CHAPTER FIVE
To: Richard Durham
From: Hallam Wakefield
Subject: Re: West Virginia
Richard,
No, I’m not in West Virginia. I’m in upstate New York. I emailed Alfred and told him this. I don’t know why Intel hasn’t seen me in New York. Answer me this: why are we wasting Intel confirming my whereabouts?
If we’re going to find Jason, we have to work together, not against each other. I’ve told you exactly what I think about Georgia. There’s no way Jason is there. I don’t know why you insist on staying there. Why don’t you go west?
Yours in the Purpose,
Hallam
Everything had gone back to normal. Sort of. Toby was picking me up for school again. I was sitting next to him in class. We were going out on dates and making out, but not going any further than that. The only thing that was different was Jason. He lived in my house. He was in three of my classes. He was around—a lot. My parents had submitted some paperwork to keep Jason as foster parents, but it was taking a long time to go through, because Jason wasn’t in any of the foster systems. There was a long search going on. Everyone was trying to pin down Jason’s birth records. It seemed impossible that a boy could have lived seventeen years and never left any evidence of his existence. But that seemed to be what Jason had done.
About his past, he was close-mouthed. He didn’t like to talk about it. I could tell. But he protested at the thought of staying less and less. And he almost never talked about being a danger to our family anymore. My mom thought this was a good sign. I knew from eavesdropping on conversations she and my dad had. They often talked in their bedroom at night, after everyone had gone to bed. I would leave my room and stand in the dark hallway in my nightgown, my ear pressed against their door. I wanted to catch any bit of information about Jason I could.
But they didn’t seem to know anything. And they rarely spoke about anything interesting. Generally, they talked about how their days had gone. They talked about Chance. They talked about the other foster kids. They never seemed to talk about me. They were planning something around Halloween. Probably a party or something. My parents liked to throw alternative, safe parties for teens where there wasn’t any alcohol or drugs. The parties were utterly lame, and I almost always had to show. I hated that. I kind of hoped they didn’t throw a party at Halloween. I wanted to do something cool with Toby that night.
Jason wasn’t volunteering any information about himself. My parents didn’t know any. I was left with only one means of gathering data. Observation. I watched Jason. I saw how easily he fit into our honors classes. He was very bright. He made insightful comments about whatever we were reading. He got in arguments with my father in history class. I could tell that my father found Jason’s intelligence bothersome. In gym class, he also seemed to do well. He was strong and fit.
But even though Jason fit in academically, he seemed socially awkward. He sat alone at lunch. I wanted to sit with him, but after Toby had confessed he’d felt jealous of Jason, I didn’t think I should. I didn’t want to upset Toby again. Jason was friendly whenever people talked to him but distant. He rarely smiled, and when he did, it was his brief smile. The one that lit up his face for a second then disappeared into his brooding eyes. There was something about Jason that screamed untouchable. And I realized that I desperately wanted to penetrate the wall he’d built around himself and find out what was behind it.
I didn’t have much luck. I couldn’t spend much time with Jason. At school, I hung with Toby. Toby didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with Jason, and I didn’t know why. After school, I had homework. My parents gave me chores that never seemed to overlap with Jason’s. I barely even saw him at dinner, because Toby was asking me out a lot, and we ate together most of the time. When I did have free time, Lilith called me on the phone, and we had to talk for hours, because that was what we did. In some ways, it was almost like the whole world was conspiring to keep me away from Jason. But I watched him. I watched him a lot.
One Sunday morning, I woke up earlier than usual. Everyone else was asleep, and so I padded downstairs in my pajamas to watch television in blissful silence. I was surprised to find Jason in the living room, watching a televangelist giving a sermon. He didn’t look up when I came into the room, as if he hadn’t heard me.
“Hi,” I said.
He jumped.
“Sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay,” he said.
I sat down on the couch. Stared at the screen. The man was preaching about the end of the world. “The bible tells us,” he said, “that before the coming of the Antichrist, there will be many earthquakes. Now, I want to show you something.” Behind him, a map appeared on a screen. As he spoke, spots on the map began to light up. “In February 1991, an earthquake hit Afghanistan and Pakistan. In April 1991, there was an earthquake in Georgia. Also in April, an earthquake struck Panama and Costa Rica. In June of 1991, there was an earthquake in southern California.
“The Gulf War ended in 1991,” he continued. “The Warsaw Pact dissolved. The Dead Sea scrolls became public. Brothers and sisters, the Antichrist was born in 1991. He is living among us! The end times are here.”
Jason was weird. Why was he watching this? “Are you religious?” I asked Jason.
He looked at me. “Do you want me to change this?”
“I don’t care,” I said. I wanted him to change it.
Jason changed the channel to MTV. “I guess I’m not.”
“Not what?”
“Religious,” he said. “Your family isn’t, are they? No one in this town is.”
“People in town are,” I said.
“Like who?”
“Well, no one I know,” I admitted. “But I know people are.”
“There aren’t any churches in Bramford,” said Jason.
“Sure there are,” I said. But then I thought about it. There weren’t.
“No,” said Jason. “There aren’t. I looked. I even checked the internet. Closest church is like twenty miles away.”
“Really?” I said. Huh. Why had I never noticed this before? I guess I didn’t think about churches much. Or religion. “How come you were looking for churches?” I asked.
He gazed at the TV screen. “Sanctuary,” he breathed.
“What?”
He turned to me. “No reason,” he said, smiling his quick smile. “Just curious, I guess.”
I didn’t believe him.