Once We Were

nobody’s ever going to be in it.”

Addie stared past him, at the fairy lights on the far wall.

“Those people at Lankster Square . . .” she murmured. Too softly, maybe, because Jackson frowned in confusion. Addie bit our lip and raised our voice a little. “I know what you and the others want, Jackson. I do. And I want the same thing, but—”

“But what, Addie?” Jackson said. When Addie hesitated, he sighed and looked away. “Powatt isn’t going to be anything like Lankster Square. The building’s going to be deserted. No people. No crowds. Just a building full of empty beds, waiting for its prisoners. It’s an institution, Addie—”

“I know.” Our voice sharpened. “Eva and I were in one. We get it.”

Jackson’s smile held no warmth. “No, Addie, you kind of don’t. Nornand wasn’t an institution; it was a hospital. And it was terrible, I know. I’m not saying you spent a week at a five-star hotel. But Addie, you were there a week, and they fed you properly, and clothed you properly, and . . .” He hesitated, his grip on our hands loosening. “And there were windows.”

Addie drew our hands tight against our sides, but his hands, entwined around ours, came with them. “There was also Jaime locked up in the basement and kids dying on those surgery tables —”

“Which is exactly what’s going to happen in Powatt.” Jackson’s voice was a half-hoarse whisper. “This new institution’s twice as big as Nornand, Addie. And it’s all for hybrids, every inch of it. How many kids do you think they’ll be able to stuff inside? Can you picture them?”

Our breathing went ragged. Did my trapped feeling come from being cornered by Jackson? Or cornered by the images he threw into my mind?

“The ones who get picked for the surgeries will be the lucky ones, Addie. The others will just—” His voice cut off. He swallowed, his throat jumping. “Do you know how many kids die in hybrid holding tanks? That’s what those are, those institutions. Holding tanks. They hold us until we die, and they do everything short of putting a bullet through our heads to speed up the process. They lock us up—stuff us into these rooms, as many as can fit. These places in the middle of nowhere. And there’s nobody. Nobody but the kid dying in the bed next to yours of God knows what, and the caretakers who really don’t give a damn.”

Addie had been looking at Jackson’s mouth as he spoke, or at his nose, or his chin or just to the left of his ear. But she met his eyes now.

“I went into an institution at twelve,” said Jackson quietly. “And for three years, I never left the building.”

He was quiet—quiet in a way Jackson was never quiet.

Keep hope, he’d said to us at Nornand. Had he kept hope for three years? How was that even possible?

Addie was gripping his hands now, not the other way around. But it only lasted a moment. Then she disentangled our fingers from his and pushed his gently away. He stepped back, let us slide away.

“I’ve got to think about it, Jackson,” Addie said softly. She waited, and he nodded once. She glanced over our shoulder as she walked down the stairs, like she couldn’t take her gaze from this lanky boy with the pale eyes, couldn’t take her thoughts from the child he’d once been, who’d lain in a tiny metal bed and dreamt of sunlight.

EIGHTEEN

We did think about it.

We thought about it at dinner while Nina and Emalia ate and laughed, blinking from our reverie only when Nina tapped us on the arm to ask, “Don’t you like it?”

It took us a moment to realize she meant the food in our Styrofoam box. Some kind of fish. We’d barely touched it, but managed to nod and smile anyway. If either Nina or Emalia noticed anything off, they didn’t mention it.

We thought about it while brushing our teeth. While in the shower. While we dressed for bed. After we clicked off our lamp. After we told Nina good night.

<We can’t, Eva> Addie said. <It’s crazy. We should tell—>

<Tell Peter?> Our hands were folded across our chest. A moment ago, they’d been at our sides. Before that, under our neck. We couldn’t get comfortable. <And then what?>

<What do you mean, ‘And then what’? And then he makes sure they never carry out this insanity and—>

<And they hate us forever> I said. <Which won’t even matter because in a couple months, Peter will have shipped us off to God knows where, and we’ll be completely alone.>

<We’re not going to let that happen, Eva.>

I flipped onto our side and buried our face into the pillow. <How? It’s not like we can stay with Sabine if we back out of this plan.>

<It wouldn’t be backing out.> But I knew Addie felt, as I felt, that we were already inextricably linked to Sabine and the others. Saying no now would be backing out. <If we do this, do you really think Peter will let us stay? The city is going to freak out, Eva. It’s going to be a hundred times worse than what happened after Lankster Square.>

My voice went sharper than I meant it to. <Peter doesn’t get to choose who people allow into their homes.> Addie didn’t respond, and I continued, more softly, <If we do have to leave, in the end, don’t you want to have actually done something before we go, Addie? Don’t you think we should at least try to make a difference?>

<Maybe> Addie said. She didn’t say anything else.

I shifted again, turning to watch Nina’s slumbering form in the other bed. She, at least, was sleeping peacefully tonight.

The next morning, Emalia was still brewing her coffee when I went in search of Ryan, taking the stairs two at a time. For years, I hadn’t been able to communicate with anyone but Addie. Ryan was one of the first people I spoke with after learning to talk again. He would listen until I tamed my jumbled thoughts into words.

I also needed to know his thoughts. Had Devon’s words been his as well? Or had Devon’s will simply overridden Ryan’s? Maybe he just hadn’t been sure. Maybe he’d needed time to think things over, too.

Henri, not Ryan, answered my knock. “They’re still asleep,” he said quietly once I’d stepped inside. Henri never spoke unless it was behind closed doors. His accent meant it was safer that way. He tilted his head toward the couch, where the boy I’d been looking for lay stretched out beneath a blanket, one arm curved by his head. His blanket trailed along the carpet.

The light above the dining table was on, but the rest of the apartment remained dim. Still, we could see the shape of his face, the curve of his mouth, the shadow cast by his eyelashes. Why was it always boys who got the ridiculously long eyelashes?

<Is it Ryan or Devon?> Addie asked.

<Ryan> I said without thinking. I never had to think about it anymore.

<How can you tell? You think one of them sleeps differently than the other? >

It sounded silly when she put it like that, but my conviction didn’t waver. <I don’t know. I’m just sure it’s Ryan. Aren’t you?>

<Yeah> she said after a moment. <I am.>