Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) (7 page)

“Yeah,
Aaron,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I drove all the way out here just to make
him jealous.”

“Good
plan,” he said. “Are you going to tell him you’re with me? Or do you want me to
do it this time?”

“I
didn’t
tell him last time.”

“Then
why is he paying me a visit this Friday and why is there a fat dent in my car?”

“Probably
because you’re dumb and you keep taking his bait.” And without missing a beat,
Amber surveyed him from head to toe, announced, “You’re not wearing green,” and
pinched him on the waist.

He
pinched her back. “Neither are you.”

She
pointed to the flower in her hair. “What do you think
this
is?”

 “Nope,”
he said with a smirk, “It’s got to be clothing.” And he pinched her again.

She
flung the ball at him, and he caught it. They gazed at each other struggling
not to laugh, but for a moment too long. Aaron felt a tingle at his sternum,
pressing down on his heart—before she blinked and looked away.

Then
she spoke all at once. “I lied to you about Justin Gorski. The last person with
him wasn’t Dominic . . . or Clive. It was Clive’s father.”

“Clive’s
father
?” said Aaron.

“He’s
a doctor,” she said, “and they’re staying with Dominic’s family until they find
something more permanent. All I know is Justin was supposed to have an
appointment with him. When Justin and Dominic offered me a ride after school,
they were on their way over to see him. That was the last time I saw him.”

 “Aaron
rolled the volleyball to the floor. “Why are you telling me this?” he said.

“Because
I heard what happened to that girl at your school, and because . . . ” she trailed
off.

“Because
what?” said Aaron.

Amber
brought her legs onto his bed, brushing his arm with her knee. She sat
cross-legged and faced him. Straight on, he noticed her eyes were layered, like
gold dust sparkling at the bottom of a stream. “You aren’t looking forward to
your birthday either,” she said.

“You
remembered?” he said.

She
held his gaze. “You’re different.”

“Yeah.
You could say that.”

“Did
you know her?” she said. “That girl?”

Aaron
nodded, and he realized how tense his own body was, how his muscles felt taut—because
of how close Amber was. “I saw it happen.”

In
a quiet voice, almost a whisper, she said, “What was it like?”

“It
was like
a
hand tugging at something inside her,” he said, remembering the unnatural
recoil of Emma’s body. “She was tense for a few seconds, and then she just went
slack. Like it finally ripped out.”

“You
know, it’s getting worse,” said Amber. “Every generation.”

“You
mean half death?”

“People
were fine living without their halves for millions of years,” she said. “Like
that old woman on the news. Her half probably died ages ago and she didn’t even
feel it.” Amber pulled her legs up to her chest. “It wasn’t even until the
second generation that people started dying of half death . . . our grandparents’
generation. And back then it took years. Now it’s only a few days.”

“I
know. Soon you won’t be able to take a piss without holding Clive’s hand.”

Amber
arched her lip in disgust. “
Eww
, Aaron . . . Why am I even talking to you?”

“Not
appropriate?”

“What
I
meant
is I think it’s doing something to our genetics.”

“Like
what?”

“Like
we’re inbreeding.”

“I
get the feeling you know a lot more about this stuff than . . . most people.”

Amber
didn’t respond. She rested her chin on her knee and continued to watch him.

“Why
did Justin have an appointment with Clive’s dad?” he added, forced to fill in
the silence himself.

“Clive
and Justin got in a fight,” she said, “and Justin had these chronic headaches
afterward. He was threatening to sue, so Clive’s father offered to treat him so
he’d keep his mouth shut.”

“Justin
made a pass at you, didn’t he?”

Her
eyes flashed a warning. “Don’t act like you know my life.”

“Fine.
So the vial Clive brought to the beach . . . That stuff came out of Justin?”

“I
don’t know, but Clive didn’t have it the day before.”

“There
was something written on the side of the vial, some kind of code,” said Aaron.
“You remember what it was?”

Amber
shot him a glare. “Yeah, Aaron, I have photographic memory.”

“It
was four letters,” said Aaron. “I’m not asking you to memorize the bible.”

Amber
was about to snap out another retort when her eyes brightened. “Hold on,” she
said, reaching into her pocket. “I think Clive took a picture on my phone.” She
flipped through her photos then showed one to Aaron.

They
stared at the photo on her cell phone screen together. The vial, just as Aaron
remembered, now with an ID code clearly silhouetted against the fluid.

“The
numbers are a date,” said Aaron, “March 1
^st
.”

“No
duh,” said Amber, “I can read too. That’s the day Justin disappeared. The
letters are initials.”

Aaron
nodded, feeling a wave of chills. “Justin Gorski and Emma Mist.”

They
both fell silent. Slowly, Aaron released his breath and cupped his face in his
hands. Amber quietly returned the cell phone to her pocket, and by an unspoken
agreement, they didn’t bring it up again. There was nothing else they could do.

Amber
broke the silence first. “Why are you scared of meeting your half?”

“Because
I don’t want to spend my life with a stranger,” he said.

“You
know the first second you see her, you’re going to change your mind,” she said.
“You don’t need clairvoyance to love someone.”

“I
know, but it’s supposed to be more than that with your half.”

“It’s
not,” she said. “The high wears off after a few months. Then you’re just two
ordinary people faking it like the rest of the adults.”

“At
least it’s better than it was before.”

“You
mean pre-discovery? Clearly you haven’t seen the bad ones.”

“What
bad ones?”

“Like
my parents. They’re rotten and they hate each other’s guts. Just because they’re
joined at the hip doesn’t make them saints . . . They actually bring out the worst in
each other.” Amber swiveled away from him again. “And that’s what I get to look
forward to.” A few strands of her hair came loose and dangled in front of her
eyes.

Aaron
resisted the urge to brush them back. “Is that because you’re Clive’s half?” he
said, dreading the answer.

She
bit her lip and edged away from him, and a single teardrop teetered on her
eyelid. Aaron recognized right then what he should have seen from the
beginning. The redness of her cheeks. Amber had been crying before she came to
his house.

“I’m
sorry—” he began.

“I
have to go,” she said, and without a glance backward, she fled for the door.

“You
don’t have to,” he blurted out, halting her in the doorway and immediately
regretting it. “I mean—you’re allowed to stay.”

“Oh,
really?” she said, “Actually, Aaron, what I’m allowed to do isn’t up to you.”
Then she gave him one last look that set his skin on fire and vanished into the
hallway. A few seconds later, he heard the front door close.

Aaron
grabbed his volleyball again and lay on his bed, loathing the pounding in his
chest. He tried to set the ball to the ceiling, but it struck the shelf above
him and dislodged a T-ball trophy, which fell on his face.

Aaron
sat up and rubbed the cut on his forehead. Clearly, he had to stay away from
her. He couldn’t afford to fall for her, not with his birthday in two weeks.

To
clear his mind of Amber’s green eyes, he thought about the vial instead, and
the question neither one of them had dared voice: what in God’s name was Justin
and Emma’s clairvoyance doing inside a vial?

***

Health class wrapped up
on Friday afternoon with a video on half disorders. Still preoccupied with the
vial, Aaron didn’t bother watching. He already knew
his
disorder
wouldn’t be covered.

But the next section
drew his attention back to the screen for a different reason: “Premature
Contact.”

“You meet your half at
age eighteen for a reason,” said the narrator in his British accent, while a
cheesy movie played in the background of new halves holding hands. “Just as
touching a wire to a battery creates a surge of electricity, first contact with
your half literally creates a surge of clairvoyance within your channel. Until
you’ve gone through puberty, though, your clairvoyant channel is too
soft to withstand this surge—and it’s liable to
burst. Because of this unfortunate reality, juvengamy remains illegal . . . ”

Content
the video wasn’t going to reveal any horrifying truth about Amber and Clive’s
relationship, Aaron relaxed a little and leaned back in his chair. Though he still
listened.

Apparently,
juvengamy
was
still practiced in cult circles for the very thing that made it illegal. It
made a man’s half
docile by emptying her out.

The exposure was timed
carefully.
A girl’s body was more sensitive
to clairvoyance, so her channel broke first. Most of her clairvoyance leaked
out or collected in the boy.

All
under the guise that juvengamy forged a stronger bond between halves.

Weird.

***

Aaron
was waiting at his car after class for Buff when he heard squealing tires. He
jerked his head up as a steel gray Beamer swerved through the parking lot,
skidded around the speed bumps, and pulled up next to him. Dominic Brees sat at
the wheel, Clive Selavio in the passenger seat.

Dominic
leaned out the window. “Number eleven, don’t be a loner. Get in.”

Aaron
stepped up to the window and casually surveyed the leather interior, which gave
off the stale smell of marijuana. Finally, he stared at Clive.

“That’s
eight-hundred and twenty-five dollars you owe me for my car,” he said.

“Why
don’t you get in,” said Clive, patting the back seat. “We’ll talk while we
drive.”

“No,
you get out. We’ll talk right here.”

Clive
reached for his seatbelt, clicked it, and the strap recoiled. His fingers
closed on the handle.

 “Not
now—” Dominic grabbed his knee and nodded out the back. “Look who’s coming.”

Aaron
glanced up and saw Buff trudging into the parking lot.

Though
his fingers whitened on the door handle, Clive stayed in the car. “Lucky
bastard,” he muttered, licking his chapped lips.

“So
where’s my present?” said Aaron, leaning in through the window. “I was hoping
you were going to bring me a puppy or something.”

A
smirk crept onto Clive’s face. “Actually, Harper, I was thinking you and I
could have some
adult
fun tonight—since we’re both turning eighteen next
Saturday. Ever heard of the Pelican?”

“I’ll
pass,” said Aaron. Clive was talking about a nightclub on the pier that had a
reputation for underage sex. The Pelican was where seventeen-year olds with
fake IDs got drugged up and lost their virginity to strangers, not realizing
the consequences. Sex was meant for your half, no one else. If you broke that
rule, something would forever be missing
between you and your half.

“You
know I’m going to take good care of you,” said Clive.

“Yeah?
You can start by fixing the dent in my car.”

“Oh,
did that make you sad?” said Clive. “Well guess what? Next time you see Amber,
I’m going to put a dent in your skull.”

Aaron
felt an itch in his fingertips. “She came to me,” he said.

Clive
leaned across the seat toward him. “If that’s the story you prefer, Harper,
then I’ll put a dent in
her
skull.”

It
was too much. Aaron yanked open the door. But Dominic had already shifted into
first, and the Beamer lurched away from him, the door slammed.

 “Oh,
I forgot to mention—” Clive yelled from the window, “Amber’s going too.” He
broke into laughter.

Aaron
kicked the rear bumper as hard as he could before the car accelerated away from
him, his blood burning in his veins.

Clive
was taking Amber to the nightclub.

A
second later Buff was at his side. “That was Breezie, wasn’t it?” he said,
smacking his palm with his fist. “I can smell his stink.”

“Tonight,”
was all Aaron managed to say, his stomach turning queasy at the thought of
Clive forcing himself on her, “we’re going to the pier. We have to stop a girl
from ruining her life.”