The Candidates (20 page)

“I was just wondering. He is awfully cute.” She wove delicately around a stump and a narrow section of trail. “I guess if he was my friend, I’d be keeping my eye out for him.”

“What? What do you mean?” Something in her tone sent a chill down my back.

“I just mean not everyone around here likes him as much as you do. You might want to tell him that.”

The trail turned and crossed out of the woods to flank the playing fields. A small group of guys chased a soccer ball, while a group of girls and guys tossed a Frisbee.

Anna stopped, and I almost plowed into her back. She rested her arms on top of her head and stared at the soccer players. I realized one of them must be Cam. A second later he broke away from the pack long enough to wave at us.

I didn’t wave back. I hung down over my knees and tried desperately to catch my breath. He rejoined the game.

“Jerk,” Anna muttered.

We started running again, this time in silence.

As I settled into my stride, I tried to interpret Anna’s strange warning. Cam’s animosity toward Jack was hardly a secret, but was she suggesting Cam might be capable of hurting him? That was hard to believe. More likely, Anna was so bitter about being dumped that she was now spinning stories about Cam. Or maybe she was hoping I’d rush to Jack’s defense, and that would turn Cam against me.

It was all pretty far-fetched, but the worst part was, whatever code she was speaking, I didn’t get the feeling she was lying.

“Why are you telling me this?” I summoned the nerve to ask. “You don’t even like me.”

Anna checked her watch. “Not everything’s about you, Dancia.”

With that she shook her ponytail and effortlessly lengthened her stride. I stopped on the trail and watched as she sped away from me, her brown hair swinging behind her like a flag.

I SUFFERED
through my usual evening of studying, ignoring Catherine, and pretending I fit in with twenty-five other clueless freshmen who had no absolutely idea what was going on behind the walls of their fancy private school. Just before lights-out, a fight broke out in the bathroom when Cara accused Hannah of stealing her razor. Hannah, in turn, accused Cara of using her hair spray. Sides were taken and tears ensued. Parties sent emissaries back and forth between rooms. Hennie got involved to negotiate a truce and soothe hurt feelings.

Catherine gave them all dirty looks and went back to our room and slammed the door. For once I was relieved to be able to follow her and go straight to bed. I had enough real drama in my life. I didn’t need the manufactured kind.

Cam wasn’t at lunch the next day, so I sat with Esther and Hennie. I purposely put my back to the doors of the cafeteria so I couldn’t watch to see if he’d come in. My friends seemed to know something was up, and didn’t mention Cam once. Esther had a short story due in her creative writing class, and Hennie had a vocabulary quiz in Hindi, so they didn’t have time to pay much attention to me anyway. I bit my fingernails, poked at my taco salad, and refused to even look at Jack. As far as I could tell, he was ignoring me too.

I barely heard a word Mr. Phillips said during English; I just stared at the clock and counted the minutes until I could run to study hall. Cam had said he would come get me then. Even with Anna’s odd warning ringing in my ears, I still wanted desperately to see him, all the while dreading the moment I would look into his eyes and know how he really felt.

Though I was convinced he would deny everything, I had decided to confront Cam about the “Watcher report.” I just couldn’t give up on him completely. Part of me still believed there was a way out of this, an explanation for the whole awful mess. The paper lay tucked into my back pocket, wrinkled from where I’d wadded it up the day before.

I started to panic the moment he entered the room. That wavy hair tickling the edges of his ears, those broad shoulders, and the smile that seemed to work even on teachers. It all had a magical effect, and I suddenly couldn’t imagine even suggesting that he was involved in anything so ugly as what the paper might suggest.

He handed my teacher, Mrs. Westerly, an official-looking yellow sheet, and she beckoned for me to approach her desk.

“Dancia, Cameron has requested that you assist in his seminar project. I don’t normally allow freshmen to opt out of study hall so early in the year, but he has personally vouched for you.” She glared at me over the top of her glasses.

Mrs. Westerly liked to think of herself as being tough.

“Now, you may go to the library,” she continued in a stern voice, “but nowhere else. Understood?”

“Okay.” I gulped.

Cam gave me an encouraging
Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of everything
look. “Thank you, Mrs. Westerly,” he said.

“I’m holding you responsible, Cameron,” she warned.

“I understand.”

I went back to my desk to grab my books, and a few of the girls in the class gave me jealous looks. It was a good thing I had given up on my fade-into-the-background plan. All the time I’d been spending with Cam had made me a bit of a celebrity among the freshman girls. Even Allie had asked me a week or two ago whether we were going out.

Cam’s arm brushed against mine as I walked out the door, and he gave me a little wink. My confusion deepened. Could he really be this good an actor? How could he be so sweet, and so devious?

“How was your run with Anna?” he asked. “I saw you guys yesterday, by the practice field. You looked like you were working hard. I hope everything went okay?” He took his time with the words, as if making sure he said precisely the right thing.

I considered my response just as carefully. Anna was one of Cam’s best friends, and his ex-girlfriend. I wouldn’t do myself any favors being catty about her. “It was … challenging. She’s very fast. And serious about what she does.”

We walked passed the trophies and plaques on the wall by the front door. I stopped in front of a picture of a team of runners. Each person held out a silver medal. Anna was standing in front of the group. She had a grim smile on her face, as if she were trying hard to look happy.

“You know, that’s at last year’s state championships. She was pissed they only got second,” Cam looked at the picture with a mix of admiration and something else—regret? Was he sorry that he had broken up with Anna?

“I get the feeling she can be a bit competitive.” I lingered, shifting between watching Cam and studying the picture. I wished for something in his body language that would tell me how he felt about her.

“Now that’s an understatement.” Cam pointed to the stairs. “We should go. I’ll get in all kinds of trouble if we get caught in the hall.”

I took one last look at Anna’s face and followed Cam up the stairs. We passed the front desk and wound around the stacks. The library extended through several connected rooms, and Cam seemed to know where he was going. I kept my mouth shut and followed, trying to ignore the curious gazes I felt directed our way.

We maneuvered around study cubes hidden at the ends of shelves, and around dark corners of the library I didn’t even know existed. Finally, Cam led us through a set of double doors to a dim, windowless room, where one fluorescent light flickered overhead.

We sat down at the only desk in the room, and Cam pulled his chair beside me. He cleared his throat. “I have something I want to talk to you about—” he started to say, but I interrupted him.

“I have something I need to say first.” Somewhere in my tortured mind, it occurred to me that if I didn’t say something quick, he would turn up the charm and I would end up drooling and mindless, unable to do anything but sit at his feet like an obedient lap dog.

I took a deep breath and steeled myself for confrontation. I pulled the crinkled paper out of my back pocket and spread it out on the table in front of us. “What’s this, Cam? What’s a Watcher?”

He leaned forward to examine the paper, and his eyes widened. His cheeks went white, then red. “Where did you … How did you get that?”

Jack hadn’t made it up. My last bit of hope dissolved. “I don’t think that matters. I just want to know what it means.”

“Jesus, Dancia. You shouldn’t have this.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Pain, sharp and sudden, laced through my heart. “It’s about me, isn’t it? Don’t I have a right to know if I’m being watched?”

“Did Landry give you that?” He slammed his hand down on the paper. “I knew I felt a disturbance in my room yesterday. He must have broken in while I was grabbing breakfast.”

“It doesn’t matter where I got it, Cam,” I said flatly. “I want to know what it means.”

“It’s for your own good,” he said, through pinched lips. “For everyone’s good.”

“Delcroix isn’t just a private school, is it? What else is going on here? Is this some government thing?”

He shook his head. “No, of course not. Look, it’s not what it seems. It’s nothing bad. Honestly.”

I waited for him to explain, but he just kept staring at the page, his shoulders tight, his foot tapping the ground rapidly as if he were waging some internal battle. I waged my own battle, fighting the desire to collapse with the pain—the sheer heartache of having all my insecurities proven horribly, completely true—and the desire to punch Cam right across his perfectly square jaw. Finally I grabbed my backpack and stood up.

“Listen, if you’re not going to tell me what’s going on, I’ll find out myself. At least I know why you’ve been so nice to me. From now on I won’t let myself fall for it.” I started to walk away, but he caught my arm.

“Dancia, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. But I can’t.” His eyes pleaded with me. “And I do like you. I like you a lot. That’s why this is all such a mess. You’ve got to believe me.”

I tried to shake off his arm, but he held on tighter. “Cam.” My voice broke. “Don’t make a fool out of me. Please.”

He pulled me gently back down into my chair, taking my hand in his. Reluctantly, I set my backpack on the floor and let our eyes meet.

He will not turn my brain to pea soup, I chanted to myself.

“I do have to watch you,” he said, his gaze even softer than usual—almost tender. “But I would have done it anyway. What I said to you that day I got the message from my dad was true—you’re a real friend, Dancia. Someone special.”

“You’ve got friends, Cam,” I said. “You don’t need me.”

“But you’re different from other girls I know. You’re more”—he fumbled for the word—“more real. Like you don’t pretend to be something you’re not.”

I laughed sourly. “You have no idea how wrong you are. I’ve been pretending all my life. I guess of all people, my Watcher should know that.”

“You may have hidden your gift,” he said, “and you had every reason to do that. But you’ve never hidden yourself. You’ve always been Dancia—tough and funny, absolutely determined, and a fierce protector for those who need you. I admire that a lot. I admire
you
. You’ve got to believe me.”

How did he manage to keep getting my hopes up when I knew at the end of the day he was just going to crush them?

“Look, things are all messed up right now because of this.” He let go of my hand and gestured toward the Watcher report. “But I seriously like you, Dancia.” For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed hesitant. “In fact, the main reason I haven’t tried to be anything more than just friends was because of the whole Watcher thing. I didn’t want to get those things mixed up. You’re too important to me.” He pushed his chair back from the desk. “I’m sure you’re pissed at me. I understand that. But there’s more to us than this paper. I just hope you can believe me.”

My heart turned to a puddle of mush, along with what was left of my anger, but somehow I managed to find my voice. “I don’t understand what’s going on here. How can I believe a word you say when you won’t tell me the truth?”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, scattering the ends around his face. “If I tell you, I’ll have to tell Mr. Judan,” he said under his breath, looking around as if expecting Judan to materialize right there in front of us. “He’s supposed to be the one to make the decision on whether to tell candidates about the program.” Cam picked up the Watcher report and glared at the paper as if it were responsible for all his troubles.

Just when the silence had become too much, he continued, “This is really big, Dancia. Really important. If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else. I’m serious. No one. Are you sure you want to know the truth?” The intensity radiated from him in waves. He was almost trembling in his concern.

I paused. “I can’t tell anyone? Even my grandma?” It occurred to me that if my powers were real, and there was a whole school dedicated to kids like me, maybe I could finally tell Grandma the truth.

“No.” His eyes were suddenly hard and sharp. “It’s for her own good. Once you know about Delcroix, you could be in danger yourself. It’s not something to take lightly. And Jack can never know. It would be incredibly dangerous. You have to promise me that.”

I thought about Anna’s crazy warning—about someone being out to get Jack—but things were moving so quickly, I was too dazed and overwhelmed to ask more questions. All I knew was that I was finally going to learn the truth.

“I promise.”

He stood up abruptly. “There’s no going back now, you understand?”

If he was trying to scare me, he was doing a good job. “Sure,” I said, trying not to let him see how terrified I was.

Slowly, he walked over to the doors that led back into the main library, closed them with a soft click, and turned a lock under the handle. The fluorescent light gave everything in the room a greenish-gray glow.

Cam’s face became ghostly. “Follow me.”

WE WALKED
to the far corner of the room, where the flickering light cast long shadows on the books. Cam reached up to the top of a metal shelving unit, moved a book aside, and punched a series of buttons on a hidden keypad. A soft whirring sound began high overhead, and the row of books on the wall to our left creaked softly.

“It only stays open for a second,” he said. “You’ll have to squeeze in right after me. Don’t let yourself fall behind.”

As if spinning on some giant axis, the bookcase revolved about twenty degrees to the left; just enough for Cam to turn sideways and slip inside. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the whirring started again, and the bookcase swung back into place.

For a second, it was pitch black. I fought the desire to scream like a girl in a bad horror movie, until the absurdity of it all—a secret passageway behind a bookcase? You’ve got to be kidding me!—brought a smile to my face. A light turned on overhead, revealing a narrow corridor illuminated by glowing white lightbulbs. Cold air clung to sterile gray walls.

“Where are we?” I whispered, the smile fading. Something about the place made me feel like I was in a prison. Or a should-have-been-closed mental institution.

“Behind the library. We go up a flight of stairs to get to the other library. That’s what I need to show you.”

He didn’t sound like he wanted to chat, so I shut my mouth and followed him up a circular staircase with a cold metal railing and industrial-plastic steps.

Lights turned on above us as we climbed. Cam reached the top and disappeared from view. I gripped the chilly railing tightly, my legs shaking so badly I feared I would do something horrifically embarrassing, like trip and smash my face into the steps above.

We passed through a hole in the ceiling, my head emerging step by step as what had been the ceiling turned into the floor. That was when I got my first look at Cam’s big secret.

It was another library. A small, narrow one, with books along one wall and deep window wells on the other, the windows covered by pieces of plywood. Everything was gray and a little dingy, as if the cleaning crew didn’t get back here often enough. I got to the top of the stairs and walked slowly to the first shelf, tilting my head to read the titles.

The Science of Levitation

Using Your Talent for Shape-changing

Unlocking the Power: Turning Mass to Energy in Everyday Objects

A New State: Altering States of Matter Through Chemistry

“Delcroix isn’t just a school for geniuses,” Cam said flatly. “That’s part of what we do here, but only part. More important, we look for people like you, Dancia. People with special talents.”

I gulped. “What do you mean, like me?”

“Your power,” he said. “If you want to talk truth, here it is.

We’ve known about your secret for some time. We recruited you because of it.”

I should have expected it by this point, but somehow hearing him say it out loud made me dizzy. I swayed toward the wall behind me.

Cam grabbed me around the waist and set me in a window well. “Put your head between your knees,” he commanded.

I dutifully obeyed, feeling like a complete idiot, peeking out to see his chest only inches away. When the world stopped spinning, I lifted my head. “I think I’ll be okay.”

He gave me a half smile. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to completely freak you out. I guess it’s a bit of a shock, huh?”

“A bit.”

“I felt the same way when they told me.”

We sat for a minute in silence. I stared at the rows of books on the wall. Many looked old, with cracked leather bindings and gold edges to the pages. Others were relatively new, but all had been extensively used. Nothing on the shelves looked untouched.

My anger dissolved into something more like relief. As weird as it all was, a weight was lifting from my shoulders. I didn’t have to pretend anymore.

“You knew about me all along?”

“Well, not exactly. We knew someone in Danville was using a Level Three Talent, but you only used it sporadically and somehow without attracting much attention. Most people can’t get to Level Three without training, and we usually hear about those that do. You were harder to identify than most. It wasn’t until the incident at the hospital that we could trace it all back to you.”

I leaned back against the window. “A Level Three Talent?

What’s that? How did you know someone was using one?”

He began to pace as he spoke, and I had the sense this was a speech he had given before. “Everyone at Delcroix—actually, everyone in the world—has a talent. Most talents are basic everyday stuff. They can be as simple as being a good cook or having a knack for throwing great parties. Those are Level One Talents. Level Two gets you noticed. Those are your geniuses, your computer hackers—the type we recruit for Delcroix. Level Twos are people like your friend Hennie, who can read people so well it’s like she’s reading their mind, or Esther, whose impersonations are incredible. Some Level Twos stay there, some can be trained to go even higher. If Hennie takes her talent to the next level, she’ll actually be able to read minds. Esther could learn to shape-shift. You’re a Level Three. Someone who can use her mind to do extraordinary things.”

“Esther could shape-shift?” I thought about how she said her pants got looser sometimes when she pretended to be someone. Maybe she was already a Level Three Talent and they just didn’t know it. “Can you tell me how it works?” I whispered, both excited and terrified to finally learn about my power. “What it is I’m doing?”

He shook his head. “Not until we experiment with you a little. You know, ask you to do certain things and observe the results. But my guess is that you’re playing with some of the forces of nature, perhaps with gravity. Everyone’s talent is a little different, but they fall into some general categories. Earth Talents, like yours, can manipulate the chemical and physical forces of the earth. Life Talents have extraordinary powers to understand, persuade, and communicate with people and animals. Somatic Talents have extraordinary bodily powers—Trevor, for example, can see through walls. I have a Life Talent for recognizing other talents. I feel a resonance when someone nearby uses their power. It’s hard to describe, almost like a vibration. And I felt that resonance over the past few years probably every time you used your power.”

Forces of nature. Gravity. That sounded right.

“Can a person have more than one talent?” After all, Jack had said he felt something when I used my power, sort of like what Cam described, but Jack could also change the form of things.

“Yes, but usually one talent is more powerful than the others. I’m a Level Three for recognition, Level Two for persuasion. It’s why people always vote for me to be class president. I could probably use my persuasion to be a really good politician, but not much else. But if it was my primary talent, I could learn to control people’s minds. Mr. Judan’s a Level Three for persuasion.”

I shivered. I knew there was something spooky about Mr. Judan. “Is there a Level Four?”

He stopped pacing. “After Level Three, it gets messy. There have been reports in the past of Level Fours, but there aren’t any around today, so we can’t be sure. But you’re already a strong Level Three, and you haven’t even been trained.”

“How does it work? Your recognition thing, I mean.”

“The first time I touch a Level Three Talent, I get a vibration. I think you may have felt it when we first shook hands.”

I nodded. “It felt like a shock. I always wondered about that.”

“Normally, you wouldn’t even feel it. It’s a … meeting of energies.” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know quite how to describe it. We typically don’t even try to identify Level Threes until midway through freshman year, and the candidate doesn’t even know what’s happened. But with you and with Jack, things were different from the start. When I touched you it was a hundred times stronger than anything I’d ever felt before. You jumped a mile. Mr. Judan even saw it. That’s when we knew how powerful you were, and how important it was to get you into Delcroix.”

“Why don’t you tell the”—I fumbled over the word—“candidates … what Delcroix’s really all about?”

“We can’t go around training just anyone to use these kinds of powers. What if they were to use them for the wrong purposes? Can you imagine how dangerous that could be? We make them take the pledge to get into Delcroix, but we can’t stop there.”

I nodded. He looked so grave, so serious, that I got a little scared. If I could put someone into a coma, and I didn’t even know what I was doing, think about what I could do with a little training.

Cam continued his explanation. “Before we start formal training, we subject candidates to significant stresses and challenges, and we investigate their reactions. We cannot risk training someone who will use their powers for evil. So we watch and wait. That’s why we do the wall and other group experiences. At the beginning of sophomore or junior year we invite those students who show they can be trusted to join the program.”

He approached my seat in the window well and put a hand next to my knee. Then he leaned forward until I could feel his breath on my face. There was so much information coming at me, I could barely take it all in, but at that moment, all I could think about was Cam saying that the reason he hadn’t tried to be more than friends was because of the Watcher thing.

It was enough to make me dizzy all over again.

“Throughout all of it, we have a network of Watchers monitoring the progress of each candidate. Some are teachers, like Mr. Fritz, who watch candidates in the classroom. Most are other students, like me and Trevor and Anna. We each get assigned a handful of candidates, and we find ways to spend time with them. We participate in activities with our candidates, offer to help with homework, and observe them in the dining hall. Although each of us is assigned specific students to watch, we work together closely so we don’t make anyone uncomfortable. For example, Anna might keep an eye on you during cross-country, while I might be there for you at lunch.”

I swallowed hard. “So someone’s watching me all the time? Pretending to be my friend and then taking notes about the things I say or do?”

“You’re making it sound worse than it is. Most candidates don’t know about their talent, but they do know they’re different. They’ve often been ostracized or bullied for the very gifts that we want to encourage. They need extra attention. We’re giving them that attention. We don’t watch because we want to hurt anyone. We watch because we care about our candidates. We want to be there for them. And if they start going down the wrong path, we need to know that too.”

I wasn’t entirely convinced, but Cam’s face was so open and sincere, it was hard to doubt that he believed what he was saying. “Does everyone have a Watcher?”

“Not exactly. The teachers, advisers, and team leaders do some reporting on every freshman. Technically, you’re all candidates. But the reality is that most people never get past Level Two. Only a handful of candidates will be brought into the program, and we usually know who those people are before school even starts. Those are the ones who are given an individual Watcher.”

“Are you watching Jack?” I had to ask, even though his very name felt like taboo.

“We all watch Jack,” Cam said grimly. “We know too much about him not to. But officially he’s assigned to Trevor.”

My gaze darted around, meeting his and then pushing back, like the wrong end of a magnet bumping against another. “Okay. So what’s the program?”

“Different things for different people. There’s basic lessons, learning more about how talents work, the forces that they utilize, that sort of thing. After that you specialize. For me, it’s learning how to read the vibrations I feel, how to identify more about a candidate than simply whether they have a Level Three Talent or not. They think maybe I can learn to tell from the time I recruit someone whether they can be trusted in the program. You’ll learn about the forces you can control, and make sure you know exactly what you’re doing so your talent doesn’t end up hurting anyone.”

That made me shudder. I had hurt people. For years, I had hurt people every time I used my talent. Did Cam know that? What would he think of me if he ever found out?

“What happens to the ones who aren’t asked to join the program?” I said.

He turned around and rested his back against the edge of the windowsill, staring forward as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Most of them never figure out what they could have been. They go through Delcroix, get trained in a lesser talent, and go on with their lives. The ones that do figure it out, well, that’s why the program exists in the first place. To protect the rest of the world from the ones who would do harm.”

I looked down at my hands. “And you think I could do that? Help protect people?”

Cam reached over and laced our fingers together. My hand appeared small and white, almost fragile next to his. “We don’t really know what you’re capable of, Dancia. But when you’re upset, even the air around you sparkles. That day in Mr. Fritz’s class, when you had the trip-to-the-moon activity, you did something that felt like an earthquake. I practically busted down the door of the girls’ bathroom, I was so worried about you. Mr. Fritz had to call me off and get your friend Allie in to check on you instead.”

A part of me melted into the window well. Cam had been worried about me.

He smiled and turned back toward me. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and my stomach fluttered. “There’s extraordinary power in you. We just have to find a way—carefully—to unleash it.”

I don’t know what might have happened then, because the sound of feet tromping up the circular staircase broke the silence. A head emerged from the floor below, then another. First Trevor, then Anna, then two other people I vaguely recognized from the lunch table.

“Holy shit, Cam. What’s going on?” Trevor demanded.

Anna’s eyes bugged out. She looked at Cam, then me, then our hands still knitted together, her face growing whiter by the second.