and tumbling.
I step through the double doors and stand there, feeling out of place in a completely new way.
School. My nemesis. House of my nemeses. I’m not sure how Levi’s going to make it bearable.
The kids flow past me, coming and going, like I’m caught between opposite currents. They all look so young to me now, baby-faced and oblivious and hopeful, while I feel weathered and hunched. Old. Full of scorn and cynicism.
Time’s running out. Maybe Micki’s right. Maybe it’s time to make amends.
During homeroom, before first period, I start a bucket list in one of my notebooks. First on the list?
The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare Page 12
