Silent Symmetry (The Embodied trilogy) (24 page)

I ran out, slamming the front door behind me, and up the stairs. I was panting by the time I reached the door of the ToT apartment. I rang the bell, waited for about half a second, then hammered on the door as hard as I could. The only sound was my breathing and my heart beating so loud I could hear it through the bones at the base of my skull.

I hammered on it again. The hope drained as I waited and waited. And waited. Finally I turned and slumped down, sobbing, with my hands around my knees and my back against the bottom of the door.

I must have cried myself to sleep sitting there, because an old lady swaddled in fur who had just exited the elevator prodded me with her cane, clearly convinced I was a drug addict. I stood up, wiped my tear-stained eyes, and trudged despondently back down the stairs. Was there any point trying to sneak into
Mom’s office? The Temple of Truth was being investigated. For sure the Embodied had vanished. No way would they leave any trace for me or the cops to find.

I emerged, blinking, into the bright winter sunlight. It was January 1st – half the city was still asleep. I needed to think. But I also needed to stop thinking.

Chelsea Market was only fifteen minutes away. I had grown to love that place, so I took a deep breath of the icy air and headed down 9th Avenue, past the buildings and businesses I had come to know over the past four months: the Cocoa V chocolate shop, shuttered and silent; Les Bons Grains café, bustling and warm; the Barking Zoo, where we used to buy cat food. Poor Flash, what happened to you?

I felt like I’d lost everything. My mother, my pet and
Noon, the man I... loved? The “man” I loved? I stopped and scuffed at a frozen patch on the sidewalk. Did I really love him? Was it all just the Dark Energy influencing me? Maybe it was the romance, the adventure, the weirdness, that had attracted me to him? But what had Noon ever really done for me, for my own benefit, rather than for the benefit of the ToT project?

Cruz cared about me and Cruz was real and Cruz was right there for me when I needed him. He was willing to take a bullet for me. Literally.

By the time I got to the market, I knew what I had to do. Call the only people I could really, truly count on – my grandparents. I wandered into the Anthropologie store and dialed their number while absent-mindedly checking out the clothes, jewelry and bags.

“Pops?”

“Kari! Happy New Year!”

I
swallowed and forced back the tears. This was going to be hard.

“Pops
... I’m really sorry.”

* * * * *

Gran and Pops flew up later that day. I felt so incredibly bad, meeting them at JFK with a police escort. Even worse, they were taken to the station for questioning. I don’t know how they didn’t go insane with worry. Or maybe they did and kept it from me using some kind of grandparental superpower.

They seemed to be in a daze, but I guess that was normal.
They had just been told that their only daughter had committed suicide. Even though the body hadn’t been recovered, a dozen cops had witnessed her jump off the bridge into the icy water. No one could have survived.

When we got to the apartment they dumped their bags in
Mom’s room. They busied themselves over Chinese food with talk of a memorial service, but quickly realized there was no one to invite. The only place it made sense to hold one was in Lancaster. But they were too heartbroken and just didn’t have the energy.

The next morning Cruz called me, saying his mom was inviting us for lunch. Gran and
Pops took some convincing to go. They were sure Cruz was involved in this tragedy and didn’t trust him. But once we arrived at his apartment they were overwhelmed by Dora’s Puerto Rican welcome. They warmed to her instantly and were soon nibbling tentatively at the
patacones
she’d just taken sizzling out of the frying pan.

Cruz hardly said a word the whole time we ate, and his sisters were unusually quiet too. Afterward, I helped them clear away the things from the table while Cruz crashed on the couch watching a football game.

I joined him, shifting his legs out the way to make room. Dora and my grandparents huddled in a whispered kitchen discussion over coffee, occasionally glancing at me through the door to the dining room.

Cruz just stared at the screen, his thumb wandering over the buttons on the remote, never actually pushing any of them.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He still didn’t look at me.

“Thank you for rescuing me. I’d be dead without you. You know that, right?”

He shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

“None of this is your fault, Cruz.”

He turned to face me, his eyes flicking across mine, as though searching for something. Then he looked back at the screen.

I got up from the couch but he caught hold of my wrist.

“Kari.”

My stomach was in a knot. “What?”

“I’m just a kid. I act like I’m not, but I am.”

I sat back down and put my hand on his shoulder. The pain on his face was tangible.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all this.”

“Well I’m not,” he sighed. “I’m not sorry that you dragged me into your life. And I know I’m not cool and mysterious and... dark, but... I would do anything for you. Anything.”

My heart melted. “I know.”

I took hold of his clenched fist, slowly uncurled the fingers and placed my own on his warm, strong palm.

“You did the right thing.”

His eyes were still searching for an answer – for the truth – in mine.

I pulled him closer. I kissed him. And felt the tension disappear from every muscle in his body.

“I love you, Cruz,” I whispered into his ear.

He pressed his cheek against mine. “Me too, Kari.”

I just wish that I hadn’t heard that little voice in the back of my mind say: “Are you sure? Are you sure this is real?”

Why did I have this feeling that
Noon was still alive? That they all were? Were my feelings for him real either? And what if everything Aranara had told me was true? That I was the only person that could save the universe from these... Natan. She called them High Priests. But why would priests want to destroy something? As ever, my curiosity burned brighter than my good sense. Somehow, someday, I knew I would have to find out. I just couldn’t imagine going to my grave never knowing the whole story. And besides, if I did need to sacrifice myself to save the universe, I was sure now that I would do it. I had already made that decision on the bridge.

There was so much to think about, but no matter how many questions remained unanswered, being in Cruz’s arms was what I needed right now: his warmth, strength, trust. And his love.

* * * * *

Muffled junior prom music pounded through the door of the bathroom next to the school gym. I washed my hands, careful not to splash my beautiful Coral Rose Leifsdottir dress. The beading around the neckline reminded me of the translucent web of Dark Matter that
Noon had made me see from the roof of The Warrington last winter. In the store, I hadn’t noticed. It was only after I had put it on at home that I made the connection.

The last six months had crawled by, now that I was back
in the “real world” of schooldays and homework. Cruz and I were now more than an item. We were very, very close. My grandparents had agreed for Dora to become my legal guardian so that I could stay at Chelsea Prep. What else was I going to do? Grow up on a retirement community in Florida? Stay with friends in Lancaster and know I’d probably never get out of there again? Cruz’s elder sister had moved out, so I stayed in her room and helped out with the toddlers at Dora’s daycare to pay my way, but luckily Mom’s life insurance meant that I didn’t have to get an actual job.

I shook the water from my hands and dried them with a paper towel, only subconsciously aware that the music had stopped and a male voice was speaking through a microphone. I raised my head and looked at myself in the mirror. I seemed almost like another person, so grown up, on the verge of adulthood.

My hair fell in waves onto my bare shoulders. The girl at the 8
th
Avenue salon had done a good job. I peered closer at my face. I had always found myself lucky to have such pleasant, open features. But now, today, something occurred to me... something else. I turned my head slightly from side to side, then looked at myself straight-on once again. It seemed so obvious. I held the palm of my right hand up so that it covered the right side of my face. Then I switched to the left.

Why had I never thought to check before? My face really was perfectly symmetrical. The
Temple of Truth’s breeding program had worked, and I was its outcome.

Then I looked closer. Crap – a zit. I was blessed with incredibly clear skin. Why get one tonight of all nights? I
dug around in my makeup bag and took out the concealer. As I twisted the stick and moved my face closer to the mirror I could see that it wasn’t a zit. It was a small beauty mark. I didn’t have a single mole on my whole body. But this was definitely one, on my right cheek. And my left cheek was flawless – which meant that I wasn’t symmetrical after all! So why did Aranara and the other Rebel Embodied want to transport me to the Dark Universe? How would it help? What would it prove to these Natan?

I put the concealer away and looked down at the
sink, trying to figure it out. I shook my head. There was still something key that I didn’t understand.

Polite clapping from the
students in the gym. It must have been a speech by the principal. They were probably all wishing he’d wrap it up and get off the stage so that the dancing could start again. Cruz was waiting for me out there. I opened the bathroom door and walked down the hallway to the gym.

As I entered, I heard the principal say, “So, without further ado, please give a warm welcome to my replacement, Mr. Salas.”

He stood aside and a tall, handsome Latino man in his forties approached the microphone. I made my way through the crowd of students, looking for Cruz. Valerie Tancredi puffed out her chest and sighed to Brianna Schiff, “Dude, he is so hot...”

Oh good, there was Cruz, off to one side. Avoiding the limelight as usual, tall blue drink still in hand. He caught my eye and smiled.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Salas, then turned to the audience. “How should I address you? Students? Boys and girls? Young men and women? You see – being a principle is a tough job and I think we should all give Mr. Carroll a big hand to say thank you for the last five years of service to Chelsea Prep.”

As the students clapped
I reached Cruz and he handed me a fresh Shirley Temple. He was so thoughtful! I gave him a peck on the cheek. My eyes widened and I kept my face close to his. His skin was darker than mine, but just as unblemished... except for – now I was seeing it for the very first time – except for one small mole on the cheek I had kissed.

“What are you staring at?” he asked me, laughing.

“Nothing,” I lied.

He frowned slightly, the applause died down and we
turned back to face the stage where Mr. Salas had finished clapping. But he kept his hands clasped together.

“This is a party, so I
won’t kill the mood any longer,” he joked, looking around the room.

Then he
suddenly seemed to focus his speech directly at Cruz and me.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you guys in September.”

I felt a wave of light-headedness. Like I wasn’t quite in control of my own mind. Mr. Salas still had his hands clasped in front of him, arms slightly outstretched. He smiled a perfectly symmetrical smile.

“Enjoy the summer.”

The End

Many thanks
to Alex, Tammy and Kayla for input and editing.

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