by Tonya Kuper
I choked again and grabbed my water. “No,” I managed to say between chugs. It was like trying to drown my secrets.
Seeing my mended stuffed puppy on the edge of my bed, I casually straightened the books on my nightstand and knocked the old toy onto the floor.
Guilt ate at me. I couldn’t do this—lying to those I loved and those I loved, like my mom, lying to me. It was too much. If Hannah took one real good look at me, she’d know. She’d know I was keeping secrets, that something was wrong.
She grabbed a few tissues and started stuffing them between her toes. “He likes you. It’s so obvious.” The playfulness had returned to her voice.
“Whatever.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So, do you like him back?”
“What? No. I thought we were past this. No. He’s a jerk.”
“Who’s freaking hot.”
“Yeah, he is so freaking hot.”
Hannah’s finger shot out at me. “Ah.”
My cheeks burned. “What?” I laughed, pretending to be engrossed in the bottle of polish in my hand. “You’d have to be blind not to see that he’s gorgeous.”
“Gotcha.” Hannah smiled with her whole face, her grin wide and infectious and kind. She was my best friend, my first true friend. And this was probably my last night with her. That realization made up my mind—I’d tell her what I could, which wasn’t much, but still.
I struck the small bottle on the palm of my hand, mixing the polish. “Fine. I like him.” I peeked at her again. She beamed like a proud mother, not saying a word. She knew it wasn’t easy for me to talk about my feelings. I continued. “There are people who don’t ask you to be something different, yet challenge you, making you a stronger person. He’s that. He makes me feel alive.”
“Wow. You…you like him like him.” I shrugged and attempted to smile. “Does your mom know?” She was well aware of how overprotective my mom was.
“I’m not sure if I’ve left that impression or not.” I shook my head, thinking about my interactions with my mother over the last week—how she kept so many secrets and now was putting me in the line of fire. “Man, my family is messed up.” Hannah was the only person who knew about Nick dying and my absentee dad, so my statement wasn’t untrue.
“I know. But if it makes you feel better, all families are screwed up in some way or another.” She laughed, which was encouraging. She was the only child of a single dad. She didn’t exactly have it easy.
“Yeah.” I giggled. “You’re right.” I’d bet the USS Enterprise her family didn’t have superhero powers and a legion of evil people after them. But it felt good to at least connect on that level a little.
We talked through the night about prom and plans for the summer, my computer playing music in the background. I let Hannah do most of the talking, since I wasn’t making actual plans. I played along pretty well, though.
Her excitement over the possibilities of what could happen over the next several months was almost palpable. As she spoke, I saw in her a picture of the girl I had wanted to be, the life I had wanted to have. What I thought was envy growing inside me was morphing into something different. It was motivation. Inspiration. She deserved to have that life and those opportunities. I’d do this drop and whatever else was asked of me as an Oculus for her, for Eli, for the life I longed for.
I could do it, as long as Reid was there helping me.
20.
Josie
T
he nights were getting shorter, the days longer. That’s what happened when fear clutched your heart and fate was so uncertain.
Hannah left the next day and the house was empty. Mom had probably taken Eli for lunch. She tried keeping things as routine for Eli as possible, which I supported. If Nick and I were any indication, Eli was going to be a mess later on, so he needed as much stability as possible now.
Not even five minutes after Hannah left, the doorbell rang. I peeked through the side window to see Reid pacing the porch. Swinging open the door, I said, “I want to go swimming.”
About a dozen emotions crossed his face. Then he smiled fully, a real smile that reached his eyes. “Okay.”
“Let me get my shoes.” I ran to grab my things, thinking about the last time we were alone. Playing billiards. Kissing. My pulse quickened remembering the moments. Would he still feel the same or would he act like it didn’t happen?
He was already on his bike, watching me approach him. I was ready for a smartass remark, but it didn’t come. Instead, his gaze traveled the length of my body. Nervousness swirled inside me as I climbed on behind him, more aware of his body in relationship to mine than I had been before. He handed me the helmet and I slipped it on, then placed my hands on his obliques. Leaning forward, I let my chest rest against his back and said, “Take me to the beach.”
He turned his head a fraction and dipped his chin in affirmation. I was comfortable with the actual handoff. I was comfortable Pushing and Retracting. Time was running short. I needed to do something that would help me grow.
The drive was perfect—blue skies, warm sun, and a guy way too hot for me. Bypassing the busy sections of town, we headed south toward the city limits, where the coastline began to break away into a series of islands and inlets. We parked and followed a boardwalk path in silence, walking side by side. He still had barely spoken to me, but I didn’t want that awkwardness between us.
The wooden walkway came to a T. We turned the corner, and his fingers laced in mine. I glanced up, and he was studying me.
He squinted against the sun, the midday light showcasing his light blue irises. “I admire you.”
I couldn’t think of a single reason someone would admire me, especially Reid.
He paused at the top of the stairs that led to the sand. “There is a lot to be said for facing a fear.” Oh, that. My cheeks flamed. I wasn’t looking for recognition; I just needed to do it—for me.
Reid scoped the beach. An elderly couple walked together, and three figures huddled on the coastline. Even though I didn’t like being in the ocean, I enjoyed watching the waves crash against the shore and the lulling, rhythmic sound of them colliding with the sand. The vastness and openness was appealing. The salty sea breeze smelled like possibilities.
“Come on, shoes off.” Reid pulled his hand away and took off his shoes, tied the laces together, and threw them over the boardwalk railing. I slipped off my flip-flops and placed them under his shoes.
It was an odd picture—his shoes and mine, like we were together, united somehow. I guessed we were. I’d never really experienced that before. Maybe with Hannah, but that was different. Or maybe this was different.
His warm hand enveloped mine and tugged. I trotted after him in the sand until we neared the water. Once we hit the hard-packed, wet sand, he slowed. “I’m sorry about that training session out in the cypresses.”
It felt like it had been a year ago since I’d been in that drowning scenario. Truth be told, I didn’t really appreciate the reminder of it.
I wondered how he knew about my fear in the first place. Had he conjured the test because he’d heard about how my brother had potentially drowned? Or had my mom informed him of my aversion after the accident, and how I hadn’t gone swimming since?
“I know it isn’t rational,” I began. I toed a shell in the sand, and his fingers weaved in mine. His touch was timely, a reassurance that I could tell him more. “It’s better than it was.” I could look at a body of water without envisioning my brother trapped beneath the surface. “I threw myself into movies and books even more than I had before Nick died. I find comfort in fiction—it’s safe. I can lose myself and find myself in books. It’s a little ironic, actually, because now I just want to know reality.”
“I get that, but…” He guided us closer to the breaking waves. “We can’t always be safe. Sometimes we have to fight and sacrifice. We have to take chances.”
Chance? A chance was an occurrence taking
place outside of intentional design. Hmm.
“Uh-oh.” He tapped my head. “The wheels are turning up there. It isn’t luck or chance, Josie, although in battle, you’d be surprised how an enemy can make one wrong move—a lucky mistake or chance turn in the opposite direction—that gives you the advantage.” He tilted his head to the side. “I forget sometimes how analytical your mind is.” He stared past me to the water. “We make decisions, choices.” His lips curved as he altered his voice to sound like mine. “‘We make calculations that directly correlate with our desired projected outcome in order to enhance our probabilities of success.’”
I playfully punched his arm. “I don’t talk like that.”
He scoffed.
“Okay, maybe a little bit. But it isn’t intentional.”
“I like it. And I’ll let you in on another secret. I brushed up on the latest Marvel franchises and all the Star Wars movies before I came out here.”
That was thoughtful.
“You would’ve been proud. When I first entered the warehouse—it was a total mess, mind you—I compared it to Dagobah, that swampy, gross planet where Luke trained in The Empire Strikes Back.”
I laughed. “I probably know Star Wars geography better than I know the countries on Earth.” A wave hit almost to my knees. Wait. When had I moved this far into the water? “Nice strategy,” I reluctantly admitted, recognizing his chatty tactic for what it had been.
“Distraction is a useful tool. You’d do well to remember that.” His expression turned sheepish, like he worried about offending me by resorting to such a tactic.
“It’s all good, Reid.” He’d gotten me into the water. Desired projected outcome and all that, indeed.
As the wave withdrew in a bubbling whisper of foamy ripples, it left cool sand beneath my feet. His fingers gripped mine firmly, not letting me escape. The next wave crashed over my ankles and calves, sending goose bumps over my limbs.
My stomach quivered with anxiety. At this spot on the shore, the water was the depth of a baby pool. My reaction—hello, ridiculous.
“We’re gonna get through this, Josie.”
Did he mean my irrational fear or this war? Both? This guy, Reid—Cal—had been a fixture in my life, working behind the scenes to keep my family and me safe. What about his own life? His own wants and needs?
“You’ve sacrificed so much,” I said, watching the water lap around my shins.
“Well,” he whispered, drawing me toward his side, “some things, some people, are worth making sacrifices for.”
I made the mistake of looking at him and taking my eyes off the impending waves. My balance was thrown off and I swayed, almost falling over. His grip tightened and his other arm wound around me, pulling me up against him.
He bent to see my face. “You okay?”
I nodded.
“See? You’re like Luke, facing something scary. And I’m Han.” Humor flickered in his gaze. “I just help ya out a little.”
“What?” I tore out of his hold and kicked water at him. He laughed, and it was now officially one of my favorite sounds.
He grabbed my hand again, attempted to draw me into deeper water. Nope. My limbs locked solid. I wasn’t freaking out, and I took that as an accomplishment, but I wasn’t going to full on take a swim, either. Not that either of us had taken the time to shuck out of our clothes.
Reid watched me intently. He inched us back toward the beach.
“You’d make an awesome Princess Leia,” he said, lightening the mood.
“She’s badass.”
“I don’t remember which movie, but in one of them she’s wielding a gun and breaking Han free—all in this hot little bathing suit.”
I chuckled. “Box office antics.”
Reaching down to the water, he scooped a handful and splashed me.
I kicked out and shot a stream of water at him. He laughed, but from the gleam in his eye, I knew I needed to run—fast.
Reid lunged at me, and I ran for the beach. He caught up to me quickly and wrapped his arms around my middle from behind. A thrill danced through my body when he turned me around and eyed me from under his dark lashes. His hands cupped my face, and he pressed his lips to mine, soft and slow. My eyes fluttered shut, and I reveled in this feeling. Excitement and fullness.
He deepened the kiss, and energy surged through my system. My hands twisted into his silky hair, and though there was no place to go, he somehow wrenched me closer. Electricity snapped under the surface of my skin.
He pulled his mouth away and pushed me back, his brows arched and eyes wide. “What the hell was that?”
“You felt that, too?” Heat pricked my cheeks in embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He ran the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “Come here.” He kissed me again. And again.
That was something I could get used to.
Reid
A
fter spending a good deal of the afternoon at the beach splashing and talking, I brought Josie back to the warehouse.
We parked the bike, and she made her way backward toward the couches. I matched her step for step, like I was stalking her. She asked what I planned to do now. “Well, I could finish that billiards lesson.”
Her cheeks reddened and a wicked smile slid across her face. Her legs stopped moving, but mine didn’t. I scooped her up, and giggles fizzed out of her, effervescent, like a shaken can of soda.
I sat on the couch with her across my lap, leaving what would happen in her court. I wasn’t going to pressure her into kissing me. As soon as she looked in my eyes, her arms tightened around my neck, and she raised her lips to mine.
I liked the ball in her court.
While catching our breath after our kiss, Josie toed the new rug in front of the couch.
“Did you buy a new rug?” she asked.
“Buy?” I considered her wording. “Uh, sure.”
She tried to hide her smile. I knew she didn’t want me to waste precious energy on stuff like that. “You didn’t Push it, did you?”
“Yeah. I put it there for you. This is where you’ve been sitting. Twice now, you’ve touched your feet to the floor and cringed from the cold. Problem? Is red the wrong color?”
“No. That’s…nice of you.”
Josie slipped her foot back into the sandal, her head still down. “Hey. So, if you’re my personal Yoda, can you tell me when my training is complete?”
My heart leapt into my throat.
I knew what I had to say. What I’d been reluctant to tell her. It wasn’t like I could hide the truth from her indefinitely. Considering the gravity of the situation, the sooner she knew, the safer she would be.
Still…things would change after this.
“Hey,” she whispered, likely sensing the shift in my mood. “What’s wrong?”
I had her on my lap, and for a couple of brief seconds it had felt like everything was right in my world. Shit, could the timing be any worse for her to bring up her training?
“Reid?”
I sighed. “The end of your training isn’t something that’s capped off within a set time period. Even within the Hubs, training concludes when the skillsets are mastered. Some Oculi take longer than others. It’s not something that is predetermined.”
“Okay. But do I have a lot left to learn?”
I knew from our time together that Mrs. Harper hadn’t provided Josie the true scope of my role as her trainer. Nice of the lady to lump that task on me. It was a good thing Josie was sitting down.
“No, you’ve mastered your abilities in a fraction of the time it takes other Oculi.”
She frowned. “Does that mean you won’t be training me anymore?”
“No.” The next stage of her training would focus on how she dealt with her abilities, the side effects of them. I cleared my throat. “So, your training, I think you’re on the right track with the Star Wars analogies.” I tried to draw the comparison that would best help her to unde
rstand my point. “But rather than Yoda, I’m more like Obi Wan.”
“Obi Wan was great with Luke.” She smiled. “You really did brush up on your sci-fi before coming to Oceanside.”
“Yeah. I was thinking more along the lines of Obi Wan in Revenge of the Sith.”
Josie didn’t say anything for a moment. “Obi Wan tries to kill Anakin in that movie—that’s where Anakin becomes Vader.”
She gasped. Her hand covered her mouth and she shuffled off the couch. “Why didn’t I put it together before?” she said, more to herself than me.
“Stay calm, Josie. It’s just you and me. Nothing’s changed.”
A nervous laugh broke free. “Everything’s changed.”
“You’re not going to turn out like Vader.” I shoved off the couch, following her as she retreated. “And can we speak like adults minus the pop culture references?”
From her expression, that had cut her even more. Shit.
“Look, I’m gonna say it again: nothing changes. You train, we make the serum exchange, we work together to hone your abilities.”
“Until I start acting a bit wacky, right? Maybe I mumble to myself or ask too many questions. Maybe I suffer a little PMS—and what then? You call my mom? You report me to the Resistance—let them do the dirty work for you?”
“Calm down.” Hell, I needed to take that advice myself. “Nobody is going to hurt you—least of all me.”
“Like I said, you’ll have them do the dirty work for you. Like you did with Nick!”
My anger spiked so hard it was a wonder I didn’t blow the roof off the warehouse. I didn’t say anything, though, not a word. She couldn’t have cut me deeper had she Pushed a saber and shoved it between my ribs.
Looking like she realized she’d crossed a line, Josie walked back to the couch and sat.
Neither of us spoke for a minute.
“When did you find out I’d reported his behavior?” I asked. Did it really matter? No. Still, I wanted to know.
“Mom told me a couple days ago, but I just now made the connection that you’d have to do the same with me. I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I know you cared about my brother. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you to turn him in.”
