Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) (30 page)

“I knew you’d have to eat sooner or later, especially after all that running.” Joseph’s voice has an uncharacteristic shyness to it.

Through clenched teeth I say, “You’ve been watching me?”

“No, that would be creepy.” A sliver of his familiar tone returns.

I swallow the last of the water and wipe my damp lips with the back of my arm. “Then how do you know I’ve been running?”

I’m still standing with my back mostly toward him, afraid to look at his face, afraid of what it will make me feel. From the fringes of my vision I see him lean against a table and cross his ankles as casually as if he’s waiting to get his hair cut.

“Well, for starters you’re still beet red like after the a.m. workouts. You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to know you’ve been beating the treadmill to death with your feet.”

The dryness in my throat hasn’t vanished and I need more water. However, I’d rather Joseph not spy my shaking hands as I refill my glass.

He pushes up from the table and strides until he’s in front of me. I focus on the bottle of water he shoves into my hand. “Of course, if I wasn’t a detective I would still know what you’ve been up to.” His nose is red and swollen and he wears a masked expression.

I twist the cap off the water and take pleasure in the way it pinches my dry fingertips. Sometimes physical irritation is a welcome distraction from emotional pain.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask before downing half the bottle.

“Drink up. I’ve got another couple bottles as well as your dinner here.” He gestures to a small white sack in his other hand.

I flick my eyes back up to meet his. His casual attitude is making me want to punch him even harder than before. “Answer my question,” I seethe.

“Why don’t you eat somethin’ first and then we’ll talk?”

I almost lunge forward at him, but instead take the momentum and turn on my heels. Adrenaline races through my limbs as I stalk off toward the exit.

“Wait!” Joseph yells, sounding half amused. I hear him jog up behind me, the plastic of the bag in his hands crinkling as he moves. “Look, don’t run off. I just meant that you’d feel better if you ate somethin’ and then we could discuss stuff.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” I say, staring wildly into his eyes.

A laugh escapes his mouth. “Lord knows you wouldn’t do it anyway. Just tryin’ to be helpful.”

“Helpful would be answering my questions.” I down the rest of the bottle and toss it in the trash bin. With my arms now free I automatically cross them over my chest. “How do you know what I’ve been up to? How do you seem to know so much about me?”

Joseph’s casual expression disappears as he takes a long breath. He’s dreadful at being serious. It melts away his fake exterior. “At times I know you as well as I know myself. I get these ideas and I know they’re about you. It’s usually somethin’ you’re doin’ or thinkin’, and rarely what you’re feelin’. Sometimes I predict what you’re gonna do before you do it. It’s been like this since the moment we met. Somethin’ tells me when you’re more composed you sense these things too.”

Although I wouldn’t admit it, I know he’s right. When I was younger, before I built a fortress of armor around myself, I used to think I had an imaginary friend. I didn’t talk to him or play with him or set a place at the table. I just knew he existed. I knew when he was happy or sad or excited. There were rarer times where I’d get a flash and know he’d just done something like spent his allowance on a gadget or done poorly on a math exam. Since I’ve always believed I was straddling the borders of insanity I just thought this was another indicator of my craziness.
Was this actually Joseph? Was he my imaginary friend growing up?

By the way Joseph is chewing on the inside of his cheek I’m guessing my silence is making him nervous. He isn’t one to embrace quiet. “You feel it, right? A connection between the two of us, even if just a tiny bit?”

I roll my eyes to suppress the rawness of the situation. “Maybe, but I’m not about to go pick out matching sweaters.”

“Did you know that my name wasn’t even on the list?” he says.

“What? Then why are you here?”

“Because your name was. Trey knew you’d need me in order to fully perform at your best.”

“I don’t understand. Did you know this from the beginning?”

“No, but when I figured out that we were twins I confronted Trey and he told me.”

“But you were picked as an alternate,” I say, shaking my head.

“No, you were, but we’re a package,” Joseph says. “Trey knows this. Haven’t you noticed your clairvoyance is stronger since you’ve been at the Institute? Well, for that matter, everything about you is stronger and faster. Please tell me you aren’t so thick that you’ve missed this.”

I grimace. A crowd of white coats files into the hall.

Joseph grabs my arm, dragging me to the exit. “Come on, let’s get outta here. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

Normally I’d push him off, but I’m tired. He’s right too, I need answers and this is the only way I’m going to get them.

Once we’re back to the main lobby he lets go of my arm. It’s quiet and open here. I plop on the ground and take the bag from Joseph. The container he’s packed is full of pasta salad.
Perfect.

“Stark, we’re two parts of a whole,” Joseph begins. “You see the immediate future and I see what’s gonna happen way in the distance. You’re naturally quiet and introverted. I’m loud and extroverted. Your ability to dream travel is amazing, which usually takes practice. This makes you great at tracking and strategizing. On the other hand, I see the unseen easily. I’m an interpreter.” Joseph has a deep sincerity in his eyes. “We’re the perfect team.”

“So that’s why you’re here? To bring out my abilities? That’s bizarre.”

“Well, and I’m a Lucidite. I belong here. Trey had to bring me in because otherwise Zhuang would have found me and then I’d be dead. It was just a matter of time. Anyway, Trey always brings new Dream Travelers here when they’re young to help guide and train them. Then they’re released back out into the wild.” Joseph says this last part with a laugh.

“What? What are you talking about?” I’m starting to worry he’s making all this up.

He rolls his eyes. “Dream Travelers are a type of people, like a race. Most Dream Travelers have adopted an association with a society like the Lucidites. That’s how things stay organized. There are probably rogue Dream Travelers out there livin’ off the grid, but I’m sure it’s easier to stay connected for mutual reasons. Anyway, they have ways of discerning Dream Travelers who are about to come of age. I guess if they think they’re within their jurisdiction then Trey or Flynn or whoever runs this place pulls them in. It takes place usually around age sixteen, but in some cases families elect to send children to orientation earlier.”

My head isn’t swimming at this point, it’s drowning in a sea of questions and confusions. “How do you know all this?”

“Unlike you, I talk to people. I’m curious by nature. You, on the other hand, wouldn’t care how a bridge that materialized out of thin air in front of you came to be. That’s because you’re stubborn,” Joseph says with a smirk.

“So there are other societies?”

“I guess so. I don’t know the names of any, but I sense there are others. Maybe being Lucidite is a regional thing, like being an American. We don’t have to worry about it though. We’re Lucidites, just like our mother.”

The mention of our mother sends a sudden ache to my back. An odd sensation. Then I realize it’s my heart aching so badly I feel it in my chest, my back, all over, like the worst case of indigestion ever. “Our mother,” is all I say after a minute.

“Yeah.” Joseph’s voice drops a beat. “Odd story, huh? Makes you wonder
’bout
all sorts of stuff.”

“Yeah,” I say. “So how long did you know we were twins?” I ask and take a bite of a cold marinated mushroom.

“It was after we were picked as alternates. I knew something since the moment I saw you. For years I’d seen flashes where you and I were together and older. At first I thought you were my future wife. Seems kind of gross to think about now. Anyway, when we got to the Institute and started spendin’ time together the flashes got stronger, more frequent. I decided to approach Trey if I was picked to stay. Since I was, then I did, and he told me everything you now know.”

A sudden ray of hope opens up my chest, like the first day of summer. “Wait! If you see us together in the future then that means we survive. That means I survive. That we defeat Zhuang!”

Joseph shakes his head. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but that isn’t how it works. You and I see potential realities. We get a glimpse of what could happen, but free will and choice always play into it. Remember when you saw the flash in the main hall and knew to give the letter to Patrick?”

I think back and remember the incident. I’d told Joseph about this later, explaining to him all the dumb stuff I could see.

“Well, you chose to pay attention to that image and act. You sought out Patrick and gave him the letter causin’ the image to become real. You could have just as easily ignored it.”

“So you’re telling me there’s a possibility I could survive?”

“Yes, but I also see other flashes of darkness and impending danger. This could be the alternate reality. This is kinda how my visions go since I see so far into the future.”

“That sucks,” I protest.

“Tell me
’bout
it.”

Silence grows between us again, making Joseph fidget. I take this opportunity to ask my burning question. “Joseph, why’d you lie about your family? About having brothers and sisters?”

He looks startled. Accosted. Waylaid.

“I saw where you live,” I continue. “I know your mother’s dead and your father blames you.”

He rolls over on his elbows and gives a guilty expression. “And here I thought you could just sense when I lied, the same way I can with you.”

“Don’t discount that just yet,” I snap.

“I want people to like me, it’s ‘nother way we’re polar opposites. And people like a person who’s whole. There’s nothin’ wholesome about my life with my father. I’ve been lying my entire life about something or ‘nother. It just becomes second nature after ‘while.”

“Why does your father blame you for your mother’s death?” I ask, folding up the empty container and putting it to the side.

“’Cause I saw she was gonna die when I was really little. I told them both about it. I cried all the time about her dying. When she did become ill and passed, my father blamed me. He said I’d caused it to happen.”

“When did she die?”

“A few years ago.”

“You had to live with him for all that time by yourself?”

Joseph stares at the fibers of the carpet and nods.

His pain is palpable, making me ache. “Wow, the Institute really sucks at picking foster homes, don’t they?” I say.

“For real,” Joseph replies.

I push up into a standing position and offer a hand to him. Without hesitating he grabs it and I pull him up from the ground.

“Thank you.” Joseph swallows, pushing down another layer of something raw he’ll never let the world see.

Hollow words lurk in my mouth. They sound sentimental and lame as they bounce around my head. Twice I open my mouth ready to let them pour out and twice I press my lips together. Words aren’t always the right approach, especially in a situation as sensitive as this one. When used in the right context words are powerful, but right now I’m certain they would just be a device to overcompensate for the strangeness of this all. I opt for a shrug and a sympathetic smile.

Chapter Thirty-Six

M
y team is seated when I enter the lecture hall the next morning. Everyone’s wearing an apprehensive expression. Apparently I won’t be able to pretend yesterday didn’t happen. I had every right to be angry. Maybe I shouldn’t have punched Joseph in the face and I definitely wish I hadn’t done it in front of everyone, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. And then there’s George. I was cruel and spiteful to him. He was trying to stop me from doing and saying something I’d regret. I wish he could have. I can’t erase calling Joseph a liar, telling George he’d betrayed me and yelling at the only friends I’ve ever had. The regret makes my insides squirm.

Words again escape me, elusive and untamed as they gallop through my mind. Time travels by in huge gaps of silence as I hunt for the right phrase. The pressure builds in my chest until I rush into an unrehearsed speech. “Look, I’m sorry for my outburst yesterday. I wish you all wouldn’t have witnessed it. I lost my temper and said some things I regret. In hindsight I should have cooled down before confronting Joseph. This whole situation is confusing for me and…” My throat closes up with sharp tears. All I can think of is being Joseph’s twin and how weird and wonderful that is. I bite my lip hard to suppress the emotions about to spill forth.

“That’s what you’re calling an ‘outburst’?” Trent laughs. “If I found out my entire life had been a lie then this whole Institute would look different right now.”

An awkward smile forms on my face.

Samara agrees with a nod. “I was shocked you punched Joseph, but I’d probably do the same.” A second later she adds, “I’m better with kicks though, so I might have just kneed him in the groin.”

Everyone but Joseph laughs.

“Thanks for understanding,” I say.

Whitney stands, looking serenely sensitive. It’s a kind look, like an old lady who plays the piano in church would wear. It looks odd on a young girl’s face, but Whitney is both old and young at the same time. Her eyes make her look wise and experienced, but her sweet smile is still that of a teenager.

Those old soul eyes mist over with tears brimming to run down her face. Her arms are out as she walks in my direction.
Please don’t hug me. Please.
It’s unfortunate Whitney doesn’t read minds. Her pale, soft arms neatly drape around my shoulders. I pat her back, counting the seconds until she releases me. Tears well up in my chest, and then my throat, and I have to do something before they’re exposed. Pulling away, I force a smile. “Thank you.”