Anomaly Read online

  “Hopefully this is a short-term stint. Besides, I’m not worried about my grades this time around. ”

  Santos smiled widely. “You graduated a year early. I don’t think you had to worry about grades the first time.”

  “It was easy; I didn’t have any of those distractions.” I nodded my head toward the giggly girl walking down the hall. Santos took another few seconds to admire her again.

  “While you were cheering the home team and chasing girls on the playground, I got to run with knives,” I said.

  “Sounds like a badass school.”

  Santos hadn’t gone to school in the Denver Hub like I did. It was a different experience. “There were no football games or dances. It was nothing like a public school or private school—unless it was Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.” I laughed at the thought of having Wolverine’s hair. Good thing Josie wasn’t envisioning Hugh Jackman when I pulled up.

  I hadn’t been in “school” for more than two years. It’s not like we’d be here, sticking it out, till the end of the semester. Extractions rarely took long. And I’d single-handedly managed a dozen of them. The protocol was the same. Approach the target. Determine if he/she possessed Oculi abilities. Establish trust. Assess if the target was Resistance material. If they weren’t…Yeah, that’s where this job got interesting. I didn’t want to think about what would happen to Josie if she didn’t agree to come along peacefully.

  “Yo,” Santos said. He lobbed his helmet over a streamer hanging from the ceiling like he was shooting a two-pointer. “You do realize this girl is going to hate you, right?” He hustled to catch his substitute basketball and jump-shot it over the next streamer.

  “Yep.” She would despise me, and I didn’t like it, but I had to put any feelings aside, because there were more important things at stake.

  Santos caught his helmet and faked it to me, then tossed it up again. I’d known Santos about two years. He’d had my back on several occasions and vice versa. He was, is, one of my few friends. But even now, he didn’t know the details of how I knew the Harper family.

  We passed a bank of glass surrounding the library. All computers, few books. I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass. Santos was right—hello, Jack Sparrow. A new day, a new face, it felt like.

  Santos was one of the few people alive who knew what I’d looked like before the incident two years ago. My change in appearance was the Resistance’s form of a witness protection program. Appearance changes didn’t happen unless it was absolutely necessary due to paperwork and identity shit. I didn’t mind looking different, though. It was all in an effort to keep me safe. And being alive was always a nice perk.

  Even with different looks, I was still in danger, and the same held true for Santos. Such was the life of a trainer for the Resistance. Until my trainee was ready for the Hub or life in general, I was also his or her protector. Always on the lookout. Never off duty. Potential death was just another occupational hazard.

  I’d already killed more people than I’d ever be okay with. And their friends would be coming after Josie. Soon.

  2.

  Josie

  T

  he sweet smell of something baked hung in the air, and seconds before I walked through the back door, I could hear Mom shushing my little brother. Here it comes…

  “Surprise!” Mom and Eli jumped out from behind the kitchen counter.

  “Ahhh!” I faked a scream. Even though I’d known what they were up to, excitement rose in my throat when I saw the cake in the middle of the kitchen table, candles poking out of the top. I stepped closer and saw that my mom had scrawled basic physics equations around the border. Cute.

  The cake was as lopsided as an obtuse triangle, and from the pile of measuring cups and bowls stacked in the sink, I knew her attempt at a homemade cake had likely taken her all day. Mom had many talents—but cooking wasn’t among them. Still, when she set out to do something, she’d master it. So while the cake wasn’t much of a looker, I had no doubt it’d be delicious.

  “It’s chocolate,” Mom said.

  “Aw. Thank you!”

  Mom hugged me longer than usual. Maybe she was hugging me from two parents today.

  Then Eli tackle-hugged me from behind, practically taking us all out, including the cake. Eli started snorting, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I almost stopped when I heard my mom next to me. She had her hand in part of the cake. P=Wt was smooshed. Eli looked very pleased with himself.

  Mom laughing wasn’t as common as it used to be, so when she did laugh, it made me all warm inside like one of those chocolate lava cakes with the gooey centers. Comforting.

  Mom’s laughter tapered off. She pushed back from me but kept her hands on my shoulders, staring into my face. It was like looking in a mirror. Reddish-blond waves, porcelain skin, green irises. I saw something in her eyes, a sadness maybe. “Mom?” She never showed emotion. She’d hid her feelings about everything since my brother’s death.

  “You’re a young woman, your own person.”

  I thought maybe something was wrong, but no. She was only being sentimental. Or sentimental for her, anyway. Thank Thor it wasn’t something bad. I couldn’t handle another tragedy now; none of us could. I tried to get another laugh out of her. “It’s not like I’m moving into a retirement home.”

  Her lips parted into a sad smile. Good enough.

  Everything had fallen on her lately—kind of like she was a single parent.

  I loved my dad, but there was no way I’d put up with my husband being gone for months at a time. I had no idea how my parents were still together. Dad would leave for “work” for weeks, but he’d taken the workaholic routine to a whole new level in the last two years, ever since Nick died in a car accident. And once Nick was gone, for all intents and purposes, so was my dad.

  Mom slid her hands off my shoulders. A little icing dotted her cheekbone, and I noticed she had bags forming under her eyes. The woman stayed up until all hours of the night. I didn’t know much about her research, only that she specialized in reversing neurological degeneration and basically survived on caffeine. She turned her back to Eli and leaned closer to me, her signature scent surrounded me—equal parts coffee and perfume. “Your dad can’t video chat today.” Her breath barely carried the sentence to the end.

  “Oh, um. Okay, no biggie.” I straightened against the counter, not wanting her to see any defeat in my posture. She didn’t want Eli to hear, I got that. But what was with the long hugs? I kind of expected not to video chat with Dad today. I hadn’t seen him in person for seven weeks, hadn’t talked to him on the phone or on a video chat for a good three. At this point, I figured he’d left for good, and one of them would eventually tell us why. The thought was like a metric ton of osmium, twice the density of lead, settling on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  Don’t go there. Not today. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught Eli playing in the cake frosting. Glad to see he was acting normal, even though I knew he was just as confused as I was about our family.

  I turned back around, and Mom had slapped on her usual face, her Mom mask, happy but vacant. I knew what to expect from this Mom, the Mom who pretended everything was fine. Not that this was better, though. I’d prefer real Mom, who I never got to see anymore, who might actually answer some of my questions.

  “So how was your day?” she asked. Her cane slapped against the kitchen tiles, the tap, tap, swoosh, of her good leg stepping forward followed by the drag of her right. She had a disability, but it didn’t slow her down.

  I shrugged and ran through today’s events. Total crap, sad, and kind of scary. “It was okay.” Talking about Nick wasn’t something we did, so I didn’t bring up the fact that he was on my mind.

  “How’s Hannah?”

  “Fine.”

  Hannah was the first best friend I’d ever had. I hadn’t made many friends in the years prior—it was too hard to say good-bye every time we moved. A defense mechanism of sorts, I guess. My fa
mily moved so often for my dad’s job that I lost count, and my parents had homeschooled us until Nick died. The only reason they’d let me attend a public school the last two years was because it had an accelerated program and a hotshot Advanced Physics teacher.

  I believe I also said something like, “I’m starving for social interaction.” Apparently my endless pleading broke them down. My parents thought it’d be a good distraction for me. They even encouraged me to join activities that met during school hours. Of course I joined Science and Physics Club first thing. But despite the absolute bitch-fit I threw to go to public school, when offered the chance, I didn’t sign up for every club or try out for every sport. Acclimating to so many people and personalities had turned out to be more difficult than I had expected.

  Mom cleared her throat. “I was thinking dinner, movie, cake. Sound good?”

  “Since it’s my birthday, I was hoping to go to a party tonight at Marisa’s house. Tons of people from school will be there.” Overprotective was a serious understatement for my mom. With Nick’s death and her solo parenting act, I kind of understood. My thoughts flickered to the wish I’d made today. Choice. Would she allow me to make this choice now than I was seventeen?

  Mom knew how much finally having friends meant to me. “Mom?”

  She hmmed as if still in thought. Usually I could tell what would come after her hmms, but this one sounded different.

  We always celebrated birthdays but never with friends. This would be my first, which my friends thought was odd, and I agreed. I didn’t dare say anything about the party being parentless.

  Mom continued busying herself at the kitchen sink, pre-washing dishes for the dishwasher, her back toward me.

  I joined Eli, now playing his newest hand-held gadget, at the table. I nabbed a finger full of frosting and shoved it into my mouth. Eli saw, gave a mischievous grin, and copied me.

  She cleared her throat again. “How do you feel today? Are you okay?”

  That came out of nowhere. I almost asked her the same question back because she was the one acting shady.

  Her hands stilled over the sink.

  “Fine,” I lied. I wouldn’t say anything about Tate breaking up with me because she didn’t like the idea of my having a boyfriend in the first place. She didn’t even know I’d applied for the internship, so it wasn’t worth mentioning, either. It wasn’t that I wanted to keep the internship from her; it was just that I knew she’d find an excuse for it not to happen. And I wasn’t going to mention the weird headache. Besides, Mom had plenty to worry about; she didn’t need me adding to it. I looked at my birthday cake; it must have taken hours. “I feel perfectly fine.”

  Leaning over Eli’s lap, I snuck a peek at his game. “Whatcha doing, little man?”

  “I’m trying to destroy my opponent’s Thunder Worm. He got me pretty good, but since I have a dark sprite, she restores my health. I should be able to take him down and be promoted to Level Twenty-six Dragon Slayer.” Eli’s eyes didn’t leave the screen as he talked, and I was glad, because I couldn’t help smiling at his explanation. Coolest nine-year-old on the planet. I ruffled his sandy hair, which he hated, and his hand shot out and squeezed my side, my most ticklish spot. He had a great sense of humor and more compassion than anyone I’d met. And we shared a common bond; he was the only person who fully understood our screwed-up family life. We got each other.

  Mom let out a long sigh like she was a punctured balloon. “I don’t think tonight is the best night.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks. Looking to the table for a reason to not look Mom in the face, I slowly gathered Eli’s trash from his after-school snack. I wanted to make sure I didn’t cry like a little girl when I was trying to show her I was mature.

  I felt bad for the position my mom was in and the fact that she’d lost a kid, but keeping me on a chain wouldn’t solve anything. I turned and placed Eli’s trash and plate on the counter.

  “Mom.” I didn’t use an upset tone—I knew better. She wouldn’t turn to face me, and I could feel the invisible barrier now up between us. “It’s my seventeenth birthday. I’m not having a party with friends, and my dad isn’t coming home any time soon.”

  Eli’s eyes pulled up from his game. Stupid. I shouldn’t have said it that way. Little dude didn’t deserve the reminder. He looked back down at his dragons, but I could tell he wasn’t playing anymore.

  I knew I was guilt-tripping her. It wasn’t like I wanted to, but it was the only way to get out of my nightly sentencing of watching a PG movie and playing a board game. I’d surely retire to my bedroom by nine, then petrify while reading about the Higgs Boson validity. I liked spending time with my brother, but not tonight. Tonight I needed to do something for me. For once, I wanted the same choices as every other person my age.

  “Eli,” she snapped. “Have you done your forms?”

  He groaned.

  “Pyongwon, Cheongwon, and Keumgang. Put down that video game and begin them now.”

  I know I pissed her off, but I hated seeing my brother suffer for it. “Come on, bud,” I said. “We’ll do them together.”

  He followed me into the open area beside the kitchen, and we settled into the positions for tae kwon do. I was still furious—seriously, my mom needed to dial back on this overbearing parenting style, ’cause come on, in a year I’d be out of this house and on my own anyway—but I kept my temper in check and moved through the motions with my brother. There was a simplicity to the choreographed routines. It required balance and coordination and focus, but even though it was a dance of “combat,” it helped to settle me.

  We didn’t delve into the formal “belt testing” like most kids did who practiced martial arts. This was just another of Mom’s regiments. I’d been doing them since I was a kid. Unlike her schedule of yoga, study sessions, and specific reading assignments—yes, I was required to read and study beyond the school curriculum—I actually enjoyed this part.

  Outside middle block. Low block. Front snap kick. Middle punch. Spin.

  When Eli finished, he snatched his game from the kitchen table, shouted, “All done!” and bolted up the stairs to his bedroom to play his Xbox in peace. Smart little bugger.

  Me, I wasn’t as bright.

  “You still haven’t answered me, Mom.” And I’d wait for her to. I loved my mother, but at times, I wanted to hold up a mirror and record her voice to play it back, just so she could see and hear how absurd her decrees could be.

  I stared at the back of Mom’s jeans and crisp T-shirt, but she said nothing. She didn’t answer, and I knew that meant I wasn’t going. I let the realization hit me: I was stuck in my own little prison, not just on my birthday but every day. I was trapped in a glass cage, seeing what life looked like, but I wasn’t allowed to live it. It was one big tease. If I had an explanation, maybe it wouldn’t feel this way, but the explanation never came, even when I asked.

  I wanted to scream, but it wouldn’t do any good. I turned my body away from my mom as I fought back tears. My vision blurred and came back into focus on a picture of our family in the adjoining living room. Our one family photo before Nick died. The glass frame had fallen in our last move and was left with a deep crack across our faces. I imagined Eli and I had matching cracks inside of us.

  My mom had grown more protective these last couple weeks. I couldn’t even walk five minutes to rent a movie at the Walgreen’s Redbox without her as my chaperone. I knew it had everything to do with my dad not being around. But instead, my mom pretended everything was hunky-dory. Didn’t my parents know what this was doing to Eli and me?

  The photo was like a mocking metaphor. It’s already cracked. Just break already.

  White heat snapped behind my eyes. My mouth flooded with saliva. Cold sweat sent my body into shivers. I clutched my palms to my eyes as the pain grew beyond intense.

  Bam.

  Clatter.

  I jerked, and the pain vanished. I pulled my hands away from my face. The picture I’d been starin
g at had fallen off the shelf. It lay shattered on the tile floor.

  Mom was already headed to the family room. Her cane clattered to the floor as she slumped on the ground. She carefully cradled a chunk of the frame, her hands shaking, the photo bent and dangling.

  Mom’s face whipped to mine, her eyes wide and intense. I couldn’t read her expression. Fear? Guilt?

  If she were to ask me how I felt now, I’d be hard-pressed to lie. It had to be what it felt like to be zapped by Loki’s scepter. Water still pooled in the back of my mouth, and that piercing, crazy-sharp pain in my head lingered. She looked down at the family picture. “You may go tonight. But we’ll have dinner first. And you’ll need to text me every hour.”

  She agreed? Immediately it felt easier to breathe, and giddy teenage adrenaline quickly replaced my anxiety.

  My first real party on my seventeenth birthday, newly single. This was going to be a night to remember.

  Reid

  W

  e plunked our bags down in the old warehouse. Home sweet home…this month.

  I inhaled and coughed. The air in here actually had a flavor. Mustiness laced with a tinge of fish. Most of the windows had been blacked out. A few broken panes let shafts of late-afternoon sunlight scatter across the floor like golden coins. Moving through the dank grime was like hiking through a swamp. Great, we’d moved to Dagobah. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Yoda hobbled around the corner and told me to use The Force to walk above the nasty floor. The thought reminded me of Josie, of the tight Star Wars–inspired shirt she’d worn to school.

  I flipped the line of switches inside the door. The warehouse was in bad shape. Luckily, we could have the place in working order in a short amount of time. It was the right price, too. The building was stripped and old, leaving only the bones of what used to be a functional industrial space.

  “Dibs on the back bedroom!” Santos ran ahead, and an old hoop appeared on the wall by him. He took a shot with a ball that hadn’t been in his hands the second before, but I Retracted it, making it vanish. “Hey!” he yelled. I followed Santos back to the bedrooms the young realtor had shown us just a couple hours prior. My ID said twenty-five and she’d bought it. They were desperate to rent the place, and she seemed to enjoy my flirting.