I Become Shadow (13 page)

My jaw dropped and my eyes widened. I managed a smile and attempted to recover. “That’s awesome.”

“I know, isn’t it?”

Thank goodness Junie had never been good at reading
people, especially me, so the swirl of emotions was lost on him. I
was
excited for him, really I was. He was getting out of here and finally beginning his life. But I thought I’d go first and he’d be the one left all alone in this trash bin. Luka aside, I knew the truth. Junie was better, stronger, more confident—so they’d save him for somebody
really
important. Selfish, yes, but still, it’s what I had thought. I’d never considered it happening the other way around.

I played my part well as I transitioned from smiling-surprised Ren to head-shaking-can’t-believe-it Ren. This would of course be followed up by totally-happy-for-you Ren. But you’re-leaving-me-all-alone Ren was always lurking underneath.

As head-shaking-can’t-believe-it Ren I said, “It really is great.”

Enter totally-happy-for-you Ren with a, “I’m so excited for you.”

“Thanks,” he said. When we sat down he asked me, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, really.” I had given in momentarily to you’re-leaving-me-all-alone Ren and somehow he’d noticed.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Do you know where you’ll be going?”

“No.”

“When will it happen?” I asked.

He looked at a clock on the wall and said, “Fifteen minutes. I was supposed to go shower and change, but I had to say bye.”

“I would have figured it out.”

“It would have been rude.”

And that was one of the many things about Junie I loved. He now knew a thousand different ways to kill a person but still kept his country boy manners. Here he was minutes from a moment four years in the making and all he could think about was not being rude to his old pal Ren.

Was this going to be the last time I’d ever see him? His hand was resting on the table. Reflexively I reached out and held it with my own.

I looked at him in the eye. “Good luck, Junie. Goodbye.”

He swallowed but tried to smile. “That’s it? That’s all you got for me?”

“I was trying to say goodbye.” I snapped my hand away. “I thought this was it. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I’m not good at this stuff.”

“Obviously.” He then looked at me in a way I’d never seen before. “Ren, you’ll know when I’m saying goodbye to you.” He stood up and said, “I’ll come by after my link.”

There he left me, sitting in that damn deli with nothing but my own stupid thoughts to myself. The dam had burst and the feelings I’d held in check for so long were loose. It was a good thing he was getting his FIP. The quicker he was gone, the quicker I could start forgetting about him.

I WAS A ZOMBIE
as I made my way back to my new apartment. Whether Junie had meant to or not, his comment had infected my brain like a virus. What the hell had he meant by, “You’ll know when I’m saying goodbye to you?”

Before I knew it, I was standing there staring at my door, not moving. Was this the moment he was finally going to
say to hell with all the rules we’d set up and the sidestepping we’d done to avoid hurting each other? Should I let him?

In the shower the argument, privy only to myself, continued.
Maybe I should initiate it. I don’t want to live the rest of my life regretting I never did anything either. Besides, don’t I owe it to myself to make sure I know how I really feel? Or better yet, I could treat it as a reward for making it through this place. Yeah, it would be my well-deserved reward kiss
.

While blow-drying my hair I got queasy. I’d never kissed anyone. Not for real anyway. Maybe I should suddenly become ill. No one wants to kiss a sickling. I put down the hair dryer and gave a weak cough.

I looked in the mirror and squeaked out, “I got the black lung, Pop.” I smiled at my own funny. No, pretending to be sick wouldn’t work since I was a terrible actor. So it was back to the reward concept; best I had.

I felt like I was about to vomit.

Oooh, vomit breath. Now that would totally back him off. And we’re back to the sick idea.
Come on body, heave away
. Alas, no heaving.

Tired of my own crazy, I sat down at the desk with a
hmph
. If Junie wanted to give it a shot when he got here, who was I to stop him? He’d put up with me for so long he earned the chance. But I wouldn’t make it easy. I’d be sure to make it as awkward and embarrassing as possible for him. Heck, for both of us.
Boy thinks he can kiss me, huh? Ha!

THREE HOURS LATER AND
still no Junie. Maybe once you got linked they shipped you out immediately? Poor planning on Junie’s part if so.

While waiting for Prince Idiot I made the mistake of checking to see if my old email was active. It was. Most of it was junk. A lot of penis enlargements and Viagra ads.
Know your audience, folks! Come on
.

But then I saw it. An email from my mother. And then there was another. I did a quick search and it brought up more. She had sent a new one every week. The first few were begging me to come home, saying she was sorry for whatever had caused me to leave. They then transitioned to pleading for some kind of contact to let her know I was okay. After they identified my “body” and held my funeral, the emails stopped for a few months. But then they started up again, with a new tone. She’d accepted I wasn’t coming back. Instead each email was an update on the family, and what was going on in their lives. I ate it up.

I got through about a quarter of them before I couldn’t take it anymore. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I wanted to email her back. I even hit
REPLY
and typed out I’m alive. I even went so far as to hover the mouse over the
SEND
button before caving and deleting the response.

Had I gone through with it a visit from the Hunters was a guarantee. As much fun as my sparring with Luka had been I knew in the real world I was no match for him, let alone a group of five exactly like him. The secrecy of this program was bigger than any one of us. If I made any contact with my family they would be killed too, after me. Secrets must be kept.

My emailing trip down memory lane had been more of a plummet, and it put me in a funk. A bad one. The usual routines did nothing to get me out of it either. Knife tricks.
Nothing. Five hundred push-ups. Nada.
Harry Potter
? Even my wizarding friend couldn’t break this one. I was getting mad at myself the longer this took. If I was going to experience my first kiss I was going to enjoy it, damnit!

When I was about to explode, there was a knock on the door.

Son of a …!
I was still funkified and not ready for this pivotal moment in my ever-so-eventful love life.

“It’s open, come on in,” I said loudly but with a touch of bitterness.

But no one did. “Come in, Junie,” I said a bit louder.

Another knock. Finally I stormed to the door. “Jesus, Junie, just come in.”

Before me stood a small girl dressed in an outfit similar to what a hotel staffer would wear. She held out a cardboard box. “I was asked to deliver this to you by Mr. Miller.”

I took the box from her and asked, “Where’s Junie?”

“He’s been assigned and is being shipped out. Good day, ma’am.” She turned on her heels and headed toward the elevator.

Huh? Seriously?
My fingers felt clammy as I closed the door. The silence was suffocating. Reality set in. He was really gone and I’d never see him again. Ever.

How could he have not come to say goodbye? He said he would. Instead I get this stupid box? I was beyond angry. I was enraged about a kiss that never was. I had been nervous, yes, but I
had
wanted it. No Junie meant no kiss. I would be living that life of regret after all.

Funk on with a vengeance. I tossed the stupid box on the kitchen table and slumped down into a chair glaring
at it. It wasn’t even wrapped. On top was a sticky note with his sad little chicken scratch on it:
Sorry I couldn’t do this in person. They were pretty adamant about it
.

Adamant?! I’d show him adamant. I tore the note off and tossed it on the floor. I ripped open the cardboard box and took out the ornately carved wooden chest from inside it. It had my initials, R.S., carved into the top. I unhinged the latch and flipped open the box. There were two nasty-looking trench knives inside. Vicious little things they were, with brass knuckles around the handle, a blade on top, and a small point called a skull cracker on the bottom. If you couldn’t stab your enemy, you could beat them to death. Trench knives were my favorite.

I picked one up. Even furious, I could appreciate how badass these were. It was practically weightless and perfectly balanced. My reflection shone back off of the blade. I looked how I felt: pitiful and angry. I put the knife back into the box and closed the lid. There was some small writing under my initials on the lid of the box that I had originally passed off as decorative swooshes. It read:
Remember when?

The waterworks were hinting at an encore performance when there was a knock. But it didn’t come from the door. It came from behind me.

Standing on my balcony was Junie Miller.

I barely managed a stuttered, “Wha …” and finished it off with an odd, “How?”

Anxiously he said through the glass, “I climbed.”

“But—” I started to say but was cut off.

“Hurry up, they think I’m packing.” He motioned for me to let him in.

I ran over to the door, unlocked it, and slid it open. He took one step inside and, without hesitating, took my head in his hands and kissed me. It was sweet, passionate, a little wet. It smelled like toothpaste. It was the most wonderful sensation I’d ever felt. It was the release of years of pent-up emotion. And it was over way too quick.

He pulled his head away, but kept my head cradled in his hands when he murmured “
That’s
me saying goodbye.”

He wrapped his arms around me and held me for a few seconds. He let go of me, backed through the patio door, and climbed over the edge of my balcony railing where a
grappling hook sat firmly latched to a post. Upon grabbing the rope, he looked me in the eye. “I love you, Ren Sharpe,” he said.

Then he jumped off and disappeared down the side of the building.

Funk gone.

“I love you, too,” I whispered.

I HONESTLY HAVE NO
idea how long I stood there before the ringing of a phone snapped me out of my trance.
Will somebody answer that damn thing?
My body still tingled from the whole experience with Junie, and I wanted to cling to the euphoria because I knew as soon as it was over the cold truth of his goodbye would take over. The kiss made me feel alive again. But that stupid ringing was messing it all up. Finally it stopped.

Junie freakin’ Miller. I got to hand it to the simple-minded kid, I did not see
that
coming. What a way to go out. Something inside of me had been awakened. Was it love? Or just hormones? All I know was I wanted more.

RING!

God damnit! Answer your phone! Wait, is that my phone?
I turned. There was a small screen on the wall by my front door that was flashing, ringing.

When I tapped it, a uniformed young man with a clean-shaven face stared back at me.

“Yeah?” I asked annoyed.

He cleared his throat and said, “Ms. Sharpe. Your assignment has been found.”

Holy nut jobs
.

“Your escort will direct you to your linking tomorrow at six
A.M.
”

The screen went blank. Like a tidal wave, the excitement grew and grew until I could hardly contain it. It was official. I would be a Shadow.

The only problem was I had to wait until morning. This was downright mean, people. This was worse than any of the physical and psychological torments they had put me through here. Couldn’t they have called me in the morning to tell me instead of putting me through this? Now, of all times? On the plus side, I knew that linking would accomplish something crucial. It would focus my mind on someone other than Junie Miller.

I GOT ZERO SLEEP
. My imagination ran wild all night. But when I tried to picture my FIP, all I could picture was Junie. Six
A.M.
could not come fast enough. When there was a knock on the door I had it open before the second knock.

It was the same small girl who’d given me Junie’s gift. She seemed to be as bored doing this as delivering packages to me. Or maybe she was just annoyed that she had to be up this early and thus the sourpuss face and sulking demeanor.

I followed her to the elevators. Instead of pushing the down button, she walked right up to a solid wall and placed her palm on it. There was a
ding
, and the wall slid open to reveal a super-secret elevator. We stepped inside, and she pushed a button marked l2. But before the doors shut, she stepped out, leaving me alone on my trip.

I was antsy on my solo ride to Link-town. As much of a buzz-kill as that lame girl was, at least she was company. Was it me or had I been in here a while? Was it broken? I toyed with the idea of pressing a new button to check but thought better of it. Instead I did what I do best: zoned out.

Will it hurt? Will my person be cool? I pray they’re not an infant. How boring would that be? Good lord, where is this thing taking me? What if I actually failed my training, and they’re taking me back for round two? I would be that older, stupid kid doing it all over again, the one that they all laugh at …

I hadn’t even realized the elevator had stopped until the doors slid open. Waiting for me was Not-Beth. We’d become as cordial as two people can be when one issued the other a dosage of liquid hell every night. I’m sure she’s a really swell person with a pet puppy in real life, but to me she was and always will be the evil shot girl. Not-Beth equaled no sleep and pain.