Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) (24 page)

Aaron
kicked the mailbox, and droplets tumbled into the grass. The post wobbled
sleepily. Aaron had only just leaned against the mailbox, too exhausted to
speculate about Amber’s good news, when he felt another twinge in the back of
head.

Aaron’s
questions resurfaced. Had
he
caused Clive’s bleeding? Or was it Clive’s
weak connection to his half, a symptom of the “loose forces,” as his father
called them? Was he sensing Clive again now, lurking nearby in the woods
perhaps,
following
him—?

Aaron’s
thoughts blurred together as fatigue weighed down his eyelids.

***

A
few minutes later, Aaron’s eyelids sprang apart, and he found himself on the
ground squinting into the silver glare of headlights. His jaw fell open as
Amber’s blue beetle pulled off the road and stopped just short of him.

He
stood, yanked open the door, and stared in at her. “How fast did you drive?” he
said.

She
smiled. “Fast.”

At
four-forty-five on Saturday morning, Aaron peered around the dark street then
slid in next to her, into soft, black suede. Warm vents glazed his skin. Her
car smelled brand new, like toy plastic. The dashboard twinkled with purple
LEDs, and in their glow, Amber’s hair looked glossy, almost translucent.
They both hesitated, as if they wanted to lean in
and kiss each other. But the moment passed.

“What’d
you want to tell me?” he said.

“Aren’t
you going to wish me happy birthday?” she said.

“It
was my birthday first,” he said, shoving his fingers through his knotted, grimy
hair. “Just drive.”

 But
her eyes froze on the fresh black blood trickling out from underneath the
scraps of gauze still clinging to his arm, then darted to his tattered,
bloodstained shirt.

“I’m
fine,” he said.

“Why
do you always get hurt?” she said, leaning over him.

“Just
drive—
please.
” Aaron glanced at the rear view mirror, and for a
terrifying split-second, he thought he saw a figure cross the road. He swiveled
and looked behind them, but the road was dark.

Amber
followed his gaze. “Are you running away from someone?”

“See
the pedal on the right?” he said. “
Push it!
”

“So
you are running?”

“Amber,
can I drive?” he said.

“
No
,”
she said, and the car glided forward. “I’ve seen you drive.” Through the
windshield, the high beams chased the shadows, which scampered back and
crouched behind bushes.

Aaron
sighed, and Amber’s warm scent floated over him, confusing his nerves. Beneath
him, the highway droned endlessly, and it would have put him to sleep but for
the icy pricks of panic he felt across his skin. No, they
weren’t
being
followed.

Instead,
he watched the speedometer. The needle climbed past eighty, then ninety. Then a
hundred.

He
raised his eyebrows.

“Do
I scare you?” said Amber.

“Are
you trying to?”

“Usually.”

“Amber,
I know what’s going to happen to you,” he said. “I overheard them. When you
become the heiress, they’re going to make you like the other juvengamy women.”

“They’re
not
.” An orange street lamp streaked past them and illuminated her
expression—a mixture of exasperation and helplessness.

“You
know I’d give myself to Dr. Selavio before I let him do that to you,” said
Aaron.

“That’s
your
best
plan?” she said.

“What’s
yours?”

She
took her eyes off the road to look at him. “Clive isn’t my half,” she said.
“You are.”

“Haven’t
we been over this?” said Aaron, scanning the deserted lanes in the rear-view
mirror one more time.

 “So?
Isn’t it your deepest, most erotic fantasy?” she said, turning back to the
road.

“Be
mature for five seconds—”

“And
it’s the truth,” she said. “He isn’t my real half. It’s an arrangement.”

Aaron
glanced over at her. “Meaning what?”

“Don’t
you think it’s too convenient?” she said.

“You
and Clive?”

“We’re
two of the oldest families,” she said. “Together we’d form a perfect
bloodline.”

The
time had passed too quickly when she pulled in front of his house, leaving the
engine running—and Aaron noticed the state of his front yard.

Runny
sediment trickled from cracked flowerpots, mustard yellow, and drained in
rivulets off the curb. On the lawn, murky rainwater rippled in the deep tire
tracks left by the Beamer. And next to his front door, glass splinters dangled
from a broken window. He watched as a breeze severed one loose and it shattered
onto the porch.

“Keep
driving,” he said.

Amber
gunned it down the street, and Aaron directed her to the botanical garden
several blocks away. They parked in the vacant lot. In front of them, dark,
muddy steps climbed into a grove. She killed the engine, and silence flooded
in.

“A
perfect bloodline,” Aaron repeated, at last beginning to understand. “In other
words, the bloodline of an heir.”

“Clive
and I weren’t juvengamy babies because we aren’t even halves,” she said.
“They’re going to switch
me with his half.”

“But
halves
can’t be switched,” he said.

“What
about faked?” she said.

“
Faked?
What do you mean?”

“Why
do you think Casler wants to test the machine on you?” she said. “Because
you’re my real half. He wants you out of the picture, but still alive; he’s
going to drain your clairvoyance.”

“But
what about Clive’s half?” he said.

“Wouldn’t
you have seen her by now?”

 Aaron
opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he remembered Clive’s tattoo.
Suddenly, the mysterious absence of Clive’s half made sense. She was hidden
away somewhere, brain dead but still alive. Dr. Selavio had already operated on
her, drained her, taken her out of the picture so Clive could pretend to be
Amber’s half. Now, in order to complete the switch, Dr. Selavio had to do the
same thing to Aaron.

“So
we’re halves
?
” he said.

She
bit her lip, waiting for his reaction, and as Aaron stared at her, he realized
she had solved the riddle. They had chosen her for the heir, the perfect half—when
really she belonged to Aaron.

“We
have to run away,” he said.

“I’m
already packed,” she said proudly, gesturing to the back seat where a huge,
overstuffed suitcase was spilling onto the floor.

Aaron
eyed the bag doubtfully. “Did you pack underwear?” he said.

“Check”

“Socks?”

“
Socks?
”
she said. “That’s the
second
thing on your list?”

Aaron
stared at her. “You didn’t pack socks.”

“
You
didn’t pack anything,” she said.

The
intensity of her green eyes stunned him. They were richer, he noticed, and all
the colors were showing. The night was over.

Amber’s
cell phone rang, making her jump.

She
stared at the caller ID, then silenced it. They both checked the clock—and
caught each other. Five-forty-five in the morning. Suddenly, they staggered out
of the car and into each other’s arms, just starting to grasp that they were
halves. A strip of pink stained the eastern horizon, their first day.

“What
was that about your deepest, most erotic fantasy?” said Aaron, his skin igniting
as he held her.

“You,”
she said, locking eyes with him, taking short, shallow breaths. “Where should
we go?”

“Paris,”
he said, “then Spain, then Sicily—”

“I
want to explore the coral reefs,” she said. “Will you buy me a sailboat?”

“And
what do I get?”

“Me,”
she said, batting her eyelashes.

“Don’t
push your luck,” said Aaron, “or I might change my mind about letting you be my
half.”

“Actually,
it’s you who’s on thin ice, buddy.”

Through
a hole in the clouds, silver rays pierced the canopy, glittered, and struck the
soil. Sunrise.

“Come
on.” Aaron took her hand and led her up the muddy steps into the botanical
garden. They collapsed on a bench between two dripping rose bushes, opposite a
wall of mossy stones. As warm dew evaporated from the grass and perfumed the
air around them, Amber curled up at his side. Their bodies melted together.
Aaron filled his lungs, euphoric, unable and unwilling to calm the fire burning
in every last nerve.

“Aaron,
if I’m wrong,” she whispered, “if we’re not actually halves, will you promise
me something?”

“What?”

“If
I decide to do something you think is really stupid, promise me you won’t try
to protect me. Promise me you’ll leave, that you’ll go somewhere safe instead
of trying to bargain with Dr. Selavio.”

“Stop
it,” he said.

“Just
promise me,” she said.

“I
promise we’re halves.”

Of
course there was more to the story. But here, with Amber’s silky hair flowing
across his chest, everything was perfect.

And
they fell asleep thinking they were halves.

***

While
he slept, he had a nightmare that Clive came out of the shadows and took her.
As he carried Amber into the morning light, they both looked like angels,
perfect in every way. It seemed so vivid at the time, but he soon forgot.

On
his birthday, Aaron woke up alone. It was daytime and his arms were empty. Like
a single breath of air, she had gone. And from high, high above the hills, the
sun’s rays burned into his eyeballs and crushed his pupils to the size of
pinheads.

But
how high?

Aaron
tore through his pockets and wrenched open his cell phone. His heart slammed
against his chest. How high? A blank screen—the damn thing was out of
batteries.

And
it felt like being in a furnace. He squinted into the sun’s glare. Sweat
steamed off his neck. Was it nine o’clock in the morning?

Or
high noon?

Aaron
rolled off the bench and ran back down the trail. Her car was gone.

The
morning with Amber was a distant memory, fading as if it had never happened. He
clung to some details, but others vanished, dreamlike in their elusiveness. But
worst of all was his memory of their conversation, the logic of why they were
halves: dream logic.

Desperate,
Aaron struggled to recall their plans. Were they running away first and working
things out later? Or were they first going to the Chamber, confirming they were
halves, and then running?

It
must have been the latter. Amber had gone off somewhere to change out of her
suitcase. Yeah, that was it. She would be waiting for him at the Chamber at
eleven.

Aaron
sprinted home, and he counted out exactly sixty seconds before he crashed
through his front door. He stormed into the kitchen, into a blaze of golden
sunlight. But even when he shaded the numerals, he couldn’t read the clock.
They were stifled beneath a white-hot haze of glare.

 Still
wheezing, he dashed to his bedroom—his alarm clock. The display faced the wall.
Clive must have bumped it the night before. Aaron stepped forward, his heart
squirming in his throat, and flipped it around.

***

At
first, Aaron just blinked at the digits. They looked backwards, like he was seeing
them through a mirror. Nine-fifty-nine.

With
effort, he determined he had one hour to get ready. He did it in half.

Thirty
minutes until his appointment, Aaron twisted his Mazda’s ignition wires
together. The engine roared for a few seconds, then idled obediently.

He
pressed down on the gas, and the car’s acceleration made his insides squirm.
But it wasn’t nervousness, it was excitement.

As
the streets flew by, he thought about his scar tissue, and the belief he’d held
his whole life that when he finally met his half, something would be missing.

At
dawn, gazing into Amber’s eyes, he’d realized
nothing
was missing. He
and Amber had entered the world at the same moment, destined for each other,
halves. She was everything.

Twenty-one
minutes until his appointment, he turned onto Gibraltar road and the engine
lugged. He downshifted into second, and the surge made him dizzy.

Thirteen
minutes until his appointment, his tires squealed around the turnoff for the
Chamber of Halves. Somewhere on the other side of the mountain there was
another entrance, he would enter this one.

The
driveway followed the top of a ridge between two lines of palm trees and then
ducked through a stone arch into paradise. A miniature valley unfolded before
him, blindingly green. A brook twinkled in the sunlight. Orchids blossomed in
its sandy banks, and upstream, a waterfall sprayed off moss-covered rocks. The
sparkling vapor rose like powdered crystals. Everywhere, clusters of cherry
trees frosted the grass with pink petals.