Then why did it feel so entirely wonderful?
I don’t let my mind go to the million places it wants to—like wondering how long he and Theodora have been dating, wondering why I was so clueless, and if Levi ever planned to tell me.
It’s not only him I want to avoid. It’s all of them. I can’t deny I felt like prey, the Similars ringed around me, so troubled, so melancholy. And I’ve never been as mortified in my life as when they caught me and Levi kissing.
Thankfully, I have studying for winter exams to distract me. And though I dread going home for the mandatory winter break, I make plans to interrogate my father about Albert Seymour and John Underwood. Even in my humiliation over what happened with Levi, I can stay focused on figuring out what Oliver was trying to tell me, and proving Madison’s guilt.
The last day of school before vacation, I’m bussing my tray when Levi and the Similars walk into the dining hall. I hurry toward the door. I don’t want to risk seeing Levi and Theodora with their arms around each other.
“He didn’t mean to hurt you,” Pippa says before I can escape.
“I know that,” I respond, even though I don’t. Not really. But I can’t talk to Pippa about that. Not now or maybe ever. “I’m going home tomorrow,” I say as the Similars call her over. She starts to walk off. “Pippa, wait. About Pru…”
She turns. “What about her?”
“Jaeger left a note for me the day he visited. In that book he gave me. He said… He said I should stop looking for her.” I feel tears pooling in my eyes and don’t try to stop them. “I still don’t know what he meant, but I thought… I thought you should know.”
“I have to go,” she says, giving me a quick hug, “but thank you. For telling me.” I watch her walk off, then run smack into Archer and Ansel on my way out of the dining hall. Archer’s clapping Ansel on the back, telling him how psyched he is about Ansel’s first Christmas in California.
“It’s going to be sweet, dude. My dads have a Malibu crash pad. It’s sick.”
“And you’re sure they want me there?” Ansel asks.
“’Course. You’re one of the family now. Look, let me give you a couple of tips. My dads are exercise freaks, so bring sneakers. First thing we do Christmas morning is hike up to the Hollywood sign. Ansel, buddy. Don’t look so worried.”
I walk off before I can hear the rest, wondering vaguely what task Ansel was given by his guardian, and if he’s going to get started over the holidays.
* * *
“Genevieve,” I call out from the sofa in my father’s living room, my voice initializing our household bot. “What do you know about Albert Seymour?”
I’m back home in San Francisco. Normally Oliver and I would spend our breaks binge-watching movies together, but now I’m determined to learn more about Seymour’s time at Darkwood. He is, after all, the reason the Similars are who they are—special attributes and all. That alone compels me to dig up everything I can about him.
“Looking him up now,” Genevieve responds. Unlike Dash, Genevieve isn’t my friend. Blunt and to-the-point, she gets things done, scanning documents and articles faster than any bot I’ve ever interfaced with.
“Thanks—”
“You know about his cloning lab, I assume,” she cuts in before I can say more. “His pivotal research…”
“Yes,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. “Everything about his days at Harvard and beyond has been thoroughly documented—except for his primate experiment. That’s not in any of the literature I’ve found. And there’s hardly anything about his years at Darkwood. He was there at the same time as my father, and the parents of several of my classmates. Plus, his brother was there…”
“His half brother, you mean? John Underwood?”
“Exactly. I can’t find anything on him either.”
“He was expelled,” Genevieve says briskly. “Underwood, I mean. At the end of his junior year.”
“Really?” This is news to me. “Why? What did he do?”
“Seymour was working in a research lab on the Darkwood campus. Something to do with animals. A precursor experiment to cloning, I presume. Underwood let the subjects loose on some kind of ill-advised dare.”
I stand and start pacing the room. “Underwood got kicked out of Darkwood?” I stop by the fireplace in front of an old photograph of my parents. In it, they look young, happy. “Where are you getting this info from?”
“The source is a bit shady,” Genevieve admits. “I might have hacked a few personal emails…”
“Is there anything else?” I ask, ignoring that last part. If Genevieve did something untoward, I don’t want to know about it.
“No,” she answers. “That’s all I’ve got.”
I spend pretty much the entire vacation alone, with only my research and Genevieve and Dash to keep me company. When I tell Dash about Underwood’s expulsion, he sounds hurt that I asked Genevieve for help instead of him. I remind him that I have so few actual friends, he has nothing to worry about. I still need him.
I miss Prudence so much it hurts, but short of showing up at the farm and demanding to see her, I don’t know what else I can do. Jaeger hasn’t responded to any of my buzzes, and the last thing I want is to upset her parents, particularly not with her mom so ill…
I try to keep my mind occupied, thinking about Seymour’s brother. I’m still reeling over the fact that Underwood was expelled in his junior year. Could Seymour have had something to do with it? I don’t know how or if it is relevant, but something in my gut tells me it is.
I only have to endure one awkward dinner with my father on Christmas Day—the one holiday where even he can’t claim to have work obligations. I slip in a few questions between bites of in vitro steak. There’s no easy way to start a conversation with my father, so I just come out with it. “You never talk about being in the Ten. How come? Is there a reason you don’t want me to know about it?”
My father looks up from his plate. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “It was a long time ago, Emma. A lot has changed since then.” He sighs, carefully separating his vegetables from his meat. “Why are you interested?”
“For starters, I’m part of the Ten this year, or didn’t you get the memo?”
“And I’m proud of you, honey, though not surprised. You always manage to do well academically, in spite of… Well, you know.”
“What?” I ask, my cheeks growing hot. “My best friend dying? Or do you mean Levi? Is this your way of acknowledging that Oliver’s clone showed up at Darkwood? Since I got home, you haven’t mentioned two words about Oliver, or Levi, or your call with Headmaster Ransom at the start of the semester.”
My father opens his mouth, maybe to apologize, though I sincerely doubt it. Whatever he’s about to say, he never gets the chance. The view space above our dining table beeps with a news alert.
“Protestors gathered today in Sacramento on the capitol’s steps,” the automated voice booms out over us, “to rally against a recent ruling that allows couples to seek out reproductive cloning in the state of California. Many believe this ruling is a slippery slope toward clone assimilation and clones’ rights.”
I stare at the feed, horrified as I watch thousands of Americans brandishing anti-clone signs, pumping their fists in the air and crying, “Say no to clones!”
The reporter continues, “California is the first state to rule in favor of clones’ rights, arguing last month that clones should receive equal protection under the law, and that border checks are unconstitutional. But many do not agree with the ruling—”
There’s a click, and the room goes silent. My father has turned off the feed.
“Why did you turn it off?”
My father adjusts his napkin in his lap. “Because that protest is abhorrent. Because the idea that clones aren’t people like us, people who eat and breathe and feel the same emotions
that we do… I couldn’t stand to watch another second of it.”
“Oh.” I’m chastened. I had no idea he felt so strongly about clones’ rights. The way I do. But of course, he raised me. Distant as he is, he’s shaped what I believe. And when it comes to clones and the Similars… I feel sick, thinking of Pippa, and Maude, and Ansel…and, of course, Levi. He doesn’t deserve that. None of them do.
My father interrupts my thoughts. “Are you friends with him? With Levi?”
“No, Levi and I will never be friends. Or anything else,” I mutter. We finish our meal, and I don’t ask my father about Underwood’s expulsion. I’m sure he won’t give me any useful answers, anyway. I’ll have to find them some other way.
Returning to Darkwood, I spend most of the flight trying not to imagine what I will say to Levi when I’m eventually forced to talk to him. Maybe I can avoid him forever. Yeah, right.
When I step out of the car that delivers me to the main house and see all the warm reunions among my classmates, it’s not lost on me that nearly everyone I love is no longer here at school. I feel a pang of longing, wondering where Pippa and the Similars—including Levi—went over the holiday. They all couldn’t have gone home with their originals like Ansel.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts, I barely notice the flyers plastered across campus about the first rally for DAAM, the Darkwood Academy Anti-Cloning Movement. Of course, I’m not out of the loop for long. Not with the entire campus buzzing about it, and Madison talking it up to anyone who will listen.
“It doesn’t make sense,” a couple of sophomores say. “Why is Ransom allowing this? Why’s he giving that evil group a charter?”
I don’t tell them that I don’t trust anything Ransom says or does anymore. Still, it’s hard to imagine why Ransom would allow a rally like this to take place at Darkwood. I feel like the founders of the school would turn over in their graves if they knew this kind of discrimination was happening on their beloved campus. The only positive to this rally is that Madison seems to be too preoccupied to call any midnight sessions lately, and for that, I’m relieved.
That evening, I head to the rally. Boycotting it, I reason, would only make me ignorant to whatever Madison’s planning. I head out of my dorm, following the crowd to the athletic center, where nearly the entire school has convened. From the look of it, not a single student is missing this.
A first-year girl shoves a leaflet into my hands as we funnel into the gym. Soon, I am surrounded on all sides. There are DAAM supporters and potential supporters, who are chanting the club’s slogan, while others are wide-eyed and hushed as they prattle on about how horrifying, and simultaneously fascinating, this is. I scan the gathering for the Similars. I don’t see them. I can’t ignore the ache I feel when I think about what it would be like to be Theodora, Pippa, Maude, Jago, Ansel, or Levi. I would hate there being a rally to protest my very existence. It cuts me to the bone, on their behalf, and I have to suppress the tears that form in my eyes as I consider how wrong this is. How unfair.
Someone taps on a microphone, and a moment or two later, Madison Huxley walks up to a makeshift lectern and smiles at the crowd.
“I’m so pleased by the turnout.” She basks in the spotlight while Sarah Baxter plays the role of assistant, fiddling with Madison’s microphone. I notice several of the boys, the ones Madison was charming in the dining hall, up front, waving and whooping their support. “First, I’d like to thank Headmaster Ransom for granting us our charter.” Madison flashes her signature grin at Ransom, who’s standing to the side of the staging area, watching the rally unfold, his arms over his chest, his face unreadable. A few other teachers dot the sidelines. They look serious, like they’re here to stop any inappropriate behavior before it can start. But hasn’t it started already? Isn’t this entire rally, by its very existence, inappropriate?
Madison beams at the crowd. “I’d like to thank all of you for coming. From the look of it, most of Darkwood is in attendance, which means you’re all here to listen to, and accept, the truth.” There’s a smattering of clapping from the audience. Madison waves off the applause. “No need for all of that. I’m not here because I get personal satisfaction out of public speaking. I’m here because I’m following in my parents’ footsteps, taking on the mantle, the burden, if you will, of righting a huge wrong in our society. One that affects all of us—at Darkwood and beyond.
“Today, I would like to challenge you to look inside yourselves and ask an all-important question: Do you think it is right for your fellow citizens to be able to tamper with natural order, with biology, simply because they are vain or narcissistic or selfish enough to want to make an identical copy of themselves?
“Now, I’m sure you’re thinking, ‘Maybe it is vain or narcissistic or selfish to clone oneself, but what does that have to do with me?’ Everything, my friends. Imagine a future world, one in which you have no control over your DNA. Imagine that scientists want to clone you—to take your DNA and make ten copies of you. A hundred copies. A thousand, even.”
“No one wants a thousand copies of you!” someone shouts from the crowd.
“Maybe not,” Madison says, maintaining her cool demeanor. “But if they did, would I—should I—have a say in it? Who owns my DNA, anyway? Scientists? Other people who want to play God? Or me?”
The crowd grows quiet as everyone contemplates that thought.
“Some people believe DNA is the window into the soul. I happen to agree. I believe it is the only thing each of us possess that is purely, uniquely ours. If we don’t have control over our own DNA, we have no control over our destiny. And if that day comes—or should I say, when that day comes—we will have crossed an invisible barrier into a world where anything is permitted. Like stealing someone else’s genes and using them for one’s own gain. Or choosing embryos from a petri dish based on intelligence, or looks, or talent. Eugenics isn’t a concept from a science fiction novel. It is a real possibility unless we take a stand, unless we stop those who wish to destroy the very essence of what makes us human and distinctly American: our individuality.”
A few people start clapping. Others storm out of the gym, the door slamming behind them and echoing across the room. Madison holds up a hand to silence the applause.
“Who will you be if there are others exactly like you? What will make you special? I would argue—nothing. Because there is no point in being you if you are replaceable. If you are disposable. There’s no point in earning that high stratum. No point in practicing those extracurriculars. No point in falling in love. Because someone else could do it for you. Someone else could take your place…”
My pulse quickens as I think of Levi. Madison’s wrong. He and Oliver aren’t one in the same.
Madison stares out at all of us. The crowd is hushed, completely rapt—even those who think she’s totally off base are still mesmerized by Madison’s audacity. And even though I don’t agree with any of what she is saying, there is no denying that Madison is a very compelling speaker.
She lowers her voice. “When I found out I had been cloned—against my will, without my parents’ permission—I was devastated. Someone had taken what makes me me, and shared it? Watered it down? Made me…irrelevant? I’ll be honest. It took me weeks to crawl out of the emotional hole I dug for myself. Then I realized what I needed to do.
“My calling from this point on is to protect all of you, so that you never have to go through the same experience that I have. So that you never have to live with the reality that I wake up to every single day. The reality that I am not unique, and—as long as she exists—I never will be again.
“That starts with the Similars. We must make it clear to the world that their existence will not be tolerated. That we won’t freely welcome clones into our homes and our schools. That they shouldn’t have the same rights as the rest of us. Recent events have shown us that we can’t trust them, not when one of them has a
llegedly attacked a fellow student.”
I gasp. She means Levi. She is making this witch hunt about him. I feel sick to my stomach. This is not okay. Everything about what Madison just said is so completely twisted and unjust.
“Obviously, the Similars were not taught proper ethics or morals where they grew up. The truth is they should be sequestered from the rest of society, because of the threat they pose.”
I stand, my blood boiling, and scan the crowd for teachers, for Ransom, someone with authority who can rein in Madison. But Ransom’s gone.
“Read the leaflets. Think about what I’ve said today. You can buzz me or Sarah Baxter, my copresident, with any questions. In the meantime, I implore all of you to help us make the world safe again. Say no to clones. Say no to clones. Say no to clones!” she shouts, raising a fist in the air, echoing the chant I heard on the news during Christmas break.
Pockets of students begin to chant after her, quietly at first, then louder, and with increasing conviction. No! I want to shout out, but I know my voice would be lost in the din. Tears fill my eyes, hot and wet, as I drift to the back of the crowd to leave. I’m not the only one who is disturbed by Madison’s message, but it’s hard to push my way out of the throng. The battle cry grows stronger as more students shout, “Say no to clones! Say no to clones!”
I grab a student’s arm—a girl who is chanting along with Madison. “Why are you doing this? What did clones ever do to hurt you? To make you feel this way?”
The girl meets my eyes, surprised I’ve addressed her. “They existed.” I feel a lurch of nausea, and that’s when I see them. Madison, Tessa, and Jake are at the side of the gathering, forming their own little circle. They are joined by Ransom. And he doesn’t look angry. He looks pleased.
The Lab
I inch through the crowd, wishing I could move faster as I make my way closer to Madison, Tessa, and Jake. I wonder what they’re discussing with Headmaster Ransom. Why does he look so happy after that cringeworthy display of bigotry and intolerance? He was the one who invited the Similars to Darkwood in the first place. Has Ransom known about Madison’s ill intentions all along? Has he been bought by her parents? Did he use Levi as a cover-up for the crime Madison committed? I know it’s a long shot. Ransom might be weaker than I thought, but would he go so far as to frame one student to protect another whose parents are important financial donors? I don’t know. All I know is that my conversation with him about my suspicions led him straight to the authorities.
The Similars Page 18
