The Marked (21 page)

I hurriedly wiped the tears from my cheeks. “What?”

“You’re sick again, aren’t you?”

“No.” I moved to my bed, careful not to jostle my shoulder. I kept taking deep breaths in an effort to keep myself from crying. It wasn’t entirely working.

“What is it, then?”

“Nothing. I hurt my shoulder. No big deal.”

“Hmm.” She didn’t move.

It occurred to me that I probably had a layer of dirt and blood on my face that would belie my words. I started to pull a towel out of my drawer, but I had to pause to steady myself against a new wave of dizziness. I could feel her staring at me. “What are you looking at? I’m going to take a shower, okay? I just stood up too fast.”

She opened the drawer, pulled out an old pink towel, and handed it to me. “Did something happen between you and Cam?”

I didn’t have the energy to lie. “Yeah.”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

She pulled out her chair and unzipped her backpack.

“Catherine, I bumped into your desk and knocked off a pencil. It rolled under your bed. I’m really sorry,” I said hurriedly.

Amazingly enough, she didn’t even flinch. “I’ll get it later. So, are you breaking up?”

“I don’t know. I guess. He said he wanted some time.”

“That’s never good,” Catherine said.

It was hardly the nicest thing to say, but somehow the mere fact that she wasn’t being mean sent me over the edge. The tears started flowing, and before I knew it, I was sobbing like a two-year-old.

Catherine’s chair scraped on the floor and she pressed a box of tissues into my hand. “You want me to go find Esther?” she asked. “Or Hennie?”

Ever since spring break, things had been weird between me and Esther and Hennie. Esther spent hours on her appearance—straightening her hair, applying makeup, putting together the sexiest outfits she could get away with, then juggling the boys that fell at her feet as a result. Apparently, she couldn’t rely entirely on her talent to keep her looks in place all day long. I’d tried to talk to her about it, but she hadn’t wanted to be bothered. The only thing she wanted from me was information about Trevor, and when I wouldn’t give her any, she’d get mad and stomp away.

Things weren’t much better with Hennie, though she and I didn’t fight. I just didn’t see her very much, because she was spending all her time with Yashir. At least, I assumed she was. Every time I saw her, she was rushing somewhere, usually while listening to music, so I couldn’t get her attention. The door to her room was always closed, and she never hung out in the cafeteria after dinner. Sometimes I had the feeling she was deliberately tuning everyone out, though I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.

“No, thanks.” I continued to cry, blowing my nose every now and then until I had created a little mountain of Kleenex on the bed next to me.

“If it makes you feel any better, my parents are splitting up,” Catherine said.

I turned my body so I could look at her without twisting my shoulder. “As in, they’re getting a divorce?”

“Yeah. My dad hasn’t been home since Christmas. I thought it was just because he was busy. They told me about it last night. My dad called in on the speakerphone.”

“That sucks,” I said.

She gave me a tiny smile. “They haven’t really lived together for a long time. I suppose I had a fantasy that someday they’d remember how much they loved each other, and everything would work out. But it won’t change my life. It’s not like breaking up with the cutest guy in school.”

A fresh wave of tears came over me, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

I laughed weakly. “It’s okay. He was always a little out of my league.”

“I thought you two were perfect,” she said. “Absolutely perfect.”

This time, when the tears came, I just let them flow.

OVER THE
next week, as the weather warmed, everyone started taking lunch outside and playing Frisbee during free time. It was on one of those emerald-grass-and-cerulean-blue-sky days that Barrett walked me down to the basement of the Main Hall for my focus period. I hadn’t spoken to Cam since our fight the week before. Each time we passed each other in the hall, we averted our eyes. Anna ignored me completely. Trevor was so cold I winced when I caught his eye.

Nothing about Delcroix felt right anymore. Without Hennie and Esther, I wandered around aimlessly between classes, alone and unsure of myself. Breaking up with Cam meant I had nothing to look forward to in the evening. No long walks. No stolen kisses. Nothing to get me from one hour to the next.

I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering whom I could trust and what hidden schemes were going on all around me. I contemplated calling Jack, but that just made me feel like a traitor. If I hadn’t known it was futile, I would probably have begged Grandma to let me leave Delcroix and go to Danville High instead.

“Where are we going?” I asked Barrett.

“Art studio,” Barrett replied.

I followed him into a familiar room, where I’d taken ceramics last semester. The Main Hall was set into a hill, so there were long windows on one side looking out over the lawn, and there was lots of natural light.

In one corner of the room stood the pottery wheel. I still had bad memories of the misshapen pots and cups I’d thrown on that wheel. On the other side were easels, several with paintings on them: a landscape on one, a bowl of fruit on another.

“I felt like painting today.” Barrett tied a paint-splattered apron around his skinny waist and pointed to an easel with a blank sheet of paper on it. “That’s yours over there.”

“Mine?” I repeated as he handed me a matching apron. “I’m not very good at art, you know.”

“Doesn’t matter. Sometimes the only way to relax is to occupy your mind with something completely different.”

“Great.” I looked sourly at the blank page. “Something new for me to screw up.”

Barrett didn’t respond. He took a plastic paint tray and filled it with a variety of colors, then began brushing with broad strokes upon the empty canvas. First bright blue, then swirls of yellow.

My shoulder still throbbed when I tried to lift my arm, so I set my tray of paints on the table and picked up a brush, then turned to the easel. Moving awkwardly between the table and the easel, I dabbed red and orange petals on my paper.

Barrett hitched up his faded canvas shorts, which threatened to fall off below his apron, and smiled. “Flowers? You must be in a better mood than you look.”

“Ha.” I painted a black cloud in the sky. “That’s more like it.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

I trailed a line of blue paint around my flowers. It actually looked kind of pretty, in a kindergarten sort of way. I pulled that sheet off and decided to start over without the black cloud. “There’s not much to tell,” I said. “I basically ruined my life. I let everyone down, almost got us all killed, then managed to destroy the most important relationship I’ll probably ever have.”

“Slow down,” Barrett said. He sat down on a table, crossing one leg over the other. “Let’s take this one thing at a time. How did you let everyone down?”

“You heard about Jack,” I said. “And the van being run off the road.”

“That doesn’t mean you let anyone down. The way I heard it, you did your best to help but didn’t have anything left to give.”

“You’re just saying that because you like me.”

Barrett flashed a smile. “I do like you, that’s true. But I’m not the only one who thinks that. You were hurt, D. You can’t expect yourself to move a full-size car when you’ve got a concussion and a broken collarbone.”

“They don’t care,” I said. A single curl kept falling into my face, and I brushed it back impatiently. “They just think that because it was Jack, I didn’t even try.”

“Who assumes that? Cam?”

I hesitated. “He probably thinks that now. Now that Anna told him about me and Jack, and he knows about the phone calls.…” I jabbed at the paper with my paintbrush. “It’s hopeless.”

“How about you tell me your side of things?” Barrett said softly. “It might help.”

I hesitated for only a second before the words came pouring out. I told Barrett everything. I told him how close Jack and I had been last semester, and how I’d pushed him away after he kissed me. I told Barrett how much I missed Jack even now, and how I’d talked to him on the phone when I knew I should have hung up.

“Jack’s your friend,” Barrett said simply. “You couldn’t turn him away. I understand.”

“But he’s one of the Irin,” I said. “I can’t be friends with him anymore.”

“If I were you, I’d make that decision based on the person he is, not the group you think he’s a part of.”

I studied the empty page in front of me, Barrett’s words ringing in my ears. I decided not to bother with form this time, instead mixing red and blue together on my palette. I pulled a thick brush from the pile of clean ones and began covering the paper with a deep, rich purple. “I just can’t believe he was involved in something like turning those paintballs into rocks,” I said. “He must have changed. The Jack I knew wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Are you sure about that?” Barrett asked.

Are you? Honestly, are you?

I set down my brush, defeated. “No, I’m not.”

“Just because he wasn’t like that when you knew him doesn’t mean he isn’t like that now. They prey on hate, Dancia, and incubate it. It’s part of who they are.”

“But why?” I said. “I’ve never understood why they hate us so much.”

Barrett sighed. “They were all students here once—or at least, most of them were. I didn’t recognize Thaddeus, but I knew a lot of the others.”

I was astonished. “How’s that possible?”

“You know they don’t let everyone into the Program, right? Even some Level Three Talents aren’t brought forward to Initiation.”

“Of course. That’s why they watch the first year. To figure out who they can bring in,” I said.

“Right. So, imagine you’ve got a bunch of Level Three Talents who aren’t brought into the Program. Where do you think they go?”

“They go…to regular schools?” I said tentatively. “Or stay at Delcroix but don’t find out about the Program?”

“They don’t want a bunch of Level Three Talents running around here if they aren’t going to be trained. Too much potential for them to discover sensitive information. Mr. Judan finds the parents a new job or gets the kid a scholarship somewhere else, and they move away. Most of the time it works out fine, and they never know what could have been. But sometimes they do find out, and they don’t go happily.”

I pictured the tan Buick driving down my block, Watchers coming after Jack with guns at the ready. “Like Jack.”

Barrett nodded. “Like Jack. The Irin search for people like him, who are alone and scared. We made them, Dancia. Before the schools and all the watching, the Irin were scattered, unorganized, nothing like the force they are now. That’s why no one likes to talk about them or where they came from. It’s like admitting you caused your own cancer. Everyone wants to sign up to eliminate them, but no one wants to say they created them.”

I set down my brush and held my arm against my chest, resting my shoulder. “How do you know all this?”

“I had a friend like Jack—a clairvoyant named Sierra. She figured out about Delcroix when she was a freshman. And like Jack, they didn’t trust her. She was…unstable. The visions had messed with her brain when she was a kid.”

Struck by the sadness in his voice, I turned my full attention on him. “And they kicked her out?”

Barrett hopped off the table and walked over to the window. “Judan sent her back home. He told her parents she was sick and they couldn’t care for her here. Her parents thought she was schizophrenic. They arranged for her to see counselors and get drugs, but all it did was make her worse. She killed herself last year.”

“Oh, Barrett.” I walked over to stand next to him, placing my hand on his arm. He swallowed, and the tendons in his neck tightened with emotion. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Just before she died, she told me the Irin had contacted her. They told her joining up with them would mean leaving home, being on the run, and being watched. They were open about that. But they also told her if she joined them she’d have a chance to fight back against the ones who were truly dangerous. They kept calling her, sending people after her, and leaving her notes. They told her they were freedom fighters, beating back the Governing Council; but she had visions of them attacking schools and killing innocent students in the Program. It drove her crazy.”

I pictured the Irin finding Jack somewhere, cold and alone, ready to hate Delcroix and everything it stood for. He would have believed whatever they told him.

“Barrett, who was Ethan Hannigan?”

He didn’t seem surprised that I mentioned that name. “Ethan was a student at Delcroix.”

“Did they kill him?”

He didn’t blink, just stroked his chin and said steadily, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?”

He shot me a hard look. “Ethan died under suspicious circumstances. I certainly wouldn’t put it past the Program to have eliminated him. He had a strong talent for controlling the weather. He was also incredibly smart and ambitious, and they believed he’d do whatever he deemed necessary to advance his own interests. He was headed for something dangerous, as far as the Program was concerned.”

“How do you know all this?” The errant curl fell back across my face. Red and blue paint covered my fingers, so this time I pushed it behind my ear with the back of my hand.

“I got some information from Sierra, and my father told me what he knew, which wasn’t much.”

“So what am I supposed to think about all of this?” I crossed the room to get to the window. The green lawn beckoned to me, and I imagined leaving Delcroix and all its secrets and mystery behind and running away through the woods. But what would I lose if I ran away? Friendship? Love? A chance to do something good, maybe even make up for some of the wrongs that had been done in the past?

“Damned if I know.” Barrett ripped the page from his easel. “My father believes in the Council and the Program. He thinks he can make things better if he just keeps fighting.”

“And you?” I shook my brush at him. “You’d better not tell me you’re running away to join the Irin. That might send me over the edge.” My smile faded when I saw his serious expression. “Oh, no, you’re not, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

I waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I said, “But…?”

“Every time our Watchers kill one of their people, the Irin get madder and stronger. I’m just tired of it, that’s all.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Me? Nothing. I’m just one guy, Dancia. There’s nothing I can do.”

“You’re giving up?” I was astonished. “Barrett, you’re a strong Level Three. Your father is on the Council. If anyone can do something about it, it’s you.”

Barrett carefully dipped his brush into the red paint and started making long streaks on a new sheet of paper. “Tara and I are going to bum around for a while after graduation. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun? Barrett, they tried to kill us last week. You’re going to walk away from that to have
fun
?”

He stiffened, defensive. “I don’t need your criticism, D. No one appointed me savior of the world.”

I had to take a deep breath, because the last thing I wanted to do was fight. I forced an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’d just better make sure I have your phone number. I might need help levitating someone next year.”

“I’ll be traveling a lot,” he said evasively. “I can’t promise anything.”

I gripped my paintbrush, carefully maintaining my composure. “So, you’re ditching me. That’s what this all comes to. After all we went through this year, you’re just done. Done with the Program
and
with me.”

“D., it’s not like that.”

“But you can’t even give me a cell number,” I said steadily.

“They’re going to want to use you in the Program,” he said. “I’m not sure I can be a part of that.”

“I understand,” I said. “You’re running away. You don’t like what the Council is doing, so you’re taking your talent and all your power and running away.”

“That’s just it: I don’t
want
to use my power for their purposes.” He slammed his brush against the easel, leaving the rickety structure shaking. “I’ve got friends in Europe I’ve been meaning to visit. It’s going to be a good year.”

“Right. A vacation. I hope you enjoy it.” I grabbed my brushes and marched over to the sink, turning on the water and rinsing out the paint in the metal basin. Streaks of red, blue, and purple washed down the drain.

I felt Barrett’s hand on my shoulder, but didn’t turn around.

“I’m not a fighter,” he said. “But you are. You’re strong enough to be on your own, D. You don’t need me anymore. And I hope you keep fighting. Whether I’m here or not.”

I ran up the stairs after class, unable to look Barrett in the eye or give him a hug good-bye. I felt betrayed, and I couldn’t pretend otherwise. I had always assumed he would be around for me, even when he wasn’t at school anymore. It gave me hope when I contemplated life at Delcroix during the coming year. Now that little bit of hope had been taken away, too.