Lost in Thought (32 page)

“So your uncle…and I guess your grandmother too, they’re…”

“Thought Movers, yes.” Carter confirmed. “Uncle Dan is particularly strong, which is why Uncle Jeff thought he’d be most helpful. But we’ve never told Grandma Evelyn, so she won’t worry.”

“Your uncle…he can move objects too?”

Carter shook his head. “No, he’s limited to thoughts. Not that it’s much of a limit for him.”

The very gift I’d thought was most incredible, and fearsome, until I’d learned about my own, and now Carter’s. “Can you…?” I breathed.

He shook his head again. “No. Just objects.” He looked around and then gestured to a dictionary on a pedestal a few feet away. As I looked, a few pages turned, and then the book closed entirely.

I shivered. This would take a lot of getting used to. “So your uncle helped you understand your gift, how to control it?”

“Yes. It would have been a lot harder without him. That was probably, no,
definitely,
the worst week of my life.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “If it’s any consolation, this has probably been the worst week of mine.”

He squeezed my hand, and then looked down sadly. “Yeah…but at least your father didn’t die this week, too.”

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I gasped. “Oh, Carter! That was all the
same week?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I went with the always-appropriate standby. “I’m sorry.

I…I can’t even imagine.”

“Don’t try,” he replied.

My heart won out over my head at that moment, and I leaned over and threw my arms around him. He scooped me up and onto his lap, where I stayed silently for several minutes. Finally I murmured into his shoulder, “If you can keep this secret, why can’t you keep mine?”

He ran his hands slowly over my back. “Because you’re not in danger from it,” he said. “And because I promised Uncle Dan I would never keep anything from him. I owe him a lot, maybe my life. If I thought telling him could hurt you, I
would
keep it a secret. I swear I would, Lainey. But you’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”

I only wished I were too.

arch slowly became April. Those were difficult weeks for me, and I found myself as depressed as I thought I’d ever M been. And it wasn’t only me. My dark mood was reflected all over campus, even in my usually upbeat roommate. The months of late winter and early spring were by far the longest we’d endure, and people were dragging.

When I wasn’t counting down the minutes until Spring Break, and my much-needed escape from campus, I spent my time hiding. From everything. Carter and I, well, we didn’t exactly “take a break,” but we did dial it back a little. I’m not sure if that helped or hurt my mood, but it was necessary. I was under too much stress and he was, unfortunately, a minor reason and major reminder of it. Thankfully, he gave me as much room as I needed with little argument. I think he knew arguing or pushing me in any way would have ended our relationship almost instantly. I saw him only at the bookstore and only when I was with my friends.

The library’s third floor became my sanctuary. The reason I
usually
visited it—my official practices—I put on hiatus, hopefully indefinitely. I wanted the break, it was true, but mostly I felt I was ready. I had

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developed solid control over my Diviner abilities, incident at the Winter Ball notwithstanding. Besides, how could I possibly find myself in
those
circumstances again anyway? And I would continue to get better at using my abilities over time, like everyone else my age did. I was a little amazed and a lot proud at how quickly I’d caught up to my peers.

So instead of practice, or hanging out with my…well, I wasn’t sure what Carter was anymore, I spent my time alone with my problems. It was easy to ignore the things causing me such heartache when I was surrounded by other people. Distractions were nice sometimes but weren’t helping me come to terms with all the things I needed to accept. From the time I started learning about Sententia, I’d taken most of my strength from Carter’s support. And I’d appreciated it, I had, but if I couldn’t bear these burdens on my own, I’d never truly be able to live with them. This was the key to getting over my depression, I was sure. Sometimes you had to work
through
the darkness.

After stopping official practices, the next decision I made was to abandon, at least temporarily, maybe permanently, the quest to find my grandfather’s identity. Almost overnight I went from being desperate to know to desperately afraid of it. I couldn’t handle what might be one more shock or disappointment. Also, I’d lived for seventeen years without knowing. A little more time—or never—probably wouldn’t hurt me.

And it didn’t. It took me a week of hard thought to realize it was the right decision, but when I finally did, I felt relief. Why
did
I need to know anyway, besides curiosity? My Legacy wasn’t going anywhere, no matter who it came from, and I felt sure that if whoever had established it were still alive, they’d have come forward by now. My father too, I believed, hadn’t been interested in whatever his father had offered him the one time they’d met, and he’d turned out fine. More than fine. I surely would too.

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To my surprise, the thing I most dreaded—telling the Perceptum about my true identity—also turned out to be an enormous source of relief. I realized too late to save myself the hours and days of worrying that I couldn’t possibly keep what I’d learned a secret. The deadline for it becoming at least semi-public knowledge was imminent, as soon as Dr. Stewart invariably tracked me down and asked what I’d learned during my visit to Chastine Young’s. I’d had to get her permission to take the trip off campus in the first place, and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t come up with a creative way to avoid telling her. Obviously, I couldn’t lie to her either.

I was stuck, and with that my choice became simple. A few days before Spring Break, I finally relented. Other than never telling anyone at all, it was perfect timing. Carter promised his uncle would let me tell Dr. Stewart myself, and right after that, I’d leave with Amy for a long getaway in Mexico where my cell phone, conveniently, would not work.

So I gave Carter the go-ahead and held my breath.

And nothing happened. All my anxiety was for nothing. As relayed through his nephew, Daniel Astor was shocked but pleased by the discovery and looking forward to meeting me eventually. That was it.

Carter had told me over and over not to worry about him, or the Council, and though I couldn’t entirely shake my distrust of them, I felt a little foolish for being so fearful of their reaction.

Dr. Stewart also was shocked, along with outraged that I hadn’t told her immediately, and irritated that she couldn’t be the one to deliver the news to Daniel Astor herself. I only assumed that last one, but I would’ve put money on my being right. I pushed my luck that night by also requesting to be officially released from my practice sessions. She didn’t have to know that I’d already quit them unofficially.

Before giving a reluctant yes, she needed proof that I was ready. I passed her tests—all four more of them, including reading a necklace I

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was sure had been her mother’s or grandmother’s—with little difficul-ty.

I left her office that night feeling lighter than I had in over a month, and then passed a glorious week of relaxation and fun with Amy in Mexico. It wasn’t like we took off by ourselves to Cancun or did anything wild—we visited my aunt’s family, and she even joined us for a few days—but the beach, the sun, and the freedom from the Academy were wonderful. More than wonderful. They were exactly what I needed.

Boyfriends were strictly forbidden. Amy didn’t know the real reason, but she agreed our trip would be girls-only and, to my complete amazement, she stuck to it. I considered Spring Break as my final, well, break. How I felt when I returned would determine whether Carter and I got closer again or continued to move apart. I was testing that old theory about absence making the heart grow fonder.

The time flew by, and though I was sad to see our break end so quickly, I was eager to return home and, more importantly, to return to Carter. I was sure of it. In fact, I probably should have known I’d react that way. I was in love with the boy, after all. But I was also stubborn, and it took a week of warm sunshine to melt away my lingering doubts.

We arrived back at Northbrook early Sunday evening after the long ride from the airport with Amy’s parents. I dragged my bag up to our room, said a quick thanks to the Morettis, and then practically sprinted across the street to Carter’s apartment.

He opened the door and I threw myself on him, nearly knocking us both to the floor. But he caught me and held tight. I think we both knew how the other felt before either of us said a word.

“Welcome back,” he whispered into my ear.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered back and, with that, we were inseparable again.



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IF THE BEGINNING of April was the dark days, the end of April was its complete opposite. Spring truly sprung and like the weather, everyone seemed to grow brighter and happier. Classes were so busy there wasn’t enough time to be depressed even if I wanted to, and the end of the school year felt blessedly within reach. There were barely a few weeks left before finals, graduation, and, for pretty much all of the students but me, moving out for the summer.

Much to Carter’s delight, I’d joined the track team as my spring sport. I was even learning to appreciate it, though I honestly enjoyed swimming and volleyball more, not that I admitted that out loud. I’d been delegated to running hurdles along with long relays and I was average at all of them. The one thing track had in common with volleyball was the constant bruising. I began to believe I’d forever be colored yellow and purple.

In fact, everything was going along so perfectly, almost as well as my first few months on campus, that I probably should have been worried. With my weekly practice sessions ended, and no more secrets or surprises looming over my head, I’d actually found myself able to relax and, for the most part, to forget about being Sententia entirely. It was a little strange, going from living immersed in the world of it to generally just…being normal.

Carter said that generally being normal
was
normal, even for him. It had only seemed like such an enormous deal to me because I was so late to the game. This was a welcome change. Without constant reminders of them—Carter and I talked about his second job only when something interesting happened, which was rare—I even started to let go of my fears of the Perceptum. Life was, in a word, good. Busy as all heck, but good.

The very last week in April, I got a surprise. I returned to my locker after track practice, tired and sweaty and ready to relax, when I found it. As I opened the door, a neatly folded note fell out at my feet. It

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must have been shoved through the grates at the top. I expected a joke from a teammate, or something from my roommate, but it was neither. It was, of all the unexpected people, from Jill.

Though she and I seemed no closer to speaking terms than we had since the Winter Ball, I hadn’t been the only one for whom absence had made an impact. The week following our return from break, during an impromptu stop at the bookstore after class, I stumbled upon Carter and Jill embracing at the register. Apparently he’d finally gotten her to speak to him, or she’d finally decided she couldn’t stand avoiding him anymore. Carter really did love her—like a cousin—and they’d been so close for years. Whatever she felt for him, it had to have been as hard for her as it was for him not to be friendly.

After they reconciled, Jill still avoided me completely—I almost thought she had a second Sententia ability that let her know where I was going to be so she could make sure she
wasn’t
—and Carter’s gentle efforts to encourage her to talk to me, too, had had little impact. Or so I’d thought.

I looked around, but she obviously was not in the locker room anymore. She wasn’t on any of the sports teams this season, as far as I knew. A note from her was not only a big surprise, but perhaps a step in the right direction.

Dear Lainey,
she wrote, in her expectedly small and neat handwriting,
I’m so sorry and embarrassed about everything that’s happened. I should
have apologized sooner, but I didn’t know what to say and I thought you would
probably hate me anyway. Carter said that wasn’t true and I guess maybe I believe him.

I shouldn’t have done what I did either. I am sorry. I’m not sure what I
was thinking. It’s not an excuse, but I’d been drinking and just got caught up
in the moment. I guess you know what it’s like to want to kiss him, but you get

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to do it all the time. I’d wanted to do it for so long, even if I shouldn’t have.

Anyway, I’m sorry.

I’m not very good at being friends with people, but I hoped maybe we could
try. If you were willing. I feel like hiding on campus all the time, but I hoped
maybe if we became friends it would be easier. And I could have someone else to
talk to.

I understand if you don’t want to, but Carter keeps telling me you do. Will
you meet me, so we can talk and maybe I can apologize in person? I don’t want
to do it around school. People talk about me so much already I can’t stand it.

But maybe if I finally get to know you, I’ll feel more comfortable, and you can
help me learn how to fit in.