One Wish Away (17 page)

Dad nods, his grip on the steering wheel not lessening.

The ten-minute ride to SEAD is…dangerous. After going through two stop signs without slowing down, I honestly believe it would be safer for the girl without the license to drive.

He is seriously freaking me out. I rest my hand on my father's as we stop to talk to the SEAD guards.

“You can tell me, Dad. You can tell me what's going on.” I squeeze his fingers and will him to confide in me.

As we park the car and walk into the lobby Dad stops mumbling and says, “I didn't know what to do, Lyra. Okay? I didn't know what to do.”

Secretary Morgan, arms crossed, looms next to the Bonnie's desk. He takes a few steps towards me. “Lyra. I apologize for making your father late in picking you up. We were having a discussion it had us tied up a bit.”

The Secretary grabs my arm and every muscle in my body tenses as his fingers completely wrap around my non-existent bicep.

“What's going on?” I tug, but it's no use. My head darts to my father who gestures for me to walk forward. “What's going on?” My voice rises as I say it a second time. “Dad?”

“We're going to ask you some questions, Lyra. That's all.” Morgan opens the door and the universe welcomes us. I'm grateful for the darkness. They can't see my expression of horror and the tears forming in my eyes.

“Ask me what?”

Secretary Morgan pushes me into a conference room, smaller and less comfortable than the previous ones I've been in. He points at a chair but I stay standing, arms wrapped across my chest.

“I won't do anything until you tell me what's going on.”

The Secretary has a look of payback. My breath stops. What if he found out about Darren? What would they do to him?

“Sit, Lyra. You're not in trouble.” The Secretary takes a seat and I realize we're the only two in the room.

Where did my dad go?

“Lyra, please, sit.”

That calculating smile is still present but he doesn't seem mad. I stumble into the nearest chair and grab the cool surface.

Morgan straightens his coat. “I will be the first to admit I did this on purpose. You will remember that we discussed the third wish. What you won't remember, is that it has already been granted. The idea—”

“Wait, third wish? No, the third wish hasn't been cast yet.”

I stop myself from saying more. The Secretary looks to a wall of glass. I bite my lip as I watch his eyes almost connect with an invisible someone.

It's a two-way mirror.

My breathing accelerates and suddenly the room is spinning. I faintly hear the Secretary's voice but I can't turn my mind off from thinking the most horrible of thoughts. What questions are they going to ask me? Will there be a lie detector test? I certainly have a number of things I'd like to keep hidden.

How come I don't remember a third wish?

A hand slams against the table in front of me and I snap straight in my seat.

“Lyra!” the Secretary shouts. “Focus.”

He grabs my shoulder and turns the chair to face him. “We granted the third wish today, while you were at school. We needed to have someone to question.”

“You
what
?” I spring to my feet, hands in front of me. I think I'm going to be sick. “You're using me as a
test subject
?”

The Secretary cocks his head and nods. “Precisely. Come on, Lyra! Think like a
scientist.
Look at the problem from every angle. What better way to fully understand how the StarCatcher works than to interview someone who's actually experienced it?”

I cross my arms over my stomach, bury them in my flannel shirt. I am now different from everyone in this building. My reality is not theirs. There are people, my father and aunt included, behind that mirror who want to
study
me because I'm their control group.

“Lyra.” Morgan takes a seat and runs a hand over his face. “You will have to answer our questions or you will be fired. If you're fired you will no longer work here and if you no longer work here…” He trails off, eyes fixed on me.

I take a seat on the other side of the room, place my arms on the table and wait for him to begin.

“I knew you would understand.”

“Let's get started, then,” I say coolly, looking at him through my lashes and picturing those behind the mirror raising their pens to their clipboards.

My father included.

“Brilliant,” Secretary Morgan says and gestures to the glass wall. Seconds later, Bennett comes waltzing in, beady eyes, creepy smile and all.

“Lyra? Bennett.” He reaches across the table to shake my hand. Even though I know who he is, we've really never talked. Or been properly introduced. So I oblige and put my hand in his. Last thing I need is for anyone to have a reason to throw me behind bars.

Bennett sits on the other side of the table, across from Morgan. He pushes his thin-rimmed glasses up his nose; his eyes never leave mine. With a look of awkward, forced kindness, he continues.

“As you know, I'm the psychologist working with your father and aunt on the StarCatcher.” He taps his pen to his clipboard. “We mapped out possible side effects for the human mind after the wishes were granted.”

I think he wants me to say or do something, but I'm too afraid. I couldn't possibly feel any smaller. Any more vulnerable. After I began believing in the powers of the StarCatcher, I thought it was wonderful, the things we could do. The people we could save. But right now, I don't even know what has been changed.

Do I want to know?

“So essentially, we're here to see what, if anything, you remember of the old reality.”

“Okay,” I whisper, my eyes darting between the two men at the other side of the room. So many parts of me beg to fly to the one-way mirror, pound on it and cry for my father. But he can't help me. And I won't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me that vulnerable.

“Great.” Bennett shifts in his seat. “What were you doing at 10AM this morning?”

I let out a large exhale at the easy question. My head seems to float as I try not to focus on Bennett's rat eyes, or the fact that a dozen more pairs are staring at me. I lick my lip and cringe at the taste of blood.

“Um…” I clear my throat and try again. “10AM. I was playing basketball. In gym class.”

Bennett's eyebrows rise as he looks down at his paper and scribbles, all the while nodding and mumbling words of understanding. “Yes. I see. Were you playing a game? Shooting around?”

“We were scrimmaging.”

“Yes. I see. Good.”

Secretary Morgan changes his position, placing his head in his hand, his cheek folding over his fingers.

“Good. Good. Was there anything different about this gym class?”

“Uh. Well. I played with the good kids.”

“Like the well-behaved kids?”

“No.” I shake my head, which in some way frees me from the statue I was before and I slide forward onto my seat. “I played with the kids that are pretty good at basketball.”

“Great. An academic and an athlete too.” Bennett looks at the two-way mirror. “You should be very proud.”

“Is that all?”

“No, no, Lyra. I've still got questions.”

That smile on Bennett's face is disturbing. He might be able to play the part of a clown even without makeup.

“Why are you smiling?” Again, Lyra the Ice Queen.

Bennett's expression changes and he looks at his clipboard.

“Do you remember anything strange happening in gym? Any confusion? Illness?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Flashes of light. Time running slower. A star being sucked from the sky. Poof. Gone.”

Secretary Morgan lifts his head and Bennett stops writing on his notepad. I'm not in the least bit amused at being their lab rat.

“No,” I whisper. There's a bite to it. “I don't remember anything out of the ordinary.” I think hard for the first time about gym class. “I felt a little light headed, but I don't workout much, so I'm sure that wasn't out of the ordinary. Coach told me I was decent at basketball and I got invited to my first high school party.”

Bennett's smile returns full force, larger than it was before, and I actually feel the need to shy away from him.

He places his pen back on the clipboard. “Okay. I see. Who invited you to this party?”

“Josie.”

His eyebrows again rise above the rims of his lenses, as if begging me to elaborate, but I don't.

“So, Josie is a friend of yours?”

I scoff. “Hardly. I don't have many friends.”

“Great. I see.” Scribbling fills the silence. That, and the Secretary's heavy breathing.

“What party is this?”

“Her father owns a diner and he's having a tenth anniversary party. Gary's Diner. Perhaps you've heard of it?” No acknowledgment from either of them. “Well, since I'm invited I would assume our whole class is.”

The door swings open, slamming against the wall and snapping shut. I launch into the back of my chair and roll into the one behind me. At seeing that the person who entered is my father, I cross my arms over my chest and slouch further into my seat. He doesn't look like he's here to break me out.

“Josie Stanson's father?” my dad asks.

“Yes.” I make sure my eyes narrow as I try my best to keep a somewhat respectful tone. He didn't want this to happen.

But he did nothing to stop it. Only he and my aunt can make wishes come true.

“Gary Stanson was an officer in the Syrian war,” Dad says with a straight face as he sits next to Secretary Morgan and they pass a look between the two of them.

“No. Mr. Stanson owns a diner. Can't you hear from behind that mirror?” I gesture to the wall and my father runs a hand over his face.

“Kiddo, Gary Stanson was in the war over in Syria. Don't you remember?”

“There is no war in Syria, Dad. Other places, yes. But not Syria.” It's kind of pathetic that really smart people work in this building but have no idea what goes on in the world around them.

“Honey, look at me.” I do what he says, raising my eyes from the white table and finding his. “Before Josie invited you to that party, what happened? What did you talk about?”

“She told me I was good. We shot around some.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

Dad nods and looks at Bennett, then Secretary Morgan.

“Lyra, Gary Stanson was in the army, fighting in the Syrian war. He died serving overseas.”

I jump from my seat, ready to scream. My eyes dart to Bennett, scribbling away. Morgan is tapping the table. If they want to make me feel like a caged animal, like a specimen in their experiment, the least they could do is listen to me.

But then it clicks.

“You ended a war?”

“Yes.” Dad shows all his crooked teeth, as he nods and pushes his glasses up his nose. “We ended a war, honey. All those soldiers are home, alive. Safe and sound.”

I should feel elated. Many have been saved. Families have been restored. Fathers and mothers can see their children.

But there are too many questions. How did they end it? Who won?

And mostly, I'm just pissed off.

“Your dad said you were looking forward to working on this with me. Said you were excited to do something other than update our accounting and clean other lab's equipment.” Iris presses a few buttons on the StarCatcher, and a cool, clear voice says, “Password please.”

I
was
excited. All the ‘normal' intern work is terribly mind numbing. But ‘using Lyra as a control subject' wasn't in the job description either. And I'm having a really hard time getting over it.

I don't feel like talking to anyone. I've put on quite a show already. Performances are over for today, thank you. So I continue to lie on the StarCatcher table, looking up at the glass dome.

“You're acting like a spoiled brat. You realize that, right?” Iris' face looms above me, one eyebrow raised higher than the other.

I shift my crossed arms slightly and look back at her, meeting her intensity.

“Come on, Lyra. You already know so much about the StarCatcher and what we can do. Don't get all huffy if you're not included in everything.” Her face disappears from view.

“How would you react if you knew the world was altered without your consent?”

“Oh for Christ's sake, Lyra! You were in the meeting, whether you remember it or not.”

Again the machine's cool voice speaks, though I can't hear the words over the steam coming out of my ears.

“Plus,” she continues after pressing a few buttons. “There are only a select few people who know about the project and are privy to the wishes. Practically everyone's world is altered without giving consent.”

“Yes but they don't know it's even an option.”

“What's the difference?” Iris picks up a wrench and lies on her back, reaching for something under the machine.

“There's a huge difference! I work here. I'm supposed to be included—”

“You're an
intern
. And you're only that because you broke every rule in the book and your father saved you.”

I hear her stand and let my gaze fall from the glass, again watching her work on the machine.

“Do you have
any
idea how long it took me to get here?
Years.
And within a matter of months you break all the rules and get a seat at the table. You feel bad we left you out of something? Deal with it.”

She matches my stance, arms resting across her chest. My eyes fall on Iris' finely manicured nails, her very tall heels and beautiful floral sweater over a white tank hugging every curve. All topped off by a head of hair with not one curl out of place, which is absolutely astounding since she's been on the floor working on that machine for at least twenty minutes. Not even a smudge on her clothing.