A Matter of Fate (26 page)

As I fall, I can’t help but think: I’m going to die anyway! People commit suicide off bridges because when they hit the water, it kills them! We’re going to die! In the water! Great White sharks have been seen in these waters! OHMYGODSI’MGOINGTODIE!!

But I don’t. Something in me snaps moments before impact. Alongside the winds Raul whips up, a life raft appears right under us, making the impact feel like hitting that hard, squishy stuff in playgrounds beneath the equipment rather than the concrete water becomes after a long distance. The wind’s knocked right out of me, and this is only exacerbated when Kopano throws his body across mine. Soft words flow from his mouth, over the three of us and the raft.

The Elders streak by, none the wiser. He’s hidden us.

I stare up at the bridge. People are hanging over the sides, many screaming and pointing. They’re searching, I’m sure, for the three lunatics who threw themselves over the edge. Police sirens blare in the near distance.

“Think I’ll get my deposit on the car back?” Raul asks, wiping the sweat off his brow. And I laugh, because, really, what else can I do?

Raul and Kopano are arguing over who to call first an hour later. As my cell phone is back home and Kopano’s and Raul’s are somewhere in a ditch, we’re forced to use the phone in the hotel we’ve holed up in. Zthane might still be in town, they’re saying, and if that’s the case, he should be notified first due to seniority. Then again, they fret, perhaps it ought to be Karl, since I’m his assignment. They’re a little nervous about calling Karl, though. From what I can tell, Zthane would be their preferred option. Something about being less of a ball buster.

“Calm down,” I say as I flip TV channels. “Neither of you were ordered to bring me back into the building, were you? So what’s the problem?”

They both stare and then smile like I’ve given them the shiniest, best birthday presents ever. Raul slaps his hands together. “She’s right!”

“She may be right,” Kopano admits as he drops onto the second bed. “But I do not think that will smooth any ruffled feathers. Karl is going to blow a fuse.”

“Why are we calling again?” I ask. The news is talking about eyewitness reports of three people jumping off the Bay Bridge a couple hours earlier. Some eyewitnesses are actually crying.

“Because,” Raul says, “we’re alive and they need to know this.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “
Díos mio
, Karl is going to squash me like a bug.”

“Once we explain everything, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Chloe,” he sighs, sitting at the edge of my bed. “You need to understand that the Guard has procedures put in place. Going off radar like this is very much frowned upon.”

“Fine,” I say, rolling over and sitting up. “Pin all of the blame on me. It was my idea to run. And you know what? I’m glad I did. There’s a whole building full of people back home that are safe right now because we left. And we’re fine, too. So it was a good plan.”

Kopano laughs. “It was no plan, girl. You know as well as we do that we all acted on instinct.”

True. But I hadn’t fainted. I’d done something this time, something good. Something that kept people safe. Well, almost everyone. “Do you think that those people are okay?”

“People?” Raul asks, forehead scrunched.

“The nons whose cars were overturned.”

His forehead smoothes out. “The moment Zthane or Karl heard those things screaming outside of the building and discovered you’d sealed the doors shut, a whole herd of Guards were most likely called in to track us. None of those people probably remember anything, Chloe. I’m sure that they are all healthy and wherever they need to be at this moment.”

“And . . . our friends?”

“Well,” Raul muses, “they are out looking for us. That’s a given. Thus our need to call before panic sets them on fire.”

I don’t know this Zthane they’re talking about, so he’s not the one I’d call. I don’t want to call Karl—he’ll rip my head off straightaway. They’re right about that. And while I want with all my heart to call Jonah and hear for myself that he’s safe, our first contact shouldn’t be like this. He deserves more.

“I’ll make the call.” Both men watch in surprise as I dial a number.

I hope I’m making the right choice over who to contact first.

“Yes?” I hear from the receiver.

“It’s me,” I say.

“Chloe!” Kellan yells. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

Raul turns off the television set. “I’m in San Francisco—”

“San Francisco!” he repeats. And then, “Please tell me you’re all right.”

“I’m fine, I swear I’m fine.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, and for the first time, I can hear the anxiety below his forced calm. “Where specifically in San Francisco?”

Kellan and Giules show up forty minutes later. There’s a portal in San Francisco, down on Pier 49 in one of those shops that overlook where the sea lions like to hang out. I guess California is one of those rare places on our plane that has a number of portals. Some states, even countries, don’t have a single portal. California alone has four. Some previous Creator must have really liked it here to make so many portals.

Raul doesn’t question me about why I choose to call Kellan. I think he might’ve even been a little glad that I hadn’t called Karl. Giules, both he and Kopano figure, is an acceptable substitute to acquire our location and status. She oversees the Whitecombs and often is tasked with overseeing me. In their minds, that practically makes her Karl.

That doesn’t stop Kopano, however, from telling me right before they showed up, “Expect Kellan to get completely reamed by the brass for not informing them about your location.”

“He’s not in the Guard yet,” I insist. “They can’t punish him if he’s not officially part of the Guard.”

His answer is a set of raised eyebrows and troubled dark eyes.

I’d questioned them earlier on why we needed any more Guard to come and get us. After all, there’s a portal in town—why couldn’t we just use it to go home? But neither felt that was an acceptable option. They figured the Elders would be hot and bothered by this point about our evasion tactics. Four Guard, they insisted, would be a safer bet than two.

I feel this slam of relief at seeing Kellan, like somehow all of the stresses of the day evaporate in his presence. I launch myself at him, almost knocking us both over.

“Well,” Giuliana says, shutting the door behind her. “I am relieved to find you three safe and sound. You should have heard the panic alarms sounding when Chloe closed that gym up. You’d have thought that a nuclear war was commencing outside.”

“Just how did you guys get out?” Raul asks, ushering his friend to a chair.

I tug Kellan down on the bed next to me. He’s thankfully not saying anything—no reprimands for stupid choices. I figure he wants to, though, but he’s sweet enough not to do it in front of everyone else.

Giules laughs. “Karl, of course. Split the wall in half. I guess an earthquake isn’t unheard of here in Northern California, is it?”

I squeeze Kellan’s hand and look into his eyes. Disappointment’s there, yes. The strain of worry is evident, too. But he’s also relieved, so I figure I can live with the other things.

The guys tell Giules and Kellan all about our race to San Francisco, sparing no details. I progressively lose feeling in my fingers as Kellan’s grip grows tighter with each detail. I finally tell him during the bridge story that if he doesn’t loosen up, I’ll lose the use of my hand permanently.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” Giules says afterwards. “Maybe the Elders will not suspect we’d remain in the same place they last saw you. But I do need to check in.”

“But—” I begin.

“No buts,” she insists. “The search must be called off. There are a lot of people vulnerable right now because they are out looking for you. You would not wish them harm just because you do not want to be yelled at by an angry papa bear.”

Jonah is still out there, of course. So I relent and don’t complain any further.

All of us hear Karl shouting through the phone. Giules holds it out for the majority of the conversation, but man, she does me a favor. She tells Karl that I’m tired, but fine, and he can talk to me all he wants tomorrow when we come home, but he needs to leave me be for the night.

Kellan stays silent until we get to the ice machine down the hall. Once there, and out of earshot of our friends, he leans back against it and crosses his arms. “You will not do that again, Chloe.”

His heart is in the right place. Even still, I bristle at the words. “I had to.”

“I know you think you did, but I’m telling you that you didn’t. Chloe, it’s not worth it. You getting hurt is completely unacceptable.”

“I’m not hurt,” I protest, but he reaches out and turns my palms over gently. Fresh scabs riddle them from falling on the roof earlier. His eyes then track down to my scabbed knees and a good number of bruises blooming from slamming into cars as we raced across the bridge. “Those,” I say quietly, “are all circumstantial.”

“Notice I’m not injured,” he says, and I nod vigorously.

“Exactly my point!” I say.

“I’m not injured,” he stresses, “because I was stuck in that building.”

“Exactly!”

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” he admits in a low, husky voice. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d been seriously hurt.” Then I’m in his arms, and I can feel his breath in my hair, his heart against my chest. It’s comforting. Safe.

I made the right choice.

You’d have thought I’d murdered someone by the reactions I get once home. My mother and Cousins all take turns chastising me during back-to-back strike attacks. Karl reams me during a special one-on-one. I honestly stress that he’s going to have a stroke when the veins in his face and neck bulge as he gasps, shouts, and yanks at his hair. Even Iolani has her turn, albeit sounding like a kinder, quieter female Karl.

Coward that he is, my father chooses to ignore the whole affair. It stings, but I can deal with his apathy.

What I can’t deal with is Jonah’s reaction during a follow-up Guard meeting. I’m twisting my hands in my lap while everyone bickers (hooray for Kiah for seeing the logic in what we did!) like a family reunion on “Jerry Springer” when he catches and holds my attention. He makes no attempts at ignoring me like usual. He’s flat out staring, brows furrowed and body stiff with tension. A heavy mix of disapproval, disappointment and worry rolls off of him in dark, thick waves. It’s hard not to cringe.

Kellan, on the other hand, defends me as Karl howls over my perceived stupidity. This nearly sends Karl back into seizure mode. While several people try in vain to calm him down, Jonah shakes his head slowly at me, all the while holding my eyes.

His disapproval is the worst. It’s beyond painful. I’m not sorry for doing what I did, but I want the chance to explain my logic to him. For the bulk of my life he’s been my sounding board. Now he’s an angry, silent presence that haunts me.

After the meeting, he refuses to look at me, let alone give me an opportunity to talk. I think about this while Kellan and I sit on my couch, reading for English class a few days after the attack. Well, he’s reading. I’m staring at the words, willing them to give me answers.

Fact: I’ve come to the point where, if I don’t talk to Jonah soon, I’ll go batshit crazy.

Fact: I miss Jonah; even when he’s standing five feet away.

Fact: I’m still in love with Jonah. There’s no mistaking this.

Fact: I’m in love with his brother, too.

I peek over my book and watch Kellan. He does this cute thing when he reads, where he gently bites his lower lip and his brows squish down in super concentration. He reads with his knees propped up to balance his book. He loves to read. I love that he loves this.

The weirdest thing is that I want to talk to him about everything. I consider Kellan to be the person whom I trust the most at present. I tell him almost everything. We have no secrets, save one. And that’s on me, not him.

It’s sick how I want to talk to Kellan about Jonah because, of all the opinions out there, and of all the advice I can seek, I want his. How wrong is that?

“How’s the book?” I ask him, taking a deep breath.

He glances up. “Interesting. You?”

The words below me laugh. They know they don’t have my attention. “Can I ask you something?”

He lowers his book, sticking his finger in to mark his place. “Of course.”

Two words jump out on the page.
Ask him.
I’m not kidding. They’re there. “I . . . uh . . . want to ask about . . . your brother.”

There’s no reaction. I might as well be asking about the weather. “Yeah?”

I stare at the words some more. Words on a page seem safe. Words in the air are temperamental, fragile. You can erase a word on a page. There’s no way to erase something once it leaves your lips. Words like that can make or break someone.

I scratch my head. Itchy scalps, my mother once said, are a sure sign of guilt. “Do you . . . No. What I mean is . . . does he, uh, hate me?”

Whatever Kellan might have thought I’d ask, it wasn’t that. “Huh?”

“I mean,” I say, scratching harder now, “he never talks to me. Why?”

“Sure he does.”

“No,” I insist quietly. “He doesn’t.”

The book in his lap slides down some. “He doesn’t hate you.”

I’ve drawn blood. Gross. “How do you know?”

His head cocks to the side, searching. I scratch harder. “Chloe,” he says slowly, “has Jonah said something to you?”

“No. That’s the point! He must hate me. He hates me, doesn’t he? You can tell me. Has he told you that? That he hates me?”

He must. I mean, if I was Jonah, I’d hate me, too. He’s probably come up with a list of nasty words to refer to me:
bitch, traitor, whore
—no, he wouldn’t call me
whore
. He knows me better than that, what with me being a virgin and all. But
bitch
and
traitor
, yeah. And others that I don’t want to think about because I’ll probably cry.

Kellan reaches out and grabs my hand before I can completely shred my scalp. “Why would he hate you? He barely knows you.”