Chosen Ones (9 page)

“Have you read it before?”

“No,” I said hoarsely. I wanted to cry at the sheer beauty of it.

His face became even brighter. “How splendid.”

Our bodies were nowhere near touching, but the sense of him so close both attracted and amused me. He cleared his throat. “What about this one?” he asked, holding up a novel called
Tess of the D’Urbervilles.
I shook my head. “Your namesake,” he replied, setting the book on his desk. “We’ll save this one for another time. Don’t think we’re quite ready for it yet.” A slight redness colored his cheeks.

I gently opened
Jane Eyre
and started reading the first page out loud.

Chapter 12

I was fourteen when I lost my best friend. This was when Henry left me. Growing up in the compound would have been beyond boring had it not been for him. Our friendship probably seemed strange to those around us—we hardly talked. We didn’t need to.

A lot of the time, especially when we first became friends, we spent just with each other. I didn’t have the words to talk about losing my parents or the music and books that I loved. Neither of us knew how to talk of the things we had seen. Neither of us would ever force the other to talk about it, either.

As we got older, we became little smart asses, experts at mocking everyone and everything around us. We had secret nicknames for people. And nothing could touch us.

But change is inevitable.

Fourteen was an awkward age for me. I had grown in places Emma never had, and her hand-me-downs never fit right. I once even stole some tape from the supply closet and tried to flatten my growing chest. If Henry noticed, he never said anything. I was becoming the monster the council constantly warned us of.

Eventually, Emma secured me clothes that fit. She traded laundry duty with Sallie Jo for three months for them. I was beyond thankful. I still felt weird in my new body, but at least I could cover it up.

I wasn’t ready to become a woman.

One morning, as I sat with Henry at breakfast, I caught Joseph Nickerson staring at me. It was the first time I’d seen anyone look at me in such a way, but I recognized the suggestive gaze from the videos. I tugged self-consciously at my blouse, making sure I was covered. Henry’s brow wrinkled as he sought out the cause of my discomfort. When he saw Joseph continuing to stare at me, the fork dropped from his hands. Then
Henry
was staring at me.

His look was unfamiliar. Without a word, he got up from the table. When I tried to visit him later that afternoon, I was told he was ill. Three days passed without me seeing him. It left me antsy.

Finally, I found him pacing out behind the compound—one of our favorite activities.

“You’re okay?” I asked.

He shrugged.

“Were you even sick?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“What? Why are you acting so weird?”

He was staring at me again. I took a step away from him. I didn’t know why I had the need to distance myself, but I felt it in my core.

“It was harder than I thought it would be,” he replied quietly.

“What was?”

“Staying away from you.”

“Why would you purposely do that?” Was it because of what I was becoming? I had no control over that. He had to know I would still be different than the other girls. I wouldn’t be controlled by my emotions.

Henry took a step away from me. That one step, that one moment, and everything we had was gone.

“I can’t…”

“Henry.”

“I can’t, Tess.”

I knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting for me to tell him to stay.

But I didn’t know how to ask that of anyone.

The words of
Jane Eyre
skipped through my mind. How deceiving they were. No wonder the council had outlawed books. Stories enabled you to forget your life and your limits. They urged you to reach for a world that was never meant to be yours. There was nothing more dangerous than an imagination.

As I walked to the mess hall, I knew I looked like hell. I didn’t bother to tame my hair, which was no doubt matted with blood. I didn’t give a damn. Life couldn’t be one extreme or the other—feeling nothing
or
being a slave to my emotions. There had to be some sort of middle ground. I wasn’t able to live on one side of the spectrum.

There were ways to relieve some of the pressure of everything that weighed down on me. I would give in to what my heart demanded, but only a little. I would control it still. I had learned sitting in the room with James, listening to the words of Jane, that everything was about moderation. Reading the book, however wrong it was, allowed me to escape. But I would have to watch myself. I could not become seduced by the ideas belonging to the story. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to feel a little, but I would have to be careful. I had to remember how weak my species was.

I wanted to see Henry.

The mess hall was loud, much too loud. It was so bright that it was as if my senses were on overload. I needed sleep. After searching for a while, I spotted him and stopped dead in my tracks. There he was, as if he had always been there. And I realized he had seen me, too. He stopped and stared straight back at me. We must have only been ten feet apart, but neither of us took one step in the other’s direction. I felt the fingers of my hands reach for him on their own. He seemed to sense this and took a step back.

Our gazes still never broke. I held my ground, refusing to free him from my stare, and he didn’t try to escape. He looked so different from the boy I remembered. Our meetings were moments trapped in short glances—this was something different. While he was still rather lanky, his arms were toned. His sandy blond hair was longer than most of the boys. It was painfully obvious that any trimming he did by himself. His bright green eyes still entrapped me as they always had. He was nowhere near as beautiful as James, but genetics certainly hadn’t been unkind to him. I actually smiled.

After a long pause, Henry smiled back. I noticed the pain in it, the pain I wished I could take away. A smile full of the sacrifice he had made for me. I nodded and he returned it. Then he walked away.

I can’t say how long the interaction had lasted, but it had been enough. I needed to know he still existed; I needed him to know
I
still existed. He represented a part of me I was beginning to wish back.

The pain that threatened to crush me ever since Emma died didn’t seem all-powerful. I knew the feeling wouldn’t last, but I would hold onto it for as long as I could. I noticed a bounce in my step. I felt light.

I knew the smile still lingered on my face as I walked back in toward the serving line, and I made no attempt to wish it away. But when I turned and quite suddenly found myself with Robert, it grounded me. He stole the smile from my face.

He looked worse than I could have ever imagined. Wild and unkempt. I could feel the hate sliding off my skin: it was liquid, electric, flowing from inside me, down my legs onto the floor. His face twitched as if it were struggling to hold something back. I stepped to move around him but the sound of his voice made me stop.

“Tess? Be on your guard. Templeton isn’t safe for you.”

I flashed him the dirtiest look I could muster.

“What concern of yours is my work detail? I’m only there because you couldn’t resist having a go with my sister.”

I didn’t hear the next words he said. My eyes had somehow found Henry again in the crowd. He sat at a table with a girl who seemed faintly familiar. When he moved his hand to brush a piece of hair from her forehead, I felt my breath catch in my throat. He scooted closer and began to whisper something in her ear.

“Who is that?” I asked Robert, motioning to where Henry and the girl sat.

“Were you even listening?”

“Who is it?” I snapped.

“Julia Norris.”

I watched as Henry’s hand moved to Julia’s stomach. With a gasp, I noticed she was with child.

“Did you know she was a Templeton girl?” Robert asked. I could tell by the tone of his voice he was on the brink of falling apart. He was so weak.

“Yes.”

I didn’t wait to hear what he said next. The sight of Henry and Julia Norris made me sick. Was the child Henry’s? How could he be so stupid? How could he choose her?

I walked away without hearing the rest of Robert’s warning.

I felt cheated, like I’d lost something that was never mine in the first place. Henry had gone on living without me.

Chapter 13

James hadn’t asked for me to visit for a few days, so I was left to clean the many classrooms of Templeton. Even Gwen didn’t bother to check up on me. I felt alone. After the scene with Henry, it was the last thing I wanted to feel.

There was only one place that could make me feel better. I crept into the piano room, making sure there was no one around before entering. I even pressed my ear to the door to check that it was quiet. It was.

As soon as I was inside, I felt calm, my mind only concerned with one thing: the feeling of the keys beneath my fingers. Yet I couldn’t help but reflect on the ways in which my life had changed since first entering this room.

The piano was humming for me, calling out, and I was its gracious victim. My fingers rested gently on the keys. They felt cool to the touch as I began to play, the same song from the day I’d met James. The song my father taught me. It was mesmerizing and I couldn’t stop. I kept playing the same notes over and over again, rocking in accordance with the tune; it was the closest I had ever come to dancing. I wasn’t sure how I looked while doing it, but it made me feel graceful for once in my life. Perhaps it was because I was fully in control, something always desired but never fully obtained. It was my revolution, and I would emerge myself utterly in it for as long as I could.

As I continued, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I stopped playing when I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Someone was standing next to the piano.

It was George—the boy James had taken me from.

He smiled. His eyes were feverish with excitement as his fingers ran across the keys without producing any sound. It made me jealous to think he was touching them, as I almost felt like they belonged to me. Anger was quickly and most certainly replaced with fear when I realized I wasn’t supposed to be in there. I had a feeling George wouldn’t let the transgression pass as easily as James had.

“Looks like someone has a naughty side,” George said with a lazy grin.

I stiffened.

“Don’t worry; I won’t tell. I like a girl who can keep her mouth shut about breaking the rules.”

I knew he could destroy me with only a few words. I also knew George could sense my dismay, and he was enjoying it.

“Do you know I could smash every last key of this piano with very little effort? Really, I could do it without even breaking a sweat,” George said.

I glanced toward the door, trying to estimate how long it would take me to reach it. I wondered just how desperate his need for validation was.

He glanced there as well. “Oh, leaving so soon, Tess? That is your name, right? I had to ask around. Shame James snatched you up so quickly.”

“Yes. I’d like to leave, please,” I whispered.

“Well, since you said please,” he replied in a much-too-sweet tone as he motioned toward the door.

I wasn’t going to overanalyze it. I began to walk as quickly as possible to my escape. His arm was blocking the doorway in a matter of seconds.

“Not so fast. I think there are some things we should settle first.” He ran the back of his hand down my face as if it were nothing to touch me. I cringed.

“There she is. I can see her now. The part of dear little Tessie that thinks she actually has a say concerning anything in her sad, pathetic life. I figured you must be different, since James took an interest in you. You’re more foolish than the rest of the girls if you think you have any control over what happens to you here.”

I smacked his hand away. I knew it was a bad move as soon as I did it, but adrenaline was coursing through me, and it was the only thing keeping me from going to pieces. George forced his hand roughly onto my throat, knocking me back against the wall. My hands scratched at his, trying to loosen them. He was choking me.

“Now, now, Tessie, stop fighting and I will let you go,” he growled. It was the only time I had heard him lose his sickly, sugary tone.

I didn’t want to stop; I wanted to hurt him. But somewhere inside I knew I could never win. I grabbed tightly onto the fabric of my jacket in an attempt to control myself, and he loosened his hands from my throat. My body was racked with painful coughs.

“This is certainly not how I planned our conversation to go today,” George said, his usual tone back. He grabbed me by the elbow and led me to the piano bench. I could still feel my body demanding a fight, and I clutched the seat to keep me in my place.

My place.

“Such a rude little thing, and here I have come to offer you my assistance. If you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask. There are so many wants I could fulfill.” His fingers rubbed against my slash mark as he said this.

I tried to crawl inside myself, someplace where I could hide from this. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could control the thirst for violence that surged through me, or fight the deplorable repugnance for his touch that threatened to destroy me.

George cocked his head to the side. “What’s going on in that insipid brain of yours? You don’t actually think you can refuse me, do you? This is all a ruse, you know. I’m a chosen one; I can have whatever of yours that I want.”

I clamped my mouth shut.

George rolled his eyes. “This is boring. You’re no fun, all quiet like that. I thought you had a bit of fight in you.” He sighed. “Guess I’ll be going. But do remember, Tess, this is our little secret.”

If George hurt me, I suspected that James would want to hurt him, and I couldn’t imagine what the consequences would be for James if he betrayed one of his own for one of my kind. I wouldn’t tell James about this encounter.

George crouched down so his eyes were level with mine and his hands were firmly on my face, holding it in place so my eyes were forced to stare into his. “You two really think you can fool me? I half expected him to walk through that door by now,” he said with a small, knowing laugh.

I was so thankful he had not.

“I’ll find you out, Tessie. Not that it really matters anyway. Soon James will realize what you really are and what he is made to be. We were given the power for a reason. We were chosen.”

The nightmares were back.

I was at Templeton but I was alone. Well, almost alone. She was there, Emma. My dead sister. God, she was still beautiful. No one, except for perhaps Robert, had ever found her to be as beautiful as I did. To others, her nose was a bit off center, her teeth slightly too big, her upper lip too thin, but to me she was heavenly. I had always thought so.

Even in my dream I knew she was dead. As I slowly turned around I shuddered, waiting to see the signs of decay mar her lovely face. But as she faced me in the dark hallway of Templeton, she looked radiant.

Emma reached out her hand to me. I rushed to her and clutched her palm to me with all my might. I should have known it was a dream then; in reality, I would never be able to openly express such emotion. She reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and tapped my chin with her finger.

But as I looked down to take in all of my sister, to convince myself she was really there, I saw it. Her death. There was no running from it. Her white dress was saturated in red from her waist down. Blood sloshed onto the floor, leaving evidence of her secret for me to clean up later.

Even the blood couldn’t keep me from her. As I followed Emma up the stairs to the servants’ quarters, I didn’t care if I stepped in the blood that flowed from her in a never-ending stream. It was too much a part of me anyway.

There were so many things I wanted to tell her, but even in my dream the emotions sat rotting in my throat. My sister stopped in front of the door that I’d entered to clean up the girl who had been attacked. She wanted me to open it, and she began to pull her hand from mine when I hesitated. I clutched onto her fingers, forcing her to stay by my side. If only I could be by her side forever.

I opened the door and the air was sucked from inside me. There laid the girl on the bed. Just as before, she had curled in upon herself. This time I could see bloody scratches on her back, working their way through the thin white fabric of her nightgown, fighting for recognition. My sister thrust a bowl and washcloth into my hand.

The girl moaned in pain as I sat her up to pull off her nightgown. That was when I saw him: James, standing in the darkness of the corner. He looked past me as if I wasn’t there. Then he walked slowly to the girl, crouching in front of her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he whispered.

I felt the world tilt. Had he done this to her?

“You have to see what’s real and what’s not,” my sister said from behind me.

Suddenly, I wasn’t looking at James anymore, but instead at George.

The girl’s head fell to the side—she was too weak to hold it up on her own. I pushed the girl’s hair from her face. Then I dropped the bowl to the floor with a crash that rang of finality.

I was looking at myself.