Still Point (24 page)

“Those are actually pretty good,” Jax said. He scanned the menu, and I noticed how the blue light from the keypad reflected off his skin.

“I'd have to question the freshness of the freeze-dried fish tacos,” he said, and I scrunched my face and tried not to gag. My feet swung under the stool and tapped the side of the counter.

“The spaghetti and marinara looks like a mashed-up brain. Literally,” I said.

“Have you ever tried MealGels?” he asked me, and I shook my head. “You can order whatever flavor you want.” He showed me the selection on the menu. It looked like a bowl of Jell-O, but you could order it to taste like anything—chocolate cheesecake, or steak with mashed potatoes and gravy.

“What's it made out of?” I asked.

“I don't want to know,” Jax said. “Probably recycled plastic.”

I played with the options and tried to order a chocolate steak fried cheese muffin. The computer came back with an error page. Jax stared at me.

“You know, censorship was created for people like you,” he told me.

“Thanks,” I said, and smiled. He smiled back at me, the glow of the lights reflecting in his eyes. My stomach knotted, and I looked away and focused on the screen. I wasn't supposed to be having fun right now. This wasn't a vacation, but Jax had an amazing talent for distracting me. I just needed to find Justin and get up to Portland.

We placed our orders, and less than a minute later two dinner meals and drinks appeared under the glass counter. The countertop opened so we could take out our food. Before we could even start eating, we were bombarded with survey questions.
Would you like to write a review for your order? Please rate the menu selection. Please rate the speed and convenience of your order. Please rate the packaging of your meal. Please rate this survey.

“Is there a ‘shut up' function?” I said.

“You want to eat outside?” Jax asked me.

“Yes,” I said. We picked up our trays and walked outside to the end of the building, where a bench stood between two fake trees. I sat down and watched a man down the street helping a woman out of a ZipShuttle and into a wheelchair. He gently eased her down and pulled a blanket over her lap. He held up a bottle with a straw so she could take a drink. He kissed her and rubbed her hands before he wheeled her toward an apartment building. I watched how he took care of her and wondered if my dad would ever do that for my mom. It was hard to imagine. I wondered if Justin would ever do that for me.

I studied Jax while he ate. Considering how comfortable he was around people, one thing didn't make sense.

“I heard you're a skater,” I told him. He looked at me and laughed.

“Skater?” he said, and set down his sandwich. “Is that the Dropouts' PC word for an asshole?”

“We don't think you're an asshole,” I said. “You're just like us.”

His smile faded and his face turned serious, as if I had just insulted him. I had meant it as a compliment.

“I'm not, though,” he said. “You guys are all up in your mission. You probably pump your fists together and yell ‘Hero up' whenever you hang out. Me, I'm just weird.”

I was about to argue, but he cut me off.

“I've accepted it,” he told me, and held out his hand. “I like to wonder too much about things. I can know anything in seconds, but it kills all the wonder, and that's the best part. Wonder is the godfather of weirdness. Being informed all the time is so boring. There's no buildup.”

“For example?” I asked.

“For example . . . ” He thought for a second and looked around the street for inspiration. “Spiders. I wonder if they have ears. Can they hear?”

I considered this. “I don't think they have ears. I've never gotten close enough to one to check,” I admitted.

“But you don't know for sure,” he pointed out. “What if they have exceptional hearing? What if they're insanely smart? They're always hiding out on our ceilings, looking down. What if they're recording all our conversations? That's why they're so quiet all the time. They're plotting to take over the world.”

He looked at me, his eyes wide. “People are planning for robot and zombie and werewolf invasions. That's just stupid. Why isn't anyone worried about a giant-spider apocalypse? They tie up their victims until they're almost asphyxiated, and then start sucking their blood while they're still alive. Am I the only person concerned about this?”

“Most likely,” I said.

He shrugged. “Yeah. And DS doesn't appreciate it. It just ruins it for me. The ‘information highway.' No thanks. I prefer my own interpretations.”

“Is there anything even left to wonder about?” I wondered.

“I don't know. But I try to make it a daily exercise,” he said, and took a bite of his sandwich.

One question still hung in my mind. “If you don't like working with the Dropouts, then why did you agree to work with me?”

He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead of us. “I have my reasons,” he said.

“There's more than one?” I asked.

He nodded. “You said three words to me that I can't say no to. I think they're the three hardest words to say.”

I thought about this. The three hardest words. “I never said ‘I love you,'” I informed him. “Those are the three hardest words to say.”

He looked at me. “Really?” he asked, surprised, as if he didn't believe me. “I think the hardest words are ‘I need help.' You need to be pretty brave to admit it.”

“Or desperate,” I added.

“Either way, you were honest. I don't meet very many honest people these days. So, that's one of my reasons.”

I was about to press him for another when the flipscreen buzzed between us and Jax picked it up and checked a message. A call was coming in from Scott, and his voice came through the speakers.

“I'm working on getting a car down to you guys,” Scott said. “All of our contacts are heading to Portland.”

I felt a tinge of disappointment that it wasn't Justin. “Is everyone okay?” I asked.

“Vaughn's in custody,” Scott said. “Justin and your dad are already in Portland. How did you guys pay for a hotel room?” he asked.

“I used my account,” Jax said.

“You aren't scanning your fingerprints, are you?” Scott asked.

“Just to use a food machine,” I said. “We need to eat, Scott.”

“They could be tracing you,” Scott said.

“Who?” Jax asked. “You said yourself Vaughn's been caught.”

Scott sighed. “We still can't take any chances. I'll get somebody down there as soon as I can. But it might have to wait until morning. I'll send you a message,” he said, and the call ended.

“That kid could use a prescription of nothing,” Jax said. I had to agree. Scott sounded so anxious on the phone that my shoulders were tense just listening to him.

I looked down at my hands. “We have a lot of work ahead of us,” I said. I was surprised to feel jealous of Jax. All my life I had been searching for a middle ground, and Jax was the first person I had ever met who had found the art of balance.

It started to rain, which wouldn't have bothered me if I knew I had a clean, dry change of clothes waiting. Lightning cut across the western sky, and it was followed a few seconds later by a shaking rumble I hadn't heard in years. We stood up and made it inside the door just as pellets of hail drummed against the windows like hundreds of fingernails tapping against the glass.

There were rarely thunderstorms in Oregon, inside the rain valley. I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen lightning in my life. When we got inside the hotel room, Jax pulled back the curtains in the living room.

Lightning flashed, streaks of it burning through the sky and illuminating the trees, which were blowing so hard it looked like their limbs would snap off. I was amazed that each delicate leaf had the strength to hold on. Rain pelted against the window, pushed by angry waves of wind.

Jax threw cushions off the couch and pulled out the mattress inside. He lay on the white sheets and propped his feet on the back of the couch cushions so he could face the window. His hair was damp from the rain and curling at the ends.

The wind pushed against the building, and the walls resisted with a low moan. I looked nervously at the window as rain and hail hammered the glass.

“Do you think we should check the weather stations?” I asked.

“We're fine,” he said, enthralled by the storm. Just then lightning flashed, followed by a crackling roar of thunder that shook the floor. My shoulders jumped but Jax didn't flinch. He was smiling.

“Why doesn't it storm more often?” he asked.

I took a shallow breath. “They don't build up enough energy off the coast,” I said.

The wind wailed and the walls creaked against the force, like they were straining their muscles to push back. Thunder roared and I jumped at another flash of lightning. Jax scooted over on the mattress to give me room, and I sat down on the edge.

I laced my fingers together, over my lap.

“It's starting to die down,” he told me.

Water trickled down the window into tiny rivers and streams. I noticed that when two raindrops combined, they became faster. The ones that fell flat against the window stuck there like pebbles, worthless until another raindrop rescued it and carried it along. I thought about all the strange things nature can teach us, all these subtle hints it shares when we pay attention.

I was so tired, my shoulders started to sag. I lay down at the edge of the mattress and watched the lightning flash outside, illuminating the leaves being battered in the wind like thousands of flags. My heartbeat was starting to settle down.

I looked over at Jax, watching the storm.

“What's your boyfriend's name?” he asked.

I scrunched my eyes with confusion.

“What?” I asked him.

“You said you had a boyfriend,” he reminded me. “Who is he?”

“Are you joking?”

He turned his head to look at me. I stared at him like he was nuts, and he returned the same expression. Then he smiled.

“Oh, I get it,” he said, and grinned. “Does he have one of those embarrassing first names you hate to admit? Like Scorpio?”

I rolled my eyes. “His name isn't Scorpio,” I said. “Although I agree that would be unfortunate.”

He waited for me.

“Justin,” I said, as if it was obvious.

His eyebrows straightened, like I was messing with him. “Justin Solvi?” He smiled and chuckled, his chest rising and sinking. “Right. Did I mention I'm Zeus, God of Thunder? I actually summoned this storm.”

“I'm serious.”

“So am I,” he said. “It's my trick to getting girls on my bed.” He tapped the open space between us. “Works every time.”

I laughed. Thunder cut through the air and I jumped again. I pressed my hand against my chest and felt my heart flapping like it was trying to escape.

“Why are you so surprised?” I asked.

He folded his arms behind his head. “I guess I didn't see it.”

“Really?” I looked over at him with mock amazement. “You mean in the past twenty-four hours, since I've been kidnapped, drugged, shot at, almost killed
several
times, you didn't see our long, loving gazes pass back and forth?”

His eyes trailed between mine, like he was trying to read more than I was saying.

“But this morning, he didn't . . . he wasn't . . .” Jax sputtered out a frustrated breath. “Forget it.”

A few seconds went by, and we both watched the storm settling outside. The thunder quieted to a low rumble, and the rain brushed the window instead of slamming against it.

“How long have you guys been dating?” he asked.

“He recruited me last year, to fight DS,” I said. “He talked me into meeting face-to-face. It just happened.”

Jax propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me. His face was so close, I could see a scar above one of his eyebrows, thin, like it was cut with the sharp point of a pencil.

“Wait, so he's the first guy you've ever met? In
person
?
”

“No,” I said. But I thought about it, and realized Justin
was
the first guy I had met face-to-face, other than our neighbors and family friends.

“He's the only guy you've ever dated?” he asked.

“Yeah. So?”

“Kissed?”

“That is none of your business,” I insisted, and glared at him. “So what if he is?”

“How do you know if he's any good? You have nothing to compare it to.”

I laughed but Jax wasn't joking. My eyes flickered to his lips for a second, and I pulled them away.

“What, do I need to sample a make-out buffet before I know if Justin's a good kisser?” I asked.

“I wouldn't go the buffet route. You might catch something.” He rolled over onto his back and looked out the window. “I'm just saying, keep your options open. At least date other people before you settle. Consider it relationship research, an anthropological study on prime compatibility before you brand somebody with the boyfriend award.”

“God. You sound like a really nerdy dating forum.” I looked over at him. “Anyway, kissing isn't that big of a deal. It's not rocket science.”

He looked over at me, shocked. “Are you kidding me? You only get one first kiss with someone. One.” He held up his finger. “Do you know how epic that is? Do you know what kind of monumental pressure and buildup is put on that one defining moment? And look at all the complications involved. There are so many ways to screw it up.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. He picked the oddest things to be serious about. “Like?”

“Nose alignment,” he listed. “Teeth avoidance. There might be glasses or hats to get around. It's like landing a fucking spaceship with your eyes closed.”