Inheritance

“Maybe we need to take things a little slower,” he finally said.

His words made relief and disappointment sweep through her all at once. “Okay. You’re right.”

He took a couple of steps closer to her, and she thought he might kiss her again, but he only reached out to button up her shirt. He buttoned it all the way up, until she felt the collar closing against her neck. “Maybe we should go home,” he said, sounding tired.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and reached for his hand.

But he drew away. “I know. Can you give me a minute in here alone? Wait for me outside.”

She was stunned. Unsure of what else to do, she stumbled out of the shed, leaving him inside. The night air was cool on her face and she felt like she might burst into sobs at any moment. In the distance, the lights of Eric’s party still sparkled, and she heard the sounds of laughter and conversation. She and David would have to walk out of there through that party. Everyone would see that something had happened, that something was wrong. It would be the talk of the school on Monday.

The idea of facing all those curious glances galvanized her. She took a deep breath, trying to push her way through the haze of the drink and the lingering effect of making out with David. If that memory hadn’t risen to the surface, they’d still be in the potting shed, and it was obvious what came next. To her shock, she discovered that part of her was grateful that the memory had stopped them. She wasn’t ready, and when she was, she wasn’t doing it in a potting shed.

With Amber, it had never been so all-encompassing, probably because Amber had made a point to close her mind to Reese—to “keep things to herself,” she had said. If I’d let you see everything, it probably would have freaked you out, Reese remembered her saying. That was an understatement. It was like being consumed by something so primal she had no control over it. Now she felt weak-limbed and fuzzy-headed and hungover—way more hungover than one cup of punch should have made her, even if it had been strong.

And she was terrified. Was this what the adaptation made possible? The horrifying intimacy of having someone see everything inside her, even things she didn’t want to see herself?

The door to the shed opened and David came outside. They faced each other under the night sky, ignoring the chatter of the party at the other end of the yard. “Are you okay?” David asked.

Hot tears pricked at the edges of her eyes, and she didn’t move. She didn’t know what to say or what to do. She wished she could go back in time—fifteen minutes was all she needed—and she wouldn’t have to feel like she had betrayed David against her own will.

I don’t think you betrayed me, he told her.

She looked up at him, but she couldn’t read his expression in the dark. You don’t?

No. But I think…

They both realized at the same instant that they weren’t touching. They were communicating mentally without touching. Reese stepped back in shock. David?

I can hear you so clearly, he thought.

It’s like you’re in my head.

It’s like we flipped a switch.

Reese’s face heated up. What had done it? His hands on her thighs or the way she had kissed him? Had that delirious, drowning feeling erased the space between them?

He came toward her and reached for her hand. “Reese,” he said out loud, breaking the taut silence. He pulled her into a delicate embrace, as if they were both made of fine china. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I hope so,” she said. Then she pulled away, letting her hand trail down his arm until their fingers were touching. Close, but not too close.

* * *

She was home by eleven thirty. David walked her up the front steps and kissed her good night, his mouth brushing over hers, light as a feather. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

David’s parents had invited Reese and her family over to watch the Sophia Curtis interview when it aired on Saturday night. “See you tomorrow,” she said, and then she unlocked the front door and went inside. She turned to peer out the window as David went down the steps to where his car was waiting on the street, the engine idling. One sedan pulled into a parking space across the street and another followed David’s as he drove away.

“How was your date?” her mom asked.

Reese spun around to see her mom standing in the archway to the living room, dressed in her penguin pajamas. Her dad appeared behind her mom and added, “You made it back early. I’m impressed.”

“It was fine. I’m going to bed.”

As she headed upstairs she heard her mom chuckling. “All right, honey.”

In her bedroom she took off her jacket and pulled out the recording device and microphone wire, hiding it in the back of her top desk drawer. She emptied her pockets, laying her phone and wallet on the desk, and caught sight of the flip-phone Amber had given her, tucked behind the lamp. The battery had died a couple of days ago, and she had no way to charge it. She had thought about throwing it away, but that had seemed oddly personal. The flip-phone was the only link she had to Amber, even if it no longer worked. Now she opened the drawer again and shoved it in the back next to the recording device so that she didn’t have to see it anymore.

She undressed, put on her pajamas, and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She held her long hair out of the way with one hand as she spit out the toothpaste and rinsed off the toothbrush. When she straightened up she was startled by how exhausted she looked. Her green-flecked eyes were anxious and had dark shadows beneath them. Earlier that night, before David had picked her up, she had been so worried about whether or not she looked cool enough. Now that worry seemed trivial. She had committed herself to misleading and probably double-crossing a powerful organization that had an army of supersoldiers at its command.

She clutched the edge of the counter as the reality of what she was doing struck home. If Lovick and CASS found out that she and David had recorded the meeting and planned to lie to them about what they learned from the Imria, the repercussions could be swift and deadly. She thought about her mom and dad downstairs, unaware of her intentions. She thought about the gunman at the ferry dock. It would be all too easy to arrange for an accidental shooting. Panic twisted through her gut.

There was still a chance to back out of this plan she and David had concocted. She could still do what Charles Lovick asked and make sure her parents were safe. Part of her wanted to do that; it would certainly be a lot easier. Besides, what if Lovick was right? Had the Imria really kept their ability to share consciousness a secret for all those years? The only Imrian she had a better than passing acquaintance with was Amber, and Amber had told her she had been trained to lie. The problem was, even though her knowledge of Amber should predispose her to believe that the Imria had lied, it didn’t make her believe they wanted to “erase our humanity,” as Lovick had put it. She didn’t trust the Imria—or Amber—but some instinctual part of her wanted to.

Or maybe she simply still wanted Amber.

A terrible, hot shame spread through her. She glared at herself in the mirror. You have to stop thinking about her, she ordered herself. You’re with David now. You want David. And she did want him. The memory of being with him an hour ago made her ache to pick up where they had left off, even though it also scared her half to death. This thing that the Imria had done to her and David was such a frightening gift. Before it had happened, she might have thought it would be cool to have access to someone else’s thoughts. Now she knew it meant that whoever she touched could know everything about her. Everything.

She splashed cold water on her face and rubbed the towel over her skin. She didn’t want to think about this anymore. It was too unsettling. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and fall asleep.

She went back into her bedroom and climbed under the covers, switching off the light. Sleep, however, was elusive. She lay curled on her side, her thoughts circling back to David and Amber. Amber and David. She tried to push Amber away, to put the memories of her in a box and lock it deep in the recesses of her mind. She reached out to David the way she had when they were in the hospital at Project Plato. She envisioned the shape of his body, the mental energy that formed the essence of who he was, but it was like groping in the dark for something that wasn’t there.

Maybe he was too far away to sense her, or maybe she was too upset to focus properly. The end result was the same: She felt alone in a way she never had before she discovered this connection with him. She was in her