PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “I’m so sorry, Robin. I had no idea how hard that would be for you.”

  I was so worried about myself, my answers. She stayed so calm in the room when her grandma slipped back into her memories, but it was clearly just an act. My arms tighten around her protectively. Robin’s arms unfold from around her body and cinch around mine. She doesn’t cry, but she doesn’t let go either.

  The sun travels slowly across the sky, dipping toward evening. Blue becomes orange as day gives way to night. I don’t pressure Robin. Thoughts of Olivia push me to untangle myself from her grip, but Robin’s body pressed against mine feels oddly natural. It’s a strange feeling, not exactly one that urges me to turn it into something more, but one that makes me reluctant to let go.

  Robin is the one to finally pull back. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  “You don’t have to be sorry. You handled it better than I did.”

  “I’ve had practice,” she says. Her bottom lip quivers and she tucks it between her teeth. “I keep thinking it will get easier to see her like that, but it doesn’t.”

  “You two were close?” I ask, stroking her back slowly, though I don’t know why.

  Robin nods. Her eyes close, but this time not out of fear. “She was the only one who didn’t treat me like a criminal after Eliana died. Everyone knew it was my fault. I felt so horrible, I confessed right away. No one in my family has ever looked at me the same since that night. Only Grandma held me when I cried for Eliana. She loved me even after what I did. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but I’m glad she did.”

  Disbelief pauses my hands. She was seven! A child who, yes, had been taught to keep Eliana a secret, but a child who craved acceptance and made a mistake. I can’t believe her family would turn on her like that. “Robin, I’m sorry.”

  Shaking her head, Robin turns away from me but remains in my arms. I get the hint that we are done talking about her family when she changes the subject. “Are you going to tell Olivia about coming here?”

  “Yes.” The plan was never to hide what I found out, only to take a risk she wouldn’t blame herself for if it turned out badly.

  Robin nods slowly. “But not everything.”

  I look down, not sure what she means by that, and find her staring up at me. One hand curls behind my neck gently. The slight pressure of her hand bends me as she lifts onto her toes and presses her lips against my cheek. My eyes close as the feeling of her lips on my skin sends a strange sensation through me.

  She pulls away slowly. Our eyes meet and I am startled to see tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “For what?” I reach up and brush away a tear that has fallen.

  Robin smiles shakily. “For being my friend. I haven’t had one in a very long time.”

  She doesn’t need to tell me that the last friend she had was Eliana, that every day without her is torture, and that the guilt she feels over her death will never leave her. She doesn’t need to tell me, because I understand already. Pulling her back against my chest, I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.

  Chapter 16

  Last Conscious Thought

  (Olivia)

  The door knob twists slowly. My shoulders tense, waiting for him to see me. He’s halfway across the room before his eyes are drawn to me sitting cross-legged in the center of his bed. Jumping back, Mason bumps into his dresser.

  “What are you doing in my room?” Mason gasps.

  “What are you doing not in your room?” I ask. My mouth turns down in a frown. “You told me you were coming up here to read, that you needed some time alone.”

  His mouth opens. I can see the excuses running through his mind. None of them make it past his lips. His shoulders fall.

  The corner of my mouth twitches. “You were out with Robin, weren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Mason says quietly.

  “Getting answers, or just hanging out?” I ask, though I have to force the words out of my mouth.

  I don’t know which one is worse. Would I feel better about him spending time with Robin if it were only to find more information, even though that meant going behind my back? Does the lie hurt less if he just needed a break and turned to Robin instead of me? Tricking me, cutting me out should be the worse option, but it’s the one I can bear more than the other.

  “We went to ask her grandma some questions,” Mason admits. He sits lightly on the edge of the bed.

  Despite the relief that washes through me, I hold onto my stern expression. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You know why.”

  Frustration tears at me. I look over at him with a scowl. “So you went behind my back instead? If you didn’t agree with me, you could have just said so. We could have talked about it.”

  “You were done talking,” Mason argues.

  “I’m just trying to keep you safe!” How could he risk himself like that? Robin said the Caretakers would try to take him back. Doesn’t that matter to him?

  Mason looks down at his hands. The passive posture doesn’t match the clench of his jaw and I am more confused than ever. “Safe, or to yourself?”

  “What?”

  “Which one are you more angry about, that I lied to you, or that I was with Robin?” When his eyes come up to meet mine, the mixture of pain and anger behind them hits me like a physical blow.

  Stunned, confused, I slide off the bed and take a step back. What is going on with him? Why is he treating me like this? We’ve always been careful. He’s my main concern no matter what, yet now he’s acting like all the times I’ve looked out for him were out of some selfish desire to keep him from experiencing some bigger, magical life. My head starts shaking, hurt and angry myself now.

  I turn away. I have no intention of standing here and being treated like some cruel captor, but before I can take a step Mason is towering over me. “You’re not going to answer?” he demands.

  Shaking my head angrily, I try to push past him. He moves again, blocking me. Never, in the twelve years I have known him have I been so angry with him! My hands push against his chest. “Get out of my way, Mason!”

  “Answer the question,” he growls back.

  Knowing I have no chance of escaping him, my frustration boils over. “Fine! You want to know?” I shove him once more, bouncing back rather than moving him, which only makes me angrier. “I can’t believe you would lie to me! You want to hang out with Robin, fine. Go ahead. I was actually kinda glad you and her were becoming friends because I know being around her made you feel more normal, happy.

  “Is it hard for me to share you? Of course it is, Mason. You’ve been everything to me since I found you on my porch. You’re the first thought on my mind when I wake up. I can’t imagine my life without you, but I would never want to force you stay with me if you didn’t want to.”

  Throwing a pillow from the bed at Mason, I stare straight at him. “I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other? I thought we could trust each other no matter what. Did all of that disappear because you have someone else to talk to now?”

  “Olivia, please,” Mason begs.

  “Please what? You’re the one accusing me of being selfish and jealous!”

  “I’m sorry!” Mason exclaims. He flops down on the bed and presses his palms against his eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? Sorry I lied, sorry I said those things, sorry I didn’t just tell you in the first place.”

  Sitting down on the bed next to him, I keep my distance. “You’re just saying that so I’ll stop yelling at you.”

  “Partly,” Mason mumbles from under his hands.

  Sighing, I flop down next to him. There’s still a good bit of distance between our bodies, but much of my anger has disappeared. I look up at the ceiling as I ask, “Why did you lie?”

  Mason drags his hands down his face slowly. “I knew you would think it was too risky.”

  “Mason, it was. What if her grandma tells her parents, and they tell someone else? I can’t stand the idea of someone taking you aw
ay from me.”

  “She won’t tell,” Mason says quietly. “She probably doesn’t even remember we visited her.”

  When I look over at him, he is watching me already. “Her grandma has Alzheimer’s. It was touch and go while we were there. Most of her new memories don’t stick around very long.”

  Shaking my head and looking back up at the ceiling, I say, “You could have told me that. I would have understood. I want answers too, you know. I just care about having you more.”

  “I know you do,” Mason says, “but it’s different for me.”

  I look over at him feeling suddenly afraid. Different how? I wonder, but don’t ask. Different because answers mean more to him than I do? Different because the lure of finding out who he really is beats out a surrogate family? I see the weight of his thoughts reflected in his eyes, but I am too scared to ask.

  Mason stares back at me, the silence eating away at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks with fear in his voice.

  “Like what?” The ache in my voice makes it thin.

  “Like you’re getting ready to say goodbye.”

  My breath catches in my chest. Pain I cannot begin to describe floods through my heart. “Maybe because I’m terrified that’s what you’re going to ask me to do.”

  Suddenly, I am being swallowed up by Mason’s arms, cradled in his embrace. “Ollie, oh Ollie,” he says softly. “I don’t want you to say goodbye. I never want to leave you, Ollie.”

  “But?” I whisper. He can’t tell me that’s it because I can hear it in his voice. He wants to promise we’ll always be together, but something is stopping him. “But what?” I beg.

  Slowly, achingly, Mason tells me about his conversation with Robin’s grandmother. I listen, nestled in his arms, as he talks about special Aerlings that might attract more Sentinels than usual. He seems doubtful, but I have no problem believing Mason could be one of these unique children.

  It kills me to hear the guilt speaking these words inspires in his voice. He doesn’t seem to understand that even if he was sought after more than other Aerlings, it wasn’t his fault. Nothing he could have done would have preserved his family. Thoughts of his family send him to a new topic, to his real family, his Aerling family. He can say little, only that Robin’s grandmother claimed they had no choice but to send him here. It is a bright moment in his retelling as he takes a second to believe, to hope that his birth family stills loves him.

  “I know why you can see me,” Mason says.

  That pulls me out of my thoughts quickly. I lift my head from his shoulder with an expectant expression. “Why?”

  “Apparently, you’re my Escort.”

  My nose crinkles. “Your what?”

  “Escort.”

  “What is that?”

  Mason widens his eyes mockingly. “How do you not know what an escort is? Surely you know how guys can call an agency when they need companionship.”

  Slapping at Mason’s shoulder, I scowl at him. “Somehow I doubt I’m meant to be your call girl! Stop being an idiot and tell me what she really said.”

  I turn my nose up at him like he’s being utterly ridiculous, but the word “escort” keeps bouncing around in my head. Could it be something similar? Am I really meant to be with Mason that way? Suddenly my head on his shoulder, my hand on his chest, our feet crisscrossed, every point of contact seems to grow warm. My fingers curl up, afraid of touching him too much.

  “It means you’re supposed to take me home,” Mason says, startling me back to the conversation.

  “What? Home?” I ask. Reeling my brain back in seems harder than usual.

  “My . . . real home. Wherever Aerlings come from, I guess.”

  My hand digs into Mason’s chest as I push myself back up to sitting. “What?” I shriek.

  Mason sits up slowly. “That’s what she said. Nothing more. She was completely out of it by then, so I have no idea when or how, just that you’re supposed to take me home.”

  “I don’t know how to take you home! I’m not sure I would even want to,” I blurt out. The way Mason cringes scales back my panic. Swallowing my own desires takes a great deal of effort, but I force myself to think of him first. “I mean, of course I would take you if that’s what you wanted.”

  “I don’t know what I want,” Mason says. The agony in his voice kills me.

  Tears threaten to betray me, but I hold them back as best I can. “Could I go with you?” I ask quietly.

  “Would you want to?” Mason stares at me so intently it’s impossible to look away. “Would you leave your mom and dad and Evie?”

  The quivering starts in my chin and quickly spreads to my fingertips. “I don’t know,” I admit, “but I would want the option. I couldn’t just leave you somewhere not knowing if you were safe or happy. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t leave you at all, I don’t think.”

  Mason grabs me and pulls me against his chest. “I don’t think I can leave you either.”

  I don’t know if it is Mason that moves first, or me, but somehow we end up lying on the bed, foreheads pressed together and arms around each other. Neither of us speaks. We just lie there blinking at each other until our eye lids start opening more and more slowly. Mason’s stop moving first, but mine aren’t far behind. My last conscious thought is that I never want to move from this place.

  Chapter 17

  Pinchy

  (Mason)

  A sharp pain that stabs at me yanks me out of sleep. Disoriented, I reach for my lamp only to have my hand fall through empty air. Another crack makes me wince, but forces my senses to wake up. That’s when I realize the thrashing body next to me is Mason. Responding takes a moment as I try to figure out how I ended up in bed with him. Memory flashes back quickly and a second later I am trying desperately to wake him up.

  Getting my hands past his flailing arms is a challenge. I get whacked a few more times before getting a hold on his shoulders. His arms, though, are still trying to fend off the nightmare. Letting go of his shoulders for a moment, I grab one arm and pin it to his side. It takes a feat of near-acrobatic talent to keep one arm pinned with my knee while I throw my other leg across his chest to catch the other arm before he hurts one of us.

  Straddling his chest as I keep his arms in check, I grip his shoulders again and try to shake him awake as gently as I can. “Mason!” I whisper harshly.

  The last thing I want to do is wake up Mom. She’ll realize I’m still wearing my clothes from earlier and it will be a quick leap from that to figuring out I’ve been in here all night. I have enough to deal with right now without getting another lecture.

  “Mason, wake up!”

  A particularly violent bout of thrashing nearly knocks me off of him. I have to practically throw myself on top of his body to keep myself from being tossed onto the floor. Either the weight of me landing on him heavily, or my voice calling out right next to his ear, snaps him out of his nightmare.

  His eyes fly wide in a panic. “Ollie!” he calls out.

  His chest is heaving as he tries to clamber out of bed. I realize he hasn’t even noticed me sprawled on top of him and try to slip off before he dumps me on the ground. I get one knee back on the bed before he realizes it’s me squashing him and stops moving. Neither of us says or does anything for a full minute. I’m not totally sure he’s awake. I’m not sure what he’s waiting for.

  The feel of his hands suddenly gripping my waist makes me jump, especially when his fingers slide up my body as he attempts to lift me up. I feel like a ragdoll as he pushes me gently back to sitting. He stops when I am back to my original position from when I first tried to restrain him, one knee on either side of his chest. Only this time, instead of my hands trying to shake him awake, they are held in his. All he can do for a moment is stare at me.

  “You’re safe,” he whispers in relief.

  “Is that what your nightmare was about?”

  Mason’s shoulders roll forward, dropping his head. “They took you,
snuck up behind you at night and just took you. I couldn’t stop them.”

  “No one took me,” I reassure him. “I’m not stupid enough to walk around at night alone, anyway. Not with Sentinels hanging around.”

  I smile when Mason chuckles. He falls back against his pillow, still holding onto my hands. “Are you okay?” I ask.

  He shakes his head all around, neither a yes nor a no. “I wish I could make these nightmares stop,” he groans.

  “I wish I could make them stop too, especially since I seem to take the brunt of the flailing and thrashing.”

  Mason uncovers his eyes looking pained. “Did I hit you?”

  Shaking my head, I pat his cheek playfully. “I was just kidding. I’m fine. Just a few nudges here and there.”

  He doesn’t seem convinced, but I smile and refuse to let him worry about it. Getting knocked around a bit won’t keep me from rescuing him from those horrible images. I slide my foot off the bed to the floor and shift my weight so I can get off of Mason’s chest. I’m not all that eager to leave, but he grabs my wrist with a look of panic in his eyes.

  “Where are you going?”

  I can’t deny the shot of warmth that shoots through me. Placing my free hand on his chest gently, I smile. “I’m not going anywhere. I just realized I’m sleeping in my jeans.”

  “So?” He gestures at his legs, now uncovered since the blankets are dangling off the end of the bed in a tangled mess. “I am too.”

  “Yeah,” I argue, “but guys’ jeans are all loose and comfy. Mine are tight and pinchy.”

  “Pinchy?”

  Laughing, I push off of him. “Yes, pinchy. They’re really uncomfortable to sleep in.”

  I turn and start toward my room. I only get a few steps away before Mason crowds in front of me. I don’t realize he’s holding anything until he presses it toward me. I stare down at the plaid, drawstring pajama bottoms, not sure what to say. When I look up, Mason’s expression is tortured.