Split Second (Pivot Point) (18 page)

He let out a small groan. “I need you out of my head.”

I gasped, thinking of my brother in that closet, whimpering. “I know I’ve asked you for a dozen favors.”

“It’s the only thing you
ever
ask me for.”

“I know.”

He sighed. “What’s wrong with your brother?”

“He’s having a breakdown. His ability fully Presented and is driving him insane.”

“Telepath.”

I nodded.

“He used Face’s program?”

I nodded again.

He pushed his palms to his eyes. “Doesn’t your dad have any suppressors he can use?”

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I hadn’t thought to ask my dad. “My dad uses them as fast as he gets them.”

“I don’t sell suppressors, but I have a program that might help.” He stood and pulled his case out from under the opposite bed. He opened it and threw me a chip. Wasn’t a stupid chip what got me into this mess?

“Is this even going to work?” I held it up. “Can’t you do something . . . with your ability? Lessen the effects or something?”

His jaw tightened. “No.”

I thought of the fact that he was failing all his Para classes, how he hated that I knew his ability, and it hit me—he didn’t like to use it. Maybe he was hoping that if he never used it, he’d be more willing to leave the Compound. Live on the Outside. The cold air and the metal walls of the ancient train seemed to push against my lungs. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“I’m offering that.” He pointed at the chip I still held up.

I wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp on his offering.
Why wouldn’t he just help me? I grabbed my heel, which had ended up by the wall, and slipped it on. I paused by the door, wondering if begging would help. Then I felt the tears gather at the back of my eyes, so I gritted my teeth against the sting and left. My brother needed me.

Addie:
I’m getting the word
welcome
tattooed on my forehead.

Now that he knew the truth about the Compound, I thought Trevor would be at my house every second, needing to be around me as much as I needed to be near him. Yet here I sat, in my room, staring at the very black screen of my phone. He was weirded out. I knew it. There was a knock on my bedroom door, followed by my dad’s voice, “You decent?”

“No.”

Obviously knowing that was a lie, he walked in. “We need to talk.”

“What?”

“For starters, that. What’s going on with this new bad
attitude you have toward me?”

“I’m angry, Dad.”

“I can tell. Would you care to expound?”

“Would you?”

“I’m lost. I need you to help me.”

“Oh, you want me to tell you what lies I know about so that you can know which ones to confess to? No thanks.”

“Is this about the new mind pattern again?”

“I know about Grandpa.” I blurted it out before I changed my mind.

“What about him? They’ve delayed the transfer of his grave.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Your mom wants you to go home for Christmas, and I think it’s a good idea.”

My eyes popped open. “What? No.”

“You’re obviously not happy here. Your mother said since I got Thanksgiving, it’s only fair that she get Christmas.”

“No. I want to stay here.”

“Your mother—”

“You left her and you still let her control you?”

My statement took all the fight out of his face. “You have never talked to me like this before. When did that change?”

“When you became a liar.”

“You’re going home for Christmas.” His voice was soft. “I’m going for a drive.” He shut the door when he was finished. He’d always gone for a drive after he and my mom fought. My eyes stung, and I blinked away the pain.

My phone rang. I answered before the screen even had time to register the caller. “Hello.”

“Addie. This is Rowan.”

I sighed.

“That disappointed, huh?”

“No, sorry. Hi.”

“I would like to propose an idea.”

“Okay.”

“So I found out that Trevor asked Stephanie to winter formal.”

“Oh yeah.” Suck. Who else wanted to come stomp on my mood today? Apparently, I was open for business.

“I was thinking it would be fun to go as a group. You and me, Steph and Trevor. What do you say?”

I walked to my window and watched my dad’s car drive away. “Your winter formal? I don’t even go to your school. Besides, would Stephanie even go for that?”

“So are you telling me you don’t want to go to the dance with me?” Rowan asked.

“I would just feel a little weird going to your school’s dance.” The doorbell rang, and I rolled off my bed to go answer it.

“Trevor thinks it’s a good idea.”

Trevor was in on this plan? Suddenly, everything was different. “He does?”

“He said I should ask you.”

Maybe Trevor didn’t understand that when I told him I had ended up with him in the other version of my life, that meant I
wanted to end up with him in this version. Or maybe he wanted me to be there. “Okay?”

“Was that a question?”

“No, it was an answer. Yes, I’ll go.”

“Awesome. I’ll pick you up at six on Friday.”

I hung up my phone and answered the door. Trevor stood there, and I almost burst into tears from happiness and relief. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. “I just had the worst fight ever with my dad.”

When his whole body went still, I realized I didn’t have these privileges anymore. I let go and backed up with a mumbled apology.

“No.” He tentatively ran a hand down my arm. “It just took me by surprise.”

“Come in.”

He stepped inside and took everything in. I reminded myself, again, that he didn’t have the same memories I did. So he’d never been inside my house before.

“Um.” My eyes stung, and I pressed my fingers to them. “I’m sorry. This is just so hard for me.” I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. “Can I get you anything?”

“No. I’m good.” He followed me to the couch, where we both sat down. “Has Rowan called you yet?”

“Yes, just barely. Like right before you got here.”

“Good. You said yes, right?”

“Only because he said it was your idea.”

“I wish I could ask you. I asked Stephanie after they”—he
paused, then lowered his voice—“messed with my memories. I thought it was easier than having her hate me.”

I smiled. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I want to, though. If I could un-ask Stephanie I would, but I think that would be very rude at this point.”

“It would.” My stomach twisted when I realized that at some point Stephanie was going to find out that Trevor and I were . . . were what? Getting to know each other? I was in love with him and he was in I-might-one-day-want-to-date-you with me? This was so complicated.

It was quiet for a few minutes, and Trevor broke the silence with a small chuckle. “This is weird. I’m being weird. Talk to me. Tell me about you.”

An image of him telling his mother all about me in our other life flashed through my mind, and I burst into tears. He looked like a deer caught in headlights for a second, then pulled me toward him, wrapping his arms around me.

“Shh.” He petted my hair. “Addison, it’s going to be fine. We’ll figure it out. Listen, even before this, before you told me about . . .” He trailed off. We had agreed not to talk about it out loud. “I was interested in you. I threw a shoe at your face and nearly kissed you. Don’t you remember?”

I nodded against his chest. “I swear I’m not a baby.”

He laughed.

“I just miss you.” My heart ached as I said it.

He hugged me tighter. “We’ll figure it out.”

The garage door swung shut, and a set of keys hit the counter.
Trevor stood, almost whacking me in the head when he did. “Hello, sir,” he said.

My dad finished his brisk walk into the living room and stopped in front of Trevor. “Hi. Who are you?”

Ugh. My dad was not trying to get off my bad list at all. “This is Trevor.”

My dad’s jaw tightened. He probably remembered that he had asked me to stay away from Trevor because the CC agents had mentioned him.

“Good to meet you, sir.” He extended his hand, and my dad shook it. Trevor knew my dad’s ability. I wondered if that was intimidating.

“We were just leaving,” I said.

“Where are you going?”

“Downtown.” I looked at him, waiting for that to register. For him to realize that was where my grandfather’s apartment was.

He didn’t. “Be home by curfew.”

Outside, we stopped by Trevor’s car. “I wanted to check on my grandpa. I’ve been worried about him. Did you have plans before I kind of threw you into mine?”

“As long as I don’t have to eat anything there, I’m good. Let’s go see your grandfather.”

When my grandpa answered the door, I realized just how worried I’d been. Even though I had talked to him, with that guy lurking in his apartment, I thought maybe they had done
something to him. But there he was, stick and headphones in place, just as crazy as ever. I was getting used to his craziness, though. It made me smile.

“Hi. I brought you seeds.” I held out a pack of squash seeds I had bought on a whim the other day when I saw them in the checkout line at the store.

He looked at the pack and then offered me a big smile. “Addie. That’s so nice. Come in, come in.”

I scanned his living room. Everything looked just as it had last time we were here. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course.”

I eyed the toaster. It wasn’t beeping or flashing warnings at me, so supposedly that meant there were no foreign devices around. They may have been monitoring him more closely now, but I hoped they still thought he was fairly harmless. Because he was.

Trevor seemed to follow my cue and leafed through the stack of newspapers he’d been so interested in before. “Any unexpected visitors?”

“Yes. You’re here.”

“What have you been up to?”

He flicked the pack of seeds. “Growing things. And making things.”

He brought me the black box from his table.

“What is it exactly?”

“Talk into it.”

I put the box up to my mouth. “Hello.”

It repeated my word back to me. If my grandpa wanted a recorder, couldn’t he just buy one? They did have that kind of stuff here, didn’t they? Maybe they didn’t. “Cool.”

“Let Trevor try,” he said. When he handed it to Trevor, he said, “Say a few sentences.”

Trevor looked at me. I just shrugged, my sign that meant,
Humor him. We both know he’s on the crazy side
.

“Hi,” Trevor said into the box and then, like me, must’ve run out of words to say to an inanimate object, because he tried to hand the box back after it said hi back.

My grandpa was too busy looking at the top of Trevor’s head to be bothered to take the box. “You’re tall, young man.”

“Yes, I am.”

“How long have you been that tall?”

“Um . . .” He smiled, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh. “A while now.”

I laughed and grabbed the box from Trevor, putting it on the table. “We better go. It was fun to see your stuff.” I had just wanted to check on him. Now that I knew he was fine, I wanted to spend some time with Trevor away from reminders of the Compound.

My grandfather pulled me into another hug, and for the first time since I’d met him again, my body relaxed. It was nice having my grandpa back in my life, especially because my father and I weren’t exactly getting along. I hugged him back. It was hard to believe my father had robbed me of this relationship for the last ten years.

On the way down in the elevator, Trevor said, “Tell me three things.”

I looked up at him. “What?”

“From our other life. Three things.”

Thoughts and feelings raced through my body. I wanted to tell him everything in that moment, but I loved the way he limited it. Three things. Slow steps. So much like Trevor. Which three things, though? Maybe I should just start with the first three things.

“We met at a football game.”

He smiled. “Very appropriate.”

“My dad forced me to go sit in the student section, and there you were, an open seat next to you. It was fate.”

The elevator dinged as we reached ground level. We stepped out and started walking to his car.

“Okay, thing two. The following Monday at school we ran into each other in the library, where I found out you hate classics.”

“Classic what?”

I sighed and shook my head. “Classic books.”

“Oh yeah. Yuck. You like them?”

I laughed. “And thing number three. Because of this very attitude about classics, I wrote you a note about being attacked by the decaying, awoken-from-the-grave body of Charles Dickens.”

He laughed. “You threatened me with zombie Dickens? Nice.”

“And that’s when I decided we were going to be best friends.”

“Best friends?”

“I was delusional.”

We reached his car, and he opened the door for me. I took in the littered mess that coated the floor and smiled. It was so nice to have my memory back.

Laila:
When wrong, is it absolutely necessary to admit it?

Eli slept, and for the first time that night my anxiety eased. The chip seemed to help. I had watched the mind patterns for a moment, but they only made me dizzy. For him they seemed to take the knots out of his neck.

“Is he going to be okay?” Derek asked. I hadn’t realized he was awake.

“He’ll be fine. Where were you earlier?”

“Dad said we had to leave. Said Eli needed some quiet.”

“Dad took you somewhere?”

“We went to the field by the school and threw around a football.” He took off his socks, folded them together, and threw them at my head. “I know, shocking, right?”

“Yes. Good night, Derek.” I picked up the socks and, when I reached the door, pelted him with them. He laughed and then lifted his blanket up in front of him, probably worried I’d find more ammo.

My dad watched television in the living room, and I waited for a while, trying to collect my thoughts, not sure exactly what I wanted to say.

“What?” he asked from where he sat. “Spit it out. Your thoughts are so loud I can’t watch my game.”

“I’m worried about Eli.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Fine like you? Because you’re far from fine.”

“I don’t know, Laila. He’ll learn to deal with it in his own way. Whatever way that is.”

That wasn’t exactly the reassurance I was hoping for, but when could I ever count on comfort from my father? The memory of my brother in the closet, pillow clamped over his head, seized me. Maybe for the first time in my life, I could understand why my dad would want to suppress that. I grabbed my keys off the counter. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” Not that he ever did.

He grunted and turned up the volume on the television.

Now that Eli was better, I realized how ungrateful I had been to Connor. I knocked on the train door. It didn’t take as long for him to slide it open this time, but he still opened it only half a foot.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hey. Is he okay?”

“Better.” I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

“How’d those words taste in your mouth?”

“Awful.”

He smiled. We stood there in silence. He didn’t offer to let me in, and I knew it was because he wanted me to ask. He liked to make things hard on me.

“Can I come in?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to talk.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re here, and I want to know why.”

He rolled his eyes and started to shut the door. I put my hand on the edge. “Because you need me, and I’ve never needed anyone more than I need you.”

He pulled me inside and against him before I even finished the sentence. I clung to him, letting down the defenses I’d tried so hard to keep in place. I felt exhausted without them. Maybe he was tired too, because his hand shook a little against my back. I met his eyes. This close I could see the brown that seemed to surface from the center of a pool of green.

“Why are you here?” I asked him.

“I figured this was the closest place we had to live like I would on the Outside.”

“You like it there?” I wasn’t sure, because he’d seemed so upset on the way home. “You should’ve shown me your favorite places.”

“You were too busy hanging out with Duke.”

“Forced necessity.”

He shrugged.

“Were you jealous?”

“Insanely,” he said in a low voice.

I laughed.

“You find that amusing?” His hand, still pressed against my back, pulled me closer. Energy shot up my spine.

“Yes, I do.” But I wasn’t going to reassure him that I thought of Duke next to never and him all the time. A little fear in a guy was healthy.

But then he said, “Do I have reason to be?”

And I couldn’t help but say, “Never.”

His lips moved to mine and pressed softly against them, teasing me. I didn’t like to be teased. I put my arms around his neck and pulled his face to me. “Don’t make me regret this,” I said against his mouth.

“I’m surprised you don’t already.”

I smiled. He knew me well. Maybe better than I wanted him to, but maybe just as much as I needed him to. The cold air surrounded us, but I felt warm against him. His breath on my mouth, his hands on my back, his chest against mine. Unlike our first kiss, this one was soft and thoughtful. It made me ache inside with more joy than I had ever felt. Now I knew what he meant when he said there was a difference between real and manufactured happiness.

I wanted to stay this way, lost in him, but I knew we needed
to talk. “Go sit over there so we can talk.”

He looked behind him to the bed I was pointing to, and I sat down on the opposite bed.

“And you’re going to sit there? We have to be separated to talk?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Why?”

“Just go sit.”

He laughed the kind of laugh that meant he knew his nearness would prevent any talking and plopped onto his back on the bed across from me. The first thing he said was, “I wasn’t supposed to meet you.”

“What?”

“You threw off my list. I had it figured out. The reasons for going, the ones for staying.”

I tucked my feet underneath me. “Going was winning?”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

“And now you.” He stared at the ceiling. “You wouldn’t want to leave, would you?”

“No.” Not even if Addie stayed with her dad. My brothers were here. As at home as Addie felt out there, I felt like a foreigner. “I won’t ask you to stay for me, Connor. There’s no way I want you to wake up one day full of bitterness and realize I’m to blame.” Good thing he was ten feet away or I might not have been able to say that. I might have begged him to stay.

“He wasn’t a Norm.”

It took my brain a little while to place the words. “Your dad?”

“He was Telepathic.”

“Was?” I moved onto my back, mirroring his position of staring at the metal ceiling of the train.

“He begged me day and night. My mom begged me not to. . . .”

“Begged you for what?”

“To Heal him.”

Those words hung in the air above us, clinging to the cold, waiting for me to figure them out.

“I was twelve,” he finally said. “I didn’t understand. He just told me that there was a part of his brain that was overdeveloped. That he wanted it to be made whole.” He sounded so anguished. “I Healed him of his ability.”

“Healed him of it . . .” It took a long moment for that to click. The words and the cold rained down on me, numbing my cheeks. “Made him Normal?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what he wanted?”

“No. He had this theory that if a Healer could make a section of his brain a little closer to Normal, it would make him more in control of when and what he heard. But he could never get a Healer to do it.”

I could hear my breaths. Is this what you did for people you cared about? Listened to their horrible pasts? I didn’t know what to say. That was a memory that should be kept deep down inside him and never brought out. Like the time my father gave
me a black eye and split open my lip. Not even my dad got to remember that one.

Now was the time I was supposed to say something. Anything. “Wow. That sucks. Too bad you can’t have your memories Erased.”

He started laughing. Low and quiet at first and then deep and full.

“What’s so funny?” I couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“My mom made me go to a therapist for about a year after my dad left the Compound.”

“A therapist? As in someone you talk to? I didn’t even know we had those in the Compound. Why didn’t they just give you some programs to ease the guilt?”

“Not a lot of stuff works on a Healer. But anyway, the therapist told me over and over again that I was only twelve, I didn’t know any better. My dad shouldn’t have made me do that. And you, after five years of guilt, confirm that my guilt is justified and my life sucks.”

“Yeah, well, I’m probably just projecting. I would’ve found a sick pleasure in wiping my dad of his ability. I’m sure you felt genuinely horrified.”

He didn’t argue the point.

“And so if you deny yourself the opportunities to use your ability by living on the Outside, somehow you’ve righted a wrong? You’ve taken your punishment?”

He drew a breath and let it out slowly. “You’re the only person I’ve used my ability on in years.”

“You suppressing your ability is not going to return his. Especially your ability, Connor. One that can help so many. That therapist was right. It wasn’t your fault. You are only going to make bad worse.” I rolled on my side to face him. “Look at me being all motivational and crap. Did you hear that? That was some good stuff. I don’t think Addie could’ve said it better.”

He smiled a ghost of a smile at the ceiling. His hands rested on his chest, and he let the arm closest to me fall open to the side and then gave a slight beckoning movement with his fingers.

“Are you wanting me to come over there? Because that was the lamest effort ever after my amazing display of advice-giving skills.”

“Get over here.”

“I’m only coming over there because I’m freezing and you have a blanket.” I crawled across the metal floor to him, and he pulled me into a tight hug.

“You’re the first person, outside of my family and the therapist, of course, that I’ve told.”

I ran my hand along his chest. “So do you ever talk to your mom about it?”

“Initially. But she’s moved on.”

“And what about your dad? You said before that you don’t know him now.”

“He hasn’t talked to me since he left.” His hand went to my arm, and he seemed to absentmindedly run his fingers along it, his thoughts far off. “I tried to see him.”

“When?”

As his fingers brushed my arm, small tingles of energy moved along my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. Was he doing that on purpose? Did he even realize that his touch was almost electric? It must have been related to his ability, and it was driving me crazy.

“I saw him once a few years ago and once a few days ago.”

My breath seeped slowly into the air and created a tiny puff of fog in the coldness. “That’s who you went to see when we were in Dallas? That’s what was in Bowie, Texas?”

“Yes. But I couldn’t do it. I drove a hundred and fifty miles and couldn’t force myself to walk the last twenty steps to his door.”

No wonder he’d looked so torn up the next day.

“When he was sentenced to leave the Compound, I couldn’t look him in the eyes. And I still can’t.”

“What?” I propped myself up on my elbow, taking my arm back so I could concentrate. “They forced him to leave? I didn’t know they did that.”

He met my eyes. “They do, and I’m pretty sure he still blames me.”

“He should blame himself.”

He took a few deep breaths in and out. “It’s easier to blame someone else.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem blaming yourself.” I searched his eyes, needing him to release the pain I saw there. “Why don’t you blame me for a while? Give yourself a break?”

He gave a single laugh. “Because you had nothing to do with it.”

“Only slightly less than you did.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and then pulled me back into his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered against my hair.

“How did that taste in your mouth?”

He laughed. “Awful.”