Need (8 page)

Nate's finishing a call when I walk in. “Amanda is definitely in the hospital. She had an allergic reaction to peanuts, went into some kind of shock, and hit her head when she passed out and fell. Her mother found her unconscious in the kitchen and called the paramedics.”

That sounds bad. “But she's going to be okay, right?”

Nate shrugs. “The last Megan heard, Amanda is still unconscious, but it sounds like the doctors are optimistic. She promised to keep me posted.” After putting his phone away, Nate slips his arm through mine and says, “While we wait for news, why don't I get DJ to come out of his room so we can start movie night.” He picks up his drink and flashes a smile that makes the dark cloud over this day fade. “You didn't think I was going to let you off the zombie and slasher hook that easy, did you? Let's get this party started.”

F
INALLY
. C
ONFIRMATION
that Ethan has fulfilled his part of the bargain with NEED. His computer will be delivered tomorrow. All Ethan has to do now is make sure the shed out back is unlocked. Which is perfect, since he can wait until his parents go out before retrieving the box. The fewer questions his mom and dad ask, the better. And by this time tomorrow, he'll be dodging assassins and taking out targets in high def. It's too bad the computer isn't going to arrive tonight. Because his current one has already crashed twice. And right in the middle of a level. Which blows wide.

Normally, he'd be really pissed at having to start the level over. Today, he doesn't mind so much. The new computer is part of it. But for the first time, lighting up enemy targets and knifing people in the back aren't that exciting. Because they aren't real. This morning—digging the hole, running to avoid being caught, and sneaking back inside his house without making a sound—he had a chance to be like the characters he loves. He'd been given a mission and he had carried it out.

Just thinking about it gives him a massive rush. Was he scared when Kaylee yelled and started to chase him? Hell, yeah. But that's okay. Being scared is part of the deal. The mercenary trainer says that those with no fear are the ones who get sloppy. Sloppy means you get dead or get caught. He was neither, which means he won the level. The thrill of success gave him a buzz that lasted most of the day. When his friend Logan Shepens called and told him his father had to go out early because of a vandalism report, it was hard to separate fear from excitement. What an awesome high. He didn't know a person could feel that alive.

Only now, the high is gone and the game he's playing online doesn't seem that interesting. Not when he knows how much more exciting it is to perform missions for real.

Ethan tries to concentrate on the target on his screen, but gives up, shuts down the game mid-level, and logs on to NEED. When he gets to the request page, he rereads the prompt and frowns. What should he ask for this time? He could request computer software or maybe a new iPod, but that isn't what he really wants. No. Those things are ordinary. Boring. And he is done with boring. He's been boring all his life. People expect him to be boring. Hell, he expects himself to be dull and uninteresting. But he doesn't want to be. He wants the rush he felt today. He wants the excitement of being a real-life Mercenary of War. He wants to be interesting and different, just like his characters. No . . . he doesn't just want it. He needs it. But what the hell can he ask for that will give him that?

He turns the problem over in his head for several minutes. Then he types:
I need another mission. The more dangerous the better.

Honesty is always the best policy.

He pictures himself racing down icy streets, leaving explosions and chaos behind him. Then he presses Enter.

YOUR REQUEST IS BEING PROCESSED.

He smiles.

 

 

 

 

NETWORK MEMBERS—690

NEEDS PENDING—686

NEEDS FULFILLED—122

M
OVIE NIGHT IS
a hit with DJ. Less so with me, since I seem to jump and squeal more than usual with each scary sequence. The man in our yard and Amanda's ‘accident' have put me on edge.

But I'm glad that when DJ goes to bed, he is smiling and laughing and leaves his door unlocked. Nate's magic works again. Mom, having assured herself that DJ doesn't have a fever or isn't huddled in tears, has long since turned in, so Nate helps me turn off the lights and straighten up.

“DJ seems like he's doing okay, all things considered,” Nate says, as he puts the empty popcorn bowl in the sink.

I nod. “He's gotten good at getting back up after being knocked down.” A skill I could learn from him, because the shock and upset I felt earlier that day have segued into a white-hot rage. At whoever did this. At my father, who could have stayed and prevented it. And at myself. Because if Richard Ward is behind the hole in the yard, I, too, am to blame. “Nate.” I jam my hands into my back pockets. “Do you think it was my emails about my father that caused this?”

“What? No.”

His denial is emphatic, but the guilt I've been holding at bay breaks free and threatens to overwhelm me. “If I had listened to my mom and trusted her to handle finding a donor—”

“Kaylee, this isn't your fault.” Nate grabs my hand and squeezes so tight that it hurts. “No matter what you've done, there's nothing wrong with trying to save your brother's life. Anyone who says different is lying. Trust me, you're one of the best people I know.”

“Right. You don't need to lie to make me feel better.”

“I'm not.” Nate loosens his grip but doesn't let go of my hand. “You've always put other people's needs in front of your own. You never even stopped to consider if the surgery would hurt or what it would mean for you to live your entire life without one of your kidneys. The minute you heard DJ needed a transplant, you volunteered. No questions asked.”

“He's my brother.”

“If it had been me or someone else in this town, you would have still volunteered. Remember Kristen Rothchild's ninth birthday party?”

“Vaguely.” It happened over seven years ago.

“Well, I remember that more kids showed up than were supposed to and Kristen's mom was short a cupcake. You realized the problem before she did and said you didn't want one.”

“I must have been full.”

He shakes his head. “You didn't want one of the other kids to be upset, so you fixed it. That was the day I decided I wanted to be your best friend, and I bribed you with half of my chocolate cupcake.”

“I remember now. It was vanilla.”

“If it had been vanilla, I would have given you the entire thing. Who needs vanilla cake?” Nate grins, but his eyes are dead serious when they meet mine. “My point is, the only person to blame for what happened in your yard is the jerk who dug the hole. Not the person who sold him the shovel. Not your father for having such crappy taste in friends. Not you for trying to help your brother. The person who, for whatever reason, made a choice and dug that hole. He'll have to live with the consequences. And who knows. Maybe it'll turn out to be a good thing.”

I flinch and yank free of Nate's grasp. “I can't imagine how.”

“Think about it.” Nate folds his arms across his chest. “This kind of story gets people fired up. People are going to talk. They'll be angry at someone picking on a sick kid, especially a kid like DJ who gets good grades, is nice to everyone, and has never gotten into trouble. This is the kind of story that people share on social media and that makes everyone want to help. If we play our cards right, DJ's story could go viral.”

“That would be great, but I kind of doubt it.”

“Don't be so pessimistic. It's not a good look for you.” Nate holds up a hand before I can make a comeback. “Don't take my word for it. Look at how fast NEED spread. A few people were invited on to the site. They were asked to invite five more, who then invited six. Four days ago, no one we know had ever heard of NEED. Today, everyone we go to school with is talking about it. This story with DJ is going to spread in the same way. And if one person gets tested for every twenty who hear about it, we'll have a great chance of finding a donor before things get really bad.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I say, swallowing down my fear. “But I don't think I'll give up looking for my father.”

“I didn't say you should. How about I come over on Sunday and help you make phone calls? We can borrow my mom's car and drive to the condo complex that the Christmas card was sent from. We'll flash your dad's picture around like one of those black-and-white-movie PIs. Maybe someone will remember something.”

“I don't have my driver's license yet, and you're busy that day. Remember? You told Megan you'd see her on Sunday.”

“You should know by now that I never go to the stuff I say yes to. You'd think people would stop asking me, but for some reason they never do.”

Nate's grin disappears and his expression turns solemn. “As far as I can tell, you're the only one who can count on me to do most of what I say. You're the only one who has ever mattered enough for me to bother to be a nice guy. Why do you think that is?”

I feel hot and cold and nervous as Nate looks at me. It's as if everything depends on the answer I give. But I'm not sure what answer he wants or if I have the courage to give it. So I take the easy way out and shrug, as if this is just another one of his crazy ideas. “I don't know.”

My heart pounds faster.

Nate stares at me. Then he nods and steps away. “I know you don't. Sometimes I don't either. I guess it must have something to do with that chocolate cupcake. I have a few things I have to do tomorrow, but I'll be here bright and early on Sunday to help you search for your dad. If you need anything before then, let me know.” He grabs his jacket off the back of the kitchen chair and slips into it as I follow him to the front door. Hand on the knob, he turns. “Kaylee . . .”

I wrap my arms tight around myself as his eyes study my face. Shifting my feet, I try not to worry as he looks as if he's trying to decide how to say what it is he wants to say. When several seconds pass and he still hasn't said anything, I ask, “Yes?”

He opens his mouth but then shakes his head. “Nothing. Just . . . after what happened this morning and what happened to Amanda, I want you to promise me that you'll be careful. Okay?”

“Sure.” It's not like we live in a war zone, as creepy as this morning's incident was. “I promise.”

“Good.” Nate flips his scarf around his neck with a flourish. “Because while I make an excellent sidekick, I'd be a terrible hero. And we all know how much I hate being bad at things.”

And with that parting salvo, he opens the door and is gone, leaving me feeling jittery and unsettled. Which is why, when I go up to my room, I slide into my desk chair and fire up my computer instead of going to bed. No one has replied to the emails I sent yesterday. Either they've been too busy to check their inboxes or they just don't care.

I log on to Facebook and search for news of Amanda. There are lots of posts on her page. People praying that she gets well. Requests for updates on her condition. Stuff Nate told me about and more. Much more. About ten posts down I see a message from Amanda's aunt asking that everyone pray for her niece, followed by lots of comments sending hugs and prayers, along with a few people saying they never knew Amanda had such a bad allergy. Me neither, and I have to wonder how someone with such a severe allergy ate a cookie containing nuts in her own home. Unless her mother just missed reading a label, like some of the comments suggest.

Still, I can't help thinking how strange this whole thing is. In grade school, we couldn't bring homemade cookies or cupcakes into the building because of the risk to kids who had food allergies. And the kids who had the allergies were careful about checking labels on anything they considered eating. While I don't know her well, I would bet that Amanda is the cautious type. Unless she was trying to kill herself, which seems like a stretch, considering she was getting ready for a party. I can't imagine her eating something without first looking at the ingredients. I just hope the reaction wasn't as bad as the posts on her page make it sound, because hospitals suck. DJ could give a dissertation on the subject. Maybe if Nate knows what he's talking about, my brother might get a chance to not see them so often in the future.

Nate.

He's rarely serious, and I know he had more that he wanted to say. So why didn't he say it? Is he worried that I'll blame him if his plan doesn't work? Or is he thinking that our friendship could develop into something more? And if he does want us to be more than friends, would that put what we have now at risk? I don't know. I hope Nate won't bring it up again so I don't have to make that choice. At least, not until my father is found and DJ is better.

Since I don't want to think about the intensity of Nate's stare, I focus on his plan for DJ and sign in to NEED. If we're going to mimic the outreach this site has, I should probably look at it again. I click on my profile page and I let out a huge sigh of relief as I see that no one has discovered it yet. Or if they have, they haven't left any comments under my need request. At least one good thing has happened today.

I click on the various tabs and try to imagine what Nate is thinking about for the viral campaign. He wants to use a picture of today's vandalism, which makes me uneasy, even though I understand his reasoning. The most popular posts on social media sites always have pictures. Even here on the NEED message board, there are lots of photos, of shoes, iPads, new phones. Some of the photos document the rewards that NEED has bestowed. Others are of items they're hoping to request in the future.