“It’s too open here,” he told me.
It was. We were standing on a basketball court, surrounded by other basketball courts. I was supposed to notice these things, but my brain was pretty much fried.
“Not much farther, and then we’ll rest, okay?”
Yeah, rest, great.
Next thing I knew, we were in one of those sprawling, wooden play structures, and Dylan was guiding me up a narrow, circular stairway into a tower room worthy of fairy tale play. I sank to the floor and he sat down facing me, so he could see out where the tower opened out onto a bridge. It was the only spot that could afford anyone a view of us.
“So, is this where—” you bring all your dates? Bad, bad brain. “—rre I get to rest?”
He pulled his gaze back from the outside world to my face. “Yeah, take a break. You okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Your head hurts.” He reached out to me, taking my face in his hands and massaging my temples with his thumbs. It felt amazing.
“Like brain surgery with a butter knife. You okay?”
“Sure. I didn’t have much to do but stand around.”
“Just fought off Corey, jumped out a window, ran from the cops for a few miles…”
“See? No big deal.” He grinned that grin at me that made my gut do a somersault.
“And then there was that part where you were invisible.”
Dylan’s hands dropped from my face, and I could have cheerfully bitten off my own tongue.
“I was? Are you sure?” he asked, trying to laugh it off.
But as long as it was out there, we were going to talk about it. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Talent?”
“I don’t know. It just…never came up.”
“Never came up? How hard is it to find the time to say, ‘Hey, you know how Kat induces hysterical blindness, Eric starts motors, Marco has super-strength? Well check this one out.’ And then Poof! you disappear.”
“Please don’t refer to me and say ‘poof.’ It messes with my ultra-masculine identity and ego and shit.”
“Oh for—Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t see what the big deal was that you were keeping this a secret for the last month.”
“You keep your Talent a secret.”
“Not from you.”
“It’s not like you told me.”
“You found out before I could tell you.”
“You never would have told me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“What are we fighting about again?”
“We are not fighting.”
“Yes we are.”
“No, we’re not.”
Dylan burst out laughing. He tried to keep it quiet, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. I had to laugh too, a little, just because he was. But he was out of control, falling over on the floor with it. I couldn’t imagine what struck him as so damned funny.
It took him a while to wind down and then he lay on his side across the floor from me, propped on one elbow, legs sticking out onto the bridge.
“Sorry about that. Just sort of lost it. I guess I’m just relieved.”
I couldn’t imagine why telling me about his Talent was such a big trauma for him. “Better now?”
“Yeah.” He was tracing a knot on the floor with his finger, and his head was tilted down so that his shaggy, sandy hair hid his face. “Heather called me and said you were with Marco, that you were in trouble. Scared the piss out of me.”
That’s how messed up I was. I had forgotten to ask how he’d found me. “How did Heather know?”
“You guys walked right by her house. And you think pretty loud.”
“So I’ve been told,” I said dryly. That was Heather’s favorite excuse for knowing my personal stuff. It’s always my fault.
He shook his head, and I really wanted to get my hands on that hair. In that hair. “It figures that the first night I’m not watching is when Marco decides to mess with you.”
“He didn’t exactly—Wait, what? Oh my God, are you my stalker?”
“Oh, not you too. I wasn’t stalking you, I was just…following you home. You know, just to make sure he didn’t try anything. Can’t a guy see a girl home anymore? Damn.”
“I don’t think that’s the exact definition of ‘see a girl home,’ but whatever. And who else knows about this?”
“Kat and Eric have been giving me an especially hard time. I try to get off work a little early and then Eric drives me over to your dad’s place before you leave. Except tonight I got held up.”
“And I left early. To throw off the stalker.” Why didn’t you just talk to me? I knew Dylan tended to avoid some stuff, but clearly he was embracing not-dealing as a lifestyle choice.
Or am I just that scary and difficult? Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with me.
Is that why he kissed me five weeks (and two days) ago, and hasn’t said or done anything about it since?
Marco’s words were kicking around in my head. “And has Dylan made any kind of a move at all? Trust me, that’s not a problem for my boy Dylan.”
Maybe it wasn’t a good kiss. Maybe he decided he doesn’t like me, like me.
But then, why all the trouble to look out for me? Why come after me when he knew Marco had me? I mean, yeah, Dylan’s the kind of guy who would just do that if he thought a girl was in trouble, but he just seemed really relieved that I was okay.
Or maybe he meant that Marco scared the piss out of him, and he was relieved that we got away.
Maybe he never was interested in me like that. Maybe the kiss thing was just some kind of post-brawling testosterone release thing. Maybe he’s like those other Talents Heather said were looking for a leader or some shit, and that’s why he’s been hanging around me. He did kind of let Marco lead him around, and now I know he is a Talent…
Damn, this sucks.
“Joss,” Dylan snapped his fingers in front of my face, “you still with me?”
“What? Yeah, no, sorry. I spaced a little. Headache.”
“So…you forgive me or what?”
“For what?”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “For the, quote-unquote, stalking thing. And, while you’re feeling generous, for not telling you I was a Talent too.”
“Oh. No. I mean, not necessary. I’m not mad. It’s nice that you wanted to follow me home. I appreciate it. You could walk with me…if you want.”
Oh my God, what if he didn’t tell me he was “seeing me home” because he didn’t want me to get the wrong idea about us? I am such an idiot.
“Sure.”
“We could meet up outside the store, so as not to agitate my dad.” Why do words keep coming out of my mouth?
“Good idea. Speaking of your dad, it’s late. You should call him now. He’ll be worried when you didn’t make it home on time. Tell him to come pick you up.”
More total not thinking on my part. I was so out of it. I probably couldn’t hang out with Dylan and chew gum at the same time.
“What about you? Won’t your mom be worried?”
“Nah, she—she’s working nights.”
“Oh. We’ll give you a ride then.”
“Um…no thanks.”
“Dylan, I have a huge headache and the only thing that will really help is sleep. Don’t make me stay up all night wondering if you got home okay.”
“Emotional blackmail. Well played, Marshall,” he grinned at me. “Make your call.”
It didn’t seem to matter how much “evidence” I could pile up in my head to show that Dylan was only interested in me as a friend, I just didn’t want it to be true. Yeah, I was concerned for his safety getting home, but I was also going to subject him to my dad because I wanted to spend just a little more time with him. I wanted to sit next to him in the backseat of the car. I wanted to see how close to me he would choose to sit, or if he’d find an excuse to touch me.
Seriously, could I possibly be any lamer?
* * *
>
Joss
“Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Mr. Marshall,” Dylan said, opening the door and swinging his legs out onto the walk.
Dad just grunted. I twisted around in my seat because, yeah, turns out I could be lamer. At the last minute I’d totally chickened out and gotten into the front with my dad.
Dylan looked at me like maybe he wanted to say something, but then just smiled, lightly touched my fingers where they rested on the back of my seat, and said, “See you in school.”
“See you tomorrow,” I answered, almost too softly to be heard.
Dad pulled away from the curb before he’d taken two steps up the walk.
“What the hell are you thinking, Jocelyn?”
We had already told him the somewhat sanitized version of what happened. The one that had Dylan catching sight of us and following to help, and didn’t mention Heather’s mind-reading ability. Dad had been silent the whole time. Now that we were alone, I knew I was in for it. “Dad, I know, okay? I—”
“No, apparently you don’t know and it is very far from okay. How many kids saw you use your ability tonight?”
I had to think for a moment and actually count, which was bad. But Angie and Curtis hadn’t actually seen it. Tony either. And even Marco hadn’t seen it tonight. Obviously they knew, but I could leave them out, right? “Just four.”
“Just. Four,” Dad repeated, I guess so that I could hear my own words and ponder. “Including Dylan? Or did you mean five?”
“Okay, five. But Dylan and Marco knew. Heck, Dad, they all knew already.”
“And how did they know?”
“Because Marco would have told them.”
“So your plan then, when you stuck your nose into what was not your concern, isn’t working out the way you thought, is it?”
“Dad…”
“Is it? Your enemy isn’t keeping your secret the way you’re keeping his. That whole hare-brained scheme to help Kat was a gross tactical error, young lady.”
I opened my mouth and shut it again. Took a deep breath. The “young lady” bit was bait and I didn’t need to rise to it. I mean, what about me resembles a young lady? Dad was upset. Okay, that was expected. And okay, I’d messed up and was going to have to take some crap for that. But I needed to stay cool and calm if I was going to get anywhere with him. Like the way Mom does. Because if we both went off on each other, he was just going to run right over me.
“Marco is keeping my secret about the same way I’m keeping his. I mean, it’s not like I told all my friends about him, but I told Kat, Dylan and Eric knew, things happened, and they all know. Just like all Marco’s friends know about me. But so what? Marco—”
“So what? Did that actually just come out of your mouth?”
Damn. “What I’m saying is that we’re all Talents and it’s still us against them—against NIAC. But Marco was turning Talents in to NIAC. First of all, I couldn’t know that and just not do anything about it. Aside from the moral implications, he was also drawing too much attention to Fairview.”
“First of all, you could have damn well not done anything about it. You could have kept your mouth shut, your head down, and your abilities to yourself the way you’re supposed to. You don’t actually have any evidence Marco ever turned anyone in to NIAC—”
“But he was blackmailing them!”
“—nor do you have any reason to assume he won’t turn them, and/or you in at any time.”
“But I have the upper hand. Kat and I have the video of him using his Talent. If I go down, or any of my friends, Marco’s definitely going with me and he knows it.”
“Do you even hear yourself? Is that going to comfort you when you’re in State School, that you took Marco with you? Because let me tell you, it’s not going be much comfort to your mother, or your sister, or me. What kind of faulty logic is fluttering around in your teenage brain that makes you assume everyone Marco tells would actually care if he gets sent up? I taught you to think better than that, Joss.”
“Well, but…knowing we have the video, clearly it would be in Marco’s best interest to only tell people he could trust to—”
“So your secret, your safety, your future is at the mercy of the good judgment of a juvenile delinquent.”
Well damn, when you say it like that…
“Dylan’s become a problem.”
My heart slammed into high gear. Suddenly I felt the threat of being forbidden from seeing him anymore. And not that I was seeing him, but even if things were weird between us a lot of the time, the idea of losing him as a friend was sucking all the oxygen out of the car.
“He’s trouble, and he’s brought nothing but trouble since he started sniffing around you.”
I turned toward the window, rolled my eyes and tried to shake off some of the dread so I could think better. I wished Dad wouldn’t use phrases like “sniffing around.” How are you supposed to have a serious conversation with someone who says stuff like that? And I didn’t want to have a serious conversation. Especially this one. I hurt all over, especially my head, and I was exhausted. I just wanted to crawl into my bed and go to sleep.
I knew there had to be a serious conversation. I’d screwed up and I deserved to have to have a serious conversation, I got that. But about Dylan? How did that make any sense?
“He’s done nothing but look out for me.”
“He’s the kind of kid who finds trouble and trouble finds him. That birthday party ends with police intervention, who’s right there, driving the getaway car? Dylan. You come home all beat to hell, who’s with you? Dylan. You leave the store and never make it home, have your mom and me worried sick about you for two hours, call me to come pick you up because you’re hiding from the police again, you’ve been fighting again, using your Talent in front of other kids—”
“Again-and-who’s-right-there-Dylan,” I rattled off. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. But—”
“Do not sass me, young lady. Do not do it.”
“I’m not. Or I didn’t mean to. Sorry. It’s just, yeah, Dylan’s there, every time. Looking out for me.”
“Oh is that what he’s doing?”
“Yes!”
“You remember needing ‘looking out for’ before? Because I don’t remember you getting in these fights before. I don’t remember you throwing your Talent around in front of other kids before.”
“Dad, Dylan wasn’t even there when I got in trouble tonight. Or even when I got into it with Marco the first time. He’s not the one causing the problems.”
“No, it’s you, Jocelyn. You’re the one causing the problems. Because Dylan makes you stupid.”
Don’t spare my feelings or anything. Damn.
And the thing of it was, I could kind of see his point. Not that I agreed, but I knew Dad’s position on keeping the secret and how to stay safe, and I knew I had crossed the line and was playing way outside of his comfort zone. It was just…so easy. There had been so many changes since my parents agreed to let me try living like a normal kid, and everything seemed so much better. Even Dad seemed better, more stable, more able to handle things—even things like this. Sometimes, moments, I forgot how we had lived before and why it was ever necessary.
“Maybe it muddies the waters for me to put it on Dylan,” he said. “It’s this choice that you’ve made to be around him and people like him.”
“You mean Talents?”
“I mean…civilians, Joss. People who don’t have a clue how to protect themselves. People who don’t even think about it. Like they don’t even care. These are the people you’ve chosen to surround yourself with. I don’t understand it. I don’t like it, and I don’t approve.”
Who am I supposed to surround myself with, Dad? People like us? There are no people like us. So I’m just supposed to be alone.
But I don’t want to go back to being alone.
I turned to the window again, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes. No way I was gonna start that. I was just tired and hurt. I hadn’
t told Dad everything that had happened, or how close I had been to Really Bad Things.
When I started to think about it, it was such a loop Dad and I were in. The idea that NIAC would come and take me away made him so crazy he’d had to go to the hospital. When he got out, I did everything he ever asked me to so that he could feel like NIAC would never come take me away. So he’d never have to go away again either. He put all his energy into protecting me and teaching me how to protect myself. That was his whole life. I made sure he never had to worry about me, that he never had to feel threatened. That was my whole life.
And I just didn’t feel like I could do it anymore.
Chapter 4
Dylan
I leaned against the side of the school, waiting for Joss to show up. Not out in the open, but from around the corner where she probably wouldn’t see me. I don’t know why. I just felt like I really wanted to see her, but also like I wasn’t up to trying to talk to her.
Stalker. Now I was thinking it.
I banged my head against the wall, letting the rough texture of the bricks dig into my temple. Damn I was tired. I’d called Eric when I got in, to fill him in and to make sure he’d gotten away okay when he’d peeled off to try to misdirect the cops that were chasing us. After that I’d collapsed into bed, but I was so wound up about Joss that I couldn’t sleep. What had happened in the time it took for Eric and me to get over there? She’d said she was okay, but was she? Was it okay to press her on it, or should I just leave her alone?
What happened with her dad after I got out of the car? Joss’s dad was kind of scary. Not like I’d be jerk enough to hold it against him that he’s been in the mental hospital or anything. But hey, there’s overprotective dad, and there’s overprotective dad with guns and military training. You pick. And she was about as overprotective of him as he was of her. She’d probably take my head off if I asked about that and it came out the least bit wrong.
Which it always did.
I crossed my arms against the morning chill and yawned. Even after I’d fallen asleep I’d had a lot of nightmares. About Joss. About Marco. About the two of them, together. About Joss being hurt and not being able to do anything about it. And man, that had really sucked. I kept trying to put the images out of my head, but they kept coming back.