Spark

by Rachael Craw

  Miriam cringes then turns away, jogging across the room to kill the music. The quiet seems loud in contrast.

  Kitty hops off the treadmill and comes out onto the mat. “You’re not worried about snogging Dad, are you?”

  Miriam picks up a towel and mops sweat from her brow, though it looks more like hiding to me.

  “Barb’s okay,” I say, with more assurance than I feel. Things were fairly stilted at breakfast this morning.

  Miriam looks up. “He told her?”

  “Of course he did,” Kitty says.

  She groans.

  “Don’t worry.” Kitty pats her arm. “Jamie explained it was necessary. Barb’s not unreasonable.”

  “That’s optimistic, kid.”

  What Kitty and Barb don’t know about is the intensity of the kiss, its force and – I hate to think the word – passion. I know that’s what Miriam feels bad about and I feel bad for her. A civilian would struggle to resist the advances of a Shield. The chemical potency, or “mutant hotness” as Kitty likes to call it, that makes the genetically engineered so desirable wouldn’t only have blitzed poor Leonard’s restraint but compelled from him an equally potent response.

  “You can’t hide here forever,” Kitty says.

  Miriam gives her a droll look. “I live here.”

  “I’m just saying, you know, don’t be a girl’s blouse.” Kitty throws her hands up. “Now, I’m famished.”

  Miriam cracks an insubstantial smile. “The cupboard’s pretty bare. I could make some cookies?”

  “Let me,” Kitty says. “Besides, Evie wants a private word to apologise for being so horrible for the last couple of weeks, and to thank you on behalf of all of us for so epically taking charge last night and ostensibly saving my life.”

  I shoot her a dirty look, my ears growing hot. “Thanks very much.”

  “You’ll be able to …” Kitty puts her fingers to her temples and makes a strained expression like she’s constipated.

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’ll sense you from here.”

  She cocks her head, a foam-support hampered gesture of the blithely unruffled and crosses back to the stairs.

  Miriam looks like she’s bracing for a blow.

  “Um …” Eye contact. Pressure builds in my chest. From the moment the Warden left, I knew something had shifted inside me, but I didn’t want to bank on it until I could stand in Miriam’s presence and test my reaction. Now I’m here, looking into her brown eyes, I know for sure. The block in my mind, the sense of violation against the Fixation Effect, has gone. With the wall down, a flood of suppressed emotion rushes in.

  Cutting Miriam off had robbed me of my one true ally in grief, the one person who felt the loss of Mom as much as I did. I let my tears fall and I let her see them fall. “I’m sorry.” I barely squeeze the words out before my sob cuts them off.

  Her arms surround me and I cry even harder, clinging to her, swamping her with my need, my mother-ache, my relief, regret and loss.

  “Oh, honey,” she murmurs.

  “Kitty’s right. I’ve been so horrible to you and you didn’t deserve it but I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “Sweetie, it’s okay. I understand. You don’t need–”

  “I do!” I pull back, wiping tears onto the back of my hands, sniffing hard. “I do need to apologise, and then you were so incredible last night,” my voice flies high, “so brilliant and fearless while we were all freaking out and you pulled us together and did this incredible thing, even though you could get in so much trouble and–”

  “None of that matters.” Miriam pulls me into her arms again and I cling to her sweaty back and sob. Then a vivid image fills my mind. I’m Miriam, hugging Mom, tears flowing, arms around her neck, a hard moving lump pressing against my belly.

  I gasp. The image vanishes. Miriam and I break apart. “Did I harvest that?”

  “I – I don’t know. What did you feel?”

  My mouth splits with a smile. “Mom, when she was pregnant with me.” I press my hand to my belly. “I could feel me moving. Ha! That is so completely weird and awesome.”

  Pain and joy contort Miriam’s face. “It is.”

  “I miss her so much it hurts … but, I’m so glad she never had to know what I really am, that I didn’t have to hide this from her.”

  “She loved you so much, Evie. She was so proud of you.” She strokes my hair. “I owe you an apology too. I should never have said those things to you in front of everyone.”

  I am determined not to get defensive.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t like it but I should never have humiliated you.”

  “It’s not our fault we’re Synergists,” I say carefully.

  “I know that.” She sighs.

  “How could I not choose Jamie?”

  “It’s not your choice.”

  “But, how could I ever want anyone else?” The enormity of saying it aloud terrifies me. I know it must sound ridiculous, the naive stupidity of a teenage girl. “It’s like … it’s so …”

  Her focus grows distant, her eyes weary. “I get it.”

  Realisation steals over me. “Have you – I mean, were you with someone like that before?”

  She drops her gaze and frowns. “Ages ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “Jamie hasn’t been honest with you, Evie.”

  I stall. “What?”

  She looks up. “If he’s in the deactivation program it means he’s been paired with a Cooler.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “A Cooler is the opposite of a Synergist and almost as rare. It’s a person whose signal counteracts and defuses our own. Prolonged exposure to that person under the conditions of the program could make it possible for Jamie to deactivate.”

  Helena.

  My mind races. “Jamie could be cured? I mean, made normal? No Sparks?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s …” I hate the idea that Helena can give Jamie something I can’t. “Wonderful.”

  “It means Jamie would have to be with his Cooler.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” My ears ring. “How long is the program? Weeks, months?”

  “No, Evie, it would be permanent.”

  My hearing takes on that noise-in-a-tunnel effect where the sound of your own pulse fills your head. I can see her waiting for me to burst into tears. Instead, I shrug my jacket off and turn to the sparing dummy. “Miriam,” my voice gets rough. “Would you mind stepping back?”

  RIFT

  “Please say something.” Kitty trots beside my quick-step march from the car to the courtyard entrance of the house, her cookies rattling in the tin she’s borrowed from Miriam, her journal balanced on top. “You’re freaking me out.”

  “Everything is fine.” Two hours with Miriam’s sparing dummy hasn’t calmed me down. “I just need to talk to your brother.”

  “Everything is not fine. You look like you might start blowing things up.” She stumbles at the doorstep. She manages to right herself but her journal slips, bouncing on its spine, springing open. Envelopes spill across the mat, six of them, names written in Kitty’s neat hand: Kaylee, Lila, Imogen, Miriam, Jamie, one for her parents.

  “What’s this?”

  Her eyes widen. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit.” I know what these letters are. I know it immediately. She doesn’t believe I can save her. Suddenly furious, I bend to snatch them up, but she shoves me before I can get hold of them.

  “Don’t you dare!” she shouts.

  “Move or I will move you.”

  “Don’t you bloody well tell me what to do, Evangeline Everton.” Livid patches develop on her cheeks. “It’s none of your business.”

  She shrieks when I take her by the arms and lift her from the ground, putting her down behind me. She drops her tin and kicks and bellows, raising her hand to strike me. I catch her wrist. “Try it.” I turn my back on her cries and grab the envelopes.

/>   “Stop it!”

  “Letters?” I fan them with trembling fingers.

  “Give them to me.” Eyes streaming, she swipes them back, creasing the envelopes, whimpering at the damage then smoothing them between her hands. “It’s nothing.”

  “Writing your goodbyes, Kit?” My voice cracks. “Where’s mine?”

  She lunges for the journal but I’m too fast for her, whipping it off the ground.

  Kitty slaps at my wrist. “I haven’t … It’s not–”

  I flip the book open. There are blank loose leaves. Torn pages. My name and a paragraph. She’s crossed things out, underlined phrases and written amendments.

  I don’t read it. I tear the page and screw it up.

  “Evie, please.”

  “Don’t-write-me-any-letters.” Dizzy with grief, I shove the journal into her hands and stalk inside, down the back hall. I ram the kitchen door and stop short. Leonard stands behind Barb at the stove, his hands on her shoulders, head bent as though he’s been whispering in her ear. They both look up, startled.

  “You’re back. Is Miriam joining us for dinner?” Barb’s tremulous voice and smile crumble. “What’s wrong?”

  “Um, Miriam, she’s … no. Not for dinner, she’ll come later.” I fist my knuckles to hide my shaking. “Where’s Jamie?”

  “Upstairs,” Barb says. “He went to take a shower after Abe dropped him off.”

  I swivel around just as Kitty walks in with her tear-stained eyes. “Evie.”

  “What’s going on?” Leonard says.

  I push past Kitty into the hall and stumble up the backstairs, barely able to see straight with my rage and my hurt and my punctured hope. Leaving school that afternoon, my biggest concerns were Aiden and Miriam, but the worry of the first and the relief of the latter were obliterated by Jamie’s lies and now Kitty’s letters.

  I stall outside Jamie’s room, staring at the doors. Music blares.

  Stay calm. Don’t cry.

  I knock and let myself in, bracing against the sensory impact of his scent. I can’t hear the shower. “Jamie?” I lift my voice, not wanting to surprise him if he plans to walk out naked.

  “Hang on,” he calls.

  I lean against the double doors, fighting my trembling.

  Jamie keeps his apartment-sized room tidy. Shades of white, grey and a deeper charcoal in the soft furnishings. Weathered oars hang mounted above his wide low bed. His navy crew jersey lies slung over a wooden chair, “Skipper” monogrammed in gold. In the corner, looking out on the estate lawn, a drafting table, covered in a series of hull designs.

  Oh, that’s right. Yachts.

  I don’t want to look at them or anything, or be moved by the evidence of Jamie’s essential … Jamieness. I look at the floor and focus on the screaming chaos in my head.

  The door to the bathroom opens and Jamie appears barefoot in his black jeans, a towel obscuring his face as he dries his hair. Water beads his chest and it’s impossible not to look when he turns his back to reach for a remote, killing the music. I hold my breath for the angel, knowing I’ll never trace its details again. He drops his towel and faces me, caution in his eyes. “Is your phone off? I tried calling you.”

  I force myself to hold his gaze. “This is extracurricular.”

  His lips part, his chest expanding slowly as he processes my words, but his expression remains unflinching. “No. It’s not.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “Miriam doesn’t understand.”

  “Yeah. She does.”

  “Listen–”

  “You listen!” I stab my finger at him. “For Kitty’s sake, we will remain training partners but there will be no more extracurricular activity. It’s over.”

  His brow knots tight. “You’re not being fair.”

  “Fair!” Roaring fills my ears. “You let me believe – you told me …” But what could I accuse him of? He had made me no promises. “You started something you had no right to start and I was an easy target. That’s what’s so pathetic, isn’t it? I’m just a stupid, predictable girl.”

  Jamie welds his hands to his hips. “It’s not like that!”

  “It’s exactly like that!” A high-pitched ringing builds in my head.

  Calm down.

  “You have a chance at a normal life with Helena. A normal life!”

  “It’s not decided!” His face reddens. “She doesn’t know if she wants to deactivate. She has a boyfriend!”

  “She’ll choose you!” The light bulb flickers above us.

  “What if I don’t want her to?”

  We stare at each other.

  “You’d give up a normal life for me, Jamie?” I force a bitter laugh, wanting to hurt him. “You heard Miriam last night, choice is an illusion. Affinity already decided for you.”

  “I’m not in love with Helena!”

  My mouth pops open for a cutting retort but there’s no air, no words; my mind blanks. The high-pitched hum disappears, Jamie’s undeclaration blinding me like an eclipse, pressing down on me with its weight. I feel like I’m slipping, scrabbling on loose ground, unable to find purchase for my feet, careening towards a precipice. If I don’t push him away now, with him looking at me like that, saying things like that …

  “Do you know what I dream about?” I land on the worst thing I can tell him. “Every night, since I moved in?”

  He frowns at the sudden shift.

  “I dream I’m him. I dream I’m stalking Kitty in the dark, with sick, twisting hate boiling inside me, poisoning me, killing me, driving me. And in the nightmare, I feel it in my stomach, feel it in my skin, in my head that I won’t ever be free until she’s dead.”

  Jamie recoils.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve woken, drenched in sweat and sick to my stomach with the feeling of Kitty’s neck snapping beneath my hands?” I shake my head. “That’s what Sparking has done to me, Jamie. If I were you, I’d stick with Helena.”

  I turn and open the door. Kitty backs against the wall, her face white, her eyes full. “No.” I reach for her, but she tears away.

  “Shit,” Jamie mutters and pushes past me, running after her. I watch him go, the angel and the scars.

  I throw my jacket in the corner and curl up on the bed. I stare at the shadows on the wall, wishing I could escape into sleep but it’s early and there’s no sleep in me, just a blank, wakeful void.

  At some point I hear Barb and Leonard in the hall and know they will be checking on Kitty. I hate imagining their faces when they find out about the awful things I said. I press the tender marks on my arms where I blocked the sparring dummy, imagining the bruises blue on my white bones. I want to think about that warm moving lump I’d felt in Miriam’s memory, but I know it’ll make me cry. I want to stew about Aiden but have no energy to trawl back over the details. Instead, I scan the bandwidth and think about nothing, concentrate on breathing. It seems like an accomplishment.

  When I hear Miriam’s car, a juvenile relief fills me, like here’s my grown-up who’ll take care of the mess and love me despite my mistakes.

  She doesn’t come straight up. I know one of the Gallaghers will fill her in. Probably Jamie, what with the awkwardness about Leonard and Barb. I imagine the effort it’ll take for him to hide his disgust. Eventually, there are soft steps in the hall. She knocks and opens the door, but I don’t roll over. The bed dips as she sits and puts her hand on my arm.

  “Kitty’s afraid of me.”

  She sighs, a gentle sound I don’t deserve. “No, she’s not.”

  “You didn’t see her face.”

  “She blames herself.”

  “What?” I jerk on my side to look at her.

  This is what Sparking has done to me.

  I groan, remembering our conversation from the morning and how I scolded Kitty for blaming herself. In the space of one afternoon, I’ve ruined everything. I press my hand to my eyes. “You know she’s been writing her goodbyes?”

  “Maybe she’s … p
rocessing.”

  “She doesn’t believe I can save her.”

  “She’s afraid.” Miriam strokes my hair. “Jamie said you’ve been having nightmares.”

  I tell her everything. “It’s not normal, is it? You’ve never dreamed like that.”

  Miriam doesn’t say anything.

  I know I’ve shocked her and I feel truly worse. “What if–” I squeeze my eyes shut and choke it out, “What if I’m not good?”

  She rolls me back against her. “How can you say that? Of course you’re good.”

  “But what if there’s something wrong with me? What if it’s bad wiring?”

  She holds my face and even in the dark her stare is fierce. “You are good. Do you hear me? It’s just a dream. You can’t fight DNA.”

  I make my way up to Kitty’s room, carrying a breakfast tray, knock on the door and let myself in. The shower is running in the bathroom. I wasn’t prepared for a delay. I had worked myself up to give a speech the moment I came in. I cross to her desk and place the tray on top then sink onto the corner of her bed, tearing a doughy hunk of muffin, stuffing it in my mouth.

  A wad of paper catches my eye, balled up by the leg of Kitty’s desk. With only the smallest hesitation, I kneel, grab the screwed up paper and unfold it. The sense of breaking taboo churns my stomach. It’s a list.

  Before the end: To do list:

  1. Perfect crème brûlée

  2. Fall in love

  3. 2 kids 3 kids

  4. Live in London

  5. Editor of my own food magazine

  6. Event manage

  I stare at the paper so long my eyes sting. I picture her sitting at her desk compiling the list. Did she screw it up after overhearing my rant? If her hope is gone, I have no one to blame but myself.

  The shower stops.

  I stuff the list in my pocket and wait.

  Kitty comes from the bathroom wrapped in her towel, frowning. “What are you doing?”

  “Breakfast.” I nod at the tray, folding my trembling hands under my arms. “And an apology.”

  She tucks a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t need to. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “I was angry with Jamie. I should never have said those things.”