Chapter Twenty-One
No Rules
Rosie was right. Non is obsessed with history—wars, in particular. So much so, she often gets lost in her own teaching. She talks about one war, then jumps to another with little warning—all the while scratching a jumbled war web on the chalkboard—stopping more than once to study her own creation, like the thing is a giant puzzle with missing pieces and the harder she squints, the more she’ll be able to make out the complete picture.
“History is always connected to the present,” she mumbles to nobody in particular.
I’m beginning to wonder if it matters at all that we’re here, in these chairs. I’m not convinced she’s teaching us as much as she’s trying to figure something out for herself and we’re stuck observing.
She scratches the back of her head, momentarily flattening a section of her gray, bushy hair. “It’s curious, isn’t it?”
Luka and I exchange a look—the first bit of normalcy between us since he disappeared with Claire and Gabe yesterday. His dark mood afterward reminded me all too much of Pete. I ended up leaving him alone with his fat history book, and instead hung out with Jillian. She beat me in mancala three times in a row, but I came out the winner, since I managed to evade her questions about Luka’s new training schedule by monopolizing on her curiosity about Fighter training. I told her all about the dream space Link created and what it was like sparring Claire. I may have even embellished and exaggerated just to keep us safely on topic.
Our teacher is muttering something to her fist when Claire raises her hand high into the air. “I have a question about Keepers and their anima.”
My muscles tighten.
Luka shifts in his seat beside me.
Non blinks several times, as if batting away her reverie. “What about them?”
“I was trying to figure out who I’m going to pick for the research assignment Sticks assigned. And I got a little confused. Link’s always calling them soul mates.” She rolls her eyes at Link, who rolls his eyes back. “But that implies romantic love, which can’t be true, right? I mean, how could it be? Gabe’s anima was his sister.”
“What?” The word tumbles out in a shocked gasp before the filter in my brain can censor it. And with the word comes a pool of heat in my cheeks, because everyone turns to stare at me.
“You’re right, Claire. Gabe’s anima was actually his twin sister.”
“But his file said he had recurring dreams of a woman he’d never met before.” Again, the filter in my brain fails me. The heat in my cheeks grows hotter.
“That’s correct, also. Gabe and his sister were separated at birth and adopted into different families. Six years ago, Gabe’s sister found out she had a twin brother and went looking for him, hoping to find out if her biological brother saw the same unexplainable things she saw. You can imagine that Gabe was quite surprised when she showed up on his doorstep.”
“So they don’t have to be a man and a woman … in love?”
“No, Claire, they don’t.”
The smug look Claire shoots me makes one thing crystal clear. She knows very well that Luka is my Keeper. I try not to imagine the two of them talking about it—talking about me—during their training session with Gabe yesterday.
Lunch comes and goes. I find myself filing after Jose toward the training room with hands clenched into fists. I cannot wait to get to the dojo, put on my sparring gloves, and knock that smug look off Claire’s face. The news that Gabe’s anima was his sister throws me for a bigger loop than I care to admit. If romantic feelings are not part of the Keeper-anima package, than why did Luka kiss me? The one-worded explanation deflates some of my anger.
Relief.
Both times Luka kissed me, he was in the middle of experiencing a surge of relief—an overwhelming emotion that could easily be mistaken for something more. But what about Friday? If Rosie hadn’t interrupted us, I’m positive he would have kissed me. My anger deflates even more. On Friday, Luka had been feeling euphoric over his success with throwing a force field. Combine that feeling with his innate desire to protect me and anyone could get carried away. This connection we share? It’s not like Luka chose it. It’s more like the universe forced it upon him. Literally stuck me next door. And now, because of feelings he never asked for, he’s living underground in Detroit, Michigan. Away from his family. Away from the ocean and surfing and everything else he loves by choice.
I shuffle inside the room after Sticks but stop suddenly. We have an unexpected guest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Luka doesn’t answer for himself. Cap does. “I’ve been convinced that it would be a good idea for Luka to observe today.”
“The dojo’s getting crowded,” Jose mutters.
Is this what Luka talked with Cap about in the makeshift conference room on Saturday? Or did he arrange it just now, on his way out of the cafeteria? Either way, I’m left feeling betrayed. And childish. Like I’m a little kid who needs supervision. I take a seat in one of the chairs, my deflated anger blowing back up again. By the time Link reaches me, the last of the group, my hands have balled up into white-knuckled fists.
“Already drawing a crowd, Xena.” Link pulls down the collar of my shirt and attaches the final probe beneath the hollow of my clavicle. “Maybe someday I’ll get to watch you fight.”
I can feel Luka’s stare, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of eye contact.
“All right,” Link says, moving to the computer. “Blast off in three … two …one.”
I blink once and I’m there, in the dream space. Luka is too. He looks around, taking in every inch of the training center before his attention lands on Cap, standing in the center of the room. I know I saw it on Saturday, but it’s just as shocking today. Judging by Luka’s widening eyes, he’s feeling the same.
“You’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” Claire says, brushing her body against his as she walks past. Her tank top shows off long, toned arms. Her yoga pants reveal equally long, toned legs. She’s like a graceful lion, seductive in her prowl. I don’t miss the way Jose admires her. It’s the same way Jared used to look at Summer, as if a string of drool might stretch from his bottom lip at any moment. I’m afraid to look at Luka, lest he wear the same expression.
“The deal was, you don’t interfere,” Cap says to Luka.
I look between them. “What deal?”
Neither answer.
Unlike our last training session, Cap takes a more active role. He asks Sticks to run through some drills with Jose off in one corner, then tells Claire and me to take our positions in the center of the mat for another round of sparring. Despite my anger and irritation, I’m terribly distracted. Every time I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I’m struck by how foolish I look blocking Claire’s blows—like a little girl fighting a woman. As she attacks and I do my best to defend, I can’t help but think that she is the one who looks like Xena Warrior Princess. She is the one who deserves a Keeper.
My muscles begin to burn as I dodge and duck and block. She jukes with her left and kicks with her right. Her foot connects with the side of my head and my ear explodes with a high-pitched ring. She jabs me in the ribcage. I double over.
“Come on, Tess,” Cap says. “Focus.”
How can I, though, with Luka watching me make a fool out of myself?
Claire holds up her gloves and circles me. “I thought Fighters with Keepers were supposed to be powerful. There goes that theory.” She does a low roundhouse kick, sweeping out my legs from beneath me. And just like that, I’m on my back with all the air knocked from my lungs.
Claire cocks back her fist, but before she can strike there’s a flash of bright light. An intense wave of heat and somehow, Claire gets knocked onto her back too.
“Luka!” Cap barks.
Luka has stepped away from his place against the wall. “She was about to—”
“I have this under control. You interfere again and you’re out of here. Go
t that?”
It came from him. Luka threw out a force field. He threw out a field because I couldn’t handle myself. Because I was weak. The realization has me jumping to my feet. I will not let Claire humiliate me again.
The two of us take our positions, and this time, I don’t let the mirror distract me. Dream world is not reality. Claire’s reflection might look stronger and taller and more athletic, but we’re not really here. I know I’m stronger than this. And the traces of medicine that slowed me down on Saturday no longer remain. I am strong, I tell myself. I have a Keeper. I’ve trained in martial arts since I was five. And this isn’t real. I do a round house, leveraging the quickness of momentum for power and connect so strongly with Claire’s jaw that she reels back, clutching her cheek.
She looks up—furious, incredulous—and comes at me. I dodge every single one of her blows. I am quick, like lightning. Quick, like a rabbit. I can feel the truth of it pulsing inside of me. She can’t touch me. She’s too slow. She’s too sloppy. Claire throws a punch, but I grab her arm. I twist it around and push her elbow up, forcing her to her knees. I keep her there for a moment, making it clear that I am the one in control before pushing her away.
With rage in her eyes, she comes at me again. Three more times she tries to take me down. Each time, my power grows. I will not let her embarrass me like that in front of Luka ever again. I duck and spin, then pop her in the mouth.
She stumbles back, wiping blood from her lip.
“Time for a break,” Cap says.
Humiliation flickers across her face. It’s obvious the break is for her. But as quickly as it came, her expression changes. She steps close, so only I can hear. “How does it feel needing a babysitter?”
I narrow my eyes.
“That’s how he sees himself, you know. He told me so yesterday. Little Tess’s babysitter. How pathetic.” She pulls off her gloves and saunters away, as if she were the victor. As if I didn’t just take her down five times in a row. She picks up a water bottle beside Luka—one that wasn’t there before—and takes a long drink.
Babysitter? Did he really say that? I whip around to face Cap. “Is this all training is going to be? Because I already know how to fight.”
He tosses me a water bottle.
“Where’d this come from?” I ask, twisting off the cap.
“Dream world, remember? You’re not actually holding anything. It’s all in your head.”
The bottle disappears—up and vanishes from my hands. “What the …?”
Cap points to the ceiling. The water bottle rests on a beam high above our heads. “In dream world, if you want something like a ladder? You think it into existence.” A ladder appears in front of me, one that leads straight up to the beam overhead. “The second you realize you’re dreaming, you can do whatever you want to do.” He points to his temple. “It’s all in here. Your body’s still in the dental chair.”
Behind me, Claire laughs. The sound might as well be sharp nails on a chalkboard.
“Think of something you want right now. Whatever you want, you can make happen.”
What I want is for Claire to be gone. What I want is to make Luka realize that I don’t need a babysitter. What I want is to get stronger so I can figure out a way to fix the gigantic mess my life has become. I want to become as powerful as Link and Cap think I can be. So powerful that we don’t have to hide in a basement anymore. I want to free all those people locked away in insane asylums, like my grandmother. And there’s only one way I can do that. “I want to learn how to impact the physical when I’m in spiritual form.”
Cap studies me for a moment. “We’re not there yet.”
“When will we get there?”
“That’s level ten. You’re at level two. Let’s get the basics down first, shall we?”
I look at Cap, standing in front of me when he shouldn’t be able to stand. I recall the training session on Saturday, when Claire did a flip that defied gravity. I look up at the water bottle on the beam. This is what I want—to show Cap that I don’t need to work on the basics. I tell myself there is no gravity. Not here. The rules don’t apply. In fact, there are none at all. I coil my legs and I jump. And just like that, I am dangling from the beam, high up in the air. I take hold of the water, and without giving myself time to be afraid, I let go. My stomach drops as I fall. I land on both feet right beside the base of Cap’s ladder, twist off the cap, and take a drink.
The room has gone silent.
Jose and Sticks have stopped their drilling. Claire no longer whispers flirtatious nothings into Luka’s ear. I turn to Cap. His arms are crossed. His face is serious. But there’s a faint flicker of pride in his eyes as he gives me a small, subtle nod of approval.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sitting Ducks
After my exhibition with the water bottle, Cap had me face off with Jose. Luka was not pleased. I could understand his concern. Jose has the body of a linebacker. I thought that after all the sparring, I wouldn’t have any energy left. In reality, I spent two hours lying on a chair. I wake up restless and head to the weight room for another vigorous work out. Luka joins me. I ignore him and my protesting muscles as he spots me on the bench press.
On my fourth set, final rep, I have to strain every muscle in my body to lift the bar one final time. As soon as my elbows lock, I let the weights clank down and heave out a breath. I wipe away the beads of sweat trickling down my temple, then sit up and grab the bottle of sanitizer.
“You’re mad,” he finally says.
“You think I’m weak.”
His eyes flash. “What—you’re some kind of mind reader now?”
“I don’t have to be a mind reader to make a safe assumption.” I spray the bench and wipe it clean.
“Well, your assumption is dead wrong.”
And yet Claire’s words circle my mind like a vulture—little Tess’s babysitter.
“Your strength is one of the things I see most clearly.”
I crumple the wet rag in my hand and scold my fluttering heart. It is too eager to hope. At least where Luka is concerned.
“It’s quiet. Unassuming. But it’s there; this undeniable thing. I saw it the first day we met in Thornsdale. And before then, every night in my dreams. I see it better than anyone.” Luka steps closer. Takes the spray bottle from my hand. “Don’t tell me I think you’re weak, when it’s your strength that scares me.”
“Why?”
“You heard Sticks. Only the strongest Fighters have Keepers.”
“So?”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. Like I don’t get it. “So there’s a reason you were created with one specific person to guard you. You’re a walking target. And now Cap wants to train you, even though whatever he’s training you for landed him in a wheelchair.”
So he knows. I’m not sure who told him. Maybe Cap himself. Or maybe Claire. It doesn’t matter how Luka found out. What matters is he knows the danger that’s involved in fighting. How long before he learns how Gabe’s twin sister died?
“I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t.”
“If Sticks is right, and I’m destined to be some super powerful Fighter, then you don’t have to worry. I have you. You’ll protect me.” I want to comfort him. I want my words to erase some of his torment, but they only seem to haunt him more.
“You don’t see what I see.”
“Tell me what you see, then.”
A world of fear festers in the grass green of his irises.
“Please, just tell me.”
But he doesn’t, and I’m left with nothing but my own speculations.
*
That night my dreams are a hodge-podge of nonsensical things—my father walking to the gallows, angry protests outside fetal modification clinics, the prisoners of Shady Wood buried alive inside mass graves, and dead rabbits everywhere. I can’t find my family, and Link must not be able to find me.
By the time me and my aching muscles arrive for breakfast, Cl
aire has already taken the seat next to Luka. And since I don’t want to sit by Claire, I end up at a table with Jillian and Rosie, listening as Claire giggles and slaps Luka’s knee playfully, like they are good buddies. What’s worse? Luka smiles at her. It’s the first real one I’ve seen since Sunday morning. And Claire is the one who gave it to him.
Our first class of the day with Non is more of the same, only instead of wars of the past, she’s moved onto events in the present. Her bushy hair waves about as she scribbles dates and names and seemingly obscure, unrelated events on the chalkboard, connecting them in the same web she used yesterday—a disjointed map of crisscrossing lines. I think we all leave more confused than when we came.
We’re given ten minutes to stretch our legs and use the restroom before our last morning class with Sticks. He asked us to come with the name of a Keeper we want to research, but I haven’t even started looking yet. So I forgo the bathroom and head to the library. Maybe I can grab something that will at least look as though I’ve put some effort into the assignment. Inhaling the comforting smell of books, I make fast work of perusing the shelves. Toward the top, I spot a clump of spines that look more like composition notebooks than book-books. Curious, I stretch up onto my tiptoes in an attempt to reach them.
Warm breath tickles the back of my neck. The minty smell is familiar. Luka reaches up and easily retrieves them, so close behind me goose bumps prickle my skin. “I guess things aren’t as easy to get in real life.”
He’s referencing the water bottle in the dojo, of course. I take his offering and give them a cursory assessment, feigning indifference to his all-too-close presence directly behind me.
“It was Gabe’s suggestion, you know.” The words feel like a peace offering.
“What was?”
“Watching you train. He wanted me to see what you’re capable of. I guess he figured that if I’m going to be in awe, it’s best if that happens when your life isn’t in danger.”
The Awakening Page 16
