by Tonya Kuper
“No, you can’t,” I snapped. “You can’t begin to know how hard it was to watch my best friend change. To see him lie and hide. To know he didn’t trust me. Me—who had been with him since we were toddlers! I died the day Nick drowned.”
“I’m sorry—”
I know I should’ve accepted it. We were under a lot of stress, and the Josie I knew would never lash out at someone with the intent to cause pain. Not intentionally. “Save your apology. It doesn’t change a damn thing. You like facts; you want to deal with just the information? Fine. Here goes: don’t harm the innocent; don’t use your abilities to hurt Plancks or other members of the Resistance; don’t buy into the bullshit that the Consortium is selling—thinking that it’s okay to control and manipulate people.”
She didn’t know how many times I’d covered for Nick, when he’d Pushed or Retracted something as a prank or when he delved into the Hub archives and went rogue investigating leads on his own. She thought I’d sold him out. Well, fine. It was better that way. Maybe she’d be more careful, thinking I was so heartless.
Josie’s fingers combed through her hair.
She didn’t apologize again, but when I looked into her big, sad eyes, all the fight just seeped out of me.
I wanted to know what she was thinking, but I couldn’t ask. I knew I wasn’t her favorite person at the moment. She shot off the couch and marched to the middle of the warehouse, then back, stopping directly in front of me, eyes narrowed. She dragged in a long breath. “Was this all part of the plan?” Her voice was quiet. “Get me to trust you, make me feel…” She paused, pressing her lips tight. What was she going to say? What did I make her feel?
She shook her head, refusing to give voice to those feelings. “Then you get close so you can monitor me, see how I mess up, and have me taken out when I least expect it. Is that how it’s supposed to happen? You’re the judge and the jury, then you’d send for my executioner.”
I swept my hands in front of me like I was calling someone safe at home plate. “No. It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like?”
“It isn’t that simple, Josie. Just calm down. Please. You can trust me.” I didn’t break eye contact. I couldn’t lose all the ground I’d gained over the last few days. And I also couldn’t let her hate me.
Josie began to turn away. I grabbed her arm and wrenched her into me, throwing off her balance. She fell forward, her hand landing on my chest to steady herself, and her body smashed up against mine. Her breath was on my neck, I could barely think with her so close. “Don’t go off the deep end and you’ll be fine,” I said.
She thought I’d betrayed her. And maybe I had. I’d definitely betrayed the Resistance by not telling them how I felt about her before becoming her trainer, becoming her protector, becoming her friend.
In a way, I’d betrayed myself.
She raised her chin and looked me square in the eyes.
Josie pulled her arm out of my grasp and stumbled backward over the new rug. I stepped toward her to grab one of her flailing arms, wrapping my other arm around her waist. My toe hit her foot, throwing my balance forward. We stumbled toward the floor. I Pushed a beanbag chair just before we hit the cement floor to break our fall, and then spun so I took the brunt of it. We landed in an embrace.
My body melded into hers, and for a second I let everything fall away. It was just Josie and me, lying heart to heart, forced to look each other in the eyes. Every place we touched—our chests, our stomachs, our arms winding around each other—buzzed with energy. I’d never felt this before. Did she feel it, too?
Her lips parted a fraction as her chest expanded against mine. And there it was, in her eyes, in her face, the thing that hadn’t been there before, the thing she wouldn’t let herself feel. A desire, a need.
“No,” she whispered.
I pulled my hand out from behind her back and shoved myself up to a standing position. My body chilled without her close. I offered Josie my hand, and she examined it like she didn’t know me, like the last few days, or even the years of growing up together, hadn’t happened. Like every kiss we’d shared had been a lie. My stomach dropped.
But then her soft, warm hand took mine, I pulled, and with one fluid motion, she stood and paused in front of me.
I had to be truthful. She had to know everything, and then maybe she’d understand.
“I took this job because I couldn’t let anyone else have it. If your trainer found a reason to report you…I’d kill him. I can watch you and help keep you safe. I won’t let you do anything that would jeopardize yourself.” I didn’t say, I won’t let you turn out like Nick.
But the sentiment hung unspoken between us.
The walls she was so good at putting up to keep others out were back in place.
“I care for you, Josie. I have for a long time.”
“Reid…” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I need to go.”
She ran out the door.
I wanted to know what caused the fear in her eyes and what she was thinking about everything. About me.
I followed her home and watched her climb the stairs to her front door. She glanced over her shoulder at me.
Every fiber of my being screamed for her, but I didn’t say a word.
Josie
T
wo very profound things had been pointed out to me in that warehouse. One: Reid was my trainer and my prosecutor. And two: It had been my mother who sent for him.
Did I resent Reid for doing his job? Not really. I would’ve preferred to know this crucial tidbit of information from the start, but, if I had, would I have grown to trust him at all? Likely not. It angered me to recognize that he’d played me. And, if I was really honest with myself, Reid playing me hit on a far more emotional level than I wanted to admit. Tate dumping me? Psh, that was so completely, utterly painless in comparison to this. To this…hurt.
But what cut deeper, what left me bleeding inside and longing for numbness, was my mom’s decision. She had specifically called for Reid. She’d placed me under his tutelage with the full knowledge of what he’d be tasked to do. What game was she playing at? Mom was like me—where do you think I learned to assess and calculate?—she would’ve considered Reid’s training results with my brother. She knew that he’d blown the whistle on my brother. Right or wrong, Nick didn’t deserve to die.
Someone should’ve saved Nick. Surely there was some prescription, some remedial action that could’ve been taken to spare him.
I glanced around, recognizing the familiar sights and scents of my kitchen. Holy shitballs, I must’ve been numb, because the drive home was forgotten, and I had zero recollection of opening the door, shucking my shoes, or plodding through the family room.
Mom stood at the kitchen island cutting an apple for Eli. With her analyzing eyes on me, she said, “Eli, why don’t you take this snack to your room while you do your homework?”
He gave a fist pump. “Yes!” Eli didn’t usually get to take food to his room. His excitement was a stark reminder of what I was supposed to help preserve—the normal Planck world. Eli most likely wouldn’t be a Planck forever, but he was for now. His behavior didn’t diffuse my anger with my mom, though.
I caught him in a hug before he ran out of the room. I squeezed him until he wriggled to be set free.
“Josie,” he whined. Already he was approaching the age where PDA made him uncomfortable. God, so many things were changing.
“Sorry, bud.”
Eli hightailed it upstairs with his after-school snack in hand, and when I heard his door shut, I moved in front of my mother. Her face was guarded, emotionless, which stoked the red-hot embers of my rage.
I laced my fingers together to still my shaking fingers. “Why did you ask Reid here when you knew he could also end up determining my fate?”
She pulled a stool out and sat, leaning her cane against the cupboard. “That is one of the jobs of a trainer. You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll
be fine?” I shook my head as I tried making sense of her indifferent take on the situation.
“Reid is one of the most gifted Anomalies in the world. He won’t let you do anything that would require him to report you.”
Like he’d protected Nick? I wouldn’t go there.
“Obey the Resistance rules—”
“Do you hear yourself?” Heat, pain, nausea, but not near the level it had been at the beginning of the week. A small trophy with a gold star balancing on top appeared on the island between us. My mom eyed the award and asked, “What is it?”
“That’s your Mom of the Year Award. Calling your daughter’s judge and jury. That’s dedication.”
“It’s more complicated than that, and you know it.” Her voice had elevated in pitch; there was more emotion in that sentence than I’d heard in a long time. And that pissed me off. Because the emotion wasn’t in defense of Eli or me. She was talking about this big, jacked-up world. “If you or any other Resistance member put us or our cause in danger, then you will face consequences. Keeping the Resistance safe is of the utmost importance—we are fighting for ourselves and all humankind. The Consortium will grow too powerful if we don’t. The greater good outweighs the acts of one traitor who could ruin it all.”
My stomach roiled, and a bitter taste filled my mouth. I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together, because her sharp words slashed into the center of me. The greater good was more important than me, her daughter. I was alone in this, in everything.
Tears stung at the backs of my eyes.
Mom’s cold index finger on my chin startled me. Hunching over on the stool, she tried to look at my face, throwing herself off balance. She clasped onto my forearm, and I helped her balance on the stool.
I stared at my mom, deteriorating and weak. She’d given her life, her physical and mental self, to the cause. She wasn’t looking for accolades or recognition. My parents just wanted to do what was right—I could comprehend that. I could even respect it. What I couldn’t understand was putting your own child in the line of fire and welcoming her prosecutor with open arms. That was not love.
“Look—” Whatever emotion she’d accidentally let slip through was gone. Her cold exterior slid back in place. She reached for my arm.
“Noooo!” I Pushed handcuffs and chained her to the countertop, preventing her from touching me. “You look. You have two kids here you’ve ignored for years, so don’t pretend like you care now. I’ve been more of a mother to Eli than you have.” Something behind her eyes flashed—hurt, maybe, or surprise—but I continued. A couple of sparks of emotion after years of neglect wasn’t going to lessen my pain. “I will do this drop, but not for you. For Eli and every other kid who is oblivious and innocent.”
I Retracted the cuffs but left the trophy.
Stepping away from her, I eased toward the stairs. “Neither Eli nor I will ever replace Nick, but we’re alive. Act like it.”
I turned away before seeing a confirmation, but it wasn’t up for discussion. On the way to my room, my phone vibrated, indicating a text. Reid.
U ok?
I peeked out my blinds and found him in my yard below, staring up at my window. My heart faltered.
That was a loaded question. Was I okay? No. On top of stuff with my parents and my role, Reid had basically admitted he had feelings for me. Reid, who was really Cal, my brother’s longtime friend and my first true crush.
Reid, my potential whistle-blower. Who would bring upon my execution if I went crazy.
21.
Reid
J
osie needed a short crash course in weapons training. With the Consortium after her and the possibility of an attack at the award ceremony the following day, it was better to be prepared. She had to know how the weapons looked and felt, as well as the ammunition, if she wanted to Push them.
Santos took over my watch halfway through the night and followed Josie to the warehouse in the morning. Santos was one hell of a wingman, and he’d done his best to diffuse the situation, explaining to Josie how we’d successfully trained fifteen Oculi and how we weren’t in the habit of causing anyone suffering, least of all the recruits left in our care. According to Santos’s last text, Josie was cool. She was keeping it “strictly business.”
If I was smart, I’d do the same.
The door swung open with an abruptness only a kick could deliver. Josie’s head peered through the opening. She looked over her shoulder back to the parking lot, examined the floor, and shut the door. She was getting the hang of all this.
“We aren’t doing any attack training today,” I said.
She crossed the warehouse and came over to check out the collection.
Josie held her hands together as if afraid to accidentally touch something. Looked like her initial excitement was replaced with hesitancy. I could fix that. Once she was educated on the weapons, she’d feel more comfortable.
“Pretty awesome, huh?” Santos entered behind her.
Josie tilted her head from side to side, as if she couldn’t decide, as she considered the table of destructive tools. Santos and I had discussed being on our best behavior, especially since Josie had so many weapons at her disposal. There was a joke in there somewhere, I was sure, but under the circumstances, I didn’t have much to laugh about. I approached her from behind, announcing my nearness by clearing my throat.
I needed to smooth things over between us, and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. “Welcome to Weaponmart. May I help you find something? A pair of brass knuckles would complement your outfit.” She rolled said eyes and gave me the Vulcan hand gesture.
“I think your Vulcan salute is backward. I thought you’d know that, nerd,” I said, trying to keep it light.
She turned her hand the correct way, the palm facing me. “No, this is what Vulcans like Spock use, which means ‘live long and prosper.’” Then she flipped her hand so the backside faced me. “I’m using it backward, which means the opposite. ‘Die and languish.’” She flashed a fake smile.
Yeah, things still definitely needed smoothing out.
“Santos, customer!” I yelled. He jogged to her side with all the enthusiasm of a Walmart greeter.
“You ready?” I asked. “All you have to do is learn about them, how they work, what they look like. Then you’ll be able to Push each of the weapons if and when you need them. If you don’t know what you’re trying to observe into existence, you won’t be able to make it materialize.”
Santos continued where I left off. “This handgun has six rounds, but others have a detachable magazine with twelve or more. Some assault rifles, like the classic M16, have forty-five to sixty rounds, depending on the clip. You need to know how much ammunition each weapon holds and what it sounds like when it runs out of rounds, so you can mentally refill it when you need to. Pushing a constant stream of endless ammo is possible, as long as you’re cognizant of it. But if you have people trying to kill you, sometimes endless rounds are tough.”
Josie eyed the six-chamber in Santos’s hand. “Why would I need to know the sound it makes when it’s out of ammo?” Her eyes flitted to my face for a moment and then back to Santos.
Santos, being a bit of a weapons nerd, was eating this up. And Josie was taking instruction from him better than she’d probably take it from me at this point. “Say an armed person is chasing you,” he said, “and your mind blanks on what weapon to Push into your hand. You come across a dude lying dead on the ground, a handgun in his hand.”
Santos stepped away from Josie. “You grab it and point it at an armed person chasing you, and it makes this sound.” Santos pointed the gun down at the floor. He pulled the trigger. A ch-ch sound echoed off the warehouse walls. “You hear that? It’s out of ammunition. You need to know to Push more ammo. The first time that happens, your instinct will be to drop the weapon, but that leaves you vulnerable. All you have to do is observe the bullets coming out and they will. It just takes practice.”
> Josie’s ponytail bobbed. Her head was saying yes, but her eyes said something else. Santos handed her the gun and she mimicked his hand position, turned in an about-face, and pointed it at the life-size mannequin at the end of the training area.
“Reid,” Santos said. “Why don’t you go hang this outside?”
“Hang what?”
A moment later, a six-by-ten wooden sign dropped at my feet: Sammy’s Shooting Range.
When had I become the errand boy? And the warehouse was already insulated with soundproofing—we’d made sure of that when we first moved in. I listened intently to Santos’s instructions and how he helped Josie to acquaint herself with the weapon. He didn’t do a damn thing untoward, but that didn’t quell the urge to punch him. Before I gave in to the notion, I hefted the sign onto a dolly and rolled it toward the front of the warehouse.
A couple of Pushes and it was hanging in place.
When I returned to the warehouse, Santos had stepped beside Josie and was busy repositioning her supporting hand. “Now,” Santos said. “This reaction needs to be automatic, like what Reid has taught you about being aware of your environment, the quick thinking, the close-combat skills. They all need to be habits. An immediate reaction. Most of us train for months—years. You’re getting the crash course.”
“Santos,” I warned.
He shook his head. “She deserves the full truth, Reid. She can handle it.” He glanced back at her. “You know, Josie, on the bright side, you haven’t had to train as hard. You really are a natural. And talent trumps training when it comes to being an Anomaly. Understand?”
She nodded.
Yep, that jealousy reared its ugly head again.
Santos Pushed ear and eye protection on the three of us. He gestured toward the mannequin. “Brace yourself and fire.”
Josie fired and missed the dummy entirely. She tried again and got off a couple shots in the legs.
