I shook my head. “Yeah. I know. That part…I like it.”
“No reason why you shouldn’t. I like being ambidextrous. It’s just who we are.”
“But I get so angry,” I said. “I mean, like, literally seeing-red angry…and when that happens, all I want to do is…you know…”
“Get rage-y. Yeah. I know.”
“Like him.”
Mazmanian smiled and shook his head. “Not like him. Trust me.”
“Well, then…what’s going on with me? Why do I get like that? I mean, it’s…people…I’ve…”
“Easy, champ. I’m getting to that. You’re probably not going to like it.”
That focused me but quick.
“Okay. Just tell me.”
“Nate,” he said, “you’re a teenager.”
“So?”
“So, that’s it.” He shrugged. “You’re a teenager. Like any teenager, you’ve got hormones pumping through your brain like never before in your life. Everything’s intense. Right?”
“I don’t know.”
He chuckled. “I guess you wouldn’t. You have no frame of reference. Trust me on this.”
I shook my head. “But I’m, like, you know.” This guy did a full physical on me—and I mean full—a few hours ago, but I still felt a little embarrassed. “I’m, um, fully developed, and stuff.”
“Sure, mostly. You’re not done growing—I’m betting you’ve got another inch to go. Your bones, your musculature…even though you’re already stronger than most grown men, I don’t think you’re done there, either.” He smiled. “Things are still finding their level with you, Nathan. Hence, the intense anger. Intense everything.”
It sunk in.
“So…I’m not crazy. And I’m not gonna get crazy.”
“Not because of your genetics, no.” He closed the file. “What you are, though, is a kid going through normal puberty with a full range of metahuman, potentially dangerous abilities.”
He scratched his nose and casually pointed at me. “It’s like you’re learning how to shoot, but you’re knocking down bottles and cans with a howitzer instead of a BB gun.” He seemed pleased with that, then looked more serious.
“You want to watch that. Until things level out.”
I felt really heavy. I knew I’d cry if I wasn’t careful.
“Too late,” I said.
His mouth turned down and he nodded. “I know. I heard. You know you could have sanctuary here, until that’s all worked out. Those people, that woman…they were all committing about a million crimes.”
“Yeah.” I stood up and held out my hand. “Thank you, Doctor.”
He stood up and we shook. “Get what you came for?”
“I guess so. Thanks again.”
I left him in his office and found my mother.
“Well?”
“I know what I needed to know,” I said. “And what has to happen next.”
And then, bang: there it was. I broke down, hard. She put her arms around me, and for the first time in a long time, I let her be my mother.
After a while, when I could make a noise that wasn’t keening or sobbing, I choked out, “I need to go home, Mom.”
Byron Teslowski – Nine
Byron, Haze, and Marc took a slow walk around the grounds of the Institute Sunday afternoon before a driver would take Marc down to the airport.
It was a tour, of sorts, and it made it easy for the two men to keep their conversation at a safe, superficial level. It helped having Haze there as a buffer.
They almost reached the courtyard in front of the apartment building, nearly completing a full circuit, and the conversation had wound down to a not-quite comfortable silence.
Marc broke it. “So. I guess you like it here. Have all along, huh?”
Byron glanced at Haze, who raised her eyebrows and gave him what he took to be an encouraging shrug.
“I guess so,” Byron said carefully. “I mean, it’s kind of like being away for college. Some stuff sucks.” He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the motives of his fellow Sovereigns. Especially the ones in charge. “Some stuff’s really cool.”
Marc looked straight ahead as they walked. He grinned slightly. “Gets you away from your old man for a while, at least, right?”
A single, loud, laugh burst from Byron. He stopped walking. His dad and Haze took a few more steps, stopped, and looked back.
His dad’s grin was not quite a smile now. “What?”
“Fuck, Dad.” Byron remembered a time when he would have been terrified to use that kind of language with him. Things had changed. “Way to, like, oversimplify things.”
They looked at each other. Byron’s dad laughed a little.
“That’s what I thought.”
They resumed their walk, Byron and Haze a little way behind Marc.
Haze elbowed Byron and mouthed, “Do it.”
Byron took a deep breath and matched pace with his father.
“So, uh, I was, like, thinking…maybe in a couple of weeks, y’know, if things are mellow here and everything…I was thinking I might come down for a visit.”
Byron saw the corner of Marc’s mouth twitch. Marc kept his eyes on the path. “Your mother, she’d like that.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He sucked on his lips to keep his own expression as close to neutral as his dad’s. “Cool.”
They reached the courtyard.
Byron’s dad turned to him. He looked him up and down.
“Looks like you turned out all right, Byron,” he said.
Byron felt Haze slip her hand into his. He grabbed hold. Her fingers were warm. His chest felt like it would burst.
“Likewise, Dad.”
From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Thirty Eight
It was my idea to meet in a public place on Tuesday. It was Lina’s idea that it be Romita Park. I felt lucky she’d agreed to meet at all.
Everything else was set. The only thing left to do was talk to Lina.
I walked to the park after telling my mother to give it forty-five minutes before she came to get me. I asked her to park by the curb and honk.
Lina’s car was already there.
My hands shook. I couldn’t quell the ache in my chest no matter how many deep breaths I took. There was nothing left to do but walk up the slope and into the park.
She was half-sitting, half-leaning on a molded-plastic picnic table near the monkey bars. She wore her old denim jacket over her Japan T-shirt, which was tucked into a tartan miniskirt. Eighteen-hole Doc Martens on her feet. Black leggings.
It was almost exactly what she’d worn on our first date. She had to have planned it.
I didn’t know what it meant.
She saw me coming. Her left hand rose and fell.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
I stopped a few paces away when the breeze delivered her perfect Lina scent to my nostrils.
“Wow.”
She frowned. “What?”
She smelled so good.
I was going to miss her.
“It’s good to see you,” I said.
I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to hug. She didn’t make a move in that direction, so I crossed my arms on my chest, decided that looked too much like I was all closed off, and settled for hanging my thumbs off the belt tabs of my jeans.
She nodded. “Are you okay?”
“I dunno. Now, or in general, or—?”
“In general,” she said. “Now. I don’t know.”
I shrugged. “I’m getting there, I think. Planning to be?” My mouth twisted, rueful. “What about you?”
“Fine.” She lifted herself to fully sit on the top of the picnic table and patted the plastic next to her. “You can sit here. It’s…I’m not mad at you.”
I sat down. The plastic was cold through my jeans, but that was nothing compared to how awkward and weird it felt being next to her. The last time we were this close, we were screaming at each other, and I pushed her, a
nd she fell.
“You should be,” I said. “I’m really, really sorry, Lina. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“Okay. I know.”
The apology didn’t make anything different. I still felt like there was a million miles in the inches between us.
I didn’t know what to say. I stared at the ground.
I fretted that it would be a long wait for my mother to get there if neither one of us said another word. But Lina said, “You were there? When your dad…”
“Yeah.”
“I’m really sorry, too, Nate. I can’t even…I can’t think what it would be like to lose my dad.”
I just nodded. Graham Porter, important and wealthy man, was a world away from Andrew Charters. I knew she knew that. But for a moment, once again, I didn’t know what to say.
I settled on redirecting things a little.
“You and your dad still getting along?”
“Really good,” she said. “Really good.”
A crisis will sure bring a family together. I’d brought the Porters more than a few. “I bet he’s pretty done with me.”
She tilted her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. “Well, you probably don’t want to drop by anytime soon.”
I wouldn’t be.
“Okay,” I said. “Makes sense.”
She sighed suddenly. “Nate, why’d you do it?”
“You mean Eric Finn?”
She looked at me. “Yes, Eric Finn.”
“Sorry. The last few days…you don’t know. I had to narrow it down.”
Her shoulders dropped and she scowled. “I saw that you were there, at the Institute. I don’t even want to know how that went.”
I nodded. “I’m not really ready to tell you about it,” I said.
“Okay. Tell me about Eric Finn.”
I shrugged. “It’s stupid.”
“I already know that. It was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, even stupider than Kirby Lake last year, and I was stupid enough to go along with that one.”
She shook her head, looking at me. “It broke us, Nate. You get that, right? You know that?” Her face flushed. She swiped her jacket sleeve across her eyes. “It broke us.”
I’d known we were done. I didn’t see how it could be any other way, especially since I’d made my mind up on what to do.
Hearing it from her, though, that was terrible. My throat jumped. I felt my own tears brimming.
“I know.” My voice broke.
She raised hers. “So tell me!”
“I did! I’m not kidding! It was stupid.” I sniffed. “It was childish and insecure, and I was jealous and—"
“Jealous of him? Why?”
I looked at her. I’d figured this out, mostly. I think I understood. Telling her, right then, with her close enough to kiss, knowing there’d be no more kissing, no more anything…I couldn’t open my mouth.
I had to, though. That was part of my deal with myself.
“It’s hard,” I said by way of beginning.
“Try.”
“I am.” I breathed. “Okay. Yeah. Jealous. I felt like if you were with a guy like that, an older guy, all…like he is…”
“I don’t know what that means, Nate.”
“Looking like he does.” Once that was out there, the rest was a little easier. “I couldn’t figure out why you were with me. Why you’d want to be with a guy like me.”
“You mean a guy who looks like you.”
“Partly, yeah.”
She closed her eyes and inclined her head. “Jesus. So you hunted him down and almost beat him to death. That’s great. That’s great.”
“No! I—no!” I didn’t want her to think I was a monster. I couldn’t handle that. “No…I did that because…look, I just didn’t get it, okay? I don’t understand why you would let him get away with what happened.”
She opened her eyes. She turned her head slowly toward me.
“Are you crazy, Nate? I’m…I’m serious.”
“No.” I sighed heavily. “Turns out I’m just immature. And stupid. Like I said.”
“You said ‘don’t understand.’ You don’t understand. Not ‘didn’t.’"
I nodded.
She looked like she was going to cry again. “Fuck, Nate, don’t you see how much that sucks?”
“I…yeah…”
“No! I can tell, you don’t get it! You still don’t get it! It’s not about you understanding what’s going on in my head. You’re just supposed to trust me! You’re just supposed to want to do what…what I ask you to do, as my friend! As my boyfriend!”
She choked on a sob and sniffed hard. “After everything, Nate…you know what I’ve been going through, after Kirby Lake. You knew.”
There was nothing for me to argue against. This, right here, if I had to be honest, was why I’d come here. I just nodded.
“I know.”
“And you still did that! God!”
“I know. I know. It was wrong. I’m sorry. I’ve learned better. I get it better, now. I do.”
“Oh, you get it now? After, what, a week, now you have your shit together?” She looked disgusted. “It doesn’t work that way, Nate. I’m sorry. You don’t get off that easily.”
“I know that. Believe me.”
I drew my leg up onto the table so I could sit facing her.
“Lina, I thought I was losing my mind. From the…from my dad’s stuff. I thought it was making me…” I shook my head. “You know. Stupid.”
She wiped her eyes and looked sideways at me. “You’ve been acting kinda shitty, Nate. For a while. So?”
“So I was wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me. Not like that.”
“So…I don’t get it. What’s your excuse?”
I took her hands. She looked down quickly, but she didn’t pull away. She looked at me.
“That’s my point. There’s no excuse. I’ve been stupid.”
I thought of the woman, whose full name, I learned before I left the Institute, was Evelyn Tamara Hill.
She was thirty-three.
I thought of Lou Uldare. Of Eric Finn.
“Worse, I think I let myself be stupid…because I thought I was, like, sick or going crazy or turning into my dad.
“But I wasn’t. I’m not.”
She was quiet for a bit before she said, “How do you know?”
“The Institute.”
She nodded.
She looked at our hands again.
“I’m scared for you, Nate.”
“Me too, Lina. And thanks. That’s, you know, better than scared of me.”
She laughed weakly. “Dude. I don’t care how badass you are. You know I can take you.”
It felt strange to laugh.
“Nathan?”
“Yeah.”
“Pushing me, like that? Knocking me down? You…you get why that was about the worst thing you could possibly do, right?”
I saw Evelyn’s mangled throat in my mind and started to cry. Lina let me. She released one of my hands so I could pull some tissues out of my back pocket and blow my nose.
“I do,” I said.
A car horn honked.
Too soon. Too soon.
“Time to go,” I whispered.
“Where are you going?”
I disengaged my other hand from hers and stood up. “It’s time to pay the price,” I said, then shook my head and laughed. “Jeez, it sounds all stupid and melodramatic like that.”
Lina smiled. “That’s us,” she said.
I grinned weakly. “Well, that’s just lame.” I felt like a burden had been lifted, and the lightness was a whole new kind of heavy. “I gotta do the right thing. No more running off.”
“Brave men run,” she reminded me.
“Ugh,” I said. “You know what? I used to be pissed at my dad over that. I thought it was just his half-crazy brain, riffing on a stupid line from a stupid movie and passing it off as some kind of, like, wild hobo wisdom.”
&n
bsp; I thought of my dad as he was on our trip, clean and trimmed and just this side of sane. I was glad I got to see him like that.
“Maybe it was, when he wrote it. I don’t know, you know?”
Lina nodded.
“But here’s how I’m gonna take it from here on out,” I said. “Brave men run…not away, or to fight another day, or whatever.”
I saw that she understood. “No,” she said. “Not that.”
“I gotta run toward the trouble,” I nodded. “My trouble.” I shrugged. “It’s a stretch. Work with me.”
“That sounds like a good thing,” she said. “But…what does it mean, for real?”
My mother honked the horn again from somewhere down on the street.
“That’s my ride,” I said. I opened my arms. “Can we hug, Lina?”
She stood up, but didn’t come to me. “What are you doing, Nate?”
“Turning myself in.”
Her eyes widened. “For Eric Finn?”
“And…stuff. Stuff I…I can’t talk about with you, not right now. In a while. If…you want.” I half smiled. “If you’ll visit?”
She looked sad. It was a sad thing.
But there was something else in Lina’s eyes that made that new heaviness in my chest ease off just a little. Something like understanding. And pride.
She stepped forward.
I put my arms around my best friend and breathed her in, breath after breath after breath after breath.
the end
September 7, 2012 ~ January 31, 2013
Long Beach, California
Afterword
This book exists because my community of friends, readers, and fans came together and said they wanted it. The following people even put money down to make it happen:
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The Sovereign Era (Book 2): Pilgrimage Page 31
