Overtaken (20 page)

“Maya, I'm so sorry to bail on you, but I totally forgot I promised to work on this group project for English class tonight. I should only be gone for a couple hours. Totally understand if you want to eat before I get back.” Okay, maybe just part of the truth.

“Oh.” Her disappointment prevailed only for a few seconds. “No worries. I'll be here when you get back.” She said it with a resigned laugh, but it still made me feel awful. I was already pulling on my winter layers, ready to get out ASAP.

I tried to rationalize leaving Maya behind to go hang out with Chase. We weren't hanging out, I corrected myself. We were doing schoolwork. A required assignment. Shakespeare, at that. I'd barely had a chance to read
Twelfth Night
, but it certainly reminded me that you don't always end up with the person you expect to. Maybe I had been Olivia, desperately (and foolishly) chasing after Cesario only to have Sebastian rightly fall into my lap. So much had changed since Oliver had bailed on me and I'd been forced to partner with Chase. The door was open to Cochran Manor when I arrived. I shouted a tentative and echoing “Chase” into the void. No response. The grand entry foyer was dark. I danced back and forth on the front porch for a bit, but it was just too cold. I let myself in, calling out Chase's name and slowly making my way inside.

“Chase?” Again no response. I began to get a little worried. Why were all the lights out? Had I made a mistake coming here alone? I dug out my phone, pulling up the flashlight app, when I heard a voice.

“Marco!” It was a shout from a distance, but I was almost positive it was Chase's voice.

“Marco!” Definitely Chase. I could hear the mischief in his voice. Was this a game? If so, I was in no mood to play.

“Polo?” I replied, trying to pinpoint the direction of his voice.

“Marco!”

I moved through the dark house, focusing only on the sound of his voice. At least until my foot made a distinct crunch on the floor. When I looked down, I could see a trail of snow on the floor. Not the real thing, of course, but the glittery, fake stuff used to decorate fancy department stores for Christmas.

“You're getting warmer . . . ,” Chase said playfully.

I could hear him from the next room over. I followed the trail of snowflake breadcrumbs down a short hallway. When they made a sharp left into the great room an audible gasp escaped me before I could stop. The already beautiful room had been turned into a winter wonderland. Hundreds of hand-cut paper snowflakes clung to the windows and hung from the ceiling in cool shades of blue, silver, and white. They were softly illuminated by an equally impressive number of LED Christmas lights in the shape of stars. Chase stood in the middle of it, a mysterious wrapped package in his arms.

He smiled, proud of his handiwork. “The whole candles- and-flowers thing felt a little played out.”

“How many dance committee girls did you have to charm to steal all these decorations?”

“Ye of little faith. I did every last one myself.” He set the wrapped present down, holding up his hands for examination. “I even have the paper cuts to prove it.”

I moved in for a closer look, but I quickly realized that was a sly trap as well. His arms encircled my waist, and I could feel our hearts volleying off each other's chests as he kissed me.

When we came up for air, Chase's face was expectant. “Are you holding out for your present, or will you just say yes already?”

“What am I saying yes to?” He was definitely wearing down my resistance.

“You, Miss Ashley, just agreed to be my date to the Winter Formal. No backing out now.” He grabbed the present again and handed it to me. He almost seemed more excited about the gift than the charmingly Pinterest romantic gesture he'd created in his own home.

As I unwrapped the box, I realized I couldn't even remember if I ever knew about the dance at all. It seemed so insignificant and normal in the towering shadow of what was really going on in Barrington and my life. I was nervous to see what Chase had bought for me, not sure if I was ready for an overly generous gift as well. Expensive to me might've been pocket change to Chase, but it didn't mean I'd be any less worried about breaking it.

That just made the present all the more perfect when I saw it. I knew immediately it hadn't cost him a dime, just lots of hours of hard work. Gently nestled in pastel tissue paper was our completed Shakespeare project.

“I promised not to make you do it all yourself. This just seemed like the next obvious step.”

I flipped through the neatly bound folder. I was just skimming, but it looked like he'd done a really good job. Cute and with a secret literary strength? How did I end up in this situation?

“I totally understand if you want to give it a more thorough read before we hand it in. I worked pretty hard on it, though, so try to be gentle.”

“It's wonderful. Thank you,” I said, a bit suspicious about his magnanimous effort to win me over. I smiled at him. Something was off. Chase wasn't smiling back. “What's wrong?”

He hesitated before answering. “I've just had a rocky few days,” he confessed.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” I braced myself for something awful. Had Dana swayed him with her lies? Or had his father?

“I found out I have a brother.”

Oh, man. I chided myself, relieved. Not that he knew but that his angst and turmoil wasn't about me.

Chase continued, and it was like opening the floodgates. “I only found out two days ago. Though I've had suspicions about Oliver's sudden and intruding presence for a while.”

“Oh my God.” I tried my best to sound like this was news to me.

“It's Oliver.” He looked to me for a reaction.

“What?” And the Oscar goes to . . .

“You know the worst part? Oliver and my father have so much in common. Suddenly, all of my tutoring sessions have turned into awkward family bonding time. Oliver has so many questions about scientific developments at Bar Tech, and my dad is excited to have a son to share them with. He doesn't seem to notice that I'm completely lost in the conversation.” Chase's pain ran deep. “Plus, he told me to keep Oliver a secret, and I barely see my dad anymore, so I can't even talk about it with him.”

It reminded me that I missed talking to my dad . . . and my mother. I felt abandoned, like I'd been suddenly orphaned. I couldn't help but feel incredible sympathy for Chase.

Chase probably hadn't expected his romantic girl trap to end in a cuddle session in front of the Cochrans' stunning limestone fireplace. Or maybe he had. I certainly hadn't.

As curfew started to close in, Chase offered to take me home. It was a quiet drive, our hands clasped and resting against his thigh as his four-wheel drive delivered me home safe and sound. I might not have had any parents to report home to, but I like to think they would've given the date a stamp of approval.

The following morning Topher arrived at my house bright and early for our attempt into the great unknown: an astral projection built for two. It was a little awkward, as I was looking for him to lead, but I had to keep reminding myself that he had never done this either. I hoped this just meant we'd end up better friends on the other side.

“Should we sit together?” I asked, trying to keep my ideas as broad as possible.

“Oh. Sure.”

I sat next to him on the black leather sofa in the living room.

“Where to?” Topher asked, like he was a polite taxi driver instead of a teenager about to attempt to project our collective consciousness through space.

“Don't you want to decide?” I offered him the option. After all, it was his ability I'd be riding shotgun on.

“I've basically mentally mapped all of Barrington at this point.”

I gave it a moment's pause. Was there a trip that, if successful, we could also use to our advantage? Back up to Whiteface was certainly an idea, but the mission seemed risky enough on its own without adding Bar Tech's secret lab to the mix. Then I was struck by another option.

“We could check in on Maya's family.” It was something I probably should've made time for sooner, but at least if it worked now and we needed a quick escape, we could be out of there in an actual split second.

“Sure.” Topher shrugged and then offered his hand, and we interlaced fingers. “I'm just guessing, but it seems logical that we should touch. I think I should try to walk you through what I do and then, hopefully, when I project, you'll be there too.”

I couldn't help but think of my mother. This kind of teenage experimentation would be right up her alley. In fact, it was only a few steps removed from all those transcendental yoga retreats she'd done through the years.

“Close your eyes,” Topher continued. “I start by imagining my destination with as much detail as I can. So, for Maya's house . . . Sorry. This is so weird, explaining my thought process and trying to use my power at the same time.”

I could hear him take a deep breath and refocus.

“Try to imagine the street and all the houses,” suggested Topher. “It's usually pretty quiet there, maybe a car or two. Maya's house is in the middle of the block. It's windy today, too, the kind that whips right through your clothes.”

I did my best to paint Topher's picture in my mind. I had passed by Maya's house a few times and was able to conjure up the two-story white brick colonial with steel-gray shutters.

“Now what do we do?” I asked, anxious to be transported across town.

“Open your eyes,” ordered Topher.

And just like that, there we were, standing across the street from Maya's house, but instead of the vaguely impressionistic image I had held in my mind, it was real and vibrant, my eyes filling in all of the details I hadn't known to add myself. I was simultaneously awestruck and little nauseous.

Topher tugged me along to take a few steps. “Yeah, it's weird the first few trips. Got to get your sea legs.”

That was an understatement. I felt like I was standing on a platform suspended above a turbulent sea. Everything rocked back and forth. I couldn't get my bearings at first. My stomach was flip-flopping, and I was hit with a massive wave of vertigo.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” I muttered, barely able to get the words out.

“Just pick a point on the horizon,” Topher instructed, “and keep your eyes locked on it. That will help.”

I took several deep breaths and did as Dr. Topher ordered. I stared at the end of the street where it intersected Main Street on the outskirts of town. After about thirty seconds I felt my nausea slowly subsiding. Another thirty seconds later and I knew I was more in control, more comfortable navigating this strange and amazing out-of-body experience.

I then headed toward the front stairs with Topher. Each step felt like its own mini adventure. Maya's house was just across the street, but to me it seemed like an impossible distance to cover.

“So, how does it work?” I asked, trying to keep my mind focused and redirected to the task at hand. “We look solid—like real people. I'm not falling through the floor.”

“That's all still in R and D,” Topher replied, letting his inner geek shine. “I like to call it ‘physics lite.' As humans, so much of our behavior is determined by our ability to predict outcomes. As far as I can tell, my astral body behaves like my real body would, but only because that's what my brain expects to happen. When I consciously push those boundaries . . .” He paused to demonstrate.

Topher put his hand on the stair railing and started to push. After a second, the resistance gave way, his hand passing straight through the metal bar.

“I can break the rules. I've only just started messing around with it, but in theory, I should be able to walk through walls. Run incredibly fast. Maybe even fly. I just have to wrap my mind around each thing first. But really, I'm not a scientist. It's equally possible I've just watched
The Matrix
too many times.”

“Well, I don't feel the need to challenge physics anytime soon. It's weird enough just being here,” I admitted, feeling more comfortable and starting to get into the swing of things.

Topher and I circled around the house, keeping our distance while we peeked in the windows. No sign of Bar Tech Security anywhere. Nothing seemed amiss. Maya's mother was in the kitchen, sipping coffee and talking on the phone. I heard the garage door opening up. I saw Maya's father pulling out in his Jeep Cherokee, presumably off to work. All in all, a normal morning.

“You ready to go back?” I asked Topher. My stomach definitely felt better, but a distinct fatigue had taken its place, like I'd run a marathon or something.

Topher nodded. We crept behind the trees and made sure no one was watching as we vanished into thin air.

Before I knew it, I was back on my couch, safe and sound, sitting next to Topher. The sensation I experienced felt similar to the first few seconds out of a vivid dream, where your body doesn't immediately respond to your brain's requests. As soon as it would listen, my hand covered my mouth. I'd spoken too soon about that nausea.

Topher, on the other hand, was excited and energized.

“Next stop Antarctica,” I said with a hopeful smile. Unfortunately, his cold feet reemerged.

“I know you want to talk to your mom, but Antarctica is really far away. I don't even know what it looks like. Some fuzzy vision of snow and ice could just as easily land us in Siberia.”

I knew the risks were great, but I felt as though I was out of other options. Then I remembered: the photos that Mom had sent with her Christmas gifts. I ran upstairs to retrieve them.

A few minutes later, Topher had spread them out on the coffee table like a collage. He was still hesitant. “It's a start, I guess. But there's no context, no reference point. I don't know if it's enough.”