A Matter of Heart (27 page)

My mood is atrocious, thanks
in part to yet another headache. “I don’t want to go.”

Cora sighs and puts the
dress she’s considering back on the rack. “You have to go. If I have to go, so
do you.”

It’s at times like this I’m
glad to be around people who aren’t Emotionals. Sometimes, it’s really
refreshing to revel in moodiness and not have to worry about it. “I hardly see
the logic there.”

“I wish I could go.” Lizzie
fingers a purple velvet ball gown. “But Graham’s fraternity is having their
annual spring break toga party and I promised I’d go.”

Cora sticks a finger in her
mouth and pretends to gag. “Do you hear yourself? A toga party? With a bunch of
drunk idiots throwing money at their drinks? Lizzie, promise me right now you
aren’t going to wear a sheet.”

Lizzie’s eyes flash hot. “We
can’t all wine and dine in the fanciest restaurants in Madrid for our dates.”

These two have been
bickering a lot lately, which dismays me. It’s like there’s a constant
competition over whose life is better—the one in Annar with the sophisticated
boyfriend or the one trying desperately to hold onto some semblance of normalcy
on our home plane? I wish Meg was around to even their moods out, but our
friend is back in California visiting her parents. I thought once we were all
living in Annar, we’d be closer than ever, but it seems like work, classes, and
life keep pulling us further apart, be it by centimeters, inches, feet, or
miles.

I refuse to let that
continue, at least today. “If you two don’t stop, I’m going to get Jonah over
here and make you guys literally kiss and make up.”

It’s enough to elicit
giggles, sheepish smiles, and the small and murmured kind of apologies only the
closest and oldest of friends can give.

Cora pulls another dress off
the rack and holds up against her chest. “Chloe, this is one of the biggest
parties of the year. Everyone who is anyone in Annar will be there.”

Lizzie looks away, even
though she knows she’s invited and welcome.

Neither of them understands
my reluctance, which is no surprise, as I can’t find it in me to fill them in
on all the details. Too many memories come with the Guard’s annual party. Just
last year, I was falling apart over Jonah and doing who knows what with his
brother, drunk out of my mind. And now, I’m expected to go with Jonah and smile
and laugh and pretend that I didn’t make a giant jackass of myself at the last
one.

Cora puts this latest dress
back, too. “You never want to hit any of the parties. Or go and do anything
nineteen-year-olds do. I swear, you act like you’re ninety.”

“Parties aren’t my thing,” I
tell her, and it’s the truth. Thankfully Jonah feels the same way. We’re
homebodies, which is how I like it.

Cora huffs and plants her
hands on her hips. “Suck it up, girlfriend. You’re coming to this one whether
you like it or not.” And then she hands me a red dress, but when she turns her
back, I slip it back on the rack.

I
won’t ever wear a red dress again.

“Do you think I act like I’m
ninety?”

Kellan doesn’t bother
looking up at me. We’re at my favorite hot dog stand; he’s putting condiments
on his hot dog. Since we started hanging out with one another again a few
months back, we make sure we hit up this stand at least once a week. “What does
that even mean?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit.
“Cora said—”

“That’s your problem right
there.” He licks a bit of mustard off his finger. “Stop listening to Cora.”

We settle on a bench that
faces a fountain. Annar has the most beautiful parks and squares that sitting
inside, on a day like this where the sun is shining but it’s not too hot, feels
criminal. I’m almost done with my lunch when he asks, “Not that it bears any
merit, but what made Miss Opinion age you so much?”

I try not to giggle, because
she is my friend, after all. “She thinks I don’t live life to the fullest.”

He finishes his hot dog and
wipes his fingers on a napkin. “And just what aren’t you doing that’s got you
practically in the grave?”

I hesitate, because while
Kellan and I are back to being close enough to share a lot with one another,
there are still topics that aren’t exactly comfortable. And his extracurricular
activities are some of those topics.

Sometimes it feels like
Kellan lives two lives—the one he shares with Jonah and me and the one he
shares with everyone else. It’s disorienting, especially when people innocently
report back to me what they’ve seen him do now that no one is afraid to talk to
me about him anymore, because I never see those parts of his life.

I worry about him
constantly, but I’ve got a trick up my sleeve. I’ve been meeting with Kopano,
the Guard’s lead Hider, over the last few weeks. He’s helped me figure out how
to shield my emotions with the twins—although, I never explained it that way to
him. I pitched the idea as an exercise to protect myself on missions. It’s
difficult to do, seems impossible at times, and I’ve failed more often than
not. But I figure it’s a matter of survival that I learn how to do this,
especially after what happened in Hawaii. It stresses me out, worrying over how
Jonah and Kellan react to my emotions. Like now. At this moment, hearing the
concern in his voice, inappropriate urges run through me that want him to hold
me in his arms so we can kiss for hours, like we used to. And then I’ll go home
to Jonah and my love for him will consume me then, too.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair
to Jonah. It’s not fair to Kellan, either. It’ll be best if I can keep all of
those messed-up feelings to myself.

“A good shield should feel
like it has always been with you,”
Kopano said just last night.
“You only need to wake it up.”

So that’s what I do. I
gently ease a shield to mask my emotions, crossing my fingers Kellan doesn’t
notice anything out of the ordinary. This is my first time attempting one with
him. We’re in a crowded square; there are plenty of distractions for him to
focus on if he’s in the mood to emotion hunt. I try feigned amusement to help
cover my tracks. “I’m not going out and having the time of my life every single
night.”

He’s thoughtful for a
moment; there’s no hint that he can feel all that is raging around my heart. “It’s
probably a good thing you don’t.” I tilt my head to the side, so he clarifies,
“Because then you’d be so tired you’d might as well be ninety.”

I avert my eyes, back over
to the hot dog cart. There is a line fifteen deep for those tasty
conglomerations of meat. I give into an impulse and ask him something I
probably shouldn’t. “What about you? Do you feel ninety?”

“Sometimes
I feel like I’m two hundred,” is the answer I get. And I’m glad that my
feelings are hidden from him, that I apparently got a shield to work, because
the guilt in me flares so brightly it’s a wonder it doesn’t block out the sun.

“Cora’s insisting we go to
the Guard party this weekend,” I tell Jonah. The lights are off but the windows
are open wide; moonlight spills across the sheets in delicate patterns.

He studies my face for a
long moment, tracing parts of it with his index finger. Wave after wave of
goose bumps roll over my skin, and I savor them because they’re sublime when
they originate from his touch. But I must let too much melancholy show, because
he asks, “Want to tell me why that upsets you?”

I scoot up in bed and draw
my knees to my chest. I hate talking about this with him, hate reminding either
of us about the hell we went through last year. The mistakes we made. This is an
anniversary I wish desperately to forget, but can’t. I evade with my response.
“I guess Creators are supposed to go?”

He sits up, too. “Well,
you’re part of the Guard, too, you know. The only Guard who never come are the
ones out on missions at the time of the party.”

That is technically true.
Creators are always part of the Guard as well as the Council, but for some
reason, I never quite feel like I’m one of them. The Guard have a very insular
mentality—
us versus them
. Yet when I’m at Guard HQ, it’s like I’m one of
them
, never one of
us
. It’s not from lack of trying on behalf of
a number of my Guard friends, though; Karl, Zthane, Kia, and company do their
best to include me. But . . . it’s awkward. Too many of these people know that
I pretty much rejected Jonah for several months to date his brother. And for
all the love I hold for Kellan, it’s something I regret immensely. The pain I
caused Jonah, the wedge between the twins I helped create—those are things I
wish I could erase.

But I can’t. For all I can
destroy, I can’t undo time.

“I guess,” I tell him. My
chin drops to my knees.

He’s quiet for a long
moment. “Kellan will be there.”

Although he sounds okay with
this, I know he still struggles with me and his brother spending time together.
I catch these fleeting looks of anguish and frustration every so often when the
three of us are together, or when I leave to hang out solo with Kellan. So I
wrap another shield around me, one to hide the sadness. And it does make me
sad, needing to hide my feelings from both of these men, but I don’t know what
else to do. Their pain, in addition to my own, is often too much to bear.

Already, I’m wondering if
I’ll be able to control how I’m feeling about the two of them, if I’ll be able
to contain the pulls of my unbreakable Connections. I chose Jonah, not Kellan.
Anything I feel towards Kellan has to be put away; it’s too dangerous not to
be.

I reach out and take his
hand. “He and I had hot dogs today.”

Jonah shudders, and I laugh.
Poor boy, being forever denied the joy of a simple hot dog. I crawl into his
lap and shove my head under his chin, against the spot where his neck meets his
shoulder. I like this spot. It feels like that when Jonah was made, my
measurements were taken into consideration, because my head fits perfectly
there.

“I love you,” I tell him.
There is no need to shield these feelings. I don’t even think I could if I
tried.

“Once upon a time, I thought
riding in those things would be glamorous and exciting.” I have to shield my
eyes from the dust kicking up as Raul lifts the helicopter back into the sky.
“I think I’m past that now.”

Karl laughs, deep and
rumbly, as he hands me my backpack. “They’re good for quick travel.”

“Pragmatist,” I accuse, but
I’m chuckling, too, despite the reason we’re on our current mission. We’re in
Manali, India, a small town at the base of the Himalayas. Year-by-year, the
Asian country is shrinking underneath the mountain range thanks to the help of
shifting tectonic plates and Creators.

When I was first told I’d be
responsible for reducing the country by two centimeters a year, I balked, but
Intellectuals from all the planes slapped studies in front of me, highlighting
how this isn’t an uncommon occurrence anywhere and it’s a crucial part of the
constant evolution of geography. Then I learned it wasn’t only India that I’d
do this to, but numerous countries and continents on all the planes, and for my
effects (and those of Creators before and after me) to show, it’ll take
millions of years.

Still, it’s a sobering
thought, making a ginormous country smaller, even if by such tiny increments.

“Last year,” Karl tells me,
slinging his bag over his shoulders, “Rushfire insisted on being carried in a
tricked out backpack he made. It might’ve had a bed and bar in it.” His grin
fills his face. “I’d like to thank you for walking on your own two feet.”

I sidestep a group of kids
chasing a ball down the street. “You say this like you were the one carrying
him around. You were babysitting me, remember?”

“Changing your diapers were
the worst.”

I swat at him, and he breaks
into laughter again.

I’m glad it’s just us on
this mission—well, Raul, too, but he’s working double time, ferrying another
Guard about a hundred miles south. I miss Karl. I see him during Council and
Guard meetings, and Jonah and I go over to the Graystone house for dinner at
least once a week, but I don’t get to hang out with him like we used to. But it
makes sense. He and Moira have Emily and their attention outside of work
revolves around her, like it should, since she’s the best kid in all the
worlds.