Undertow (25 page)

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” I grumble, doing my best not to stare. I set the kids' books on a desk and search for something to distract me, but it's no use. There's nothing as distracting as him.

“I need your help,” he says as he turns his back to me. A horrible rash filled with black thorns stretches from his neck to just below his rib cage.

I cringe. “What are these things?”

“Nix talons. They break off in the skin and turn to poison if they aren't removed soon enough.”

“You need to see a doctor for this,” I say.

“You have become predictable, Lyric Walker.”

“What kind of poison?” I say.

“They cause your body to overproduce blood until you swell—”

“Okay, I get it,” I interrupt as I pull the black fingernail out of his skin. It's so gross. “Every day with you is blood.”

He turns. “You are angry with me.”

Oh, so we're going to talk about it.
“They were kids.”

“They were my age,” he says. “Some older. And they threatened us with weapons.”

“You're stronger and faster than them,” I argue. “And you have swords in your arms.”

“They are not swords.”

“Fine, they're jagged, sharp, stabby things that can cut a person's hand off. You should have held back.”

“I did hold back,” he seethes. “They still live, don't they? And let me remind you they had a jagged, sharp, stabby thing themselves.”

“Let's not talk about it,” I say as I continue with my amateur surgery. “We're just different.”

“Yes, we are different,” he says. “Despite your efforts to change me.”

“Change you?”

“Is that not what Doyle asked you to do? Make me human? Turn me into a person who backs down from challenges? Please inform him that you have failed.”

“I did. He's giving you to someone else so they can try.”

He spins around on me. His eyes are full of hurt. It's like I slapped him.

He cares.

If that's true, I need to get out of this room. My list only works if he doesn't have feelings for me. If he does, I won't be able to stop myself. I turn to the door, but he takes my arm.

“I—”

“Let me go,” I say, staring at the door.

“Wait—”

“Please, let me go,” I beg.

“I cannot, Lyric Walker.”

Suddenly I am spun like a top and pushed against the wall. His hands swirl around the small of my back, and he pulls me to him. I open my mouth in surprise and he presses his to mine. His kisses are hungry, devouring. I have never been kissed like this before. I didn't even know I could be kissed like this, dragged off my feet into his undertow, bounced and thrown around in a swell of want. This scares me, not because he is wrapped around me but because I am kissing him just as hard. We stumble around, pressing even tighter together, each of us trying to merge into the other's body. And all around me I feel the world changing, morphing into something I know I will not recognize when I open my eyes. The ground will be up and the sky will be down and nothing will make sense to anyone, not even us. When we walk out of this room, everyone will know what we've done. You can't kiss someone like this and think the world won't see the transformation. But I don't care. I want to drown in him.

I hear the faint whir of something mechanical, and my eyes pop open. The camera mounted on the ceiling slowly turns its eye, focusing a black lens on us. In a panic, I peel myself off of Fathom. It feels like being ripped out of my own skin.

“The camera.”

He peers at it and then scowls. “They watch us.”

“We can't do this,” I say as I struggle to catch my breath.

“I had to. Just once, before . . .”

“Before what?”

He gives me a final pained look, then walks out without another word, leaving me behind to shake and tremble. I try to get ahold of myself, but every one of my nerve endings cries out for more of him, demanding another fix. My engorged heart feels like it's going to push aside my ribs and explode out of my chest.

Bonnie pokes her head into the room. “That's a first.”

I stare at her a moment until I understand she's making a joke. Fathom was the first to walk out this time.

“Yeah, it was. I guess I'll just sit here until the end of the hour.”

“Suit yourself,” Bonnie says, and she closes the door.

I fall into a chair and spend the rest of the time trying to calm down. When the bell rings, I'm still shaky but make my way to the door. It's then that I notice he's left me something. On a desk is a copy of
Where the Wild Things Are,
the same one he ripped in two in a fit of anger. He's mended it with tape, carefully placing each page back the best he could.

My brain is playing “the kiss” on an endless loop. I can still feel his hands in my hair, on my hip, on my back. I can still smell his neck and taste his salty mouth. It's got me so keyed up, I can barely think straight. My skin feels too tight for my body. It's like he took me apart and put me back together without the instructions.

Shadow and Bex are already eating when I show up in the cafeteria. I watch them from afar, soaking in the easiness of what they have become. He laughs. She laughs. They touch each other on the arm, stare at each other with shiny eyes. They share kisses and smiles. I want to run to them and tell them that I know what it is they are feeling. I want to share the kiss, how it started, how it ended, how it felt like I was suspended in it for hours and hours, but I stop myself. I don't know how they feel. What I have is not the same, because what they have has potential, real potential. It is realistic and hopeful and the world accepts it, embraces it with open arms. They just slide together like jigsaw-puzzle pieces, and people will celebrate it. Fathom and I will never have that, because we will never be allowed to be Fathom and Lyric. Even if I were staying here in this horrible, soul-crushing town, the whole world would rise up to shake its collective finger at us and say,
No, no, no. This is not allowed.
It is good that I'm leaving, because I know I cannot stop myself.

And then it hits me. I'm leaving in five days. Bex is supposed to come with me. I can't take her away from Shadow. I can't break that up. He has to come with us. My mother and father will lose their minds. It'll make it harder for us, but I just can't do it to Bex. Bex spots me and waves me over. It's now or never. I have to tell them both the truth. I sit down at their table and open my mouth, but Fathom and the rest of the Alpha enter.

“So, we're supposed to be nice to them,” Bex says. “I know! Shadow should invite them to one of his Dungeons and Dragons parties.”

“I have never played Dungeons and Dragons,” he says, matter-of-factly.

Bex frowns and gives him a knowing look.

“One time!” he cries.

“I need to tell you something,” I say, barely over a whisper.

“Shadow, we aren't judging you,” Bex says as she flashes me a mischievous grin. “Personally, I'm hurt you haven't invited the two of us to play. Listen, just once! We'll come over tonight and you can show us your cool secret life. Should we bring some thirty-sided dice or something?”

The boy shakes his head and laughs despite himself. “I am never sharing anything with you again.”

“You'll have to show us how to roll characters,” Bex continues. “That's what you call it when you make your imaginary friends, right?”

“You're really not that funny,” he says, trying not to grin.

“Yes I am,” she sings.

I just can't take it anymore.

“Lyric, what's wrong?” Shadow says.

I wipe away my tears and look around to make sure that no one is listening. “We're leaving on Friday.”

Shadow leans in. “You're leaving the Zone?”

I nod.

“But that's good news,” he whispers. “Why are you crying? Everyone wants to leave the Zone.”

I look to Bex, and all the laughter inside her is gone. “Shadow, I need to talk to you.”

She explains our plan to him. He sits back in his chair, slightly stunned.

“And you can come with us,” I say.

Bex's face glows. “Really?

Shadow looks to me and then Bex, then shakes his head. “I can't. My mother is stuck here, and without her citizenship papers, she will never get through the blockade.”

Bex stands. It's clear she can't handle this. Her father walked out on her when she was three, and we never saw him again. This isn't the same, but I can hear what she's thinking: here's another man she cannot count on.

He stands with her and takes her hand. “But I can spend the rest of the year setting her up to be on her own. I'll graduate. She needs to see that, Bex. The site is making money. I can make her comfortable, and when that happens, I will find you.”

Bex shakes her head, fighting back tears. She doesn't believe him.

“And then we'll get married.”

“Whoa there, cowboy,” I cry. I can't believe how bold he is.

Bex looks right into his eyes. “Deal.”

At the end of the day, Bex and Shadow walk hand in hand through all the anger and hostility that await us outside. The crowd doesn't even exist to them. I invite them both back to my apartment, but she wants to pick some things up and say goodbye to Tammy. Shadow wants to be there when she does.

That evening I'm on my own. Dad is on duty, and my mother is in her room searching the web. It's quiet and peaceful, which is the last thing I need right now. I can't find anything that keeps my attention on TV. I try to read a book but find myself reading and rereading the same paragraph. With nothing to distract me, my mind soars back to the kiss. It makes me anxious. I can't get comfortable. Finally I snatch my phone and beg Bex to hurry home. She promises she will as soon as she can.

DID U TELL TAMMY UR ENGAGED?

The answer comes fast.

SHUT UP, WALKER.

I make my mother a sandwich and take it into her room for her. Since I told her about Doyle's promise and that we'll have her ID on Friday, she's been frantically searching the Alpha sites, looking for her family. She barely notices when I come in, and when I wish her a good night she grunts one back.

I think that maybe if I get some sleep, it will clear my head. Today felt like there were more than twenty-four hours in it, and even though my thoughts are on fire, my body is dragging. I turn on the sound machine, find my mouth guard, and swallow four melatonin pills. Before I pull my blackout blinds down, I peek out the window. There's a man leaning against the streetlight below. I can't make out his face, but I know he's wearing a Niner shirt. He waves, sending icy chills through me. Something about him is familiar, but it's too dark to make out who it is.

“Screw you,” I say as I close the blinds. “I am so out of here.”

My phone's buzzing wakes me. I pick it up, expecting a text from Bex, but she's actually calling me. People our age do not call each other unless something horrible has happened.

“Bex?” I ask.

“They hurt him,” she sobs.

“Bex, what's wrong? Who got hurt?”

“A bunch of guys jumped him . . . Russell, he did it.”

I sit upright in bed. “Shadow.”

“He's bad,” she sobs. “I called an ambulance. I don't know if they're coming.”

“Where are you?”

“Tammy's.”

“I'm coming!”

I don't bother getting dressed. I snatch my shoes and sprint for the door. I'm so frantic, I fall over a chair in the kitchen and my mother appears.

“Lyric?”

“Shadow is hurt. He's at Tammy's. Call Dad.”

“Let's wait for him,” she says.

“No,” I say, throwing open the front door.

I'm breaking curfew as I run down the street. If the cops catch me, they'll stop me, maybe even force me to go home, but I have to get to Bex. If I get spotted, they are going to have to chase my ass.

The front door to Bex's building fills me with dread. It's wide open, and when I run up the three flights to her apartment, I see Tammy pacing in the living room, smoking and crying.

“Lyric—”

I raise my hand and she shuts up. “This is your fault.”

She doesn't say anything, just points to a door. “They're in there.”

I nearly knock it down trying to get to them. Shadow is on the bed, his face destroyed, unrecognizable. He is still. His chest does not rise and fall. His eyes do not flutter under their lids. His fingers do not twitch with signals from the brain. There is no sign of my friend in the body. He has left it behind. Bex stands over him, using a towel to try to stop the bleeding, not noticing, or refusing to accept that it has stopped on its own.

Bex turns to me. She's beaten badly, her eye so swollen I fear it will be permanently damaged.

“He fought them,” she says.

“My father is on his way,” I say.

She's not listening. “Russell let them in. They were Niners. He said they were there to teach me a lesson, and the weirdo here jumped in. Can you believe him? I mean, who is this kid?”

She smiles at me and then turns to him, as if she's expecting him to roll his eyes and give her a laugh because he just can't help it—he is so madly in love with her.

I
wrap myself around
B
ex and hold her through the night,
crying for the both of us because she is still and silent and stiff, like she's going through her own rigor mortis.

“He loved me,” she whispers in the darkness of my room.

“I know.”

“Russell did this. He joined the Niners.”

“The police will—” I stop myself, hearing how stupid I sound.

“They're going to kill me,” she says. “They won't stop. Russell told me so.”