Lily hugged me before I even knew her name. One part of Lily's dark curly hair clung to her cheek, the other section sprang out, wild and free. When her wide brown eyes took me in, she smiled so wide it hurt my face. I blushed. When was the last time I'd met someone my own age? Been hugged?
"Sophia." My father had spoken uncomfortably as he watched his seven-year-old dive into the social realm. "This is Ms. Beckett." He pointed to Lily's mother, a woman who looked identical to her curly-haired children, aside from one detail. While she was milky white, her children had warm medium-brown skin. "She'll be your nanny while I'm away."
I didn't speak. I couldn't. With Lily clinging onto me, I really didn't know what to do.
"We're going to be the best of friends," Lily squealed. She seemed younger than me even though I was told we were the same age. I couldn't say anything to that either.
"You'll really like it here." Ms. Beckett gave a slight push to a young boy standing next to her. He stumbled forward, but his gaze never left the ground. His curls were matted with gel, and his shirt had a collar. He looked like he was dressed in an old man's suit. Miles managed to tell me his name, while Lily exclaimed that he was her brother. Twins. I had never met twins before.
"I'm Sophia," I said, glancing up at my father for social direction.
"You'll like it here, kiddo." He repeated Ms. Beckett's words, playing with the glasses in his shirt pocket. I nodded mechanically, knowing that his new job would keep him out of the State most of the time. I was stuck here, and everything was about to change.
My life had shifted almost every year since then, but so did everyone else's. The clairvoyant drug, tomo, was released five years later. I was twelve, but I understood true fear. Topeka fell into absolute madness, and the Phelps' Massacre happened within one year. Hundreds were arrested, and it was still unknown how many people died, but it was all in the name of safety. Questioning it became treason, and in the end, the drug was successfully confiscated and outlawed. It wasn't long after that the curfew was put in place. Lyn moved in weeks later, and a year passed without much trouble, but life didn't seem normal until I befriended Broden one year later. Now, at sixteen years old, I was looking at a boy I had never even heard about. A boy all my friends knew.
I stared at Noah whenever I was able to do so without being noticed. I wanted to know where he had been all of this time, what he saw during the massacre, or even if he were in Topeka during it. Granted, there were plenty of kids in the Topeka Region that I hadn't met yet, but they weren't friends with my best friends. I couldn't understand how Noah knew Broden or Miles without having met me, but here we were—complete strangers with the same friends.
It didn't make sense.
As we walked, I searched for any part of him that I recognized, but I failed over and over again. He was much taller than me, maybe an inch taller than Broden. His face was relaxed, but the little shadows that hung from his eyes revealed how tired he was. His sage uniform and dyed hair suited him naturally, though, like the sudden change of identity was an everyday thing. It was otherworldly, seeing a stranger—Noah—as another stranger—Nate Harper—and questioning whether or not I had met him before under another name. For all I knew, Noah wasn't his name at all, but another identity altogether. For all I knew, Noah didn't even know his own identity. It would explain how he was so comfortable playing dress-up. He never had to be himself.
To figure out who he was, though, I knew to look for consistencies. Unfortunately, though, the only consistent part about him was his black-faced watch. He even used it with Broden, and I recalled Miles wearing one a few years ago. That was the only information I knew meant something. The question was what it meant.
Noah broke my concentration when he turned to me and winked. "Are you getting a good enough look?"
My face scrunched up. "I'm not looking," I said, gesturing to the sun. "The light's just in my face."
"Whatever you say, Sophie."
I made sure not to look back at him as we continued forward. The hospital loomed over the city, and shadows began to crawl over the sidewalk. We remained silent as I checked the town's main clock tower. Curfew was approaching, but we still had time. Walking was our current enemy. It took an hour to walk across town if not longer, and we had almost burned up our sunlight. I would have time to get home if I left Broden's immediately, but I doubted Noah would. Military students had a sunset curfew, one that would happen within thirty minutes, but I had to bet Noah had found a way around those rules.
When we entered the neighborhood behind the hospital, Noah spoke up. "Why are we going to Broden's house?"
"How do you know where Broden lives?" I asked.
Noah's stoic expression faltered. "We lived down the street from one another as kids."
My eyes darted around the large cul-de-sac, looking at the homes as if I could guess which one used to be his. Since he had talked in the past tense, I knew he had moved, but I needed as much information as I could get, even if it were just a house he no longer resided in.
"Quit trying to figure me out, Sophie," Noah warned in a half-whisper. "My life isn't something you want to be a part of."
My throat clogged as I stopped at the end of Broden's driveway. Before I could question him, Noah marched up the driveway. The old house—a large, beige home with a roof made of dark clay tiles—looked empty from the street. There were no lights on, nor were there any cars in the driveway, but I knew he was home. When Lily gave me the fliers, she explained why Broden had stopped by for his usual high-fiving ritual with Miles. Broden had permission to watch his parents' house while they were working late-night shifts at the hospital. Tonight was one of those nights. Even so, Broden didn't seem to be home, but Noah didn't question me.
He passed the two-car garage and rounded the corner to walk up to the steel doors decorating the front of his house. He didn't even knock. He simply shoved them open. "Oh, Broden," Noah sang. "Broden, where are you—"
I cursed at myself as I chased Noah into the house. As soon as I had reached Noah, Broden entered through the entranceway, his brown hair sticking up in five different directions. His face was blotchy with the pattern of a blanket pressed to his face, and his sage jacket hung loosely off his shoulders. With rolled up sleeves, his splint showed off his injured arm, but the stitches above his brow were much less severe. Nevertheless, the cut burned as he glared at Noah. "What are you doing here?" he asked, before pointing at me. "What isshedoing here?"
Noah opened his arms up in loving mockery. "Thanks for the welcome. Long time, no see." His grin was a borderline snarl. "I was sort of expecting you today—around 3:30—at the ravens, you know, where you said you would be, but—" Noah spun in a theatric circle. "You didn't show."
"Of course I didn't show," Broden yelled. "Are you insane?" He marched across the room to slam the front door. When it shut, he locked it and leaned his back against it. Now that he was facing us, he looked Noah up and down. His once-blond friend was now a brunet. "Looks like I wouldn't have recognized you anyway. What the hell happened to you?"
Noah gestured toward me. "She recognized me," he said, sounding strangely proud.
The mention was the only reason Broden remembered I was there. "You can't be here. They could catch you."
I tensed. "Catch me?" I repeated, but no one heard me above Broden's ranting.
"Our house could be bugged," he half-yelled, half-whispered to Noah. "We're not sure if it is. We've never known."
I heard what he was saying, but didn't hear him at the same time. My confusion drowned them out, a thick fog of anxiety blocking my concentration.
"Bugs?" Noah sounded like he was on the verge of laughing. "Who cares if its bugged?"
"I care," Broden said, desperate. "My family cares."
"How is your family?" Noah asked, eerily calm.
Broden's lips pressed into a thin, white line.
"It doesn't make a difference if your home is bugged anyway," he said. "If it is"—he placed a hand on an entryway stand that held a decorative china plate—"they already know I'm here." He pushed it to the ground.
The china smashed across the floor, decorative cream-white pieces scattering every which way. I leapt back as one skidded to where I stood. Broden, on the other hand, shot forward and screamed at Noah to leave. Instead of listening, Noah shoved another stand to the ground, glass dispersing across the hallway. Broden threw his hands in the air, exasperated, but his splint forced his one arm down. He continued to yell, Noah continued to break things.
In shock, I pushed my back to the wall and clutched my bag. Noah's demeanor had flipped from strange, nice guy to raging psychopath in seconds, and I had seconds to react. I grasped my bag, felt for my knife, and slipped it out as the boys fought.
"You're going to get us killed," Broden yelled, red-faced.
"Not if you give me the tomo," Noah threatened.
At the sound of the drug's name, my fingers tightened on the knife's grip.
"Give it, and I'll leave," Noah continued, his back to me. He always had his back to me. "They'll never come after you."
Broden held his ground. "Of course they will. They'll know you were here. They'll want answers, a lead, anything."
I couldn't worry about who "they" were. It didn't matter if it were drug dealers or the government because it was probably both. More often than not, they were the same thing. They'd confiscated all the tomo during the massacre, after all, so how else did it end up back on the streets?
Noah waved his arms around the broken room. "Don't you think they would've arrived by now?"
Broden shook. "My parents—"
"—aren't coming home for another three hours," Noah finished confidently. "Don't think I didn't look into your life before coming here."
Broden didn't react, as if stalking was the perfectly normal, maybe even the expected thing to do, but my blood pressure rose. That meant Noah had already known Broden would be home. He didn't need me to tell him that. He didn't need me to take him at all. Why he had come to me was beyond me, but there was a reason, and I had fallen blindly into his plan. Even so, I could see my way out already. I just had to wait for the opportunity.
"Where are the drugs?"
Broden shook his head. "Just get out." His voice was consumed with sympathy instead of anger, acceptance instead of vengeance. It enraged me. "Get out. Please."
I watched, planning my attack, as the boys erupted into argument again. Broden moved toward him. Noah shifted, his peripherals finally out of my sight. He wouldn't see me coming. Not in his sober state. Not without tomo.
Before either of the boys knew what happened, I kicked Noah in the back of the knee, knocking him off balance. His forehead smacked the living room entryway, and he folded to the floor. I planted my foot on his ankle and, as he turned his torso to face me, I held my knife to his throat. He didn't even have time to grab his head.
Noah was completely dazed.
I wanted to order him to leave and never return. I wanted to call the police, call Phelps himself and learn exactly who this boy was. I wanted to guarantee the government arrested him for everything he had ever done. More than anything, I wanted my life to return to normal, without him in it, and I wanted him to know that. But I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I could only concentrate on the feel of the blade in my hand and how coarse my breathing had become. How much I liked it.
A red mark appeared on Noah's forehead, but it was the fear in his eyes that I saw. His pupils dilated, and he tried to hold his unnerving breath, but it escaped out of his shaking bottom lip. He, suddenly, didn't seem capable of danger at all.
I heard Broden step toward me. "Sophia—"
"He needs to leave," I spat, locked on Noah.
His shocked demeanor had shifted, but not enough. His lips had pulled into a smirk, but it still shook. He glared, but his brow was twitching. His finger curled, but his hands weren't in fists. He wanted to be calm, but he wasn't. He wasn't in control, I was.
"I don't think you know who you're dealing with, Sophie," Noah whispered.
My anger increased with the nickname he used so casually. He didn't know me. He wasn't my friend. He had no right to have a nickname for me, let alone use one.
"I don't care who I'm dealing with. I don't want to deal with you at all," I said. "You're lucky I'm not having Broden call the police." I moved the knife back, but not by much. I gestured to the door with a tilt of my head. "Now go."
Noah remained on the floor, looking up at me as if my words had more of an impact than my weapon. I wasn't sure if Noah was shocked at my bravery or stupidity, but either way, his confidence had crumbled.
"Sophia." Broden laid a hand on my shoulder and pulled me away. It wasn't until my back pressed against his chest that I realized I was shaking with adrenaline, and it wasn't until Broden slowly took my knife that Noah stood up. He even took the time to straighten out his uniform.
I gaped at my empty hand, knowing my violence was wrong. "I—" My voice trembled as I told myself to look at Broden, but I couldn't move. "I don't know what's happening," I explained, "but I don't like this."
Broden's eyes saddened. "None of us do."
"But—" I gestured to Noah who stood by me, silent.
"Noah doesn't either," Broden promised.
I looked over, but Noah was staring out the opaque window, his expression blank. I wanted to know what he was thinking, but I wanted more to be able to take back what I had done. My father had always taught me never to take out a weapon unless I was positive I was going to use it, and I had gone against that. I had gone against almost all of his rules in one week.
"Noah isn't my enemy," Broden said. "Trust me."
My stomach twisted. "I can't."
Broden sighed, and then we stood there in silence, among the broken pieces of art. The house hummed as the air-conditioning turned on. A car drove past, and Noah tensed until the car pulled into the driveway across the street. It wasn't a cop. Broden's neighbor was returning from a late night at work, but Noah never took his eyes off of the car.
"I have a plan, you know. I've always had a plan," Noah said, "but you need to trust me, too."
Broden studied his childhood friend before he returned my knife to me. The flickering of the blade gained Noah's attention. I hesitated, but I took it back and held it, blade down. When it was in my grasp, Broden asked, "Is your plan safe?"
"It never is."
Broden nodded as if he expected the answer.
"I really—" Noah's eyes didn't move from my blade as he spoke to Broden, "I need your help, like old times."
At the mention of their unmentionable history, Broden managed a meek smile. "What about Sophia?"
Noah sighed. "I only brought her because I had less of a chance at being questioned if I was with a citizen." He had planned everything. "She wasn't hard to find. I figured you two met when you transferred out of military school."
My gut sunk, but Noah's gaze moved up to my eyes. "I'll admit that you surprised me," he said, somehow sounding dangerously flirtatious. My heart pounded for reasons I didn't want to admit. "And," Noah continued, naïve to my racing heart, "I'll get you home safely if you'll allow me to."
"What?" I glanced out the window. It was darker than I had expected. More time had passed. I had planned to leave immediately, but I had stayed. I wouldn't make it home in time for curfew. My shoulders dropped. "Just fantastic."
Noah grinned. "It's not every day that someone successfully pulls a weapon on me." If I wasn't mistaken, Noah had thoroughly enjoyed my attack. "I can get you home safely and meet Broden at the ravens in an hour."
Broden's thick eyebrows furrowed, but he looked at me as if he were waiting for my answer. When I didn't respond, Broden took it as an agreement. "I'll see you at the ravens, then."
"I'll go with you," I offered.
"You need to go home, Sophia." Broden's lecture sounded like my father. "Noah knows these streets better than me. He'll keep you hidden. Plus, you seem to be able to handle yourself." Now, his lecture had turned into a lesson. I hadn't listened, and I would have to deal with the repercussions.
I glared at my best friend. "I'm not against him taking me," I argued. I was against Broden helping him.
He understood my tone. "I have to."
"You don't have to do anything."
"I wantto." Broden worsened the situation. "I'll be there soon," he stated to Noah. "Just get Sophia home."
Noah opened the door and waved his arm as if he were directing me into a carriage. "Let's go, Sophie," he teased, still using his stupid nickname.
I stomped past him. "Don't call me that."
He returned my words with a chuckle, but his chuckle sealed the deal. Everything had changed, and there was nothing I could do about it.
...
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