Spark (9 page)

That night, I lay in my bed, thinking back over every detail of the day’s events, up until the final moment before I got out of the car, turning to wave at Zach before he drove away.  Except, in my version, he grabs my arm before I get out, pulls me toward him.  His eyes say it all.  His lips rush in to kiss me, his hand gently lifting my hair, running his fingers through.  I sighed, smiling to myself.  I could picture it over and over, all night long.

Feeling foolish, I groaned, pulled the covers over my head.  This was cancelling out all the good vibes I’d gotten that day.  Everything was just too strange.  How stupid to think I could have anything like a normal boyfriend.  

I groaned again at my utter sappiness and got up to turn on my computer, navigating to my inbox, and discovering, to my surprise and joy, that it was Zach.  Zach had just sent me a message:

Tess,

I had a really good time today.  I hope this doesn't sound too forward, but I need to talk to you… in person… again soon.  There are things I have to tell you—important things.  I realize that I am going to sound crazy and that you will probably think I’m a freak.  You may never want to speak to me again, but I’m willing to take the risk because I really like you.  I hope you will trust me. Meet me after school on Monday in front of the theater and I will tell you everything.

Zach

P.S.  You can’t tell anyone about this.

Immediately, I thought of what Alex had said, about how Zach was
different. 
He’d told me to be careful.  Even Cricket, that very first day of orientation, had said Zach was
uber weird. 
What about that? 

I didn’t know what to do, so I sent Alex a text:

-Went out with Zach today… don’t kill me!

-And?

-It was cool, just went to the park

-Just remember, be careful

Should I tell him about Zach wanting a secret meeting with me?  I considered.  I knew Alex would seriously have an opinion on that.

-
ok… here’s the thing… just got this msg from him… he wants to have a secret mtg w/me

-WHAT?

-like he says he needs to tell me important things but i can’t tell anyone

-where does he want to meet you

-at the theater

-well at least it’s a public place

-what should i do?

-well, i guess that depends on whether you want to see him

- sort of do

-then go... but just remember what i said

-k

-be careful

-i will

In less than a minute, Zach had sent me a second e-mail:

Tess,

              I know I make you nervous because I’m so different.  You have no reason to trust me.  But, I really like you and if you decide to give me this chance, meet me.   If you choose not to, I will understand.  But I will never forget the time we spent together today, or how wide and beautiful and endless the mountains seemed, even though I’ve been looking at them my whole life.

              Yours,

Zach

I took note of the fact that he’d signed the message with “Yours.”  The others had just been his name.  Why was this one different?  In fact, the tone of the whole message was different.  It seemed more sincere… more mature.  It seemed to come from someone who knew what he wanted, and yet, was resigned to the fact that he may have to live without it.  And that was ok.

I read back over Zach’s e-mail twice, making sure.  He’d said he needed to tell me things, that he liked me.  What the heck?  We’d only just met each other.  What could he possibly need to tell me?  On the other hand, I really, really wanted to see him again, so it took me less than five seconds to respond:

Ok.  I’ll be there. 

Tess

Connected

              After school Monday, Zach was sitting on the edge of the fountain outside the theater, and he was wearing the same white t-shirt and sunglasses that he’d had on before.  When he saw me, he smiled and waved and stood up.

              “Hi,” he said.  “You showed up.”

              “Did you think I wouldn’t?”  I asked, sitting down.

              “I thought Cricket might talk you out of it.”

              “Why?”

              “Because she thinks I’m weird.”

              “She doesn’t think you’re weird,” I lied.  “Besides, she doesn’t even know you.”

              “Would she think I was weird if she knew me?”

              “Maybe,” I teased.

              Zach pulled out his cell phone, pushed a few buttons, and put it back in his pocket.  “So, I guess you’re wondering what’s up.”

              “A little,” I admitted.  “Your message was sort of cryptic.”

              “Cryptic.  I like that.”  Zach zinged a smile at me.  An impossible smile, the only one in the world.

              He didn’t say anything for a while, and just when the silence was starting to get to me, he said, “There’s something I want to show you.”

              “What is it?”

              “It’s a few blocks from here.  C’mon, I’ll take you.”

It didn't take me long to figure out where we were headed.  I guess I was about to find out what was in inside the old building.  Cricket would just die if she knew.  My heart started beating like crazy just thinking about it.

When we got there, the door was open and he led me down a short hallway to a window that looked like somewhere an attendant might sit, except that the glass was broken and there wasn’t another soul in sight.  In front of the window there was a faded button pad and a camera that looked broken.  Zach looked into the camera, which obviously was not working, and slid open the door next to the glass window.  He led me into a small room with a bunch of old file cabinets and a computer.

“What is this place?” 

              “It belongs to my family.  My dad bought it years ago… He’s gone now.  Mom runs the dry cleaners on the front side.”

              “What happened to your dad?”

              Zach didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s ok.  He died.  My mom took him to the hospital but by the time they got there, it was too late.  Massive heart attack.”

              “I’m so sorry, Zach.”

“It’s ok.  I’m mainly over it now.”               

Static was building up in my ears, and then there was a click and I distinctly saw, scrolling like a text in my mind, what looked like an e-mail, except it kept fading in and out and I only caught part of it:

--this is the way it was supposed to be, did you know that?

Where were these messages coming from?  I couldn’t understand who or what would cause them. 

“Are you ok?”  Zach asked.  “You look like you’re going to pass out.”  He led me over to a bench.  “Here, sit down.”

I rubbed my temples, the headache had returned.  “I’m sorry, I just have a headache,” I said.  “Just give me a minute. I’ll be ok.”

I shook my head, and I could feel my eyes burning with impending tears.  Where were my sunglasses when I needed them?  A tear plopped on my lap and I reached up to wipe my eye.

“Take your time,” Zach said with genuine concern.  “It’s a long story anyway.”

             
What on earth was he talking about? 
I thought. 
What story?  And did it have anything to do with the messages in my head?

              After a moment, Zach sighed and said, “So this is where it all started.”  He swept his arm through the air, gesturing all around.  “My dad’s research.  All his files.  Everything is here.”

              “What did he do?”  I asked, with interest.

"He worked for the government, top secret projects.”

              If I wasn’t already freaked out, I definitely was now.  Cricket had been right.  Zach was a lunatic.  A lunatic who had lured me into some old research lab that he believed housed top secret information.  I had to figure out a way to get out of there, and fast.  I started to get up, but he placed his hand gently over mine and smiled.  “It’s ok, Tess.  I know this all sounds crazy, but give me a little time to explain.  Just trust me.  You can do that, right?”

              He squeezed my hand, looked at me with those deep, endless eyes.  I wanted to believe him, and wanted even more to believe he wasn’t crazy.  But I couldn’t stop thinking about all the rumors, all the things Cricket had told me, the warnings from Alex.  I was so confused, I felt sick to my stomach.  I didn’t know who or what to believe anymore.  My head started to throb, reminding me that I had my own set of crazy problems.  Maybe Zach and I were just two loners, brought together by some quirk of nature, some unseen force. 

              I felt the muscles in my hand relax, then my shoulders, my neck.  I leaned in towards Zach, putting my head on his shoulder.  He reached up and stroked my hair.  “I know, Tess.  It’s going to be ok.  I promise.”

              I was feeling a little dizzy and curious and scared all at the same time.  But, I took a deep breath and asked, “So what exactly is the purpose of this place?”

             
“It’s a digital information dump, basically.  My dad started it.”

              “Started it?”

              “He was a computer genius,” Zach began.  “Used to work for the FBI, cracking codes and writing all these super elaborate programs and stuff.  But he hated working for the government.  He wanted to do something good—something that would really help people.”

              “Isn’t catching criminals helping people?”

              Don’t ask me how I know this, but his eyes said it all.  They were like a sweet little kid’s eyes, someone who would never lie to you.  I couldn’t stop looking at those eyes because somehow, they made the rest of the world sort of spin and fade away and it was just us, sitting there on that bench.  Clouds swept over the glass, throwing patchy shadows over us.  He grabbed me, clamped his arms around me.  And those sweet, drop-dead eyes.  I was seriously going to pass out. 

              “You’re not going to believe this,” he continued, dropping his arms.  “But we’re well…
connected.
”

              “Of course we are,” I said.  “You’re holding my hand.”  I was trying to be funny, but deep down, part of me wanted to scream and run and get the heck out of there, or else just throw myself back into his arms like a kid hopped up on candy.  It would feel
so
good to be connected—to Zack. 

              “I mean, we’re connected way more than you ever dreamed.”

              Gulp.  Sweet child play just screeched to a halt. 

Oh my gosh
, I thought. 
He’s stalking me.
  But he was tricky.

His voice went soft, a tone half above a whisper—so soft and calming.  And if he hadn’t said the word “connected” again, I would’ve bolted, but he did and so I was glued to my seat and to his eyes like a cliché in sneakers.  I couldn’t get up.  I was frozen with fear and fascination.  If this was love, I could get used to it.

              “We’re connected because of… Because of what my dad did.”

              “What do you mean your dad?  What’s he got to do with this?”

              “He was a researcher
.
”

              “So?”

              Zach nodded.  “It was…. Well—my dad was an expert—” Zach looked away with a sigh.  “Never mind.  You won’t believe me anyway.”

              I was really curious now.  “What?  Tell me.”

              “I know things.”

Oh my God
, I thought. 
He’s completely insane
.  I couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t going to sound like a scream, so I just sat there, staring.

Zach turned and looked at me.  “I know everything about you.”

              After I found my sanity again, I snickered.  “Yeah, right.”  I was starting to get a little freaked out, feeling like the walls were closing in on me.

              “I know you think I’m crazy,” he said.  “And sometimes, I wonder if I am.  But believe me.  It’s all here.  You can read it for yourself.”

              “You’re not making sense.  What do you mean it’s all here?  What is
it
? And what does all this have to do with
me
?”

              “The research.  The data.  I’ve been learning all about my dad’s—”

              “Ok, I don’t get any of this,” I said, getting up.  “I’m out of here.  Anyway, it’s getting late.”

              Zach grabbed my hand, sending a mild electric shock through my arm.  I pulled my hand back like I’d been stung by a hornet.  I thought back to when we’d touched hands in front of the theater, and this one was completely different.  This one, if possible, was desperate.  “What are you doing?”

              “I’m trying to help you.  Have strange things been happening to you?”  He gripped my arm again, tighter this time.  His eyes changed, got bigger or something, darker, like the shadows had rushed into them.  I pulled away again.  I could still feel his grip on my arm, like a vise.

              “Stop it, Zach.  I have to go home.”

              He released my arm, looked at the ground.  He sort of looked sad then, like I’d ruined his birthday party or something.  I said, “I’ll see you around, ok?”

He never looked up, and I dashed out the door and back down the street toward school.

Everything about You

When I got home, this was the message from Zach, waiting for me on my computer:

Tess,

You were on a swing, high in the air, on your 13
^th
birthday.  You were in a coma for four years.