Mindspeak (10 page)

“Bad people? Do you hear yourself?”
I couldn’t hide my astonishment. “You make it sound like a James Bond movie.”

“No, Lexi. I wish this was fiction—the
make-believe world of spies and crimes solved by cool gadgets. It’s not. This
is real life. And you’re going to have to trust me at some point if you want to
get to the truth.”

“Why should I trust you?” Why was I
even sitting here with him?

“Because as long as your father is
ignoring your calls, I’m all you’ve got. We obviously have a lot in common. And
a lot to hide.”

I cringed. “That’s not fair.”

“No. It’s not. None of this is fair,
but neither of us knows enough. I have as much to lose as you do if the truth
is discovered. I just wish you wouldn’t shut me out.”

“Why haven’t you confronted your
father about all this?”

“It’s complicated.” His eyes iced
over. I had hit a touchy spot. “And you’re about to break curfew.” He stood,
and grabbing both of my hands, he lifted me to my feet.

I pulled away, but not before
breathing in the clean scent of shower gel that was quickly becoming so
familiar to me. “I’m trying to understand all this. I really need to talk to my
dad. Do you think your father knows where he is?”

“Let’s find out. Tomorrow, we’ll
ask him.”

“I have a swim meet.”

“After that. We’ll go to my house.
It’s a date.” Another smile played with the edges of Jack’s lips. He’d gone an
entire fifteen minutes without toying with me.

“It is not a date. But I’d
appreciate the chance to talk to your father.”

He tilted his head side to side. “Whatever.”

I walked a few steps away from him
toward the girl’s dorm.

“Lexi?”

I turned.

“I would really appreciate you not
shutting me out if you decide to go in search of these journals again. You need
me whether you want to admit it yet or not. That email mentioning the IIA? That
was a warning.”

The IIA should have been all the
warning I needed to beg Dad to change my name again and transfer me to another
school. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’m scared for you, Lexi.”

I turned and walked away.
I’m
scared for me, too.

Chapter
Eight

The Imperial March—Darth Vader’s
theme song—woke me at seven a.m. the next morning. “Dad!” I gasped. I threw the
covers back and leaned over the side of the bed. I patted around my books stacked
on the floor for my phone, which must have fallen off the bed during the night.

I had begged my phone to ring all
week. And now? Could I talk to Dad? Tell him I knew the truth? What truth was
that, really?

A cold sweat broke out across my
forehead.

“Dad!” My voice came out barely
above a whisper when I finally answered.

“Lexi, honey?” He sounded rushed.
Like he was walking outside.

“Dad, where’ve you been? I’ve been
so worried.”

“I had to leave town, but I’m back
in Kentucky.”

I massaged my eyelids, willing them
to fully open now that the initial shock of the phone ringing had subsided. “Some
really weird things are happening.”

“Are you okay?”

Was I okay? I didn’t know. “Yeah,
but dad, somebody threatened me in an email and wants to know where your
journals are. Sent me a strange lab memo as well.” Danielle’s blond hair fanned
across her pillow. Her chest rose and fell in a slow even tempo. I hoped she
was still sleeping. She typically slept through most of my craziness. Though, I
wasn’t usually this insane. “And I went to the storage place. It was a mess.”

“Look, honey, I’m in town. I’m
coming to see you this morning.” His tone was hurried, kind of like a doctor at
an appointment. Like if you didn’t get everything in that you needed to say, he’d
be gone, and you’d still have this place you thought might be a tumor.

“I have a swim meet at nine,” I
blurted out.

“Good. Great. I haven’t seen you
swim in a long time.” Though rushed, he sounded upbeat and actually excited to
see me, his only child, in action at school.

For a brief moment, I felt normal. “Dad,
you can’t do that. I thought you told me no one could know that you were my
father.” It was a very brief moment in Normalville.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take
care of it. Lexi, honey, did you mention anything about the journals to anyone
else?”

“Jack DeWeese is here. I mentioned
them to him. But no one else.” I closed my eyes tight. Waited for a response.

“That’s good.”

Good. He said good. I opened my
eyes and sat straighter. “So, I can trust Jack and his father, Dad?”

“I… I think so. We’ll talk soon.”

My shoulders relaxed. Soon. We’d
talk. Dad loved me. He would answer my questions. Everything would be fine.

“Lexi, I want you to keep your eyes
open. Look out for anything strange.”

Strange? Did he not hear what I
just told him?

“And don’t mention the journals to
anyone else until we’ve talked, okay? I’m leaving the airport. I’ll be there to
see you swim.”

“Okay.”

I dressed quickly, making sure to
pack extra goggles. I didn’t want anything to ruin this morning.

For some odd reason, I wasn’t angry.
I’d always known something was
off
about me. Weird. Strange. Unusual.
But I was still me. And my dad loved me.

And he was coming to see me swim.
We would get to have that talk. And he would fix whatever this threat was.

~~~~

What did Dad mean when he said he
thought I could trust Jack and Dr. DeWeese? Did he mean, “Yeah, sure. Of course
we can trust them.” Or did he mean, “I
think
we can trust them, but I
don’t know.”

Doubt crept in by the time I
reached the pool deck.

With headphones in my ears, I stretched
in the back corner of the pool area with the rest of my team. “Chasing Cars” by
Snow Patrol played. I purposely positioned myself away from Bree. The last thing
I needed was a super dose of that piece of evil.

The other team, our archrival from Frankfort,
Kentucky, climbed up on starting blocks and began warming up in one-half of the
pool. Spectators filed into the bleachers on the other side of the pool. I kept
one eye on the door for Dad.

Jack walked in with other students.
His eyes found mine immediately. He offered a wave, a silent hello. He looked
at ease in jeans and an untucked black t-shirt. It was Saturday, so students
were dressed in casual street clothes.

I shot him a low wave.

When the coach gave the signal, I
stowed my iPod away and removed my sweats for warm-ups. Bent over at the waist,
I dug through my bag for my goggles. Someone knocked into me, pushing me
against the wall. “What the…?” I whipped around and faced Bree.

“I don’t know what game you’re
playing.” Bree pointed a finger into my chest. “Stay away from Jack.”

“What are you, eight? You going to
call ‘dibs’ next?”

“Just stay away from him, Lexi.”

“Or what, Bree? You’re going to
beat me in the big race today?” I asked in a mopey toddler voice.

She stepped closer. Looked down on
me. “I’m going to do that anyway.”

Just to prove a point, I smiled,
angled my body around her, and waved. She followed my line of vision. Jack just
shook his head.

Coach Williams approached. “You
girls ready?”

“Sure am,” I said. “Good luck
today, Bree.” I smiled.

She glared.

I searched the stands. Still no
dad.

Jack shrugged and mouthed the
words, “Who are you looking for?”

“My dad,” I mouthed back.

His face registered surprise.

“In the water, Matthews.” Coach
stood on the deck. He blew his whistle to start his swimmers off the starting
blocks.

The team and I swam a few hundred
meters, and when I was done with the warm-up, I resumed my search for Dad. It
was no use. I checked my phone. Nothing.

When I was called for a race, I
swam. And won.

Then came the race that Bree had looked
forward to beating me in all week. The 100-meter freestyle. Eight swimmers
stood behind the starting blocks waiting for the command. I glanced over at the
door. And to Jack, who mirrored my concern.

“Swimmers up,” the race starter
called. He announced the event, the heat number, the length of the race and the
stroke.

I climbed up on the block and
sucked in a deep breath. I adjusted my goggles. Shaking my arms, I tried with everything
I had to rid my body of the built-up tension that pooled at the base of my neck
and spread down my arms.

I closed my eyes briefly, pushing
all other thoughts from my head other than a picture of myself winning this
race. I pictured my father walking in at the last second before the starter
sounded the horn to start the race, and he would see me swim.

“Take your mark.”

I put one foot forward and bent
over at the waist. My hands curled around the edge of the starting block.

The horn blew. I pushed hard with
my legs and stretched my arms out in front of me.

The race was over in fifty-nine
seconds. My hands touched the wall second. I lost.

After I ripped my goggles and swim
cap from my head, I dipped under the water to smooth my hair back. Coach
Williams pulled me out of the pool and gave me a pat on the shoulder. Two lanes
over, my arch nemesis on my own team smiled at me and slapped her hand down on
the water in an “I did it” sort of way.

I leaned my head back against my
neck. Defeated. The taste of chlorine seeped through my lips and onto my
tongue.

Still breathing hard, I turned just
in time to see Jack looking over his shoulder at me as he followed his father
and Dean Fisher out the door. I still did not see Dad anywhere. At least he
didn’t come all the way here and see me lose.

“What’s Dr. DeWeese doing here?” I said
under my breath. While the rest of the team chatted about our team victory, I
headed to the locker room. I raced through my shower and, ten minutes later,
headed for the exit.

When I opened the door, Jack waited
against the opposite wall in the hallway. His arms were folded across his black
T-shirt. He bent one knee, resting his foot against the wall. When our eyes
met, he pushed away from the wall. He seemed to hesitate as he stepped.

“Is my dad here?” There was no
mistaking the excitement in my voice.

“No.” He stuffed his hands in the
front pockets of his jeans.

“I don’t understand. He called this
morning. He was on his way from the airport.”

“Come on.” He lifted his head in
the direction of the door. “My father is in the dean’s office. They want to
talk to you.” He grabbed my elbow. We started down the hallway.

The feeling started slow—the building
of panic. In my stomach. My chest. I stopped abruptly and pulled my arm away. “Something’s
happened. What?”

He looked past me, over my
shoulder.

“Look at me,” I said. The furrow of
his brow shadowed his intense blue eyes. “I’m not taking another step until you
tell me what’s wrong. I’m tired of all these secrets.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry about what?”

Jack’s silence was deafening.

“Jack… You’re sorry about what?” My
voice grew louder and insistent.

“The police are here, too. It’s
your father.”

“What about my father? Is he in
jail?” Had he really been in trouble, like Jack said? “Where is he?”

“Let’s go to the dean’s office.
They’ll explain everything.”

“Jack.” I gritted my teeth. My
hands shook. “Tell me,” I pleaded, my voice lower and more in control. I could
handle whatever this was. “Is he in trouble?”

He tilted his head. “There’s been
an explosion. Your father…”

“What about my father?” I asked,
shaking my head.

“Your father’s car...”

My lower lip quivered. I swallowed hard
against the lump in my throat. “No, you’re wrong. There’s been a mistake.”

“I’m sorry, Lexi.” He reached his
arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

“It can’t be,” I said against his
chest. “He was on his way to see me.” We would finally get to talk. He was
going to watch my swim meet.

Other swimmers were exiting the
locker rooms now. Maybe they had been already, but I hadn’t noticed.

Bree pranced out the door and right
over to me. “Isn’t this just perfect?”

Jack dropped one arm to his side,
and kept one hand on my arm. I turned to Bree. Her perfect red curls framed her
face and a smirk as big as a Kentucky racetrack screamed victory.

“I told you to stay away from him,”
she whispered through gritted teeth.

I thought hard at Briana.
Go
ahead. Get angry with me.

“Back off, Briana,” Jack said. “This
isn’t the time.”

A spot of blood dripped from my
nose.
Want to hit me? Do it. Cause a scene.

“You’re a freak, Lexi. Your stupid
nose is bleeding, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Lexi?” Jack’s voice edged over
Briana’s. “Lexi, stop whatever it is you’re doing.”

Come on Bree. Come at me. You
want to hit me so bad. You know Jack DeWeese isn’t interested in you. It makes
you so mad, doesn’t it? Throw the first punch. Or better yet, throw a weak,
girly slap
.

Bree came at me fast and with hate
in her eyes. She lifted an open hand and aimed it straight for my face. A crowd
had formed and witnessed Bree taking the first swipe.

Of course, I was prepared. I caught
her wrist and shoved it away. I raised both hands and placed them on her chest,
and I pushed with every ounce of rage in me. I shoved her against the wall, and
she fell to the ground.

“What is the matter with you?” she
screamed. “You think I won’t tell the dean?”

“What are you going to tell him?
That you took a swing at me, and I defended myself? Be my guest.” I gestured to
all the witnesses.