Breathless (8 page)

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Azazel. But it's got to be perfect."

I didn't buy it. He'd leaped off of me. Like he'd realized what he was doing, and he found me disgusting. I wasn't sure that Toby was even attracted to me. It had seemed like he was, but then... And on top of all of it, now I felt a strange sort of warmth between my legs. It demanded some sort of satisfaction, which it wasn't going to get, and I felt a brand of frustration I'd never felt in my life. I folded my arms over my chest, wanting to cry.

"Let's go somewhere," said Toby.

I looked up at him. "Okay," I said. But I didn't feel very excited about it.

From: Hallam Wakefield

Subject: Re: West Virginia

Richard,

No, I'm not in West Virginia. I'm in upstate New York. I emailed Alfred and told him this. I don't know why Intel hasn't seen me in New York. Answer me this: why are we wasting Intel confirming my whereabouts?

If we're going to find Jason, we have to work together, not against each other. I've told you exactly what I think about Georgia. There's no way Jason is there. I don't know why you insist on staying there. Why don't you go west?

Yours in the Purpose,

Hallam

Everything had gone back to normal. Sort of. Toby was picking me up for school again. I was sitting next to him in class. We were going out on dates and making out, but not going any further than that. The only thing that was different was Jason. He lived in my house. He was in three of my classes. He was around—a lot. My parents had submitted some paperwork to keep Jason as foster parents, but it was taking a long time to go through, because Jason wasn't in any of the foster systems. There was a long search going on. Everyone was trying to pin down Jason's birth records. It seemed impossible that a boy could have lived seventeen years and never left any evidence of his existence. But that seemed to be what Jason had done.

About his past, he was close-mouthed. He didn't like to talk about it. I could tell. But he protested at the thought of staying less and less. And he almost never talked about being a danger to our family anymore. My mom thought this was a good sign. I knew from eavesdropping on conversations she and my dad had. They often talked in their bedroom at night, after everyone had gone to bed. I would leave my room and stand in the dark hallway in my nightgown, my ear pressed against their door. I wanted to catch any bit of information about Jason I could.

But they didn't seem to know anything. And they rarely spoke about anything interesting. Generally, they talked about how their days had gone. They talked about Chance. They talked about the other foster kids. They never seemed to talk about me.

They were planning something around Halloween. Probably a party or something. My parents liked to throw alternative, safe parties for teens where there wasn't any alcohol or drugs. The parties were utterly lame, and I almost always had to show. I hated that.

I kind of hoped they didn't throw a party at Halloween. I wanted to do something cool with Toby that night.

Jason wasn't volunteering any information about himself. My parents didn't know any.

I was left with only one means of gathering data. Observation. I watched Jason. I saw how easily he fit into our Honors classes. He was very bright. He made insightful comments about whatever we were reading. He got in arguments with my father in history class. I could tell that my father found Jason's intelligence bothersome. In gym class, he also seemed to do well. He was strong and fit.

But even though Jason fit in academically, he seemed socially awkward. He sat alone at lunch. I wanted to sit with him, but after Toby had confessed he'd felt jealous of Jason, I didn't think I should. I didn't want to upset Toby again. Jason was friendly whenever people talked to him but distant. He rarely smiled, and when he did, it was his brief smile. The one that lit up his face for a second then disappeared into his brooding eyes. There was something about Jason that screamed untouchable. And I realized that I desperately wanted to penetrate the wall he'd built around himself and find out what was behind it.

I didn't have much luck. I couldn't spend much time with Jason. At school, I hung with Toby. Toby didn't seem to want to have anything to do with Jason, and I didn't know why. After school, I had homework. My parents gave me chores that never seemed to overlap with Jason's. I barely even saw him at dinner, because Toby was asking me out a lot, and we ate together most of the time. When I did have free time, Lilith called me on the phone, and we had to talk for hours, because that was what we did. In some ways, it was almost like the whole world was conspiring to keep me away from Jason. But I watched him. I watched him a lot.

One Sunday morning, I woke up earlier than usual. Everyone else was asleep, and so I padded downstairs in my pajamas to watch television in blissful silence. I was surprised to find Jason in the living room, watching a televangelist giving a sermon.

He didn't look up when I came into the room, as if he hadn't heard me.

"Hi," I said.

He jumped.

"Sorry," I said.

"It's okay," he said.

I sat down on the couch. Stared at the screen. The man was preaching about the end of the world. "The bible tells us," he said, "that before the coming of the Antichrist, there will be many earthquakes. Now, I want to show you something." Behind him, a map appeared on a screen. As he spoke, spots on the map began to light up. "In February 1991, an earthquake hit Afghanistan and Pakistan. In April 1991, there was an earthquake in Georgia. Also in April, an earthquake struck Panama and Costa Rica. In June of 1991, there was an earthquake in southern California.

"The Gulf War ended in 1991," he continued. "The Warsaw Pact dissolved. The Dead Sea scrolls became public. Brothers and sisters, the Antichrist was born in 1991. He is living among us! The end times are here."

Jason
was
weird. Why was he watching this? "Are you religious?" I asked Jason.

He looked at me. "Do you want me to change this?"

"I don't care," I said. I wanted him to change it.

Jason changed the channel to MTV. "I guess I'm not," he said.

"Not what?"

"Religious," he said. "Your family isn't, are they? No one in this town is."

"People in town are," I said.

"Like who?"

"Well, no one I know," I admitted. "But I know people are."

"There aren't any churches in Bramford," said Jason.

"Sure there are," I said. But then I thought about it. There weren't.

"No," said Jason. "There aren't. I looked. I even checked the internet. Closest church is like 20 miles away."

"Really?" I said. Huh. Why had I never noticed this before? I guess I didn't think about churches much. Or religion. "How come you were looking for churches?" I asked.

He gazed at the TV screen. "Sanctuary," he breathed.

"What?"

He turned to me. "No reason," he said, smiling his quick smile. "Just curious, I guess."

I didn't believe him.

* * *

Toby and I were sitting on one of the picnic tables outside McDonald's with several of our friends. It was dark outside. The wind was a little chilly, and I huddled in my sweatshirt as I sipped flat beer out of a travel mug. It was Wednesday night, and it was late, but I was taking advantage of my lack of curfew.

Sherry Astor stood up. She shivered. "I'm cold," she announced.

"Me too," I murmured.

"Let's walk," she said.

I got up and so did Eve Newcomb. We walked behind the McDonalds, away from the tables. There was an empty parking lot behind us, and we walked in circles, hunching our shoulders to try to stay warm.

"God," said Eve, "I'm so sick of hanging out outside McDonald's."

"Me too," said Sherry. "This town is so boring. I wish there was something to do."

I nodded my agreement. Having no curfew wasn't as exciting as it was cracked up to be. Bramford was not the most happening place on earth. I couldn't wait until I'd graduated, and Toby and I were in college at WVU. There'd be all kinds of things to do then.

"Darius asked me if I wanted to hang out at his place," said Eve. Darius was Eve's boyfriend.

"But you picked here?" I asked.

Eve sighed. "Whenever we go to Darius' place, all he wants to do is have sex."

Sherry groaned in sympathy. "I know what you mean. It's all Tom wants to do too."

I didn't say anything. I had nothing to say. I couldn't relate.

"God," said Eve, "it's like there's all this pressure, and they want you to let them do it forever, and finally you just can't handle anymore, so you give in, thinking that will be the end of it. But it never ends. It's like all that's on their minds."

"Well," said Sherry, "I wouldn't mind if we could do it at Tom's house. You're lucky that Darius' mom is never home. Tom always wants to get it on in the back seat of his car, in like broad daylight. Which is just...weird."

"Yeah," agreed Eve. "That is weird."

"So, what's the big deal?" asked Sherry. "How come you're not at Darius' place, getting busy? Does Darius just suck in bed or something?"

Eve considered. "No...yes. I don't know. I've never had sex with anyone besides Darius. How would I know if he sucks?"

"Well," said Sherry as if it were obvious, "do you like it?"

"Sex?"

"Yeah," said Sherry.

"Sure," said Eve. "I mean, I guess so."

"You guess so?" said Sherry. "He's definitely bad in bed. Don't you think so, Azazel?"

I shrugged. "I guess I wouldn't know," I said.

They both stopped short and looked at me.

"You mean you and Toby aren't doing it?" Sherry asked me.

I sighed. "No."

"You're a virgin?!" said Eve, her mouth open.

"Oh my God," said Sherry. "How come you're not doing it?"

"I don't know," I said. "Toby doesn't want to."

"Oh whatever," said Eve. "All guys want to."

"Toby doesn't," I said. "Or, I don't know. Maybe something's wrong with me."

The girls looked at each other and then back at me. "Like what?" asked Sherry.

"I don't know," I said. "But he hardly touches me, so there's got to be something."

"Yeah," said Eve. "Weird."

The conversation turned to other things, and I went home soon after that. Toby kissed me chastely when he dropped me off, and inwardly, I fumed. The look those girls had given me still was stuck in my head. It was like I was a leper or something. I hated feeling so weird. Why didn't Toby want to be with me? Why?

I didn't sleep well that night. I couldn't stop thinking about what might be wrong with me. I couldn't help but think that Toby was just being nice to spare my feelings, but there was something about me that was different than everyone else. I wished he'd just tell me what it was. How was I supposed to fix it if I didn't know?

The next morning at school, when Toby and I walked into the hallway, I suddenly felt all eyes on me. And everyone started whispering to each other. My heart dropped into my stomach. It was obvious that everyone was talking about us. What were they saying?

I made my way to English class. I tried to ignore the stares and whispers. What could I have done? Why was everyone talking about me? I looked at Toby, but Toby seemed oblivious. On my way to class, I looked everywhere for Lilith, knowing she'd give it to me straight. But I didn't see her anywhere.

Even in class, the stares and whispers continued. I tried to concentrate on writing my journal prompt. The question today was, "Is it wise to subvert popular culture?"

We were reading
1984.
Annoyingly, the hero and heroine of the book were rebelling against a fascist government by having sex. Everyone on earth had sex, it seemed.

Everyone except me. And now I was apparently a circus freak, because everyone was talking about me.

I scribbled something ridiculous for my journal prompt. I couldn't concentrate on it. I hissed to Toby, "Everyone's staring at us."

Toby looked around as if he hadn't noticed. "No, they're not," he whispered back.

"Toby, Azazel," said Ms. Campbell, "please don't talk."

I could feel the gaze of everyone in the class on me as I wrote. I couldn't concentrate as we discussed the journal. I could hear that Jason was saying something. As always, Ms. Campbell thought it was brilliant. I prayed that she would not call on me. I couldn't concentrate on anything.

Luckily, she decided to move the class along before she got to me. "Well," said Ms.

Campbell, "as you guys probably guessed, I want to discuss this journal in terms of
1984."
She picked up her copy of the novel and leaned forward on her podium.

"Winston says that sex is a rebellion. Desire, Winston thinks, is 'thoughtcrime.'"

No one said anything.

"Oh come on, guys," Ms. Campbell. "I know you're all teenagers, and it's weird to talk about sex, but you're seniors. This an AP class. What are your thoughts on that?"

Eve Newcomb tentatively raised her hand. "I guess he's right?" she asked. Eve had a way of answering every question with a question. "The Party doesn't want him to have sex with Julia? And when he does, he starts rebelling against everything?"

"Okay," said Ms. Campbell. "But is sex itself a rebellion? Or is it only a rebellion if society tells us that we shouldn't have sex?"

Jason raised his hand. "Obviously, you can't rebel against something by doing what it tells you to do," he said. "So it's got to be because society says so."

Ms. Campbell considered. "Everybody agree with Jason?" she asked.

Lisa Huron spoke up. Lisa was one of those know-it-all girls who seemed to like to argue with Jason just because he was Jason. She hated that Ms. Campbell seemed to think Jason was so brilliant. "I think sex is rebellion in general," she said. "It's Freudian. I mean it's the way the ego symbolically eradicates the shadow of the father figure. By symbolically copulating with a mother figure stand in."

Ms. Campbell nodded. "Well, no one's gonna deny that Freud was a brilliant man, Lisa. But let's all keep in mind that he did do a lot of cocaine."