One Wish Away (22 page)

“How does that help us for the future?”

“I don't know. I guess it doesn't. But—”

“Exactly. It doesn't help us because those terrorists are still out there. These terrorists have attacked innocent people, including our own!”

He wants this discussion. He wants this discussion.

It would help if it were more voices. Political experts. Economists. More than just the scientists.

Where's Iris?

My breath catches in my throat. Once, twice, three times.
Just spit it out, Lyra!

“I think with your scenario you're punishing entire countries for something they didn't do. They didn't tell the terrorists to do this. They—”

“Well they're not helping to stop it.”

“But you're forcing them to lose a war they never fought in!”

“They won't know that.”

“And that makes it okay?”

Secretary Morgan abruptly moves to the door. He's going to kick me out.

But then he turns around and paces in the other direction, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Does anyone else have an idea?” I ask the room. It comes out as a plea, an octave higher.

Someone say something.

My eyes turn to my father. He shakes his head, his lips a little tighter.

Aunt Stephanie? I look to her, but her eyes are fixed on the Secretary.

Everyone else is staring at the Secretary, except Bennett whose brows are pinched, eyes focused on me.

Secretary Morgan spins to face the table. His fists pound into the surface. I am shocked that my heart breaks at the desperation that is housed in his face. “For over ten years now, we have fought, but we're still under attack. We need a different plan. You're young, Lyra. You haven't lived through the countless wars, the thousands dead, broken families, destroyed people. It…it has to stop.”

The defeat in his features makes my breath catch. I slowly lean back in my seat. Maybe he's right. Maybe I don't really understand. Maybe the world would be better off in the proposed scenario.

But changing history on a
maybe
isn't good enough for me. It shouldn't be good enough for anyone.

“I don't think this is the right wish,” I say, knowing immediately, I should have stopped.

Secretary Morgan again leans on the table. “Well, it's not your decision to make, Lyra.”

And since I've already said too much…

“So that's it? We're going to go in that room and wish for a handful of countries to belong to the United States? We have no idea what will happen!”

“That's enough, Lyra.” Aunt Stephanie stands and moves toward me.

Morgan raises a hand, stopping my aunt. “No. If you must know. First we will go in there and wish to stop this catastrophe.” Morgan crosses his arms over his chest, determination and weariness in his eyes.

“And then?” I ask.

“
Then
, once the StarCatcher has rebooted, we'll take gentle control of the countries.”

“And how long will that take?”

His eyebrow rises. “Excuse me?”

Aunt Stephanie's got my arm now. I wrench it away, aware every eye is on me, including my father's and the creepy psychologist. “How long does it take for the StarCatcher to reboot?”

“Two days.”

Then that's how long I have.

“I'll take her home,” Aunt Stephanie tells the room as she pushes me toward the door.

“No, please. I'm done. I'm done.” Not to mention there's a woman there you don't want to see right now.

We're still moving toward the exit. I have to make sure I don't leave the building. Otherwise I don't know what I'll remember in the new reality.

“Secretary, please. You told me you wanted discussion to make sure you're doing the right thing. My opinion has lost. But you still got your debate. I promise I'm done now.”

He's looming over me. The scent of cigar shoots up my nose as he breathes his words into my face.

“Things have certainly gotten more exciting since you showed up, Lyra.”

“Maybe. But I showed up the day after you started granting wishes. It might have very little to do with me at all.”

“Maybe…”

He doesn't believe that in the least.

“You stay here. Everyone else, you're dismissed but you're all on call for the next few days.”

Everyone rushes out of the room, heads down, notebooks clutched tight to their stomachs. I watch them leave; no one had the guts to say what's on their mind.

Maybe I'm not supposed to be a scientist.

Bennett leaves slowly, looking me up and down as he follows the group out. It's impossible to read his expression because those beady eyes never change. Always staring. Calculating.

Secretary Morgan closes the door behind him and I hear it lock. I catch my reflection in the wall and realize I'm in another interrogation room. I sigh and sit on the table. I'm still here and that's what matters. I'll remember everything about tonight.

For better or for worse.

*

Aunt Stephanie follows us home as early morning creeps over the desert horizon. The tirade starts as soon as she gets in the door and closes it behind her.

“Lyra Altair, do you have
any
idea who you're speaking to in those meetings?”

“I know.”

“David, don't you have
anything
to say to your daughter? Because now would be the time.”

He shrugs, his eyes distant. “She was stating her opinion, Steph.”

“Oh. That's great, David. Good lesson to teach your sixteen-year-old daughter. Let's talk to the leaders of our country as if they were in our government class in high school! He didn't want our opinion—”

“Then why did he ask?” I should lower my voice but right now I don't think that's possible.

“He wasn't asking
what
we should do. He was asking
if
it could be done and what the consequences would be.”

“I was telling him what I thought the consequences would be!”

“Lyra.” Her voice comes down to that dangerous, level tone. “You're—”

“What's your opinion, Aunt Stephanie? What do you think we should do?” She's the Director of SEAD, after all.

She takes a step back and her mouth closes. Then opens again. “I don't know what we should do.”

“Well, the hotel bombings won't happen now. Why should we rush into something as drastic as ripping away a country's sovereignty?”

Aunt Stephanie looks to Dad who scuttles into the kitchen. She sighs. “It's not up to us, honey. The government pays us to be the scientists. But they make the political decisions. Plus, a world without terrorists doesn't sound all that bad to me.”

“So you're going to grant the wish? Only you or Dad can do it. If you say no, there's nothing they can do.”

“Lyra, there's always something they can do.” She lowers her head and looks at me through her lashes. I suddenly picture my Dad tied to the machine, starved and beaten until he does what they command him to.

I shake the image away.

“Also, like I said, it's their decision. We just make it work.”

“Where was Iris?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Iris. Where was she today?”

“She's on vacation visiting family.” I jump at the sound of Dad's voice. “She was going to be gone until Sunday.”

My heart stops.

“Was she staying in a hotel?”

Dad's mouth gets thin and he shrugs. “It doesn't really matter anymore if she was. That reality is gone now.”

He removes his glasses, wipes his forehead and disappears.

My mouth hinges open and I sink against the front door. It's not that simple. The fact she wouldn't remember it doesn't matter. The idea of Iris being blown to pieces. The thoughts that would have run through her head before she died.

“Did Dad make the wish again?” I ask Aunt Stephanie.

“Yes.” She shrugs and we move to follow him to the kitchen. “He's done them all so far because it's his baby. But I'm on deck should we ever need it.” Her shoulders and facial muscles relax and she holds an arm out. I lean into her grasp and she squeezes me tight.

“I love you, Lyra. Even though you frustrate the hell out of me sometimes.”

“It's probably because she's just as stubborn as you are,” Dad says and Aunt Steph raises her eyebrows in consent.

I can still hear the TV in the living room. We must have left it on in our rush to leave. It's the usual morning news. Nothing terribly special. Now.

“So Iris won't remember the hotel bombings, then.”

“Nope.” Dad takes a deep breath and looks to Aunt Stephanie.

She grabs my shoulders. Kind and caring eyes focused on me. “Lyra, sweetie. You're not allowed to come to the office until the next wish is granted. With your past indiscretions Secretary Morgan doesn't want anything happening. And I have to agree.”

I nod. What else can I do? I wouldn't want me around either.

“I understand. Now at least I know when to stop discussing.” That's something I could learn from her, actually.

“And perhaps next time you
are
discussing, do it in a lower tone.” Aunt Steph pats my shoulder and kisses my forehead.

“We could all stand to use lower tones in this house.”

The three of us spin to see my mother in the entry to our kitchen.

Mom brushes her hair out of her face and walks in to lean on the counter. I watch as my father's gaze shifts to his sister, while his wife addresses her.

“Stephanie, why are you here?”

With my aunt's jaw dropped, it's impossible for her to respond. Mom raises her eyebrows then spins to grab a coffee mug out of the cabinet.

“Tough day at work?”

Dad clears his throat and moves to stand next to his sister. “You could say that. Steph, why don't we finish this discussion in my office?” He tries pulling her out of the room but instead of moving her feet, Aunt Steph's knees buckle and she falls back into a chair, eyes still transfixed on my mother.

“More secrets I see,” Mom mumbles as she fills her coffee mug, eyeing both scientists. “Did the wish thing not work right or something?”

My head jerks to look at her.

“You
told her
?” Aunt Steph yells and stands, finally out of her frozen stupor.

“Of course he told me! I'm his wife!”

Aunt Steph crosses the room to stand in front of Mom. “Oh, and a great wife you've been!”

This is not good. There is
no one
my aunt hates more than my mother.

“Steph, that's enough.” Dad tries to pull her away but she throws off his grip.

“No. I finally get a chance to give this woman a piece of my mind.”

My mother's eyes grow even larger. “Finally? I've known you since David and I were first married! Why the sudden hatred, Stephanie?”

Aunt Steph takes a step back, realizing that my mother didn't just come back. She's been here for most of our lives.

“Steph, I think we should talk,” Dad says with a little more force this time.

Mom takes a step back too, her eyes flicking between Aunt Steph and Dad. They move to me and she almost flinches at what must be the expression on my face. She shakes her head and buries it in her hands. It's this side of her that makes me wish things were different. That makes me want to hug her and tell her I understand. That we're trying to make this messed up situation work.

“Go,” Mom says through her hands. No one moves and after a few seconds she raises her head and yells, “Go! Go ahead and talk about what you can't say in front of me.” She turns so her eyes meet mine. “And you get ready for school. Just because you're in this secret cult with your father doesn't mean you can skip classes.”

I want to move my feet, I really do. But they won't. All that manages to increase its pace is my heart.

Mom takes a step toward me and screams, “go!” And since no one is listening to her she wrenches her purse off the counter and rushes out the door.

“She's back?” Aunt Steph screeches. “When the hell did she come back, David?” Her arms are flailing, her breathing rapid. Then she turns on me and I can't take it anymore.

I tear my eyes away from hers and sprint up the stairs. I'm not going to school but I don't think anyone cares. I'm most certainly not taking the responsibility of telling Aunt Steph what happened. I suggested we do it a long time ago. Dad can deal with it now.

I close my door and walk to my closet as I rip off my tank top. I know I threw my sweats in here somewhere.

“Stop!”

I yelp, springing back through my closet door and falling into my bookshelves.

“I'm so sorry,” Darren says and rushes over to help me up. “I thought for sure you saw me.”

“No,” I squeal. Every part of my body is warm. Not only because I'm totally freaked out but because for the second time in twenty-four hours I'm in front of Darren in my bra and jeans. I rush to throw on my sweatshirt and cross my arms to hold myself together.

“I'm really sorry, Lyra.” He's trying to hold back a laugh. I can tell by the way the left side of his lip is turning up. But with everything that just happened I can't think of anything less funny.

“Why are you still here? Or did you leave and come back after you knew your family was all right?”

“My family?” His face turns white.

He doesn't remember the hotel bombings.

“Your family is fine.” I assure him and watch as a bit of color finds his skin. I wish something he could say could help me that quickly. “Why are you here?” It comes out harsher than I want it to, and the way he backs away a little makes my insides twist.

“I'm sorry,” I exhale and flop onto my bed, burying my head in my hands. “I can't deal with all this. The wishes, my mother, my father, my aunt, the Porsche Stalker. Stopping the next wish.” I tense up even more. I wasn't going to tell him that last part. Maybe he won't notice?