Hunted (16 page)

CHAPTER 21

I grab my dark glasses and ram them on, shutting out the blinding light. I hold my head in my hands. The way Dad died—it’s horrible. How did Daniel ever stay with Ilene, let himself be trained by her after what she did? I shudder. I know he didn’t have a choice, not as a child. But now? Why is he still with her now? Has he been so brain-washed by her that he truly believes she’s right? Or has he become like her, to survive?

I know I should tell Mom everything. But it’s become a heavy, dark secret that I cannot form into words.

Mom’s already got the coffee on when I come out, the cream of wheat bubbling on the hotplate, the chunks of apple cut up, the brown sugar set out on the dresser top. No matter where we are, what new place we’ve come to, she tries to give me a sense of home.

My throat tightens.

I watch her from the doorway. There are deep shadows under her eyes, and her hair looks untidy—like maybe she didn’t sleep well either.

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I try to draw calmness to me, then walk in.

Mom tousles my hair. “Well, good morning!” Nothing comes from inside her—no happy thoughts, no turmoil or exhaustion, not even her love wrapped around me, warmer than a hug. I can’t believe I still look for it.

“Morning.” I pour myself half a mug of coffee under her frowning gaze, fill the rest of the mug with milk and a spoonful of sugar.

Mom sets a steaming bowl of cereal down in front of me, then sits across from me, her face not giving away how she’s feeling. She never used to shut me out before Dad died.

I pick up my spoon. Maybe that’s why Mr. Temple can shut me out—some hidden trauma. But if that was true, half the world would be able to shut me out. And I’ve rarely met anyone who can.

“You going to eat that or let it congeal?” Mom asks.

“Eat it.” I pinch some brown sugar and sprinkle it on my cereal, the golden brown grains sticking to my fingers.

I lick them clean, the sweetness melting against my tongue.

Mom takes a sip of her coffee, then sits there cupping her mug in both hands as if she’s cold. “You cried out in your sleep again.”

I brush at my fingers.

Say it. Just say it. “I dreamed about Dad. About the riots. There was a woman who led the mob, wasn’t there?” Mom sets down her mug unsteadily, coffee sloshing onto the dresser top. “Why would you bring that up?” Her eyes grow shiny with unspilled tears and her nose reddens.

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She presses her fingers against her lips, like she’s holding something in. Hiding something. But then, so am I.

I shove a spoonful of steaming cereal into my mouth.

“Hot hot hot!” I cry, fanning myself.

Mom jumps up and pours me a glass of cold orange juice. “Here.”

I gulp it down.

“I don’t know why you do that.” She shakes her head at me.

I do.
Distraction.

Mom smoothes back my hair. There is nothing, not even a wisp of emotion through her touch—just a nothing-ness that divides us.

I don’t know how Normals do it. How they trust each other, understand each other without truly
being
with each other.

Mom’s hand leaves my head. She moves back to the dresser and cuts open two pitas, her movements brisk and stiff. She always keeps busy, never gives herself time to feel.

“Mom—”

She turns to look at me. “What is it, Caitlyn?”

“I . . .”
I wish you’d let me in. Wish you’d talk about
Dad. Wish you’d tell me everything will be all right.

“I love you,” I say.

“Honey, I love you, too.” Her hand hovers over the pitas.

“Is something wrong? Do you think someone’s sensed you?”

One more little lie won’t hurt. “No.”

“Good.” Mom turns back to the counter and wraps our 208

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pita sandwiches in plastic wrap. She puts one in a reusable lunch bag for each of us, then adds little packs of apple-sauce, carrots, and molasses-sweetened cookies.

I could do all that myself on the days I don’t eat at the grill, but whenever I suggest it, she acts like I’m taking something away from her. And maybe I would be. Maybe this is her way of telling me she loves me.

Mom turns around, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shut you out. That was just such a horrible day. I try not to think about it.”

“I know.”

“Yes,” Mom says softly. “You do.”

I try to connect with her, but I bounce right off her mind.

Mom rubs her forehead, frowning. “I have this weird feeling—”

“Yeah?” I look at her eagerly.

She shakes her head. “It’s probably nothing. I don’t have anything to base it on. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.”

I grow still.

Somehow she knows about Daniel. Has he been watching her, too?

I have to tell her. “Mom—”

“Look at the time! You’re going to be late for school.

And I’ll be late for work.” She kisses me on the cheek. “If you need me, call.”

With my disposable cell phone so that no one can trace us. But I shouldn’t have to call her.

I half turn away so she can’t see my eyes. “I will.” 209

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e

I pass the bakery where Paul lived. It’s still closed up, the windows darkened, the building with a deserted, unused feeling to it, yellow police tape over the door. I hope Paul’s okay, wherever he is. Hope his family is, too.

The closer I get to school, the tighter the skin feels around my head. I get that sick, weak feeling again as my natural barriers break apart and people’s thoughts grow to a roar. But this time I’m prepared. I pull white light around me, imagining it as a barrier.

The tension and pain recede, the thoughts retreating back to a normal level. I get past the ParaTrooper and make my way to my locker, wondering if Daniel’s watching me, waiting for me to join his side—or if he’s watching Alex or Rachel. I swallow dryly.

Rachel’s at my locker talking to another girl, their heads almost touching. There’s an excitement in them both, barely contained, and a tension spiraling upward. They are entranced in each other, drawn in on every level. I hesitate, and the girl facing me notices me, nudges Rachel. Rachel turns around, her face flushed. “Caitlyn!” Her eyes sparkle, and her voice has a breathless quality to it. “This is Emily.

Emily, Caitlyn.”

I see the way Emily’s touching Rachel’s arm, can feel how much Rachel wants to kiss Emily’s hand, her neck, her lips, and I grin. “Hey.”

“I should get to class,” Emily says. “Nice meeting you, Caitlyn. Rachel’s told me all about you.” She rushes off.

I look at Rachel, eyebrows raised.

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“Nothing secret, I swear,” she says quickly.

“I know.” I grin wider. My head aches again, the skin around my eyes too tight, but for a moment, watching Rachel and Emily, I barely noticed it.

Rachel waits impatiently. “So?” she bursts out.

“So?” I say, as if puzzled, laughter bubbling up inside me.

“So what did you think of her?” Rachel leans closer to me. “And what did you pick up?”

“She likes you, full out. She’s as excited about you as you are about her. I like her.”

Rachel laughs and hugs me. “Thank you!” The bell rings. I fiddle with my lock, taking out some books, then slam my locker shut. “Later!” I rush to math class.

Away from Rachel and her excited happiness, my headache gets stronger. Even my teeth hurt. I slouch into my desk and pull out my binder. Seeing Rachel and Emily reminds me of Daniel and Ilene—only there’s no cleanness in Daniel and Ilene’s relationship, no lightness, just a twisted, jagged energy.

The quiet, stealthy way Daniel and Ilene managed to mind-speak—outside of even my awareness—scares me.

There’s more he’s not telling me. Something he knows would put me off. I’ve got to find out what.

The math problems on the smartboard swim in front of my eyes. I can’t make sense of them. I stare at the board, letting my eyes unfocus, and go inward. I remember Daniel’s and Ilene’s whispering voices, the feel of their energy before they bounced me out. I pull myself there, layer 211

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by layer—past the surface thoughts, the emotion, the consciousness, to the private plane I felt them on. Reach for the vibration that is Daniel.

“They have no idea what’s coming.”

“I can’t wait for it to happen,”
Ilene’s higher, sharper mind-voice sends eagerly.

“We’ll cleanse the earth.”

I pull out, fast. They’re talking about murdering every single Normal. How can I possibly stop this? I’m just one person. . . .

I think of all the Normals who’ve helped us, who’ve been kind when they didn’t have to be—Netta, Mrs. Vespa, Alex, and Rachel, and so many others. I can’t let them die.

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I’ve got to convince Daniel to rethink this. To feel.

“Daniel,”
I send.
“Don’t do this. You are not like Ilene.

You’re not a murderer.”

“Ah. You eavesdropped on us, did you? I should have
known you’d find a way. You’re like me. Powerful.”

“I’m nothing like you—not if you’re going to kill.

Daniel, please—you can stop this.”

“I don’t get it,”
Daniel sends. The classroom disappears from around me as his rage fills my head.
“Why are
you wasting your time on Normals who’d hate you if they
knew you?”

“Daniel, what happened to you? Where did all this
hate come from?”

He doesn’t respond. I feel him sifting through my memories, trying to find my most vulnerable places. Things he can use to manipulate me.

I shove him out of my head and slam a barrier up around me as hard as I can. I feel bereft, like I’ve lost him all over again. And maybe I have. Maybe the Daniel I remember—the Daniel I feel deep inside him—doesn’t exist 213

Cheryl Rainfield

anymore. Not enough of him, anyway, to make a difference.

I hug my arms around myself.

I keep up my barrier the entire day. I can’t afford to let Daniel find a way to hurt me. But the barrier takes effort; after an hour I feel even more tired than when I woke up.

By lunchtime I have a headache so bad I want to cut my head open to ease the pain. By the last bell, I’ve had three nosebleeds and so much pain in my head that it’s hard to focus.

I can’t keep this up.

e

Alex is waiting for me at my locker after the last bell.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Me either.” He pulls me close. I breathe in his sweetness, and the pain in my head lessens, then eases all together. I relax for the first time today. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? That we’re meant to be together?

I smile into his eyes and kiss him gently. Someone clears their throat.

We jump apart and Mr. Temple’s standing there, looking cold and menacing. “The hallway is not your personal make-out spot,” he says crisply. “Move along.”

“Sorry,” I say, my face heating up. I don’t know why I’m apologizing.

“Come on,” Alex says, grabbing my hand. “I’ll walk you home.”

We walk together through the streets, the sun shining down on us, my head hardly hurting any more. Somehow 214

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the day doesn’t seem so awful now, the ParaTroopers not so intimidating.

When we reach the motel, Alex holds me tight. He doesn’t want to let me go; I can feel it. It’s such a high to know he wants me as much as I want him.

“You want to come up for a bit?” I ask, trying not to feel embarrassed about the dingy motel. “My mom won’t be back yet.”

Alex strokes my cheek, and I lean into his touch.

“Sounds good.”

The motel owner swings open the door before we even reach it, her eyes taking us in. Alex’s hand tightens on mine.

“This your boyfriend?” the woman asks abruptly.

“I—uh—”

“Yes,” Alex says firmly.

The woman looks him up and down, like she’s measuring his worth. She turns to me. “Looks like you picked a good one. Not like my Henry. Good fer you.” She squints at me. “Does yer mom know you’re bringing him back here?”

“She won’t mind,” I say in a rush, though I’m not sure that’s true.

The motel owner raises her eyebrow. “Guess that’s not fer me to say. Just don’t be getting up to any hanky panky upstairs. I don’t want no trouble here.” My face heats up like an oven. “No, we just—”

“Ah, go on with you!” the woman says, pushing us toward the elevator. She’s obviously recovered from her shame at me seeing her broken and sobbing. I wonder if she’s trying to get some feeling of power back.

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I tug Alex past her and we step into the elevator, the doors closing behind us. Alex looks at me on the ride up, wagging his eyebrows.
“Hanky panky?”
he asks, and then we’re both laughing. Alex kisses me again, catching me mid laugh, and suddenly I’m all serious, wanting more. I fumble with the lock on the door as Alex breathes into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers through me, making it hard to concentrate.

“Stop it!” I swat him, but I don’t really mean it.

I push open the door—and Mom’s standing there, looking awkward. “Mom! Hi. Mom, this is Alex. Alex, this is my mom.”

“Hi, Mrs. Ellis, good to meet you,” Alex says, holding out his broad hand.

Mom smiles at him. “Why don’t you have a seat in there? Caitlyn will be with you in a minute.”

“Sure—uh—I’ll be right in here.”
“Now we’re in for
it.”

Mom pulls me into my room, closing the door, her face creased with worry. “I had a feeling I should come home early.”

A feeling?

“It’s a mom thing,” she says quickly. “Listen, Caitlyn—I’m glad you’re happy. But don’t let yourself get too attached. You know it will only hurt more when we leave.”

“Why do we have to move again? Some Paras never do.”

“Some Paras aren’t so powerful as you. They’re not so visible. You wouldn’t have any kind of life if they took you in.”

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I look away. I know she’s right. Being tracked everywhere I go, electroshock when I don’t do something well enough or fast enough for my trooper, and being forced to turn on my own kind.

Mom brushes my hair out of my face. “I know it’s hard, sweetheart, but I think you should pull back. It’d be kinder to him; he obviously likes you. And I don’t want to see your heart get broken.”

“I know. I know! Okay?” I step toward the door, wanting the conversation to be over.

Mom sighs. After a moment, she reaches around me and opens the door, and I start back toward Alex.

I don’t want to have to distance myself from him. I don’t want to have to leave Alex at all. Right now, I don’t want to be a Para.

e

Alex and I sit stiffly beside each other until Mom takes pity on us. “Why don’t you two go to Caitlyn’s room?

You’ll be more comfortable there.”

I grab Alex’s hand and drag him into my room, shutting the door.

“Leave the door open!” Mom calls.

I open the door a crack, grinning at Alex.

Alex rubs his neck. “That was awkward, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom’s pretty cool. Mine would never let me go into a bedroom with a girl, even if the door was open.”

“It’s not like we have anything else here but bed-217

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rooms,” I say, laughing. I sober up. “It’s not cool, though.

She doesn’t want me to get attached to you, because we might have to run.”

“She’s trying to look out for you. She doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“She can’t stop it! If we have to run—” I feel like I’m inhaling mud. “I can’t stand it.”

“I won’t be able to stand it either.” Alex pulls me down onto the bed with him. He traces his fingers over my face, my lips, watching me intently, like he’s trying to memorize my face.

Tears prick my eyes.

Alex kisses my eyelids gently, then my cheeks. “We have to keep your brother from turning you in. And we have to keep you off of Mr. Temple’s radar. Maybe if we do that, you won’t have to leave.”

I clasp his face in my hands and try not to cry. I can’t believe how much Alex cares about me. How much he’s willing to risk. I kiss his soft, full lips. I feel so safe with Alex—deeper than a childhood safe. A belonging safe. A rightness I’ve never felt before. I breathe in his smell.

I kiss him again, and then I am lost in our kissing, in the shivery sweetness of it. We kiss harder, faster, and I press myself against him, feeling him against me.

“Caitlyn,” he whispers.

I want to feel his body, and the weight of him. I roll over, pulling him with me.

“Your mother!” Alex hisses.

“I don’t care!”

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Sweat clings to his forehead. I pull him closer and we roll again—right off the bed with a thump.

I snort back my laughter.

“Everything okay in there?” Mom calls, her voice getting louder, like she’s walking toward us.

We leap up.

I run my hands through my hair, tug on my shirt to straighten it. “Everything’s fine, Mom! Really.”
Don’t come
in, don’t come in . . .

Her footsteps pause outside. The door opens. Mom pokes her head in. “Nothing broken?” I roll my eyes. “We’re okay.”

Sweat rolls down Alex’s cheek.

“All right. But Alex should be going home soon. You kids have school tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alex says, his voice strangled.

Mom nods rigidly, then leaves.

Alex and I look at each other. And then we’re laughing, shh-ing each other, but our laughter only gets louder. I laugh until my stomach aches, but it’s a good feeling, a release.

“I should get going,” Alex says, glancing at my door.

I swallow another laugh. “See you tomorrow?”

“Count on it.” Alex’s eyes look darker, bigger, somehow
. . . don’t want to go . . .

I walk with him to the motel room door.

“Good night, Mrs. Ellis,” he calls.

“Good night, Alex,” Mom says, so close we jump.

Alex rushes out the doorway. I watch him until the elevator doors close. I see him like a snapshot, framed by the 219

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elevator, his gaze never leaving mine—like he, too, knows we might not have much time together.

Sadness clogs my throat and I turn to see Mom standing behind me, her lips pressed together so tight they almost disappear.

“I’ve got homework,” I say, and edge around her.

Mom puts her hand on my arm. “Caitlyn—be careful.” I can’t look at her. Was she careful when she was dating Dad?

“Cait—”

“Don’t you even remember what it felt like to love Dad?” I shout. I run into my room and slam the door. I don’t respond when she knocks. I can’t; I’m too angry.

e

In the morning, Mom’s waiting for me, the cereal all laid out on the dresser we sit at, my bowl covered with my plate to keep it warm. I pour myself half a cup of coffee, topping it up with milk, and this time she doesn’t even glance at it.

“I’m sorry about last night. But Caitlyn—you know we’ll be going on the run again.”

“Why? Why do we have to?” I shout, but I know why.

Because of me! Because of my stupid talent. “I don’t want it anymore!” I yell, pushing back my chair. “I hate this life.

Tell me how to get rid of it, like you did. Then we can just be two happy Normals who never have to move. And who talk and lie to each other with words.”

“Caitlyn!” Mom’s eyes widen, her face blanching. “I 220

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didn’t get rid of my talent. And you shouldn’t try to; it feels like I’m missing a lung.”

I sit back. “But you never mind-speak to me! I never sense anything from you at all, not even like I would from a Normal. It’s worse than living with a Normal; it’s so lonely I can’t stand it.”

“I didn’t realize what it was like for you. But I should have,” Mom says softly. She grabs my hand. “I’m not shutting you out on purpose. I think my ability is still there; sometimes I can almost feel it. But I can’t get to it, not even a little. It’s been that way from the moment your dad died.”

“Oh,” I say. She’s not trying to distance herself from me at all, or trying to become a Normal. I think about what I saw in Daniel’s memory, of how she saw Dad die, how she stood right beside him trying to stop it, and I shudder.

Maybe trauma
can
do that to a person—push everything vital so far down that it can’t be reached.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling sick and hot. All these years I felt rejected by her, felt so much anger toward her, and she wasn’t doing it on purpose. If only we’d talked. “I didn’t mean—”

“No,
I’m
sorry, Cait,” Mom says, reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry you felt so alone. Sorry I’ve leaned on you so much for what I’m missing. I love you just as much as I always have—maybe even more.”

My lips quiver, though I fight to hold them still. “I love you, too,” I whisper. And I do.

Mom kisses my forehead, smoothing back my hair. “I know you do.” She hesitates. “Caitlyn—I want you to be 221

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extra careful today. I keep feeling like something bad’s going to happen.”

My stomach knots. I push my cereal away. Maybe she’s wrong. Maybe her precognition really is coming back.

But if it was, surely I would feel it. I glare at my cereal. Is this a warning I should be listening to or not?

e

I slow down when I near the bakery where Paul and his family used to live. The yellow police tape is gone now, but there’s a government FOR SALE sign on the door. They’re going to profit from Paul’s family fleeing and pocket the money to fund more anti-Para activities. I grind my teeth.

At least Paul’s mother and grandfather are free. And maybe, somehow, Paul will find a way to escape. Though I know I’m only telling myself that to feel better.

I’m almost used to the school ParaTrooper by now, but I know that’s stupid of me. He still pulls students aside every day—and a few of them have been Paras. I shove at him with my mind when he questions me, telling him to overlook me—but the other Paras, they can’t do that. I swallow my heavy guilt and step through the gate.

Alex is waiting for me at my locker. “You okay?” I lean into him, glad for the closeness of it, and he wraps his arms around me. “Aside from knowing my brother’s planning a rebellion? Sure.”

“Talk to him again,” Alex says. “See if you can reason with him.”

But I know he won’t listen.

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“Hey, you two. Bell’s about to ring,” Rachel says from behind me.

I reluctantly pull away from Alex and turn around. “Be careful, okay? Watch out for Daniel, both of you.”

“I will. Quit worrying,” Alex says. “He’s not going to come after me again. That’d be too obvious.” He doesn’t know Daniel.