“Most of these books look like they get checked out about once a century. Don’t you think they can wait?”
Though a voice in my head warns me not to make more trouble for myself by skipping out on duty, my heart is with him. He doesn’t have to ask again.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
We walk together down the wooded path that leads to the highway. Levi directs us, consulting the map on his plum.
“How long till we’re there?” I ask, breaking our self-imposed silence.
“Thirty-seven minutes,” Levi answers. “But add an extra seventeen hours to that. The map doesn’t account for how slowly you walk.”
“Funny,” I say.
“Anytime,” he replies.
We lapse back into silence. As the afternoon bleeds into twilight, I zip my hoodie to my chin, wishing I’d worn a coat. Levi is wearing another long-sleeved shirt, but no sweater or jacket, yet he appears unaffected by the temperature. I trip over a rock and bump into him. His arm is solid beneath his sleeve.
“How did you do that thing?” I blurt.
Levi knits his brow. “What thing?”
“The other night, by Dark Lake. You flipped through the air. You were practically flying.”
Levi shrugs. “It’s called tricking. I learned it on Castor Island where I grew up.”
“I’ve never seen anyone do that before,” I say. “You know, in California. Where I grew up.”
Levi looks thoughtful. “California, huh? What’s that like?”
Levi’s legs are longer than mine, and I have to add an extra step every few yards just to keep up, so my voice is a bit breathy when I respond. “I thought you knew everything, Mr. Stratum Three.”
“I’d never been anywhere until this summer. Surely you’ve read the tabloids? I’ve lived my whole life within a four-mile radius on a compound made of steel and glass. One of the perks of being the DNA mistake of the century, remember?”
“I’ve read the articles,” I say. “And the blog posts. And the in-depth exclusives. Everyone has.”
“So you know my existence is a complete and total fluke. I’m only here because some lab technician implanted cells that were taken from your friend,” he says, eyeing me, “and all the others.”
“Was it really an accident?”
“An accident or a mistake,” Levi answers. “Either way, we were created by a lab tech who had no idea of the ramifications of what he was doing.”
I consider this. Levi’s right, of course. According to every report on the incident, the lab tech was suffering a psychological breakdown when he cloned the originals. It wasn’t clear he truly comprehended what he had done. He was fired and transferred to a private facility for mental evaluation. That was sixteen years ago. No one’s heard anything about him since.
“So. What was he like?” Levi asks.
“What was who like?” I whisper, though I know with every atom of my being who he’s talking about.
“My original. My doppelgänger. My…clone, if you will.”
“Well, for starters, Oliver wasn’t a jerk.”
Levi actually laughs. “I forgot how much you love snap judgments. I suppose I could see how that might be endearing. To some.”
He carried Pru all that way, I remind myself. He isn’t a jerk, Emma.
“Oliver is—was—my chlorophyll,” I say simply.
I wait for Levi to make fun of what I said. But he doesn’t.
Then a moment later, it comes. “Oliver helped you produce oxygen which you then released as a waste product?”
I sigh. “No. He converted light into energy.”
I can tell he’s intrigued because he doesn’t ask any more questions.
We come to the highway and walk side by side on the shoulder. A few lonely cars whoosh past us.
“You’re not an easy person to get to know,” Levi says. “We spent hours together yesterday. During duty and after…” He shrugs. “I still know nothing about you. Not to mention Oliver, whom you only described using a pretty tenuous metaphor related to botany.”
A high-pitched shriek sounds above us as a hawk circles overhead. I tremble at the sound and the chill. I’m suddenly acutely aware of the boy walking next to me.
“I don’t want you to pity me when I say this,” Levi explains. “But I’ve spent my entire life knowing that I looked exactly like a person I’d never met. Now that person is dead, so I’ll never have the chance to meet him—and I always thought I would.” He clarifies, “I didn’t think we’d be instant brothers or anything. I just thought someday we’d meet. And since we can’t… Learning about him—it helps.”
“Helps with what?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
“Making sense of my life,” he replies. “Of my seemingly random, and for the most part, useless existence.”
We’re silent for another minute as our steps accelerate.
“You want to know something about Oliver?” I offer. “Something real?”
Levi doesn’t respond, but the mood shifts between us. I can tell I have his undivided attention.
“There are physical differences between you and him. Your hair is longer than his was. Also, I don’t know if you’re more muscular or he was just leaner, but…” I stop myself. The last thing I want to discuss is Levi’s body. “Oliver was smart. He had a geeky love of learning. He would talk to me about the most random and irrelevant stuff. Only, it wasn’t random or irrelevant, not to him.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Astronomy. History. Politics. That’s why he loved filmmaking. He thought everything in the world was worth documenting, even the most mundane stories. But the real reason Oliver was my best friend was because he was so freaking genuine. He was funny, you know? Not in a sarcastic way, like me…or you,” I add. “He was so optimistic. So earnest. The truth is, I would have hated him if he weren’t my favorite person.”
Levi considers this, then: “What are Oliver’s parents like?”
My heart leaps at the mention of them. “Who, Jane and Booker? Jane is…” I feel myself tearing up. “Jane is not describable. At least not in words.”
“Try charades, then,” Levi offers.
I scowl. “I guess you could say she is real. If ‘real’ means kind and perceptive and funny and forgiving. And Booker—technically, he’s Oliver’s stepfather, but he raised Ollie from when he was really little. He legally adopted him and everything. Ollie doesn’t even remember a time when Booker wasn’t his dad.” I correct myself, “Didn’t.”
“Let me guess. He’s ‘real’ too?”
“Very” is all I can choke out.
Levi’s brow furrows, like something’s bothering him. It’s clear he doesn’t like the answer I’ve given him.
I stop walking. “I’m confused,” I say.
“What about?” Levi asks, stopping too.
“I don’t understand why they didn’t tell Jane and Booker about you. The other parents—Madison’s, Tessa’s, Pru’s mom and dad, the others… They were all told that their kids had Similars.”
“How do you know they didn’t tell Jane and Booker about me?” Levi asks, his voice tight.
“You haven’t met them, have you?”
“No.”
“If they knew about you, they would want to meet you.”
“Oliver’s parents were told. The Wards sent a note explaining they weren’t interested in meeting me.” The emotion drains from his voice. “Mrs. Ward said I ‘wasn’t to consider myself a part of their family.’”
“But they’re your parents!” I exclaim, before I can stop myself.
Levi’s gaze locks on my own. “Jane and Booker Ward are no more my parents than they are yours.”
“Of course they are. You’re a clone of their son, aren’t you?”
“You just said Mr. Ward is Oliver’s stepdad. Which means I don’t share his DNA. Only Mrs. Ward’s.”
“But Booker loved Ollie like a son. That is not up for debate.”
“Either way,” Levi says. “I’m a stranger to them, a science project gone wrong.”
“I don’t believe for one second that Mrs. Ward wouldn’t want to know you or want you in her life. Did you see that note they sent? Actually see it?”
“No—”
“Then maybe it’s not true. Maybe your guardian lied to you.”
Levi throws up his hands. “Fine,” he says, as he starts walking again, quickening his pace. I scramble to catch up with him. “They’ll be on campus after fall break. We can settle this debate then.”
I give him a blank look. Levi continues, “The dedication ceremony? The one honoring Oliver Ward? Some of the teachers were talking about it yesterday. I assumed you already knew. They’re building an arts wing in his honor. Donated by the very ‘real’ Jane and Booker Ward.”
“They’re coming to Darkwood?” I can barely get out the words. “Jane and Booker?”
“I’ve been considering ways to introduce myself. ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ probably won’t suffice.”
“And when you meet them, it will be obvious they’ve never heard about you,” I say quietly. “You’ll see. Jane could never reject you.”
Levi responds by lengthening his strides. I try to keep up. We’re nearly there.
“I don’t know why no one told Booker and Jane about you, or why you were lied to,” I go on, dogging Levi’s steps. “But once they meet you…”
“I’ll replace the son they lost?” Levi’s face is so sad, it’s more than I can take. “Don’t you get it, Emma? Maybe they could have been something more than strangers before, but now that their son is gone, I’ll never be anything to them but a slap in the face. A reminder of everything that’s been taken from them. Look, it’s not like you were happy to meet me either.” He laughs. Does he find this funny? “Don’t worry. I’ve managed for sixteen years without parents. From what I hear about curfews and nagging, why would I want to start now?”
He strides off, and I let him go as I consider the weight of what he told me. For all intents and purposes, Levi is an orphan. Worse than that—he is parentless. An orphan is someone who’s lost their mother and father. Levi never had parents to lose.
Jaeger
At the hospital, a receptionist informs us that Prudence Stanwick is no longer a patient. She was checked out on the same night she was admitted.
“Checked out?” I stammer. “How? Who took her?”
“Doesn’t say.”
“But that can’t be right. She was unconscious. She couldn’t have just left!”
The receptionist sighs, more interested in her plum than giving me answers.
“I can’t help you, miss. The patient was released.”
And just like that, my world crumbles again.
No Prudence? If she’s not at the hospital, where is she? I wonder. She’d call me if she was okay.
I’m not a runner, but I run now. There are rocks along the edge of the road. I pick one up and pitch it into the woods that line the road. Then another rock and another. And with each one, I yell.
I sense Levi next to me as I pick up a fist-size stone and toss it, hard, like a shot put. It feels good. I don’t want to hit anyone or anything, but I need to move, to channel my anger into something physical. Levi hurls one too. I’m surprised, but also grateful. Maybe he understands, at least a little bit, how I feel.
“They must have transferred her to another hospital,” I say as I throw another rock. “It’s the only answer that makes sense.”
“Maybe she went home. If she was well enough to travel, they might have sent her home to her family,” Levi suggests.
“No. She would have buzzed me—”
“Not if she isn’t on your approved list of outside callers,” Levi reminds me.
I forgot about the blocks on our plums. But Pru’s dad is on my approved caller list. Wouldn’t Pru borrow her dad’s phone to get in touch with me? I pick up another rock, squeezing it in my palm. Something about this feels wrong and unsettling. Where is Pru?
I let the rock slip out of my hand and hit the ground. I’m done with this. I’m ready to go back. I start down the road, back to campus. I hear Levi toss his rock, and then his footsteps follow me.
After a few minutes, Levi interrupts the silence. “If she were dead, we’d know.”
I stop in my tracks. “Excuse me?”
“I said, if she were dead—”
“I heard you.” My voice is low.
“They would have told us,” he explains. “There’d be no reason not to.”
I’m so tense, I feel like a rubber band about to snap. “Prudence Stanwick is my best friend. Oliver Ward was my best friend, but he died. So aside from my bot, Pru is pretty much the only person I have left in my life. Which means her being dead is the worst thing you could say to me. Ever.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“What’s wrong with you, anyway?” I lash out. “Any normal person would say something reassuring.”
“Haven’t I told you enough times, Emma? My upbringing didn’t make me normal.”
“And you think I am? My mother died when I was three. I have no memories of her outside the ones I’ve recreated from old photographs. I live with my dad, which is essentially like living with a corpse. We aren’t that different, you and me.”
Levi stares at me.
“What?” I snap at him. “What now?”
“You think you know anything about what my life has been like?” Levi breathes deeply. “Try living in near isolation for sixteen years. Try never meeting or hanging out with any kids your age except for five other clones who you have nothing in common with, besides the fact that you’re all genetic mistakes.” Levi stands quite close to me now, so close I can practically feel his chest heave up and down.
“Try living a life so lonely you thought you might never know what it’s like to have a friend you’ve chosen yourself. Try getting sent away, at age sixteen, to attend the prep school of the dead kid you were cloned from.” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him express this much emotion or intensity. I don’t know if I’m afraid, but I’m definitely unnerved.
Sick over Prudence and aching to be back in my dorm room, I continue down the road. Neither of us says another word the whole way back to campus. My thoughts and his breathing are all I hear.
Back in my room, I find a pensive Pippa outside my door. For the second time, my heart leaps, thinking it’s my roommate. Still, seeing Pippa here is both comforting and disorienting. It’s not a new sensation. It’s how I feel whenever I see Levi.
“I—I waited for you. I hope you don’t mind,” Pippa says quietly. “You got a package.” She hands me a letter-size envelope, but with something bulky inside. My eyes immediately dart to the return address. J. Porter, Palo Alto, CA. My heart does a flip-flop. That’s Jane Ward’s maiden name. A package from Oliver’s mom? I ache to open it, but not now. I unlock the door and we go inside, where I stuff the package under my mattress for later, when I can be alone.
“Have you heard anything else?” Pippa presses. “About Pru?”
“She’s gone,” I choke out before I can stop myself.
Pippa sucks in a tight breath. “Gone? You mean—”
“Not, gone gone.” I let out a sigh that’s more like a sob. “Levi and I, we went to the hospital to see her. We skipped out on duty,” I explain. “When we got there, they said she checked out the same night she arrived.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Pippa says, agitated.
“What if they’ve taken her someplace else. Home? Or—” I stop before I give Pippa the same terror I felt envisioning Pru’s lifeless body being
slid into a coffin.
“This must all be a mistake,” Pippa goes on. Her voice pleads with me—or the universe?—to make Pru okay. It’s like she’s even more shaken by what’s happened than I am. Suddenly it makes sense. Of course she’s distressed. She may not have known her for long, but Pru is quite literally Pippa’s other half.
“There has to be some other explanation for this,” Pippa continues. “Right?”
I nod because it feels like the right thing to do. The truth is, I have no idea.
* * *
In American history the next morning, Mr. Park projects a holographic world map in our view space. Countries are color-coded: some blue, some orange, some red.
“Blue countries,” Mr. Park’s voice booms, “are countries where cloning is currently illegal.”
If the class wasn’t paying full attention before, we are now. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Theodora stiffen.
“Red countries are safe spaces for clones. Orange countries are nations where a law has not been put in place one way or the other.”
Five hands shoot into the air, and as the discussion turns into another debate on cloning, its history, and the most recent Supreme Court case on clones’ rights, I do my best not to look at Levi. Things were tense when we parted ways yesterday. I don’t want to talk to him, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk to me.
I’m snapped out of my reverie when the discussion turns to Albert Seymour, the young American scientist who took cloning to the next level, helping couples and individuals around the world conceive children who would be genetic replicas of one of their parents.
“Who is familiar with Dr. Seymour’s famous primate experiment?” Mr. Park asks.
Silence. Apparently none of us have heard of it before. Mr. Park scans the room. “Theodora? Levi? Is it safe to assume you know about it?”
I allow myself to glance over at Levi. After getting so emotional yesterday, Levi looks nothing short of bored this morning. Arms across his chest, hair in his eyes, he shrugs. “Albert Seymour created us. We know everything about him,” he says, standoffish.
The Similars Page 10
