Unique Page 9

  “I haven’t read it.”

  “It’s okay.” She smiles, and I wish she would stroke my cheek like she always did when I was younger. “It’s time for you to know the truth. I should have told you sooner. We just…we assumed we had more time.” She shifts, making the holograph wobble. “Do you remember when we had to take you into the hospital when you got that infection in your foot seven years ago?”

  I nod. “It was horrific. That was some of the worst healing.” Not worse than Celeste healing my back during that first Survival test, after that fight with Derrek and Terry.

  “They had to take blood samples to make sure it didn’t spread before they could remove it all,” Mom says. “But the samples went missing. Later, we learned that Joyce had taken the samples for her new project and that she had a secret meeting scheduled with Director Seaduss regarding some proposal, so your dad worked his way into the meeting. Dr. Finnias can tell you the details, but the short version is that the Directorate split.”

  What did she mean by that? How could I ask Dr. Finnias?

  And just like that, it hits me. Doc is Dr. Finnias. He was the CEO of Paragon before Dr. Cass took over, deposed during the Directorate split. That’s why I recognize him.

  “Shortly after that,” Mom continues, “Paragon released their research on the dangers of regression, and people started to panic and begged the Directorate to do something, but the Directorate Chief offered false reassurances. In a matter of weeks, he was found dead in his office—the Directorate blamed it on extremists—and Seaduss took his place.”

  I slump in the chair. “Wait, what does this have to do with me and those samples?”

  “Ugene, you are unique. Those samples proved it. And they killed people to find you.”

  “But I don’t understand. I thought it was fear of regression that caused the Directorate split.”

  Mom nods. “It was. Seaduss used Joyce to orchestrate the split.” Mom rubs her brow and sighs. “Once the dust settled, he introduced Proposition 8.5 to the Directorate agenda. Now, he is pushing a new Proposition that will further his cause.”

  Proposition 8.5 passed after I went to Paragon, and it allowed the Directorate to force people into testing at Paragon. If I hadn’t volunteered myself, the DMA would have knocked down the door to take me anyway.

  “What is his cause?” I ask.

  “I can’t be sure, but it has something to do with the people in Pax.” Mom sighs. “We wanted to get you to the Protectorate sooner, but it was too late.”

  “Because I ran away.” Tension seeps into my voice, and my throat tightens. “I thought I had something to prove. I thought he resented me. He was so mean to me, Mom.”

  “He just didn’t know how to react,” she says. “Ugene, he loved you more than anything, and, for the last seven years of his life, he dedicated every moment to protecting you.”

  Is she serious? She calls that love? “Why are you defending him? He treated me like I was less than worthless. All I ever wanted was to prove to him that I wasn’t. But the things he said to me, how he treated me every day…and you’re defending him!”

  Mom’s expression shifts from tenderness to anger, the lines on her forehead deepening. “You have no idea what it was like for him. Don’t you dare assume you comprehend what your father went through to protect you. It was never about him or me! It was you.”

  I open my mouth, but no words come out. All those times he screamed at me to try harder to fit in, insisted that I could make a Power manifest, wanted me to be ordinary. And all that time he must have known it would never happen. He must have. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I brush them away.

  “The second he found out where you went,” she continues, the anger slowly dissipating from her tone, “he set out to find a way to get into Paragon and get you out, no matter what.” Her words choke off and she sniffles, then brushes away her own tears. Her voice thickens with grief, “We both knew he might not make it.”

  My head is swimming, trying to process all of this while battling the grief threatening to break free. I just can’t understand why he would act the way he did toward me while doing everything he did for me. It doesn’t make sense. “I lost them both,” I say, but the voice that comes out doesn’t sound like my own. “Dad and Bianca.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ugene.” Mom’s expression takes on gentle compassion that makes me feel like I’m home, even though I’m not. “I know how much you cared about her. And her poor parents. They haven’t been the same since.”

  My chest clenches, like my heart is trying to implode. “It hurts. How do I deal with the hurt?”

  “It’s ok to grieve for them,” Mom says. “But it’s also important to remember that you are still alive, and they would want you to focus on living.”

  A loud knock makes me jump in my seat, but when I look around I’m still alone with the holograph. Mom glances over her shoulder, and her whole body tenses up. When she looks back at me, it’s with urgency. Her words come out in a rush. “You are the future, Ugene. The Protectorate is prepared to defend you, but you need to trust them. They can help.”

  “You trust these people?” I ask, pressing my fingers against my eyelids to stop the tears.

  “I do, and you should, too.” Another knock, and I realize it’s coming from her end. “You need them. And they need you. You are the one who can show the people that the Directorate is wrong. You are hope.”

  I lean closer like I can reach out and stop her from leaving. “I don’t want this.”

  “I told you that you have the potential to save us all. That hasn’t changed. If anything, I grow more certain of it by the day.”

  Leadership isn’t something I ever asked for, and being in charge of the people I helped escape is one thing…being responsible for the future of the entire city makes me want to crawl back into my quarters and hide until all of this blows over. But both she and Doc seem to think this job has fallen on me. I can’t let them down.

  “I have to go,” she whispers leaning closer.

  “Will you come here?” I ask, reaching for her before realizing I can’t actually touch her.

  “I hope so.”

  Muffled voices come from somewhere around her.

  “Read the letter, Ugene.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, the communication cuts out, leaving the room bathed in the soft blue glow of the inactive holograph. I rest my elbows on the table and bow my head into my hands. It’s too much. The truth about my genetics and my father. The expectations on my shoulders. Death and murder. Hiding in my quarters feels like the perfect thing to do.

  16

  Anger fills my chest, pumps out through my veins as I perch on the edge of my bed. Nothing makes sense anymore. The life I thought I knew was an illusion. Dad told me I used to have so much promise, that I was lazy like I could just will myself to be different. And I tried. I really did, but I would never be like everyone else. Dad had to have known that. So why did he push me so hard?

  My nostrils flare. My grip on the edge of the bed tightens.

  When Dr. Cass came to our house and I challenged Dad, he had been so adamant that I obey him. If I hadn’t acted like a stubborn, ignorant child at that moment, if I hadn’t been so sure I was right, he might still be alive. His disease might not have taken him. Whether he sacrificed himself for me or not, I failed him. I failed him in the worst possible way.

  Why would my parents not just tell me the truth? All my muscles are coiled up tight, ready to spring.

  Before Testing Day, Dad had distanced himself from me. After Testing Day, he’d alternated between devastating looks of disappointment and musclebound anger. Just remembering those fights makes the vein in my neck pulse.

  When we fought, he would slam things around, tense his muscles, and talk to me like a soldier. While he never actually struck me, I have no doubt that there were several occasions where he would have loved nothing more than knocking some sense into me. My breaths come in sharply over bared
teeth.

  Was it all an act? If he loved me so much, why did he always pick fights with me?

  I slam my fist against the mattress.

  Has anyone ever told me the truth?

  I scream loud and long, not caring who might hear, and grab the nearest object, hurling it across the room. My fist connects with the metal wall, sending a jolt of pain up into my shoulder.

  I scream until my throat hurts. Until my breath runs out. Until the rage binds everything inside so rigidly that I have to hunch over, coiled tight until there’s nothing left. No anger, no strength, no breath.

  I sink to my knees and cry. The rage is gone, replaced by utter devastation. Why am I here, in this place? What am I supposed to do?

  I’m proud of you, Ugene. His final words come back to me, and I start to shake on my knees.

  There’s nothing to be proud of.

  I should have protected you from this.

  But it was my own stubborn will to prove I was right that cost Dad his life.

  You’re stronger than I ever was.

  But I’m not. I’m not even half as strong as Dad.

  I’m proud of you…

  It can’t be for nothing.

  I brush the tears from my eyes. Celeste’s book is open upside down on the floor, the pages bent, and the corner dented from where it hit the wall. Shaking, I push off the floor and move toward the book, numbness creeping through my body. I pick it up, and as I smooth out the pages the blood on my knuckles stands out in sharp red contrast to the white pages.

  The book fell open to chapter five, “The Frozen River.” At the top of the page, Celeste’s handwriting catches my attention. I sniffle and brush away the last of the tears.

  A man who hides behind The Shield is safe. A man who raises The Shield is the Hero.

  It feels oddly like she’s speaking to me, like maybe she knew I would throw the book and it would land open on this page. When we rode the metro away from Paragon, I suspected that Celeste’s prophecy about the fall of Cassiopeia could be directly related to Dr. Cass. But if that’s the case, could The Shield in this quote literally mean this place? Maybe this is Celeste’s way of telling me I can’t just live here quietly, but that I need to fight, just like everyone else wants me to do.

  “I could use your crazy brain, Celeste,” I say, my voice strained. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Before closing the book, I flip to the first page and unfold it. Again, Celeste’s handwriting in large letters stands out on the title page. If you wonder where you need to be, it’s exactly where you are.

  I suck in a breath. Did she know this would all happen? I brush my fingers over the ink indents of her penned hand, then close the cover and set the book on the table.

  “Ugene? I heard you scream. Are you okay?” Enid calls through the closed door.

  I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t want to lie anymore.

  “No,” I call back, moving toward the pad to scan my palm and open the door. My eyes still burn from the tears, and I wipe at my face once more as the door slides open, just to be sure the tears are all gone.

  I must look like some sort of mess because the second Enid sees me, she offers a sad smile. “Your hand!” Enid holds my hand tenderly in hers, examining the wounds, then pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and wraps it around my knuckles. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dad…” I can’t get any more out. The words are just sort of…lost.

  “Oh, Ugene.” She pulls me into a hug.

  I hug her back, alleviated by her presence. With Enid here, I feel comfortable letting go of the grief. She makes me feel less alone.

  When I pull away, my fingers fumble at the zipper on my jacket where Dad’s letter remains. I sink down on the edge of the bed, then pull out the letter, turning the envelope between my fingers.

  “What’s that?” Enid asks as she joins me.

  “A letter from Dad.”

  She stares at the envelope. “Why haven’t you opened it?”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  “You…you want to open it now?”

  I glance over at her. “I can’t do this alone.”

  Enid slips her fingers through mine and gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I nod, and with my fumbling free hand, I manage to get the envelope open and slide out the paper tucked inside. Enid shifts closer, offering her support with a rub on my back. I pull in a breath, then let it out slowly and unfold the paper, reading to myself.

  Ugene,

  Understanding emotions has never been a strong point for me. Your mom calls it my kryptonite, whatever that means. Even now, I’m not sure I’m getting my point across. So I guess I’ll just come out and say it.

  I’ve never been a good parent. I never knew how to be a parent at all. I’ve made so many mistakes and had no idea how to fix them, so I used the only tool I understood, my Power. That was a mistake. One I will regret well into the next life.

  I should have told you sooner about how special you are. I should have accepted it or embraced it or something instead of using force to try and make you something you’re not. Maybe if I had, things would have turned out different. I just wanted you to fit in because it would keep you safe. But you were never meant to fit in. And you were right. I can’t understand what you’ve been through. I’ve never been in that position. It’s easy to use Powers to show everyone how strong you are, but it’s harder to do that without Powers, which makes you stronger than anyone I know.

  You do have superpowers though. You’re smart, strong, confident, all in ways none of us ever will be. You’re unique. That’s why you will succeed where the rest of us have failed because your strength is their weakness. You will find everything you need at the coordinates below. I have no doubt you’ll understand it better than me.

  I’m proud of you. Always have been.

  Dad

  I don’t bother with the coordinates at the moment. One word jumps out at me.

  Proud? I never had that impression, and the word is full of so many conflicting emotions. Love, loss, sadness, happiness…and fear. He really thinks I’m strong enough for this. Did he honestly believe I could do anything against Paragon or the Directorate?

  My quarters suddenly feel small, like the walls are closing in. I suck in a few breaths and close my eyes.

  “Ugene?” Enid’s voice is filtered through a torrent of my inner emotional aggression, a perfect storm of all the feelings I have ever felt for Dad and all the pressure placed on my utterly incapable shoulders.

  I start pacing like I can force the energy out through my feet and into the floor. As Enid approaches, I thrust the letter out to her, but she doesn’t look at the page right away. Her gaze is fixed on me, brows drawn tight together as she chews her lower lip. I just shake my head, no idea what to say, so she turns her attention to the page, reading as I pace.

  “Wait,” Enid says as she finishes, her gaze snapping to me. “What did he leave behind for you to use? Where do these coordinates take us?”

  I throw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

  Enid tucks her hair behind her ears, sets the letter down on the table, and approaches me. “Ugene, stop.” She takes one of my hands, and my feet lose steam, planting into the floor. “Stop. It’s okay to be upset or confused.”

  “I spent years of my life convinced he was ashamed of me.” My shoulders slump, all the energy has drained out through my feet into the floor.

  “He didn’t know how to maneuver around this,” Enid says as she steps in front of me. “His letter makes that pretty clear. Ugene, not everyone can express themselves appropriately. Some people really struggle with emotional connections.” She folds her hands, picking at her nails. “I may not have known him, but I can understand that. It doesn’t make it right, but it at least looks like he was sorry for his mistakes.”

  Was she saying that she had the same problem
? I shake my head. “That’s not true. You’ve never been afraid to speak your mind.”

  “Speaking your mind isn’t the same as knowing how to connect with people. Did he ever have trouble speaking his mind?”

  My heart pounds against my ribs. “No,” I breathe.

  Enid shifts her feet, and her enchanting dark eyes pull me in and hold me. Straight black hair frames her light face, and a small smattering of freckles bridges her nose from one cheek to the other. Enid isn’t just pretty, she’s…alluring.

  Bianca was alluring. The rogue thought makes my heart stall. What am I doing?

  The moment our hands touch, energy shoots up my arm then through my entire body. The hairs on my arms and neck stand straight. I try to find words, but nothing comes. My mind is a jumble. I miss Bianca, but I need Enid. Am I a terrible person for being attracted to anyone else so soon? Or is it okay to move on?

  The warmth radiating from Enid makes me inch closer.

  Maybe Miller was right. Maybe it’s okay. Nothing ever really happened between me and Bianca. But Enid…she is here. Am I holding on too tightly to something that never would have been?

  I struggle to gather the courage to kiss Enid, leaning slowly closer, and awkwardly. She doesn’t pull away. I wish she would pull away because that would make things easier but she tilts her head back so our gazes stay tethered.

  A knock startles both of us and we pull apart so quickly we stumble away from each other and throw down our hands as if ashamed of what almost happened.

  The door slides open, revealing Willow on the other side, looking from Enid to me and back again.

  “Sorry to interrupt…whatever this was…but we are leaving in a couple hours,” Willow says. “Be in Doc’s office in one hour for briefing.”