Inheritance

Mr. Hernandez closed the door. His shoes clicked across the floor as he pulled one of the desks out to face the two of them. She heard the beep as he turned on the audio recorder. “All right,” he said. “What happened on Saturday?”

“Dr. Brand officially invited us to go to the UN with them,” David answered.

“Interesting. What did you tell her?”

“That I’d think about it.”

“I assume you’re not going.”

“Of course not.” David’s voice was clipped.

Have you already decided? Reese asked him silently. His answer came back shortly: No.

“Reese, what about you?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, still gazing down at the desk. Someone had carved RIP MR. C into the upper right corner. “I’m not going.” She waited for David to ask if she was lying, but he didn’t.

“What about the adaptation chamber? Did you get photos?”

“Not yet,” David said. “But I asked about it.”

Reese lifted her head now and looked at him. He hadn’t told her that, and she wondered if he was fabricating this for Mr. Hernandez’s benefit.

“It’s on the ship,” David said. “There was no time for us to look at it, but when we go back on Saturday —”

“The General Debate begins on Monday. We need that info before then.” Mr. Hernandez did not look happy.

“I know,” David said. “You’ll have it on Saturday, I promise.”

Mr. Hernandez considered David for a long moment. “You seem to have turned a corner, David. I can see that you’re now fully on our side.”

“I was always on your side. On our side.”

Reese felt like she was going to be sick. What are you doing? she thought at David. He didn’t answer her. Mr. Hernandez went to his desk, where he took a large envelope out of his briefcase. He removed several glossy photos and returned to lay them on the desks in front of Reese and David. As Reese looked at the images, she began to sweat.

“As you can see, it is not only the paparazzi who are capable of photographing private moments,” Mr. Hernandez said.

One of the photos showed Reese’s mom at home in the kitchen. The picture had been taken through the back window. There was another photo of her dad at a restaurant. It must have been at lunch, because he was seated at a table near a window and daylight was pouring over the place setting. Her mom was seated across from him. They were holding hands.

“Saturday night, I will meet the two of you here at school,” Mr. Hernandez said. “The front doors will be unlocked at six PM to let people in for a theatrical production. You will bring me the photos of the adaptation chamber at six fifteen. Is that clear?”

Reese looked at Mr. Hernandez and made herself swallow the rage that burned in her throat. “It’s clear,” she said. She couldn’t see the photos on David’s desk but from the set of his shoulders, she guessed he had gotten the message too. If they didn’t bring CASS what they wanted, their families would be in danger.

“Yes,” David said. “We’ll have the photos.”

Mr. Hernandez nodded. “Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

They were dismissed. Reese stood up and saw one of the pictures in front of David before he swept them into a pile: his younger sister, Chloe, laughing. He put the photos in his backpack and headed out of the classroom. Reese turned to grab the pictures of her parents before following David into the hall.

“David!” she called. He couldn’t ignore her if she spoke out loud.

He was already fifteen feet ahead of her, but he slowed, turning. “I have to go to practice.”

“Can I talk to you?” she pleaded, hating how desperate she sounded.

“I have to go to practice,” he said again, beginning to walk backward. “I’ll call you tonight.” And then he left her standing there, the photos of her parents clutched in her hands.

* * *

Reese went to the school library, alone, to do her homework and wait for her mom to pick her up. After those pictures of her and Amber had been posted online, the paparazzi had swarmed Reese’s street with their long-range cameras, and leaving the house that morning had involved Reese ducking down in the passenger seat of the car while her mom honked the horn and screamed at the photographers.

“Don’t go outside until I call you,” her mom had told her right before dropping her off at school. “I can’t get there till after five but you’ll just have to wait. Your dad has a meeting in Palo Alto.”

Reese had no intention of stepping outside the school’s front doors until she knew her mom had arrived, but she was restless and couldn’t concentrate on her homework. She thought about those pictures of her parents, together. She thought about the photos of her and Amber. Students came in and out of the library, passing her and whispering behind their hands. They didn’t bother to keep their voices down, and she had to put in her earbuds so that she didn’t hear them judge her. She pulled out her phone, but there were no messages. She wondered if David really was going to call her after soccer practice. With a sinking feeling, she realized she didn’t believe he would.

She stared down at her physics textbook, the words blurring as her eyes grew hot. She blinked furiously. Not here, she told herself. If David wasn’t going to call her, she would have to put herself in a place where he couldn’t ignore her. They had to talk. This was all a misunderstanding. She could show him her memories of what had happened, and he would understand. He had to understand.

She glanced at the clock. It was still early, but that was good. She wouldn’t miss him. She loaded up her backpack and left the library, heading downstairs toward the gym. The hallway outside the boys’ locker room was empty, smelling faintly of cleaning fumes. She dropped her backpack on the floor and slid down the wall to the linoleum, drawing her knees up. She’d wait for him.

She heard the boys’ soccer team approaching before she saw them. They were loud and boisterous, cracking jokes about the school they were going to play tomorrow. The double doors in the distance banged shut and then the team rounded the corner, the dozen or so boys dressed identically in maroon shorts, dirty shin guards, and gray KENNEDY SOCCER tees. They reminded her of a pack of puppies, rowdy and joyful, but as soon as they saw her their energy changed completely. They focused, becoming a coordinated group of muscle with their attention fixed on her, and in the center of them was David.

She suddenly realized this might have been a very bad idea. How could he listen to her when he was surrounded by his teammates? She pushed herself to her feet as the boys approached. David separated himself from the others and came toward her. His shirt was smeared with grass stains, his hair was damp with sweat, and his face was grimy, but the sight of him awoke a fierce ache inside her. She had never seen him this way: as someone she was on the verge of losing.

“Hey,” he said, his face expressionless.

“Hey,” she answered.

Some of his teammates continued toward the locker room, but a few hung back until David said, “I’ll be there in a minute.” They nodded to him—brief, masculine nods that made Reese aware of exactly how far outside of his world she was at that moment—and left them alone in the hallway.

She plunged ahead before she could lose her nerve. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what happened from the beginning. I should have. It just freaked me out so much and I couldn’t deal with it right then. I can show you what happened. Will you let me?” She held out her hand and he looked at it as if it contained a weapon. Her face burned, but she kept her hand out, her fingers curled up from her palm.

Just when she thought he was never going to accept her offer, he stepped forward. He took her hand.

She showed him everything. She made sure she left nothing out, and she was more open with him than she ever had been. In a way she felt as if she was stripping off all her clothes in the middle of the school hallway, and even though she was afraid he would hate what he saw, she did it anyway. Through his hand she sensed his emotions changing as she took him through her memories. At first he was tense and defensive, but gradually the tension was replaced with sadness. When it was over he let go of her and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”