Split Second (Pivot Point) (10 page)

Addie:
Can cardboard have blocking capabilities?

It took two days watching my dad every time he pulled out his phone to finally figure out his password. So that night, after giving him plenty of time to fall asleep, I retrieved his phone again and brought it back to my room. I sat cross-legged on my bed and entered in his code. The wallpaper on his phone was a picture of me sticking my tongue out at him. It almost made me feel bad about stealing his phone to get information. Almost.

I clicked on Contacts and held my breath. My name was first on his list, followed by several people I didn’t recognize. Probably coworkers. But just in case, I wrote down the name and address of any contact I didn’t know. Then there were some names I did
recognize from back home, friends of my parents. My mom was in there, which shouldn’t have seemed weird, but it did. By the time I got to the end of his list, I had written down five people altogether. I could handle researching five people.

I zipped my hoodie higher against the chill in the air and looked up and down the street again for the bus. The schedule had said one stopped every fifteen minutes, but I’d been standing there for twenty and hadn’t seen a single bus pass. Considering it was the middle of winter, it could’ve been much colder. It was Dallas, after all. But standing outside in my light jacket with the wind blowing was causing a chill. I pulled out my phone and checked the map again. Maybe I could walk to one of the addresses from here. The little red dots on the map, indicating each location, assured me I couldn’t.

The sound of a car idling on the street made me look up. The passenger-side window rolled down, and Trevor leaned over. “Addison. Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“No. I’m good.”

He looked at the pole next to me, and I did as well. A sign showing the bus schedule was posted there. “This is the downtown bus.”

I nodded. Two of the addresses were downtown, and I figured I should go there first.

“Are you going to the cemetery again?”

That’s right. The cemetery was downtown. Maybe Trevor could drop me off, and I could walk from there. “Yes.”

He moved his head once to the side, indicating I should get into his car.

I hesitated for one second, then opened the door. He moved a duffel bag from the passenger seat into the back, and I sat in its place. “Thanks.” I buckled and ran my hands over my thighs, trying to warm up.

“No problem.” He flipped his blinker on, then pulled onto the road.

A chill ran down my body. He reached forward, turned a knob on the dash, and then aimed one of the vents at me. Warm air hit my neck and cheeks.

I picked a subject before he had a chance. “How is your comic coming?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m thinking about letting my brother take over. He’s already a better drawer than I am.”

“He is good. But I’d have to see your work to compare.”

“You already told me you were impressed I drew comics. I wouldn’t want to risk you changing your mind by showing you the product.”

“True. My opinion is right up there with the top comic critics in the world.” I paused. “Wait. Are there such things as comic critics?”

He laughed. “Yes, there are actually.”

His smile was contagious. It made me want to smile back. He glanced over at me after changing lanes, and I quickly averted
my gaze. My eyes landed on his duffel bag in the backseat.

“Oh no. You were on your way somewhere, weren’t you? I’m sorry. You can take me back. Really, I don’t mind waiting.”

He didn’t slow down at all with my suggestion. “It’s okay. I was just on my way to the gym. I can go later.”

My eyes went to his arms with his mention of the gym. This time he wore a T-shirt, and I could clearly see this trip must’ve been a daily routine. I looked away before he caught me staring at his arms again. “Aren’t you cold?”

“My sweatshirt is in the back.” It was quiet for a while. He pulled onto the freeway. After driving in silence for several miles, he said, “I’m not crazy.”

“I know.” Not this again. Tension immediately spread across my chest. “You brought a sweatshirt, so clearly you’re not.”

“That’s not what I mean. I know what I saw. You can move fast. Beyond fast.”

“Fast?” I put on my best skeptical voice. “What are you talking about?”

He took in two deep breaths and stared straight ahead. “I know what I saw.”

My eyes stung. Why had I gotten in the car with him? I didn’t like this at all. Trevor was a nice guy, and I felt terrible making him feel this way. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“The truth would be nice.” He pulled into the right lane and exited the freeway.

I wished I could tell him the truth. But I knew I couldn’t. “If you believe that’s what you saw, there’s not much I can say.”

The statues came into view. He parked the car and turned toward me, his eyes pleading.

His stare nearly undid me, almost made me confess to every lie I’d ever told in my life. When my head started to swim, I realized I hadn’t taken a breath since he faced me. I blindly reached for the door handle, fumbled with it for a few seconds, then pushed myself out of his car.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you later,” I said, then quickly shut the door and walked toward the cemetery. I reached the first tree, ducked behind it, and let my breathing return to normal. Trevor had some kind of hold on me, and I couldn’t figure out what.

The first address on my list was one of my dad’s coworkers. I recognized him from the Thanksgiving party we’d gone to at Stephanie’s house. So after politely telling him I had the wrong address, I headed for the second red dot on my phone map, an apartment building ten blocks from the cemetery.

The apartment number was 314, so I waited by the elevators to head up to the third floor. They were taking forever and I was feeling impatient, so I found the door marked Stairs instead. The stairwell was dimly lit and in need of a paint job—maybe the reason they kept it dimly lit. The echo of every step I took bounced off the walls. I made it to the third floor and stepped out into the hall.

A sign indicating that 314 was to my left was mounted on the wall. I followed it. I knocked on the door. Nobody answered. I
knocked again, harder this time. Just as I turned away, the door swung open.

“Hi, I was—” My sentence stopped in my mouth as I turned back to face the man now standing in front of me—my grandfather.

My supposedly dead grandfather.

I bit back a scream, and my heart doubled its speed. I stuttered out something incomprehensible.

His mouth curved into a smile, and he said softly, “Addie.” Then he pulled me against him in a crushing hug.

My arms, not sure what to do at first, stayed stiffly at my sides. But as memories filled my mind and my eyes filled with tears, I wrapped them around his waist.

“You’re . . .”
Alive
, I wanted to say, but my throat closed up and the tears spilled from my eyes.

He pushed me out by my shoulders and took my face in his hands, searching every inch of it. “Look at you. You’re so beautiful. So, so beautiful.”

My cheeks went hot. He looked just like I remembered him—white hair and blue, smiling eyes. A few fresh tears found their way down my face.

A movement out of the corner of my eye caused him to let go of my face and both of us to turn.

“And who’s this?” he asked.

I quickly wiped at my cheeks. Trevor stood at the end of the hall.

He walked forward. “Sorry, I just didn’t want to leave you
downtown alone. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m good. You can go now.”

My grandfather spoke up. “Does your father know you’re here, Addie?”

“No.”

“Stay.” He shut the door in my face.

Great, was he going to go call my father? I turned to Trevor. “Thanks for the ride, but really, I’m good now.”

He looked at the door, as if thinking I was anything but good, standing there staring at a door. “Who is that?”

“My grandfather.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

Why did Trevor have to be so observant? “It’s been a while.”

The door swung open again, revealing my grandfather holding a walking stick and wearing a pair of headphones. The cord to the headphones hung down his chest and was plugged into nothing. He used the stick like a metal detector wand as he held it inches away from me, running it up one side of my body first and then the other. He did the same to Trevor. So weird.

“Okay, you’re good. Come in.” He gestured to both of us to follow him inside.

“Actually, Trevor was just leaving.”

“No, please, both of you come in.”

Trevor didn’t wait for a second invitation and walked by my grandpa and into the apartment. I sighed and followed him. My grandpa glanced up and down the hall, shut the door behind us, and bolted and chained several locks. I noticed the keypad to an
alarm next to the door as well, but he didn’t set it.

“Addie. It’s so good to see you.”

I was so confused, and anger was beginning to build in my chest. My dad had kept this from me.

He led us into the living room, which was a cluttered mess of books, newspapers, and modified kitchen appliances. A computer sat on a table in the corner, a recent picture of my father and me filling the screen, only broken up by the icons. There were so many questions waiting to spill out, but there stood Trevor, taking everything in.

“This is Trevor, by the way. I met him here, in Dallas.” I hoped my grandfather understood what I was trying to say, because I couldn’t very well tell him,
He’s a Norm, so don’t say anything incriminating
. Not that it mattered. I had already done enough incriminating things to last a while.

“Trevor.” My grandfather shook his hand. “We don’t talk out in the open. If you have questions, you ask them in the box.”

“The box?” Trevor said.

He gestured to the sliding glass door, and through the windows on his back patio, I saw a large cardboard refrigerator box standing upright. A dark line in the shape of a door was cut into one side of the box. I had memories of him with my grandmother when I was young—pre-ability young. I remembered him being really fun. But was a six-year-old’s version of fun a seventeen-year-old’s version of slightly left of normal? I wasn’t sure. And that thought made my heart heavy.

“I have questions,” Trevor said, starting toward the door.

I grabbed onto the back of his jacket. “No. You don’t.” I had questions. I could start with the easy ones. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ten years.”

That’s when he died—ten years ago. So he’d been living here ever since? He was the family member Scar-Face had referred to. He had to be. So the Compound knew that he had left. But did they know he was here?

“Do you want something to drink? Only water. I make my own special filter to take out the stuff the government adds.”

“I’m good,” Trevor said.

We stared at each other in silence then. My grandfather smiled proudly at me as he fiddled with his headphones.

I looked at the box, then back to my grandpa. If it got him to answer some questions, I could go stand in a box for a few minutes. “I think I want to go to the box.” Trevor started to follow, and I turned on him. “I need to talk to him alone.”

Trevor nodded, then sat down.

By the time I got to the back patio, my grandfather was already inside, and the flimsy cardboard door stood partially ajar. I walked in, and he pulled it shut behind us. For a second I thought I’d see wires and lights, something to show it was actually shielding us from the supposed eavesdroppers, but it was just the inside of a really big box. I looked up. There wasn’t even a ceiling. Nice. I took a deep breath. “You’re alive.” I didn’t know why I was stating the obvious, but it seemed important to say out loud.

He got an apologetic look on his face. “I am.”

“But why? Why did you pretend to be dead? Why did you come here?” I asked.

“I had to get out of there. That place controls everything. Every memory you have is theirs. How do you even know what parts of your life are real?”

“What?”

“I’m a Healer. They can’t steal my memories. My brain heals itself when they try to shut off the paths. They can’t even give me new memories. So I know things. I know what they do. I couldn’t live there anymore.”

“What who do?”

“The Containment Committee. The DAA. They’re after them.”

“After who?”

“The people without abilities.”

“The Norms?”

“No. The people in the Compound without abilities. They don’t want them diluting the bloodlines. They steal them. Reassign them.”

He was crazy. I was standing in a box talking to my crazy, supposed-to-be-dead grandpa. I was trying to separate the crazy from the bits of reality.

He looked over my shoulder. “Have you told Trevor?”

“Told him what?”

“Told him about the Compound?”

“Of course not. That’s illegal. No.”

“If you want to borrow my box to tell him, you can. Because they might be listening. They follow all the Paras living Outside.”

“I don’t think they have the resources for that, Grandpa.” I sighed. This was pointless. My grandfather was paranoid and delusional. Was this the real reason he’d retired from the Bureau, the real reason he came to live on the Outside? Because he was crazy? “The Compound knows you’re not dead.”

“I know.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“I’ve moved all over. I’m safe now. I managed to evade them several years ago.”

I nodded slowly. I wondered if he really had, or if they knew exactly where he was and considered him harmless. “It was good to see you.”

“You’ll come see me again?”

“Yes, of course.” A realization hit me. “Dad moved Grandma here for you.”

“I told him not to. She loved the Compound. She was like you. Divergent.”

“I know.” I started to leave, then stopped. “Grandpa?”

“Yes?”

“Did she have any other powers?” Maybe she’d kept things from me too. Just like my dad.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything else to do with manipulating time? As she got more advanced?”