Split Second (Pivot Point) (7 page)

I closed my eyes. “Do you hear yourself talking right now? Bobby advanced his abilities and he almost killed us, Laila. Killed us. And now you’re saying you’re going to meet someone else, like Bobby, who has the same screw-the-system-and-the-rules attitude and ask him to help you? Is that really what you’re saying?”

She hesitated for only one beat before saying, “Yes. That’s what I’m saying. What are the odds he’s another Bobby?”

Sometimes talking to Laila made me feel like an adult, because I had the overwhelming desire to scold her. I took a deep breath. “Why do you want to advance your ability, anyway?”

“Who doesn’t want to advance their ability?”

“I think I damaged mine,” I blurted out. Fear tightened my chest as I admitted that out loud.

“What?”

“I don’t know. Something is happening with my ability. It’s weird, and when I push it, my head hurts really bad. And now I can’t even Search without getting the worst headache ever. What if I lose my ability? What if my ability advanced too early and now I’m broken?”

“Calm down. It’s probably just stress.”

“What if it’s not? What if I pushed myself too hard? You need to just wait, Laila. The DAA program is supposed to be the most natural. Your ability will advance when it’s supposed to advance.”

“I may or may not actually do the DAA program on a daily . . . or weekly basis. There are other ways, faster ways. People do it all the time.”

“I can slow down time.”

“What?”

“It started at Bobby’s, and now at random times, out of nowhere, time slows down. I can’t control it. And when it’s over, I get the worst headache.”

“Slow down time? Awesome. So that must be your advancement. It makes sense, because you’ve always been able to manipulate time in a way, kind of walk forward through it.”

“It’s not awesome. I can’t Search anymore, and I can’t control this.”

“It’s just your growing pains. You’ll be fine when your mind
settles into it. See, this is what I’m talking about. I want that.”

“You want to slow down time?”

“No, I want to restore memories.”

“Restore memories? How do you even know that’s how your ability would advance?”

“I don’t.” She said it, but I heard the hum in her voice that meant she was lying.

“You do. How?”

“I don’t. I just think it would be cool.”

“Why are you lying to me? I’m so tired of people lying to me. Do I not deserve the truth? Do I look like someone who can’t handle it?”

“You told me I could restore memories before I Erased yours.”

Laila:
Remind me to think before I speak next time.

All I could hear were Addie’s quiet breaths. In. Out. This was not something I should’ve told her over the phone. What was I thinking? “Addie?”

“What do you mean I told you? Why would I tell you that?”

I cringed. I should stop and wait to tell her the rest when I saw her.

“Tell me,” she said, her voice strong.

“Because you wanted me to restore yours. You wouldn’t tell me why. You actually didn’t even tell me that I could restore memories. You wrote yourself a note. In that note you told me.”

“If I wrote myself a note, why do you seem to know its
contents and I know nothing?”

Because I’m selfish
. “Because I didn’t want to stress you out any more than you already were. I just wanted to learn how to restore memories and then surprise you with it when I came next week.”

“Surprise me with the fact that you’ve damaged your mind by hanging out with Bobby-like criminals?”

“It sounds like brain damage can happen regardless of who I hang out with.”

Addie went completely silent, and I squeezed my eyes closed.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have brain damage. You’re going to be fine. Talk to your dad about it. He’ll probably know what to do.”

“He told me to rest.”

“See. There you go. Rest.” She didn’t sound like she thought that would help, but her dad was smart. She probably did need rest. The Bobby situation got to her more than it did me. Her headaches probably had more to do with that than anything. I hadn’t had a single headache since that night. And besides, her note was proof to me that I was fine when my ability advanced before, in the other version of her life. I would be fine in this version too. “Just trust me. You wanted me to restore your memory. I’m going to figure out how. Do you trust me?” I shouldn’t have asked the question, because I wasn’t sure if she did anymore. Not since Duke.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. Will you just use the DAA program? I can wait if it takes a while to work, Laila.”

I couldn’t help but notice she hadn’t answered the question. “Yes, I’ll use it.”

“And the note?”

“I’ll give it to you when I come.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

She hung up. She knew as well as I did that I wasn’t going to wait. I didn’t have awhile to sit around and wait for the DAA’s program to work. I wanted to advance my ability now. I laced my heeled boots and applied some gloss.

As I parked the truck, a motorcycle rumbled up behind me. I should’ve known who it was by the confident way he dismounted, but I couldn’t tell for sure until he took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his shiny hair.

I stepped out of the truck. “You even made it sound like a Norm motorcycle.”

“I knew you’d come here without me even though I told you not to,” Connor said, ignoring my comment.

“How did you know I’d come tonight, though?”

He reached into the bed of my truck and pulled a tiny metal device from beneath the rim. “Tracker.” He pocketed it. “And they’re expensive, so I’m glad it didn’t get lost.”

Anger surged through me. “You were tracking me?”

“Does that bother you, princess?” He took off his gloves and tucked them in his back pocket. “I don’t trust you.”

“Then next time just shove the tracker down my throat, for more accurate data.”

“I would’ve, but I wasn’t sure you’d end up here in forty-eight
hours, and like I said, these things are expensive.”

“Well, for the record, I don’t trust you either.” It was a grade-school comeback, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “And I don’t need you here tonight.”

“I’m not here for you. I’m here so you don’t ruin my relationship with my supplier.”

“I wasn’t even going to mention your name. But I’m pretty sure he’ll know who sent me now, since, you know, he’ll see you.”

“Just let me do the talking and shut those pretty little lips of yours.”

“Little? I’ve actually been told they’re quite full, which makes them very hard to shut.”

“You are infuriating.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you.”

By this time we were at the door, and Connor knocked. When no one answered, he started to leave. “Guess he’s not here.”

“Okay, see you later.” I rang the doorbell several times, and Connor sighed and rejoined me on the porch. Eventually, the door slid open. A man in his midtwenties answered. He didn’t look like I expected he would. He was clean-cut, shaven, with unmarked skin. First he looked at me, and I could tell he liked what he saw. That would help. Then he looked at Connor, and his stance relaxed.

“Oh hey, man. What’s up?”

“Can we talk inside?”

“Sure.” He stepped aside, and I walked in first. I didn’t need Connor here, and I wanted him to know that.

“Are you here to pick up another pack already? That was fast.”

“No.” He pointed to me. “I’m here because of her.”

“I can see how she might be compelling, but you know that’s not how I work.”

“I know.”

I cleared my throat. “Look, I would’ve found you with or without Boy Wonder here. I’m here for information. I want to advance my ability. I want you to help me. It’s as simple as that.”

He laughed. “I think you’ve mistaken this for the DAA. Does this look like the DAA to you?”

I knew his question was rhetorical, but I looked around anyway. Cases like Connor’s covered tabletops, and several laptops were open and running through mind patterns. “It looks like an illegal operation that the DAA wouldn’t like. Last I checked they prefer to be the sole provider of ability advancement. The Bureau seems to agree with that concept as well.”

He glared at Connor. “Did you bring a narc into my house?”

“She’s just a spoiled brat looking for something to occupy her time.”

Spoiled? I had to clamp back the laugh that wanted to escape. If only. Whatever. It beat him knowing the truth and feeling sorry for me.

He walked back to the door. “Is this some sort of juvenile lovers’ quarrel? I don’t know why you felt the need for a witness. Get out.” Suddenly, his face changed to that of a greasy-haired older man with a goatee.

I tilted my head. “You’re a Perceptive.” He had made me see him the way he wanted me to see him. Now I wondered which of his faces was real.

“Very good. You have brains in that gorgeous head of yours. Now use them to get out of my house.”

I crossed my arms. “No. I’m not going to turn you in to any sort of authority. I just want to advance my ability. You are obviously exceptionally advanced in yours. Teach me.”

At this point, Connor grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door. I twisted out of his hold. “Don’t touch me.”

“This is my life you’re messing with.”

“Wait,” the Perceptive said. He had added a tattoo of a cross to his neck . . . or maybe took away the illusion covering the tattoo, I still couldn’t tell. “What’s your ability?”

“None of your business.”

“You just made it my business.”

“I did? You’re entering into an agreement with me?” I plopped down on the closest chair. “Good. When do we start the training?”

He looked at Connor as if he thought Connor had any sort of control over me.

“Come here.” He beckoned me to follow him, and I did without a glance in Connor’s direction.

He led me into a room filled with digital images projected onto the walls. People, places, words. It was overwhelming and made me a little dizzy. I leaned against the wall.

“What is all this?” A metal bird sat perched on the desk, and
I studied it. “Is that a listening device? Are you recording this?”

“Sit,” he told me.

I sat.

“Put your palm on that black pad there.” He pointed to a palm scanner on the desk.

“Why?”

He raised one eyebrow, and I put my palm on the black pad. Nothing happened. I glanced around the room at the images. I didn’t recognize any of the people, and as I continued to watch, I realized the places all looked unfamiliar as well. These were images from the Outside. “Did you hack into the Containment Committee surveillance?”

He didn’t answer. After a few minutes, he said, “You’re clean.”

“I could’ve told you that. We didn’t need the dramatics.”

“Okay, here are the terms. Five hundred bucks a lesson. Any indication, even the slightest hint, that you are going to talk, this”—he pointed to his face—“disappears with your money.”

“Five hundred bucks? Impossible. I can’t.”

Connor let out a laugh, and I shot him a look.

“Those are my terms,” he said. “Take them or leave them.”

The room was so high-tech, possibly a room straight from the Bureau’s own computers. Maybe he had hacked information from the Department of Ability Advancement as well. His ability was more advanced than that of any Perceptive I’d ever seen. I wanted him to teach me. Needed him to. He was good. “My brother is almost fourteen and he still hasn’t Presented. If you can help him too, then you have yourself a deal.”

His dark eyes were hard and held my stare. He was the first to break contact and reached into a drawer, pulling out an electronic clip. “He can’t come here, but I’ll do you a favor. Tell your brother to stop using the DAA program and use this for a week. It will be my little gift of good faith to you.” He held it out to me. “I’m Face, by the way.”

I took the clip. “Laila.”

As we walked down the driveway, I glanced back at the front door. It was shut tight. I wondered which face was his real one. This was definitely a problem in the having-anything-to-blackmail-him-with department.

Connor chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t think I can get five hundred dollars?”

“I know you can’t. You are broke.” He said the word
broke
with two syllables. He grabbed his helmet off the seat of his bike. “Maybe you can ask your daddy for some money.”

Considering my daddy asked me for money on a weekly basis, that wasn’t happening.

He pointed to my pocket, where I had stored the electronic clip Face had given me. “You’re going to let your brother use that?”

I wasn’t sure yet. Addie had said the DAA program helped. Maybe I should just have patience and let him continue with that. “Are you saying I shouldn’t?”

He shrugged.

“Oh, that’s right, you’re just the middleman. You don’t ask questions.”

“I was just going to offer to buy it off you. Since you need money and all.”

It was tempting. I was a long way from five hundred dollars, and any little bit would help. But I wanted to help my brother. “No thanks.”

“So what’s your next step then?”

“Nothing that involves you.” I opened my truck door and climbed inside without waiting for a response. I had no idea what my next step was. I was broke no matter how many syllables the word had.

Addie:
There really are bronze bulls. Lots of them.

I stared at the black screen of my cell phone long after we hung up. I wanted Laila to restore my memory? Why? Was there something I had learned in the other life that I needed now? Maybe whatever it was that my parents were keeping from me. Or maybe why my head felt like it was going to explode when I used my ability.

I slid my finger across the screen. There was nothing I could do about that now. The only thing I had control over was figuring it out now. I hit the Call button.

“Hello,” Rowan answered, and I could tell by his tone he had no idea who was calling.

“Hi, Rowan, it’s Addie.”

“Addie! Hey. The answer is yes, and what time should I be there?”

I laughed. How could Stephanie hate this guy so much? He was hilarious. “I need someone to take me to Pioneer Plaza.”

“Pioneer Plaza? I don’t even know if I know how to get there. Hey,” he said to someone who must’ve been in the room with him, “do you know where Pioneer Plaza is?”

“Yes,” the other person, who sounded suspiciously like Trevor, said.

“Addie wants to go.”

“Why?” Trevor asked.

“Because she’s funny.”

I smiled. I rarely got described as funny—that was Laila’s trait. Weird, yes. Funny, no.

“We can take her, right?”

“Sure,” Trevor said.

I bit my lip, trying to contain a smile.

Back to me, Rowan said, “We’ll be by to get you in ten minutes. Text me your address.”

“Ten minutes? I didn’t mean tonight.”

“Well, you’re getting tonight.”

I hung up the phone, texted him my address, and ran to the bathroom.

“Please, Mr. Bull, don’t trample me,” Rowan said. He had wedged himself beneath the bronze hoof of one of the many bull statues that trailed through the park in downtown Dallas.

“I wish that bull was real,” Trevor said.

“Hey, Addison is the one who dragged us here, remember?”

Trevor raised his eyebrows at me. “So true.”

I gave Trevor’s shoulder a small push, and he laughed.

“Okay, take another picture, Addie,” Rowan said.

“Sure thing.” I snapped a picture with my phone, and then Rowan ran off to find the next statue. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I wasn’t supposed to know or see here. They were just bronze statues. I had discreetly studied each one as we walked down the line, but there was nothing out of the ordinary—if bronze statues were considered “ordinary.”

“I think he was born with more energy than the rest of us,” Trevor said, nodding to Rowan, who was now trying to climb on top of a horse.

“It would seem that way.”

His gaze lingered on the blue stripe in my hair, and he asked, “What’s the story with the blue?”

I let out a breathy laugh. “A long one. My one and only attempt at rebellion.” I twirled it around my finger a couple of times, my hair, straight like it had been for weeks, feeling a little frizzy out in the humid air. “Have you ever done something stupid?”

“Today? Or ever?”

I laughed. “Does that mean yes?”

“Haven’t we all?”

“Something you regret, though. Something you wish you could take back.”

We walked over a hill, and a field of gravestones stretched out in front of us. My breath caught. This was what my father had
been referring to. It wasn’t visible from the road at all.

“I’m fairly cautious. Most of my regrets have to do with things I didn’t do versus things I did.”

It took me a moment to remember what we were talking about and another one to settle my heart. Crap. We had to stay until I looked at every gravestone. How could I make that seem natural? I had to keep him talking. “So what haven’t you done lately that you wish you did?”

“Most recently would have to be when I came to talk to Duke after the football game a couple weeks ago. . . .”

Ah, here it was again—the sore subject I wished he wouldn’t associate with me. “Oh?”

“I had just overheard some things Duke said in the locker room.”

“Right. So you probably wanted to lay him out.”

He smiled. The first one of the night directed at me, and it made my insides flip. He had an amazing smile. “Something like that.”

I thought back to that night with Duke. “So instead you were super nice? That doesn’t make sense.”

“My mom always tells me that if I feel like punching someone, first I have to say something nice to them. Out loud. If I still feel like punching them, they probably deserve it.”

“Duke totally deserved it, though.”

“But you were there. I wasn’t counting on that.”

My insides flipped again. I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but it sounded good. I grimaced. I needed to stop this small
crush I seemed to be developing on Stephanie’s ex-boyfriend. Especially considering she wanted to take the ex out of the equation. I was being dumb. Duke was a jerk, and now apparently my heart wanted to fall for the first guy who talked nice to me. Trevor was just being a gentleman, I reminded myself. He was nice to everybody.

But either way, his regret was now mine. Duke needed someone to lay him out. Not just Laila’s attempt, which only ended in a cut lip, but a full-on, Trevor-delivered knockout. Duke was a big guy. I looked at Trevor’s arms, wondering if he could pull it off. It was hard to tell; they were covered by a jacket, but they seemed thick enough. When I looked back up again, I realized he had caught me assessing. My face went hot. “Sorry. I just wondered if you could do it.” Why did I have to say everything that came into my brain? I could’ve just pretended he had a piece of lint on his jacket or something, but I always thought of those excuses a beat too late.

“I could,” was all he said.

Quiet confidence. Trevor oozed it.

My phone beeped, and I pulled it out.
Do you happen to have five hundred dollars lying around?

No, not at the moment
, I texted back.
Is your dad in trouble again?

No. It’s for an investment
.

Of course it was. I knew she wouldn’t listen to me about dropping the ability advancement plan. “Sorry,” I said to Trevor.

He shrugged. “It’s okay.” He pointed to a headstone fifty
feet away. “Rowan is going to jump out from behind that headstone when we get close. It would make his day if you actually screamed.”

“If you hadn’t told me, I’m sure I would’ve done a better job of it.”

He put a hand to his chest. “My big regret of the day.”

I smiled and read all the headstones as we passed by. “Is this a historical graveyard or something?”

“Yes.”

A historical graveyard. “Any famous people buried here?”

“Mostly Civil War heroes. But there are others.” He gestured toward one of the larger headstones in the cemetery, a huge cross. “That guy was some famous writer.”

“Really? Awesome. Which one?” I pivoted so we were now heading toward that grave.

“A dead one.”

“Ha-ha.” Just when we almost reached the writer’s gravestone, I stopped, a cold chill trickling down my body as I read a different headstone.
Adeline Coleman
. My grandmother’s name. She had died five years ago—the exact year listed on the stone in front of me. This was impossible. I had visited my grandmother’s grave at the cemetery in the Compound many times in the last five years. This couldn’t be hers. Somebody else had the same name as her . . . and died the same year she did . . . and was buried in the same town where my dad lived. It was just a coincidence. A really big, nearly impossible coincidence. Crap. It wasn’t a coincidence at all. This was the secret my dad was keeping.
He’d had his mother’s body moved out of the Compound.

“And here I thought Rowan was the only thing that was going to scare you here,” Trevor said. His hand lightly touched my elbow, as if he could keep me up with the whisper of a touch. “You okay?”

It felt as if all the blood from my body were draining out my feet. I pointed at the gravestone. “This isn’t historical.”

He turned his attention to the words written there. “Adeline Coleman,” he read out loud.

“That’s my grandma’s name.”

“Your grandma is buried here?” Trevor sounded as confused as I felt.

“No . . . I . . .” I trailed off.

He studied the headstone again. “Were you named after your grandma?”

A memory seemed to slam into my mind. I sat on the couch with my grandmother the Saturday after I Presented. Her arm was wrapped around my shoulder as she stared at my test results.

A smile had taken over my whole face. “My dad must’ve known I’d be Divergent. That’s why he named me after you.”

She set the paper down on the coffee table and turned toward me. “It’s not an easy ability to live with—knowing things that others possibly never will—but you’re strong, Addie. I know you can handle it. I couldn’t be happier to share an ability with you.”

“And a name.”

“They aren’t exactly the same.”

My ten-year-old heart raced. “Our abilities? Can you do something different?”

“No, our names.”

“Oh. Right.” Sometimes I forgot because everyone called her Addie too. But she was right; our names weren’t exactly the same.

A loud “BOO!” shouted in my ear, pulled me out of my memory. Rowan laughed when I jumped, but the scream Trevor asked for was lodged somewhere beneath all the disbelief in my chest.

“Ah, you guys are no fun,” Rowan said, draping an arm over my shoulder. “What’re we all looking at? Adeline Coleman. Do we know her?”

“It’s her grandmother’s name,” Trevor said.

“This is your grandma’s grave?” Rowan asked. “So you’ve been here before. And here we thought we were giving you the grand tour.”

“No . . . I haven’t. I . . .”

Trevor brushed his hand over mine, and I realized I was gripping his forearm in a clawlike vise. “You okay?” he asked.

I quickly let go, turned on my heel, and walked back the way we had come. I pulled out my phone and dialed my dad’s number.

“Hi, baby. It’s getting late. Where are you?”

“Pioneer Plaza Cemetery.”

He went quiet.

“What’s going on?”

“Addie, we’ll talk about this later. This isn’t an over-the-phone kind of conversation. I need to talk to your mother. This is something that will take some explanation.”

“Is it her? Is it grandma? That’s all I want to know right now.”

“Later.”

“Dad. Just one answer.”

“Addie—”

“Don’t I deserve to know that much?”

“Yes.”

The cold air nipped at my cheeks. “Yes I deserve to know, or yes it’s her?”

“Both.”

I hung up the phone. I had never hung up on my dad, but I didn’t care. My mind raced through my grandmother’s funeral. I remembered watching them lower her casket into the earth. I remembered throwing a rose down with her, barely seeing it fall through my tears. So they moved her here? But why? Was he making some kind of statement? One that said,
I’m never going back
?

I had to call Laila. She’d know what to do. I walked half a block away and dialed her number. A chorus of birds squawked in the tree above me, and I moved out from under it, not needing to add bird crap to my night. Laila didn’t answer.

I slid my phone into my pocket.

“What’s going on?” Rowan asked when I got to the car, where they were waiting.

“Is everything okay?” Trevor asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t know she was buried here?”

I met Trevor’s eyes, mine stinging with frustration or sadness or something that didn’t feel good. He took a step forward as though tempted to comfort me but then stopped. “Come on, we’ll take you home.”