Pivot Point (29 page)

“Addie, concentrate. Try to Search the future now.”

I lay my hands flat on the kitchen table. “Why should I?”

He’s sitting across from me. “Do you really want to play mind games with me?”

“Duke is going to be angry with you for doing this.”

He laughs. “Duke is elbow deep in his own secrets, don’t you think? He hardly has a right to judge.”

If I can just keep him talking, I know I can figure out a way to escape. “So he doesn’t know about your little project? I thought you were best friends. Have you been stealing bits of his ability too? Show me how it works. Move something.”

He gives a low laugh that chills me to the bone. “Move something? Because that’s what Duke does? You are so naive.”

Bobby’s phone chimes. It’s sitting on the counter, not plugged into any sort of charger. Maybe I
am
naive. His chair lets out a moan as it scrapes along the tile. He picks up the phone and looks at the screen. With a chuckle he starts to read aloud,
Hey, Bobby, have you seen Addie? Her car is out front. I think I might be in trouble.
He looks up at me. “Is he in trouble, Addie?”

I don’t answer.

“Do you know what’s funny? If he had called me, he might’ve heard you in the background, but because he texted me, there’s no chance of that.” He turns his attention back to the phone. “No, Duke,” he says as his fingers move over the keys. “I haven’t seen her. You know she doesn’t talk to me. Maybe she saw Laila’s truck parked in front of your house. It was the first thing I noticed. Bad luck.”

If he had called, he would have heard me. I’m hung up on those words. Duke and I have been practicing Thought Placement, but my mistrust of him lately has slowed my progress. One time, in my frustration, I told him that I would just call him if I needed him. We both thought that was pretty funny. I’m not laughing now.

I focus all my mind power on feeling Duke’s energy; he’s right across the street. I can do this. I picture pushing the words
I’m at Bobby’s. Help
toward him … into him. The words seem to tumble around in my brain just like they did sometimes when I practiced, when Duke would look at me and say, “Are you even trying?”

“I’m trying,” I say through my teeth.

Bobby turns toward me. “Good. You’re finally on board?”

“I hate you.”

“Strong feelings help enhance your ability. Work with those.”

I take a deep breath and try to relax. He’s not going to manipulate me.
Someone help me.
As if in answer to my call, there’s a pounding at the front door and then Laila’s voice. “Bobby, open up. I know Addie is in there and I have to talk to her. Addie, please don’t be mad at me. Just let me in.”

Bobby smiles. “Poor Laila. She thinks you’ve barricaded yourself in my house out of anger.”

I open my mouth to answer, but I can’t. Bobby is constricting my voice. So I narrow my eyes at him, wishing I had the power to shoot darts out of them instead of having my useless power. There’s more banging.
Help me
, I scream in my mind. From the back of the house there is a loud clatter, and Bobby’s face registers shock for a moment.

“Addie!” Duke’s voice is loud and coming from inside the house. “Are you in here?”

Bobby growls. “Need to change his access. I guess we’re turning this into a party.” He drags me out of the kitchen and shoves me onto the couch in the living room. Then he palms open the front door and pulls Laila inside. “Sit,” he orders her, pointing to the spot next to me. The moment she locks eyes with me, I know she’s not analyzing the situation properly. She sits down and says, “I’m so sorry, Addie. I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me.”

By this time Duke is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. “What’s wrong, Addie?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” Laila says with a grunt. “She saw me at your house, Duke.”

He maintains my stare. “Is that it? Because I heard you. You were asking for help. That was you, right?”

My eyes dart to Bobby, who still hasn’t loosened my tongue, hoping Duke will get the hint.

“Well, say something already,” Laila says.

“She told me,” Bobby says, clearing his throat, “that she’s too angry with the both of you to talk right now. She didn’t want you to know she was here.”

I remember Bobby saying it was hard to control me and do other things at the same time, so while he’s talking I try my hardest to break free of his influence over me. If teenagers have stronger bursts of powers than adults do, then surely our ability to combat those powers is stronger too.
It’s Bobby, it’s Bobby, it’s Bobby, help
, I say over and over again in my head as I try to break free.

Duke marches up to Bobby and grabs him by the collar. “What have you done to her?”

“No more than what you’ve been doing.”

He slams Bobby against the wall with a vibrating thud, and I break free of his control. My muscles are so tense that the second I’m released, I spring forward. My mind must’ve still been screaming as well, because as I hit the floor I yell out, “Help.”

Duke drops Bobby and comes rushing to my side. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t touch me. Get him.” I point, but Bobby isn’t where Duke left him. Before I have a chance to even wonder what wall he slithered through, he is standing behind Laila, who is holding a knife to her own throat, a look of panic in her eyes.

“Addie,” Bobby says. His eyes are like fire. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. Why did you have to call him here?”

“Laila, what are you doing?” Duke asks, still squatting beside me.

“First she is going to Erase the last hour of both of your memories. Then she is going to kill herself, because her father is such a loser. Right, Laila?”

She nods, and a small trickle of dark blood runs down her pale skin.

“Bobby, you don’t have to do this. We’re not going to tell anyone.”

“Now why don’t I believe you, Duke?”

Despite the situation, I feel a sense of calm come over me that helps me analyze things. “Duke,” I say under my breath, “do something.”

“I’m trying.”

“Can’t you knock the knife out of her hand or send the couch flying at Bobby’s face? Do something.”

Bobby lets out a low, chilling laugh. “Yeah, Duke. Do something,” he says in a high-pitched impersonation of me. “Make something move.” He picks up a picture frame from the bookcase next to him. “Move
anything
.” He hurls the picture toward us, and Duke holds up his hand to block it. It ricochets off his palm and hits my leg. It lands on the floor between us, the glass splintered.

I look at Duke, whose face is panicked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“The girl deserves an answer, Duke.” Bobby gives me a look of patronizing pity. “Why don’t you tell her how Ray helps you deceive everyone? Don’t you find it odd, Addie, that Duke can only move things when Ray is around?”

“Stop it,” Duke says.

“Oh, sorry, am I interfering with your concentration? Are you trying to give her happy feelings right now?”

I can’t breathe again, but this time Bobby has nothing to do with it. The room and everyone in it seem to be underwater. Laila sways slightly back and forth with the knife pressed to her throat. I can hear her draw in a surprised breath, her shoulders rising slowly with the sound. Bobby leans one hand against the bookcase, a smile creeping onto his face. And next to me, Duke turns toward Bobby, each miniscule movement being registered and recorded by my mind. Has the world around me slowed down, or am I in another dimension?

Outside, a car’s tires screech over what sounds like a mile of asphalt before car doors open and slam. And then Duke dives forward, swimming through the air. Bobby’s smile contorts into rage, and Laila’s hand pulls back and then moves forward, releasing the knife. It flies like an arrow through honey, straight toward me. I have plenty of time to see its exact path and move out of the way. It sticks, point first, into the wall behind me. When the front door is battered open, the spell is broken, and Duke’s flying form connects with Bobby in a full-body tackle. Laila collapses in a heap on the floor, and I let out the breath I had been holding in a giant whoosh of air.

I crawl forward to Laila’s side. Her neck is dripping blood, but the wound looks superficial.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “Did that knife hit you? I had no control over it.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“And about Duke …”

“Duke’s a Mood Controller,” I manage to say without emotion, even though I had learned it myself less than two minutes ago. “He had us both under his influence.”

“Hands up where I can see them, everyone,” a man in a black Bureau vest says as he enters. He’s followed by three men holding guns. Soon the guns are only pointing at Bobby. Laila, Duke, and I are led outside to where my mom waits by a white, unmarked car. As I run toward her wide open arms, the tears I’d been holding in making their way down my face, the world fades to black.

screwed
:
adj.
having to choose a bad path to avoid a worse one My eyes pop open, and I suck in a huge mouthful of air.

“What did you see?” Laila asks.

Her voice startles me and, as if on a springboard, I launch myself to a sitting position. It takes me a moment to realize everything I just saw wasn’t real even though my heart feels like it’s been ripped in half.

“You look horrible,” she says. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” I push my fingers against my temples as if that action will squeeze out a solution. There has to be a solution.

My dad.

I jump out of bed and run to the door. Just as I’m about to open it, I stop.
Think this through first, Addie.
If I tell my dad about Bobby and Poison that will solve both problems, won’t it? No. What if telling my dad about Bobby delays his leaving the Compound so he can investigate? I know the Bureau can’t use my Search as evidence. First I’m underage, and second my ability is considered subjective. Too many variables. So, what if my dad can’t bring Bobby in for questioning? What if that sets off a completely different series of events with Bobby still free? If I could save the murdered girls referred to in the interviews, I would march out there right now. But they’re already gone. The first crime happened the second week in September and the other months ago.

I sigh.

“You’re scaring me,” Laila says. I had almost forgotten she was here. I turn to face her. What if I just tell her? Surely she’ll stay away from Bobby. I roll my eyes. The knowledge will probably send Laila straight to his house with a knife and an attitude. And even if she does stay away, what if Bobby goes after a different girl instead? Crap. I have to live out my sucky future with Duke.

“I don’t want to do this.”

I throw back my head and groan. I know she has to Erase the life with my mom. If she doesn’t, there is no way I could even stand to look at Duke, let alone allow him into my life so that the future plays out exactly like I saw it. Even the slightest variation can result in dire consequences. Laila got into serious trouble in both versions of the future. A completely different path, like choosing neither of my parents, or marching out and telling my dad everything, will only lead to a different variation of trouble. At least this way I know Laila will be fine.

I lean my back against the wall as the next logical thoughts come into my mind. If she only Erases Duke, the knowledge of Laila’s death will paralyze me, terrify me. And there’s no way I’d fall for Duke with Trevor on my mind.

She has to Erase Trevor too. I want to scream.

“Do you need to go further, or do you know which future you want?”

I feel numb. “Yes, I know.”

“It was that apparent, huh?” She looks down at the bed and then back up at me. “Are you staying?”

“Yes.”

A huge smile breaks out on her face, and she jumps up and flings her arms around me. “I’m so happy. I knew you couldn’t live without me.”

I want to hug her back. I want to tell her never to look at or talk to Bobby or Duke. But I don’t. “You’re right, I can’t.”

She pushes me out by my shoulders. “Okay, so do you want me to Erase your memories now or—”

“No. Not now,” I interrupt, the suggestion making my heart pick up speed. I take several deep breaths. I don’t want to forget Trevor yet.

Over Laila’s right shoulder, painted on my wall, are the words “… we had everything before us, we had nothing before us …” I remember when I first read those words from
A Tale of Two Cities
. They spoke to me. They speak to me again now.

“I just need a few minutes alone.” I walk toward my closet.

“Wait, you’re going to shut yourself in the closet? I can leave.”

“No, I need you here. Please don’t go.” If she doesn’t do it soon, I’m sure I’ll talk myself out of it.

“Okay, I won’t.”

I open the door and shut it behind me. Beneath the hanging shirts and between two shoe racks, I sit down. Tears stream down my face. I feel like my life is over. I try to concentrate on my breathing, in and out. Over and over. Every once in a while it catches as an image of Trevor breaks through my concentration.

In. Out.

And then it hits me, like an alarm wailing in my ears. A car alarm, to be exact. Laila. She restored that car’s “memory.” That may have been in the other future, the future I wasn’t going to let play out, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t learn how to do it in this future … later. After everything happens. I wipe my tears and rush out the door. In my desk I grab a notebook and pen and run back into the closet.

On the paper, I write:
I promised someone I care about very much that I wouldn’t Erase this path, but I have to. On Friday morning, the fourteenth of November, however, after certain events occur, talk to Laila about advanced ability control. Tell her she can learn how to restore memories. This is the only way I know how to keep my promise to you.…

I have to keep it vague enough so that if I stumble upon this note, it doesn’t give me any clues. I place the notebook and pen on the floor. My stomach aches, and I wrap my arms around it and let more tears fall for a few minutes. It makes me sick to know I’m about to let my heart get broken by one boy and Erase another boy who cares about me … or would care about me. Now he won’t know me. Even after a memory restoration, if Laila can actually learn how to do it, I will still be a stranger to him.