Authors: Stephanie Fowers
I usually made it a rule to never enter the Eyring building. Sure the dinosaurs were great and the fake dollar bill was always tempting, but it was meant for the brains and future millionaires of America. I was neither. However, Eric was here and his invite to spend a quiet Sunday evening with him was a challenge—and I never backed away from a challenge, especially with Byron’s
Broken
accusation running through my mind. I couldn’t forget the apology either—and his offer of help.
I smoothed down the diagonal stripes of my summer dress, making sure nothing was unzipped or untied or torn, just trying to borrow a bit of Sandra’s fashion sense for the evening. I could do this, even if it meant texting Eric for directions and taking a million stairs down a winding hallway to Eric’s underground lab. It was eerie down here and I had no idea the place existed until now. My hand poised above Eric’s lab door to knock, and my mouth went dry. Nothing seemed so hard.
C’mon, Mad. I mean, you’re Mad Dog, the Great War General leading the girls of the 73rd ward to victory. You meet men head on, not run away from them like a beaten dog.
But this was so different. I took a deep breath and lifted my hand.
Someone beat me to it. Byron slid beside me, knocking hard on the door. He looked dangerously sleek in a button-up shirt with baby pink stripes. Pink? Only a fierce general could get away with such a color. He certainly hadn’t worn it to nursery today. Before I could order him to go away, he turned to me with a devilish grin. “By the way. Thanks for the new paint job.”
I had nothing to do with that. Tory decked out Byron’s car as if he were getting married with pop cans, streamers, cheese wiz, the works. She must’ve hit him after she got Cameron. I smiled. “Yeah, congratulations on the civil union by the way.”
Byron shrugged, onto something else. “What are you doing here? Trying to make an easy ten bucks? On Sunday? I’m shocked.”
“No, I’m taking your advice.”
“What?”
I smirked, knowing I had surprised him. I wiped my hands on my dress. They weren’t sweaty, but just in case they were I wasn’t take any chances. “I’m trying to be a normal person. Now, let me do my thing, okay?”
Before Byron could disappear, the door opened and Eric shot me a smile that melted me. It wavered when he turned to the guy next to me. I shrugged. “I think Byron wants to get tortured too.”
“Brave man.” Eric said dryly. “What do you think drove him to it?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Byron asked pleasantly. “He’s standing right here.”
I smothered a laugh with a cough. Eric seemed more formal than usual in his faded blue polo and lab coat. Take away the offended air and he certainly had the cute boy-next-door look down. He ushered us inside the laboratory, his broad shoulders covering the door. We passed the computer on a desk and the stacks of papers he was grading. Fat books littered the shelves. There were two doors that would work as escape exits if anything went wrong. A curtain divided the room into two. A waiting area with comfy seats stood outside the curtain and a TV monitored the room inside. “Wow, what is this place?” I asked.
“We use it for our department’s experiments, not just mine. Here, let me make the
new person
a file.” Eric shot Byron an annoyed look.
Byron stretched out as if he were attempting to fill the room. It was a tough guy thing. It was too bad because I needed Byron’s unbiased opinion on Eric. He’d have to give him a chance first. I turned away from them both, studying the cabinet full of files. “Has Sandra been tested yet?” At the sound of her name, Byron turned from the book shelf with sudden interest. Eric’s beautiful almond eyes slanted at him. I realized too late I should’ve tried harder to push Byron away at the door. I laughed to ease the tension. “You couldn’t get Sandra to sit still long enough before she threw something, huh?”
Both boys humored me with a courtesy laugh. Eric eased a seat over to me. It reminded me of a dentist’s chair. “Make yourself comfortable.” He handed me a clipboard where I could fill out my personal information. Eric chucked the other clipboard at Byron. “Here you go, bad boy. Here’s your chance to be a part of something.”
Byron caught it easily. “What would that be exactly?”
“The mysteries of God. It’s what science is all about. Everything about your body is a miracle, more complex than any machine.”
I straightened in my dentist’s chair. I never heard Eric talk like this. I liked it. Byron gave Eric back his clipboard after filling out the minimal requirements. “Yeah? So why did you ask Madeleine to come?”
Eric seemed calm, but his knuckles were turning white over his clipboard. They’d turn into fists next. “We’re finding the keys to unlock the deepest recesses of our minds. The first step is starting with signals we already know exist. For example, the frequencies that your ear picks up; they’re much more sophisticated than any cell phone.” Eric fit an ear bud snugly into my ear under Byron’s watchful gaze. “Your ears are just one of the receptacles that receive signals,” Eric explained. “We aren’t aware that most of these frequencies exist.” He pushed a button. “Can you hear this?” I shook my head. “How about this?” I shook my head again.
Byron pulled away from us, his curiosity satisfied; maybe it was because Eric wasn’t actually torturing me. He wandered the room, picking things up to examine them. He stopped at a black safe, but didn’t touch it. It was sealed to the wall.
“How about now?” Eric asked me. “Hear that?” I shook my head. He inched closer. “I like your dress,” he whispered. “You look beautiful.” I smiled reflexively. Yep, I heard that. Eric grinned to himself and set another frequency. “How about that?”
I kept shaking my head until I heard a tiny buzzing sound. “Hey, I caught that.”
“Good.” He leaned back. “I was beginning to think you were completely deaf.”
“Oh yeah?” Byron asked. “What’s the diagnosis, doc?”
Eric refused to look at him. “You have the hearing of a fifty-year-old man with hair in his ears,” he broke it to me without an ounce of remorse. I laughed. I had quite a few lawn mowing jobs as a kid and I loved my earphones…
but still.
“Let’s just say that if you ever teach, even your middle-aged students will be able to take calls in class without you knowing.” My mouth fell open. How depressing.
“What are you doing with this information?” Byron asked. I tried to think of how it could be used besides killing anyone who could hear the frequency, but I was out of ideas. Clearly, as Eric accused, I was stuck in comic book world.
“Now
that
is top secret,” Eric said. “So are you going to do this or what,
Lord Byron
?” Eric finally looked at him. Byron laid something inconspicuously back on the table, no expression on his face. Months of experience told me he was hiding something. I tilted my head to see what Byron had abandoned back there. It was a class picture with Thanh.
I jumped off the dentist chair. “Does Thanh work here too?” I scooped up the picture. She stood in a white lab coat with her class. Eric was standing next to her. “Oh look. There you are, Eric.”
Eric smiled tightly, but when his eyes rested on me, they were pleasant. He gave Byron an ear bud. “Yeah, Thanh. She’s in our ward, right?”
“Yeah, Byron is dating her.” I put the picture back down.
Eric turned quickly at this. Byron did too. “Dating?” Byron asked. “Where did you get that?”
“Your backpacks,” I reminded him. “You can’t hide that from me.”
“So when does that mean you’re dating?”
Eric jabbed at another button. Byron wasn’t concentrating on him. “Yeah, I can hear that,” he said. Eric hit another button. Byron nodded. “Yep.”
He could hear all of that? I was starting to get jealous. “How old are you, Byron, sixteen?”
“Relax,” Eric told me. “I’m going backwards.” He picked another button. “Did you get that?” Byron shook his head. “Unless we’ve got another case like Madeleine’s, we’ve got a 26 to 32 year old here. Is that right?”
“Sure.”
Eric gave him a hard look then wrote on his file. He carried it to the other room, leaving me alone with Byron. We only had half a millisecond of awkward silence before Byron predictably broke it. “I like your hair. It’s not—” he hesitated.
“Blonde?” I asked.
He cracked a smile. I had finished his sentence again. “Go ahead, Mad.”
“With what?”
“I just gave you two compliments. It’s your turn.”
“No, you didn’t. You gave me one compliment and it was a backhanded one.”
“Okay, you were great at nursery today and you look good in black
and
I like your boots. Are you going riding?” I gawked at him. “
Now
you owe me three.”
“Who says?”
His eyebrow lifted. “And then we can practice our sweet nothings to each other.” He leaned in closer to me. “How about it, cuz?”
I laughed then realized what he sounded like. “You did that accent again.”
“It’s a speech impediment I had as a kid. You making fun of me? So?” he asked me offhandedly. “How well do you know Eric?”
I knew Byron had buttered me up so he could ask me that. “About as well as I know you.”
“He’s Sandra’s
friend
?”
I laughed. “Why do you want to know, Byron?”
“Just concerned. Have you seen them talking?”
Was he jealous? I had no idea why that annoyed me. “Look,” I settled back into the dentist chair, “I’m not talking, even under
your
torture.”
“That can be arranged. So, you like that guy, huh?”
I glanced over at the door, but Eric was nowhere in sight. “What? Were your spidey senses tingling? Yeah, I like him. It’s obvious, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, well, that makes sense because he’s a total June 6th.”
“Excuse me?”
“A jerk.”
My ex-wedding date meant a jerk now? I tried to shush him before he said something stupid—well, at least something loud. He lifted an elegant shoulder. “Who cares if he overhears? The guy can’t wait to get you alone so he can teach you a little social provocity. He’s just dying to run his fingers through your luxurious black hair.” He quite suddenly reached out to touch my hair himself, “...and white.”
I yanked back. What was all that talk about being nice? Byron was behind my shock of white hair in the first place. “You’re the jerk! Is this about Sandra? Are you afraid he likes her? Well, who cares if he does? You’re a player. You know the rules. You played her, now move on!”
He leaned back, satisfied. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? They’re dating. So the question is what are
you
doing here?”
I felt like a fish with the way my mouth was gaping. “I…they just know each other. I met him after I came back from some prank you pulled. He was leaving my apartment with some huge giant. Look, they’re not dating. I wouldn’t poach like that.”
“What night was that?”
Eric came out from the back, bringing us permission slips. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Byron. How did he do that? He got it
all
out of me, absolutely everything he wanted to know. I had to give him props—he was the master interrogator. All he had to do was push my angry button and I talked, but why did he want to know? Now it was my turn to get it out of him. I was a girl; after all, I had my ways.
“Sign here,” Eric told me. He held the pen out to me and I accepted it before he let it go. Our hands brushed. Eric smiled. His eyes were in it and I couldn’t look away. He didn’t seem like a June 6th to me. Still, I’d take Byron’s accusation into consideration—even if I didn’t want to. Eric’s easy manner was mesmerizing enough to blind me.
Byron nudged me aside, completely ruining the moment. “Where’s my ten?”
Eric sighed heavily and relinquished the pen to dig into his pocket for his cash. His gaze left mine and he looked frazzled. Poor Eric. Maybe I could make it up to him somehow…like maybe a date. If Eric asked, I knew I’d say yes. Byron was biased anyway. I glanced over at him, and with a jolt of surprise, realized how much Byron disliked Eric. He was watching him with a narrow look. Byron was keeping his promise to me, wasn’t he? He was my watch dog. I wasn’t sure if I wanted that anymore. I think I trusted Eric. I could handle things now. That was what being normal was all about. Taking chances. Taking care of myself. I could do it. I just had to figure out how to call Byron off the hunt.
Day 112
2054 hours
“
I’ve been called a lot of things in my lifetime, but a liar isn’t one of them. Although maybe that’ll change…because what I’m about to write I wouldn’t believe if I hadn’t written it myself.”
—Madeleine’s War Journal Entry (Monday night, June 4th).
It was the usual Monday night after FHE. Kali and Lizzie lay on the fort they built, passed out in the living room. Kali wriggled her toes in her tie-dyed socks, the only sign she was alive. Dry peanut butter sandwich wedges and school books lay scattered between them. It was the most peaceful I had seen them in a long time. Ever since Kali declared her love for Blake, she had redoubled her efforts in an even lengthier and dirtier battle with his apartment. Strangely, I found this prank war escaping from me. The black hole—as we were now dubbed—embarked on unauthorized missions without me, and the twins were an unstoppable force in return. It seemed that none of these self-proclaimed soldiers needed me…or Byron anymore.