"Ouch!" I wince as Dr. Dean pushes the needle into the crook of my arm. I see bright red blood fill the syringe she's holding with her newly painted light blue nails.
I spent the rest of the day curled up in my residence, sleeping off my boredom or reading the book my mother let me borrow. It's called The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Apparently, the book was super popular one hundred years ago. I'm about halfway through, and I really like it so far. I genuinely believe the United States could have turned into a dystopian governed country if Patorum hadn't happened. We've learned so much about government here in the compound. The initial "commercial" for the idea of the compound was that "Mr. Henry Smith's underground Mexican bomb compound will be full of like-minded people, who will practice government on a small scale to get ready to repopulate the Earth if there ever was a missile crisis.", and I can't forget the commercial's tag line: "Making our future great." So, this entire time I've been in the compound, I've learned why Patorum happened and how to prevent something like that from happening again. Government is a class I've had to take every year since I started school here. I knew I would never get good enough grades to rank among the Governmental Officials of the compound, so I didn't care what my grades were in them. All I cared about was being in a class with Paige.
I've had a lot of time to think while being stuck in my residence, and even though I was stress-free reading a book, it felt like a million pounds of heavy lead were placed onto my chest. That kiss with Paige was otherworldly. I had been waiting for that to happen for the last six years, and finally, being able to experience something that I'd daydreamed about made my skin feel tingly like it had been smothered in gasoline and lit with a match. I'll admit, my stomach jumps into my throat when I think about spending the night at Paige's residence tonight. What will happen? Will she kiss me again?
Oh, God, I hope so.
The thought of being alone with her again made me a little too happy earlier, and I had to take a break from my book and pace around my living room for ten minutes to calm myself down. I had just sat back down when my mother got home from her dinner shift and asked me why I hadn't shown up, and I told her I had fallen asleep again and just woke up a few minutes ago. She was worried about me sleeping so much, but I assured her that it was because of my uncomfortable jail cell cot and how I didn't get any sleep. She eventually got off my back and went to bed after playing card games. I told her I was going to tidy up the living area before I went to bed, so I read my book until I could hear her snoring from the other room, and then I hurried through the halls and to the basement to have my checkup with Dr. Dean. And that's where I am, staring at the clear tube filling with my magical blood.
"It didn't hurt that bad. "Dr. Dean says through her slight smile. Her eyes pick up from the vial and connect with mine. "This will only take a few minutes. After it's done, we can perform a normal checkup, and you can get back to sleep."
Even though it's after curfew, the basement is riddled with doctors. I see one of them peek through the glass door of my hospital room to eavesdrop every couple of minutes. At first, I would give them a look of annoyance, but after seeing them a few times, I gave up and let them look in. I guess the basement operates all day and night since it looks like it's nine in the morning and the doctors are starting their day shifts. You couldn't tell that it was after midnight by how crowded this place was.
"Great. I'm super exhausted." I say as I watch the blood pass the lines on the syringe.
"Dr. Dean looks up from the vial, her eyes scanning me. "How exhausted? Like, can't stay awake exhausted?" She clicks her pen from her lab coat's front pocket. Her clipboard is lying on her lap, and she scribbles on the paper.
"No," I say, leaning back onto the cold wax paper on the hospital bed. "Just the normal amount." I let a laugh escape my lips.
Dr. Dean puts her pen back into her pocket. A small smile creeps onto her face. "I'm sorry I'm so eager. Regeneration is such a big discovery, and we have no idea how you'll react or what will spring up at any moment. We don't know if your cells will even stay alive."
I blink at her. "Are you saying I could still die?"
"Of course not," Dr. Dean pulls the vial of blood out of the needle in my arm. "All your organs are working as normal. We don't know what will happen, that's all."
It worries me that the doctors have no idea how this regeneration serum works. I know I'm alive and healthy, but being a guinea pig makes anxiety bubble up in me. They have no idea about the side effects or how my body will react to new stimuli. Who knows, maybe I'll develop a massive allergy to cheese or something.
Dr. Dean gently pulls the needle out of my arm, and I must grit my teeth to stop myself from hissing in pain. She then takes the vial of blood and puts it into a plastic bag with the word BIOHAZARD written across it in big black lettering. "What will you do with the blood?" I ask.
"We'll see if your blood reanimates other dead cells." Dr. Dean says as she takes the stethoscope off her neck. "Lift your shirt, please."
I bunch up the fabric of my tattered gray shirt and pull it up to my neck. Dr. Dean places the cold metal chest piece on my skin above my heart. "Breath in." She says.
I take a deep breath, and when Dr. Dean is done listening to my lungs, she begins talking again. "If your blood can reanimate dead cells, we can use it to do more than bring people back from life-threatening injuries. We could regrow organs or limbs. It's a marvelous discovery."
Dr. Dean's eyes move to my arm, and her fingers graze over the skin where she took my blood. "That's weird. I was going to put a band-aid on the spot where I put the needle in your arm, but the prick mark is gone."
"Did it heal already?"
Dr. Dean doesn't answer me. She quickly takes the scalpel off the tray of tools next to my bed and places the sharp end against the meaty part of my thumb. She then cuts me. Deep red blood pools out and drips down my arm. I have to squeeze the bed's metal frame with my other hand not to cry out. "What'd you do that for?"
"Watch," She points to the cut. The bleeding stops slowly, and the skin fuses back together and heals right before our eyes: no scabs or scars, just—skin.
"What the hell?" I gasp.
Dr. Dean smiles from ear to ear. Her bright eyes shine with joy. "Excellent! Just what I thought would happen!" She starts to scribble on her clipboard. "I must tell the others. Your checkup is finished for today." And before I can say another word, she gets up and runs out of the room.
...
I told Paige to wait outside her door, so she could let me in when I arrived after my checkup. I had to stop by my residence first because I had Finn escorting me back home, and the last thing I wanted him to do was to see me going to Mr. Smith's residence.
Before leaving for Paige's, I quickly jumped in the shower. Since I returned yesterday, I haven't taken one, and I didn't want to smell like sweat and latex gloves going to Paige's residence. The warm water felt lovely against my skin, calming even. After the last couple of days, it felt nice to do something so ordinary. After showering, I wore my favorite black jacket and a pair of ragged blue jeans and headed to Paige's residence.
The wet hair is cold against my forehead as I sneak around the deserted hallway, and I have to put my hands in my pockets to stop myself from shivering. When I come down the metal stairs that lead to the very bottom of the compound (Paige's residence is the furthest from ground level and the nuclear radiation), I see Paige sitting on the ground against her door, reading a book. I notice that her hair is up in a bun like it was the last time I stayed over. She's wearing a navy-blue tank top that shows her soft collarbones and the same gray sweatpants she let me sleep in. Her book lowers when she senses my movement, and a smile sweeps on her face. "Hey," she says.
Thankful my shaking hands are hidden in my pockets, I walk up to her and return a smile. "Hey."
Seeing that Paige wants to stand, I hold out my hand and try to stop my trembling. My cheeks flush when she grabs it with her ungodly soft skin. I pull her up, and her head pops up almost a few inches from my shoulders. Her eyes flick up to mine, their gray color reminding me of a whirling windstorm. I stare into them briefly before I realize we're almost touching. I clear my throat and take a step back. "My checkup went well." I swallow the heat rising in my throat.
Her eyes drop to the book in her hands. "Oh, did it? That's great. Everything still okay?" She pauses to look up and down my body. "You're not going to grow an extra limb or organ, right?"
I laugh. "No, I'm fine." I decide not to tell her about the cut healing so fast on my hand. "Should we get inside?" I point to the door behind her.
"Oh. Yeah." She says as if she forgot we were standing in the hallway after curfew—all by ourselves. "We're going to have to be quiet when we go in. My father is in his office working."
I pretend to zipper my lips with my hand. "Quiet as a mouse."
Paige scans her fingerprint into the door's scanner, and the door slides open. We walk through the extravagant foyer and into the coldness of her extensive and empty living room. Her father is nowhere in sight, and my arms relax as we turn the corner of the long hallway. The light coming out of the ornate wall sconces is dull and barely lights up the polished white marble flooring. Why is Paige's house so dark? Her residence almost feels like a haunted house, like the space is so empty and quiet that there has to be a ghost creeping around the corner.
With nimble feet, we make sure not to make a sound and scurry to Paige's room's door. It opens with a swish, and we rush inside. Paige's room is still that beautiful lilac color, and I can smell the lavender-scented candle burning on her dresser. She has the speakers in the walls playing soft Lo-fi music. The steady beats make me feel calm instantly.
"You keep your room pleasingly presentable," I whisper to Paige, who's now sitting on the edge of her bed.
"I try," She waves off. "Are you ready to hear what I think we do to get my father's fingerprint?"
"Of course," I smile. I walk to the other side of the bed and sit down. The feel of her fur blanket against the palms of my hands makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Okay," She shifts on her bed to face me. "I was thinking we should draw on my father's finger with a marker, then transfer that to the plastic glove I stole from your hospital bed in the basement."
My eyebrows scrunch. "Why do you need me for that? That sounds like something you can do yourself."
"I know," Paige's eyes flick to the bed. "I just wanted to hang out with you, and I figured you've been bored stuck in your residence all day and that I would offer to get you out of it and have some human interaction." Her cheeks flush, and I can tell that she's embarrassed.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach. "You didn't need to hide it behind a lie," I say, my hand moving towards hers, and I hesitate to touch her fingers. "You could have just asked."
"I know," Paige's eyes flick to mine, and her lips part slightly. It makes my skin burn with passion. The plumpness of her supple strawberry lips attracts my eyes. My hand moves onto hers, and I feel the heat rising inside me.
"Why did you invite me here, Paige?" I whisper, my voice is raspy and deep. "I want you to tell me the truth."
Paige sucks in a breath before her lips move across the space between us and land on mine. Instantly, her hands weave into my hair, pulling lightly every few seconds. Her lips move hungrily with mine, and her tongue slips across my bottom lip. I hold in a whimper as my hands snake across her body and land on her hips. With my newfound strength, I pick Paige up and place her on my lap. Her legs wrap around my torso, and I must move my hips so she won't feel me.
"Paige," I pant, my chest heaving with every breath. "What do you want to do?"
"What?" Her hands are still in my hair.
"I—do you want to? I mean, you don't have to, but I'd like it if I could get your—"
"Ethan," Paige says, and I stop word vomiting. "Yes."
She kisses me again, but this time it's slow and passionate. Her tongue tangles with mine, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. My hands move up her waist to the hem of her tank top, and I grab both my fists full of fabric and lift the shirt over her head. My eyes rake down her perfect skin and to the silky black bra she's wearing. I have to clamp my lips shut to stop myself from moaning.
But seeing something so vulnerable about her makes my stomach drop. I feel a wad of guilt filling my chest. What's wrong with me? I'm making out with the girl of my dreams, and I'm hesitant to touch her again. I can't get the sight of her standing at room 32's door, her father next to her, and the tears running down her cheeks out of my head. Did she lead her father to me?
My hands rest on my lap, and my eyes advert to the bed. "Can you get off of me?" I ask. I could see the worry snap on her face the second she understood I wasn't asking her to switch positions.
"What's wrong?" She jumps off me, her wide eyes staring at me while she sits on her knees next to me.
"Nothing, I just—" I try and think of a lie to tell her.
Should I tell her I've never done this before and I'm nervous? How about I say that I'm just not attracted to her? No. Ethan, you can't do that. Scared because I don't have protection? No. Worried her father will walk in? No. I'm self-conscious? No, I can't say that. I have a whole new body...
"Do you not want to go any further?" Paige asks, her arms moving up to cover her chest. I grab her tank top and toss it to her; she quickly puts it back on and sits against the bed's backboard. "Is it me?" She asks after I can't come up with a lie.
"No—I mean yes. But, no! It's not your fault! Please don't think this is your fault." My words come spuing out of my mouth. "I'm just wondering something about you that is probably not true, and I have no reason to worry about it."
Paige's brow furrows. "Like what?"
I feel my insides tighten. "It just felt like you brought your father to room 32 on purpose or something, but I know it's not true. I just can't get the feeling out of my head."
"You're right," Paige says, her voice fading. I can see her swallow. Her eyes dart from my eyes and to the bed. "I did."