Fake (15 page)

That's right,
she urged silently.
Come to Papa.

Sensing opportunity, the two girls immediately ran for it. None of the Droogs bothered to follow.

“I don't believe it,” said the tallest of the lot, a skinny, pimply-faced monster with four piercings in each eyebrow. “It's
her.
”

Gaia smiled sweetly at them. “You got it. The bitch is back.”

A second later they were on her.

It was nothing like the fight outside the boardinghouse or the scuffle in the alley next to Skyler's building. Gaia felt no hesitation, no panic whatsoever. Only a tightly focused hatred. She easily dodged their blows and planted her own, as if the entire scene had been expertly choreographed.

An elbow to one's nose and he was on his back, hacking up blood. A jab to another's solar plexus and he immediately fell forward and curled up like a baby. As a third one charged toward her, switchblade in hand, she skillfully stepped out of the way and turned his own momentum against him, sending him crashing into a nearby tree.

How could she have ever found this daunting? She was like a racehorse that had been stabled for far too long. Her limbs and muscles practically sang with pleasure.
This
was what she was meant to do. She knew it with every hormonally charged molecule in her being.

With a high, exhilarating kick she sent another attacker flying backward into one of his buddies. Their heads collided, knocking them senseless.

There was only one left now. The tall goon with the bad skin and eyebrow jewelry. Three others were unconscious and a fourth was sputtering on the ground, clutching his head and seemingly self-destructing. Gaia felt slightly let down. It had all happened too fast.

The guy loomed in front of her, grinning maniacally. He too had a knife—a crude, blunt hunting blade. “I knew you would be back,” he said in his high, frenzied voice.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. God told me.” He lunged toward her, arms flailing wildly.

“Oh, please.” What was this? A fight or a sermon? She'd had her fill of religious-sounding street trash.

With one arm she deflected his attack, knocking the blade from his hand. With the other she hit him hard with an uppercut punch to the lower jaw.

Gaia heard a muffled crunching sound and his
head snapped backward. When he raised it again, his mouth hung slightly askew.

And still he came after her, his hands scrabbling about in front of him, grasping for any part of her. She danced easily out of the way, almost bored with the whole proceeding. At least the guy couldn't talk anymore.

Finally, as he gave another desperate dive, she finished him off with a fast chop to the neck. He crumpled to the ground, moonlight glinting off the metal studs on his face.

Gaia turned in a slow circle, staring down at her handiwork. For a second she felt a surge of satisfaction seeing all the limp, groaning skinheads. Then suddenly her vision blurred. Her body got that heavy, droopy feeling, warning her that her energy supply would soon be depleted.

She managed to make it to the front of the park, to her favorite secluded bench. She dropped onto it and stretched out on the cool wooden planks. This time she didn't fight the darkness.

Just before the lid slammed shut on her consciousness, she wondered if she might wake up freaked and disoriented again, like last time. Somehow, though, she knew she wouldn't.

To:
L

From:
K

Re:
Update

Previous subject located again. Just spotted in WSP fighting with five unknown assailants. Subject's combat skills appear to be at a higher level than last time. Impeccable timing and motor control.

Do you wish monitoring to continue? Please advise.

To:
K

From:
L

Re:
Update

Affirmative. Keep a tail on subject at all times and report periodically. Make note of subject's body language and all individuals she associates with.

Under no circumstances should you share intel with anyone but me.

So
old Gaia is back. As the classic blues song goes, “The fear is gone,” and so is new, fear-laden Gaia.

I don't know how I feel about it. In a way I'm relieved. I'm free to fight,
really
fight, and protect people I love. I'd thought fear would give me an edge in battle, but it didn't. It only gave me one more person to fight–myself.

I also thought fear would make me more normal. It did make things matter that I typically don't give a damn about. Suddenly I was worried about prom and how I looked and fitting in with the right people–a regular
Seventeen
subscriber. But did it really help my social life? Hardly. The FOHs never truly became friends (although that doesn't seem like such a tragedy now), and I only confused and alienated the people who truly matter to me, like Jake and Ed.

But I can't help wondering if
I could have eventually gotten this fear thing down. Maybe it was just too much, too fast. Unlike normal people, who learn to master fear from birth, I got it dumped on me all at once at the ripe old age of seventeen. I needed time to adapt. It's like I was given a grand piano and after banging around on it, frustrating myself and annoying the neighbors, it gets snatched away from me just when I was sounding out “Chopsticks.”

Overall, I just feel robbed. This is the second time in my life I've been promised fear only to have it fail. The first time doesn't really count, though. When Loki injected me with that serum, promising me a normal life, all I got was a long, nightmarish psychotic episode. This time it was real fear–at least, I'm pretty sure it was, having nothing to compare it to. I was Gaia the Meek instead of Gaia the Crazed Lunatic. I was a blubbery, cowardly, self-doubting disaster, but
I was a normal disaster. I still fell within the broad category of natural teenage
Homo sapiens.

A few years ago I was watching this show on the Discovery Channel about the ascent of our species. At one part in the program it said that our fear allowed us to evolve and survive–prosper, even. When a caveman saw something resembling a saber-toothed tiger coming toward him or stumbled upon a snake shape in the grass, he would run first and grunt questions later. If it weren't for fear, our only contribution to history would have been as human McNuggets for prehistoric carnivores.

So I can't help but wonder, now that I'm fearless again, will I
personally
evolve? Or am I stuck in neutral, doomed to make the same mistakes again and again until I eventually fall prey to something or someone I don't recognize as dangerous?

Excited Sizzle

GAIA DISENTANGLED HERSELF FROM
the rose trellis and slid onto the narrow stone ledge separating Collingwood's first and second stories. All she had to do was sidle along the wall until she reached her half-open window and climb back inside. Easy. Except for one small, irritating-as-hell problem.

She had to pass by Zan's bedroom window to get to her own. And Zan's room, which had been dark when Gaia left, was now filled with light, her window gaping wide.

Gaia inched forward and peered into the room. Sure enough, there was Zan, sitting in the middle of her floor. Across from her sat a thin, hawk-nosed guy with shockingly white skin and equally shocking jet black hair. The two of them were leaned into each other, completely silent, like the tilt before a kiss. Gaia suddenly felt like a high-wire Peeping Tom. Could she possibly slide past without them noticing?

She was just about to tiptoe across, hoping they'd be too into each other to notice her balancing on the ledge like some giant blond pigeon, when something made her look back.

Was it her imagination, or did she see the gleam of something metal between them?

“That was awesome!” the guy exclaimed. “Okay, your turn.”

There was a slight flurry of movement and then they were still again. Zan's right hand lifted, her fingers gripping the body of an open three-inch switchblade. Gaia watched as Zan slowly inched the jagged point forward. It looked like she was playing airplane with it until Gaia realized she was aiming for something—and judging by the knife's altitude, she was zeroing in on her pal's left eye.

In a fluid, catlike motion Gaia leapt through the open window, grabbed Zan's right wrist, and pulled it straight up.

“What the hell?” she demanded, wrenching the blade from Zan's grasp. “Is gouging out eyeballs all the rage now?”

Zan and the raven-haired guy just laughed.

“Relax, Gaia! It's only a game,” Zan said in an eager, twittery tone. “We were just seeing if we could make each other flinch, and we never could!”

“Yeah, man,” the guy added in an equally keyed-up voice. “It's so cool! You should try it.”

“But you could have really hurt him!”

Zan and her pal exchanged fake-astonished looks and burst out laughing again. “That's the whole point!” Zan cried. “We don't care! Besides, I'm so incredibly focused, there's no way I could hurt him.”

Gaia stared at her. Zan's pupils were so dilated, her
eyes appeared black instead of their usual blue. That plus the excited sizzle in her voice all pointed to one obvious fact: she was flying on Invince. Her guy friend, too.

But as Gaia peered into her eyes, she noticed something else. Something familiar—the very same thing that had been missing from her own reflection the last time she'd studied it.

She sat on Zan's bed, the knife still tight in her fist. “Hey, Zan? Tell me something. What does it feel like when you're on Invince?”

A glorious, all-out smile conquered Zan's face. “Amazing!” she breathed.

The guy nodded in blissed-out agreement.

“Yeah, but can you describe it? I mean, what exactly does it do to you?”

Zan fell back onto her braided oval rug and gazed beatifically at the ceiling. “It's like . . . I feel completely relaxed, yet powerful, too. Like nothing in the world can scare me.”

Gaia raised her eyebrows. “Really? Nothing at all?”

“Not a thing. Never, ever, ever.”

Hmmm,
Gaia thought.
Interesting . . .

“Why? You want us to hook you up?”

“No, thanks,” she said, standing. She snapped the switchblade shut and tossed it onto the snarl of blankets atop Zan's unmade bed. “I don't think I'll be needing it.”

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Subject:
re: Be careful!

Gaia,

Your letter was full of clouds. Glorious Gaia in the dark city. Don't let the black come in. Stay in the yellow. Stay in the bright!

Just to be safe, he kept his eye on the teapot, ready to duck in case it came hurtling toward him.

Too Surreal

JAKE STOOD OUTSIDE OLIVER'S
apartment and listened as the footsteps grew louder and louder. Soon he heard the rattling of locks and the dull clunk of a dead bolt shifting backward. He held his breath as the knob turned and the steel door slowly swung open. He really, really dreaded this moment.

“Jake.” Oliver stood before him, his deep-set blue eyes warm and welcoming. Jake could barely meet them. He didn't deserve their warmth. “Come in. I was just having some tea. Please, join me.” Oliver pulled the door wider and gestured for him to enter the apartment.

“Thanks.” Jake ambled across the threshold. His fists were shoved deep in his jacket pockets, making him shuffle forward as if handcuffed.

Jake took his usual seat in the leather armchair and gazed up at the pressed-tile ceiling. Meanwhile Oliver puttered about in the galley kitchen, pouring drinks. Jake knew the man was just being a considerate host, but he couldn't help resenting the suspense it created. He just wanted to get this over with—just take his licking and get out.

“Here you are.” Oliver stood over him, holding a tray. Jake sat up and watched as Oliver set out two cups of tea, milk, sugar cubes, spoons, and two small
dishes of
pain au chocolate.
“So, tell me about Gaia,” Oliver said offhandedly, carefully spooning sugar into his cup.

Jake marveled at his everyday tone of voice, as if they were just two associates, having tea, chatting about the day's events. He was also grateful he was too occupied to meet Oliver's gaze.

“I saw her,” Jake said, beginning with the good news.

Oliver looked up, his spoon pausing in midstir. “You did? When?”

“Tonight. I broke into her room at the boardinghouse and hid until she came home.” He paused, waiting to see if Oliver would commend him for this ingenious course of action. He didn't. “It was just before curfew when she arrived, and she wasn't very happy to see me.”

“What happened? How did she look?”

“Well, that's the thing. She seemed really strange.”

“Strange? How?”

“She just . . . wasn't herself. She was really mad at me for hiding out and accused me of not caring about her, saying she never got any of my messages. Then I tried to warn her about Skyler Rodke and she lost it.”

Oliver sat far forward, his elbows propped on his knees. “Be more specific, Jake. What did she say exactly?”

“She said I was only trying to play mind games with
her. She said Skyler was wonderful and perfect, and how dare I accuse him of anything bad. Apparently the guy's even taking her to prom.” He paused, hanging his head slightly. “Then she broke up with me and threatened to scream for Suko if I didn't leave.”

Jake sat miserably for a few minutes, staring at a worn spot on his jeans. At any moment Oliver would unleash his wrath, accuse him of pushing his niece into further danger. He'd say that he regretted ever trusting him and that he and Gaia were both better off with Jake not in their lives. Then he'd dump tea on him and kick him back out onto the street.