Once We Were

was kind of like stealing yourself back from them, wasn’t it?”

Christoph groaned. “You and your metaphors, Jackson.”

“I don’t think that counts as a metaphor,” Sabine said, laughing.

But in a way, Jackson was right.

Having specifics put things in a different light. We could have talked about different kinds of explosives forever, could have joked with Jackson and Vince about dynamite permits forever, but now we had a plan, and bringing down the Powatt institution became that much more real.

<We’re really going to do this> Addie said.

It wasn’t quite a question, but it was far from a statement. We looked at Ryan, so engaged in his conversation with Sabine. Did he ask himself if we were doing the right thing? Did he doubt? What about Devon? He wasn’t the sort who changed his mind easily. Did they argue about it constantly? It didn’t seem like it. Ryan seemed focused, assured.

Maybe he just kept in mind all our reasons for doing this. The people we would save. The message we would send. The setback for the government this would be. Maybe he kept in mind the quiet words Jaime muttered to a soul who no longer existed, the long scar across his skull. Maybe he just thought about his sisters and how close we’d come to losing one or both of them.

<We are> I said.

“You’re quiet,” Jackson said.

Addie shrugged. “Guess I don’t have much to contribute.”

“Not everyone can be geniuses.” Jackson tilted his head toward Sabine and Ryan. They were too enthralled in their conversation to even hear us. “But don’t count yourself out.”

Our stomach twinged, but I felt a ghost of a smile, so faint it was hardly there. So faint no one would have caught it but me, because Addie’s mouth was mine.

“I won’t,” Addie said.

Ryan was almost always the one in control when we were up in the attic. I wondered sometimes whether Devon bothered to be there at all, or whether he simply went under and let Ryan handle everything. Since his initial derision of Sabine’s plan, he hadn’t spoken up again. But he didn’t bother pretending to be involved, either.

When Devon did appear, the others tried to draw him into their conversations. Sabine even brought in a cutaway lock when I jokingly mentioned Devon’s interest in lock picking. He was willing enough to listen as she explained how it worked, and he seemed to get the hang of it pretty quickly, but it made him no more eager to join in the other discussions.

I didn’t think too much about it, to be honest. I was too busy trying to keep up with Ryan and Sabine.

Then one night, Devon showed up at our bedroom door. Emalia must have let him in. I was too engrossed in Sabine’s notebook, which I’d convinced her to let me borrow, to notice him until he was standing in the doorway.

“Brought Sabine’s notes home?” he said. “You’re getting more dedicated than she is.”

It was a little unsettling to be on the receiving end of his stare, but I tried to smile. “I’m just looking. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“And Addie?” he said. I frowned. He didn’t break eye contact, and neither did I. “Doesn’t she have anything better to do, either? Or did she have a change of heart?”

His voice remained impassive until the last sentence. Even then, I felt more than heard the accusation. I bristled anyway. “Addie—”

Addie shoved herself into control of our body. “I have the right to.”

Devon’s only reaction to the shift was a slow blink and the upward twitch of an eyebrow. “What did it?” he asked. “Changed your mind.”

With Addie in control, I was free to focus all my attention on Devon, this boy who shared Ryan’s eyes and hands and mouth. What was Ryan thinking right now?

Our eyes focused on a point over Devon’s shoulder. Our lips thinned. At first I thought Addie wasn’t going to answer his question at all. But finally, she said, “I realized that what we went through at Nornand . . . that’s just the cotton-candy version of what other people have gone through, isn’t it?”

Devon gave no reply.

Addie sighed. “Jackson told us how he spent three years in one of those institutions, and . . . and just knowing that every single person in that attic has been through ten times worse than what we went through—I . . . Well . . . if there’s anything we can do to help make sure another kid out there doesn’t suffer that, we should do it.”

“So, sad stories,” Devon said. “That’s what did it.”

Addie frowned, closing Sabine’s notebook and climbing to our feet. “If that’s what you want to cheapen it to, then yes, sad stories. That’s what changed my mind. Other people’s sad stories.”

“Everybody’s got sad stories.” Devon’s voice was as ungiving as stone. “And everyone thinks they’re so very special and broken because of them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged.

“You came back to the attic with us,” Addie said. Our fingers tightened around the notebook, the cover biting into our skin. “You could have refused. You’re the one who said you’d go.”

“You were going to go.” Devon wore the look he usually saved for other people. The one that said, You’re being very stupid, but I’ll speak slowly in hopes you might understand. Addie rolled our eyes. “You really believe Ryan would have allowed us to stay behind if you went?” He hesitated. Had we ever seen Devon hesitate? He always either spoke or he didn’t—no vacillation. “Ryan cares about Eva. Which means he cares about you. Which makes you and Eva . . .”

“Makes us what?” Addie snapped.

“Makes you one of us.”

“Us?”

The hesitation ebbed from Devon’s body. He was all quiet, steady confidence again. He nodded.

“Who’s the rest of us?”

“Hally,” he said, “and Lissa.”

“Oh,” Addie said.

“We look out for one another.” His eyes were bright and intent on ours. There was almost a dare in them. “No matter what happens.”

Addie nodded. Something transpired between the two of them. Something I didn’t understand. Without another word, Devon turned and headed back down the hall.

<Wait> I said. Addie grudgingly allowed me control, and I repeated the request aloud. Devon came back into view. “Can I . . . I’d like to speak with Ryan.”

Devon frowned, and for a moment, I was afraid I’d offended him. Would I have been offended if someone had told me, Step aside, I want to talk with Addie, not you?

Probably.

Yes.

Sorry, I started to say, but I didn’t get the chance.

“Ryan isn’t here,” Devon said.

I shut our mouth so quickly our teeth clicked against one another. It shouldn’t have felt this strange, knowing Ryan was temporarily gone. I’d disappeared myself. I’d been with Ryan without Devon there. But watching those familiar eyes, that familiar face, and knowing Ryan wasn’t looking back at me . . .

I thought Devon would just leave again, but he lingered a moment at the door.

“Look,” he said. “Everyone’s telling stories. Everyone has something they want. You can’t trust them all.”

“Who are we supposed to trust, then?” I said.

He studied me. Said, quietly, “I don’t know.”

This time, he left and didn’t look back.