One (One Universe) (20 page)

I laugh a little, but when I look at him, I know — he’s not joking. And he’s terrified. And looking at him, like this, knowing what I do, I’m starting to feel the same way.

The car zooms through the unchanging Nebraska landscape, frost glittering against the deep blue-gray night where the fields meet the horizon. I move my hand to grab Elias’s, like I normally would do while we drive, but his both hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white.

“Elias,” I say, but it’s so soft I’m not even sure he can hear me.

He speeds up. I don’t know what to say, so I wait till he pulls up in my driveway. He parks and sits there, still gripping the wheel, staring out through the windshield.

Then he starts to cry.

I’ve cried in front of Elias, but he’s never cried in front of me. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen any guy cry. I don’t really know what to do. I sort of reach my arm out and put it around his shoulders, and with him hunched over the steering wheel like that, he looks so huge and my arm looks so slight and insignificant across his back.

He sits up, kind of slams the steering wheel with both hands, and looks over at me. He sniffles once.

“I’m sorry,” he says, staring back out the windshield.

“Hey,” I say. “No, Elias. It’s…it’s your sisters, I know.”

“I have a really bad feeling about this. About the Symposium, about the Hub, and yeah, Nora and Lia. I just want you to trust me, Mer. Okay? I need you to. You trusted Hoffman. Trust me.”

I wince. “What do you know about him?”

Elias clenches and relaxes his jaw over and over for a couple long seconds. “I’m worried.”

I rub his back, plant a light kiss on his temple, and lean my forehead there. “Elias. I’ve known Mr. Hoffman for a long time. He was only trying to help me get that internship. That’s all.” I try to keep my voice steady even as my stomach twists.

A defeated look crosses his face, and I wonder what he knows. Wonder if he wants to leave because he’s worried about me or because he’s worried about himself and doesn’t want to be alone. Wonder if he’s remembering that all I’ve ever wanted to do is work at the Hub, and now I have the chance, and…

“I’m not trying to freak you out, okay?” His voice shakes. “Look. I’m back at the Symposium for the wrap-up the rest of tonight. Probably they want to look at me some more, too. Meet me back here tomorrow morning, okay? We’ll eat some breakfast, go for a walk, we’ll figure this out. But, Mer.” He leans forward, takes my face in his huge hands. “I’m worried. About you, about me… I can’t say why. I don’t even really know myself. You just have to trust me right now, okay? Yes, it’s about my sisters, but…it’s about us, too. Okay? Promise me we can talk about this again tomorrow. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

He puts his forehead to mine, whispers, “Please.” And his hands start to shake. “I…I care about you.”

“Me too, Elias. Me too.” I want to invite him in, want to let him curl up into a ball next to me and hold him until he stops hurting, until the knot in my stomach eases. I think I understand. Think I do. I don’t know what I would do if I saw Max and Michael and they weren’t…well…Max and Michael. But my parents will be home soon, and they wouldn’t understand. He might not understand if I asked him, and I’m sure he still has his curfew, especially on a Symposium night.

“Elias, I…” I want to tell him, but right before I do, right before I say the words, I understand — no matter how much I love him, it’s not going to fix this because it doesn’t have anything to do with this. “I will. I will.”

I lean in to kiss him, closing my eyes, lingering there for a moment. For the first time between us, it feels less like a promise and more like a goodbye.

NINETEEN

I
expect to see the boys hanging out in the living room, and I think how much good ruffing their hair and hassling them a little would do me. Maybe drag them outside to kick their butts in basketball, put my float into action. But they’re not out there.

I walk in through the garage and Mom and Dad’s car still emits warmth from the hood, the engine ticking a little. They just got home. Weird that they left as early as we did almost.

The TV sits silent, and only the kitchen light is on. I bound upstairs, dumping my bag outside my room and crossing to the other side of the hall. I crane my neck to look into the boys’ room.

It looks like it’s been robbed.

Their dresser drawers are all pulled out, the clothes strewn everywhere. I glance in the bathroom, and their toothbrushes aren’t tossed in the sink as usual.

I head downstairs, bravely skipping every second step, and find Mom and Dad sitting at the island, eyebrows drawn, holding steaming mugs of tea. Silent. They haven’t said a word since I walked in the door. I would have heard them. How long have they been sitting there?

“Guys?” I say, staring at them, hoping my eyes don’t betray that I’m totally freaking out. “Where are the boys? Did they go for a sleepover or something? I wanted to beat their asses at basketball.”

Mom raises her eyebrows at me, her face drawn and stern. “Language, Merrin.”

“They got called to the program at the Hub.” Dad looks distant. Mom smiles a little, but it’s an exhausted sort of smile. “I know they wanted to say goodbye, but you didn’t answer when they called. Everything okay?”

Duh. I had the cuff’s ringer on silent because of the Symposium dinner. Tears prick at my eyes. I can’t believe I missed them.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry, you guys.”

“They promised us it would only be a week or so. Probably not longer.” Dad covers my hand with his. “They…they said the boys could help them with a breakthrough. Even got them tutors for the week.”

“And with the success of the other gap year students…” Mom starts.

My gaze snaps to her face. “Success? Did you see them, Mom? Did you see how they looked?”

“Are you talking about the VanDyne girls?” Dad asks, squeezing my hand, eyes sympathetic.

“Yes!” I cry, jerking my hand away. “How could I
not
be talking about them?”

“They’re working those girls hard,” Mom acknowledges. “I saw some early experimentation with them. They’re…impressive.”

“Yeah. Well, Elias is worried. And you guys are stupid if you’re not, too.”

“Merrin!” Dad snaps.

Elias was right to be freaked out. And now I know his panic. Because now we’re more the same than ever before.

It’s past Elias’s curfew, so I try to sleep, tossing and turning, my usual flying dreams interrupted by flashes of white and the expressionless faces of Michael and Max.

Our house is dead quiet, and by eight in the morning, I’m so antsy that I give up waiting. I throw on some jeans, hop into the car, and speed through Superior toward Elias’s.

I’m so on edge that even my arms feel fidgety. Something I blew off as Elias’s uptightness about his sisters has now combined with Michael and Max being gone from our house just like that, without warning.

Elias’s mom looks classy and put-together even in her pajama pants and slippers. For the first time, though, there are bags under her eyes.

“You’re here early, Merrin. Rosie made pancakes. Can I make you a plate?”

For once, a plate full of simple carbs drenched in sugar does not appeal to me. “I’ll wait for Elias,” I say, managing a small smile.

“He’s in the shower, sweetheart. Just leave his door open so he knows you’re here.”

She doesn’t say anything about the Symposium.

“Thanks,” I call over my shoulder as I head down the hall to my right toward his bedroom. As much as I’d like to, it’s not the best day or time to surprise Elias while he’s wearing only a towel.

I notice a door Elias has never pointed out to me, at the end of the hall where I’ve never really gone. Elias’s mom is stationed in the kitchen and his dad’s not around, as usual, so I duck into the room. It’s about the size of my bedroom at home — small — and it’s wall-to-wall lined with computer screens, giant tablets, even a few shelves of old paper-paged books. There are actually a lot of them — a couple dozen, maybe, more than I’ve seen in one place in my entire life.

One of the books lies open on the desk. I tilt my head to read the title:
GENETIC ADAPTABILITY IN THE 22nd CENTURY
. I flip to the front cover to check the printing date, and it’s just over 40 years old. Why would they have even printed a book so few decades ago when the vast majority was already digital? I shake my head and start to read.

As soon as I see the words on the page, I’m hooked. This book takes everything Mom, Mr. Hoffman, and Elias ever told me about Ones and elaborates on it times a hundred. I run my finger down the table of contents page and stop at a section called, “The Curiosity of the Single-Powered Individual.”

The chapter that really catches my eye is: “Malleability of the Gene Structure.” I’ve seen that phrase before — in the title of the lecture at the symposium. The one that made my heart jump and made me feel hope.

Three layers of marginalia frame the text on this page. I peer closer, examining the handwriting of some of the notes. I’ve seen it somewhere before. In Elias’s room, in the note he sent to his sisters. This is Elias’s handwriting. He’s seen this book, studied it. All the “theories” he spouted to me in the cotton field that second time we flew — this is where he read them all.

I flip to the last page of the chapter, and my stomach turns at what I see written there. There’s a column of names written in the long white space below the last paragraph: Monroe, Murdock, Wayne, Bavarsky, Grimm, Radd. And then I gasp as I read the last three: Summers, Suresh, and Grey.

Leni, Daniel, and me.

Shit. And the last three names, the three of us, are starred. He knew the whole time — knew we were Ones, knew the theories. He grew up with Leni and Daniel, but he must have known about my One way before he met me.

What do the stars mean? Are we the only ones still in control of our Ones?

Did he seek me out that first day?

I stuff the book into my bag even though I know I shouldn’t, even though it’s not mine to read, especially not the notes. I stalk to Elias’s room, plunk myself down on the edge of the bed, and wait.

Five minutes later, Elias walks in, wearing sweats, his hair still damp.

I spin around. “I found the office. Thought it was another bathroom.”

He smiles, clearly not getting it. Purple half-circles droop under his eyes. “Can’t believe I didn’t show that to you before. Stupid. I should have known you would love some of those books.”

“Yeah, it was stupid, Elias.” I sit there with my arms crossed, my heart burning and twisting in my chest. He sits in his desk chair and rolls himself toward the bed, so he’s close. He looks sad and distant and a little worried.

Seeing him like this was totally not in my plans. I can’t stand it when he looks like that. It breaks my heart as much as it did the first day I met him. That makes me even more pissed off at him. How dare he make me sympathize with him after what he’s done? After all the things he’s hidden from me?

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” I ask, with a hard edge on my voice.

“Um…you’re beautiful? And you’re gonna skip town with me?” Elias says, smiling a slight, confused smile and flashing that stupid dimple again. He leans in for a kiss.

I roll my eyes and scoot back a little. “Try again.”

He leans in further to kiss me at my jaw because he knows I’m a sucker for that. “You’re smart?”

“Dammit, Elias!” I yell, and I push him away from me with both hands. I can’t stand for him to be this close to me, not right now. “Let me ask it another way. What were you not telling me?”

I yank the book out of my bag, praying I didn’t damage any of the pages. I hold it by its spine, and its pages threaten to flap open against the inadequacy of my tiny hand. He stares at it, eyes flashing dumbly between my face and the book. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. I know he does. He has to.

I’m suddenly furious at the damn empty look on his face, the opposite of the ones I love, the smiling one and the determined one. This empty one is worse, way worse, than the I’m-okay-but-really-I’m-not one that he always wore when I first met him.

So now I growl at him. “I found that chapter. I found where you wrote my name. What are you not telling me, Elias VanDyne?”

And then his face looks sad, so sad, that tears prickle at the corners of my own. I look down at the book because I don’t want him to see I’m so angry that I’m actually freaking crying.

“Look, Mer.”

“You can call me
Merrin
till I’m done being pissed off at you.” I launch myself off the bed, stand in the middle of his bedroom, arms crossed over my chest.

He clenches his jaw, shakes his head, and looks out the windows.

“Merrin.” He looks back at me. “I didn’t mean to hide anything from you, okay?”

“Oh, yeah?” I say. “Because you’re doing a pretty shitty job of it if that’s what you were going for.”

Then I think of what we’ve been doing together and what the Hub has been trying to get at by testing Elias. My eyes narrow.

“How much does the Hub know about what we can do?” I ask, my gaze so intense I imagine my eyeballs on fire. Maybe I should get Leni and Daniel over here and see if I can make it happen.

“I didn’t tell them anything.”

I look at him, dubious.

“Nothing, Mer, I swear. I was…”

“What? You were
what
?” Asshole didn’t listen to me when I told him to call me Merrin. I’m kind of glad. This just fuels the rage.

“I was waiting to tell Dad until I had worked out a theory as to why exactly it was working with us.”

“So I was going to be your little prize experiment at the end of this whole thing? Is that it? You found me on my first freaking day at Nelson just to try to make this happen?”

Every moment of our relationship flashes before my eyes. Was any of it real?

“Oh, Mer. We were going to be awesome. Be stars together.”

“You mean, test subjects together.”

He nods, his lips set in a hard line. “Yeah. After the Symposium…yeah.” His voice gets softer, and he leans toward me. “Yeah. Now, I’m really worried. That’s why I want us to get out of here.” He stands up, just a foot away from me. The buzz clouds my thoughts. “Seriously. Screw everyone else.” He reaches out and lifts up my hand, holding it gently in both of his. “You’re the only thing that matters to me now.”