Awaken (22 page)

“What?” I asked with my mouth full. Suddenly my mouth went dry, drowning in a mouthful of dough. I grabbed a glass of orange juice on the table and tried to wash the soggy wad down. For how many times I’ve heard pancakes were a slice of heaven, I was disappointed to discover they had absolutely no flavor at all. What a letdown.

Eric laughed and Justin poured me another glass of juice. I drank it and felt the dough slide down my throat.

“What do you think?” Justin asked.

“It’s pretty bland,” I admitted. “It’s a little disappointing. I heard pancakes were these amazing, phenomenal – ”

As I went to stick another bite in my mouth, Justin caught my hand in his.

“Oh,” I said, and set the pancake down. “Should I be using silverware?” He wrinkled his eyebrows and grinned at me while Eric laughed. I felt my face turn red from the attention.

“Would you just slow down? Here.” He handed me a bowl of strawberries, a bottle of something I didn’t recognize, and a stick of butter. I watched him scrap the butter onto his own plate, spoon strawberries on top, and finally drizzle gooey brown liquid from the bottle.

“What’s that?” I asked, and pointed at the liquid.

“Syrup – liquid sugar. You can’t beat it.” Justin licked some off his finger and then licked his lips with a smile. I mentally scolded myself for staring too long at his lips.

I followed Justin and Eric’s lead and decorated my pancakes with fruit and syrup. I used my fork this time to pick up a piece, melted with butter, dripping in syrup, and heaped with berries. The juicy, sweet dough floated in my mouth.

“Wow,” I swooned. “Now I can see why they’re famous.”

I was suddenly famished and devoured the rest of my breakfast. I noticed Justin had dark circles underneath his eyes and realized he must have been up all night directing interceptions. He and Eric continued to talk logistics and I found myself zoning out after my stomach was full. When they finally paused in conversation, I seized the opportunity. I set down my fork and crossed my arms.

“I think it’s my turn for questions.”

They both stared at me again, Justin with a hint of amusement.

“Not that I don’t appreciate all of this rescuing and cooking for me business, but you guys have yet to tell me exactly what’s going on.”

Justin looked at me and waited. “There’s a lot going on,” he finally said.

I sighed. “For starters, where am I?”

Justin chewed on another bite of his breakfast. “Bayside.”

“Am I still in Oregon?”

“No,” he said. “You’re in California. Oregon’s not a good place for you right now. It won’t be for a while.”

I frowned. “Where’s Bayside?”

“A little north of San Francisco.”

I gasped. “Are we in Eden?” I whispered.

Justin shook his head and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “No.”

I glanced around the room again, disappointed. “Does anyone else live here?”

“We have a volunteer that stops by. She keeps food stocked and cleans up, but otherwise it’s just a safe house.”

“What do you do with people after you intercept them? Other than make them pancakes?”

“Every situation’s different,” he said. “But there are usually three scenarios. One, people can decide they don’t want to be rescued and turn themselves back in, although that’s never actually happened. Two, people agree to join our side, which happens most of the time. The cops have recruited most of our members for us. We just have Scott hack into their pickup list. It saves us a lot of work.”

“You should really send them a thank-you note,” I pointed out.

“I’ll get right on that,” he said.

“What do you do with people who don’t want to join your side
or
turn themselves back in?” I asked. I raised my eyebrows since I was especially interested in this scenario. Justin’s eyes met mine.

“We kill them,” he said.

I set my fork down and waited for him to smile or chuckle or at least say he was kidding but he stared back at me like he was serious.

“You kill them?” I repeated.

“Metaphorically speaking,” he said. “We kill their digital lives and help them start real ones. Help them relocate and get back on their feet. Think of it as being a born-again human.”

“How do you kill someone digitally?”

“It’s not that hard. You just delete the files. That’s all people are anymore. A bunch of hardware. We help them set up a new name, new information, new contacts. Start over.” He grinned. “Technology does have its perks.”

I drummed my fingers on the table and asked him what happens in the meantime.

“The most important thing right now is for you to stay away from computers. That’s the only way they track people anymore. As long as you’re outside of that world, you don’t really exist. It’s pretty backward if you think about it.”

“So I need to hide out?”

He nodded. “You’re a unique case, considering who your father is. So, if it’s all right, give me some time to work out a plan.”

“Who’s your father?” Eric asked.

I shrugged like it was no big deal.

“She’s Madeline Freeman,” Justin said, pointing at me with his fork. Eric’s jaw dropped open.

“You’re Kevin Freeman’s daughter?” He looked at me with disgust.

I glared back at him. “I take it you don’t want my autograph?”

Eric looked between me and Justin. “You’re trying to convince the heiress of digital school to join our side?”

Justin grinned at me.

“Would people please stop calling me that?” I said.

Eric shook his head with disbelief. He stood up and stretched and said he wanted to get some sleep before he headed back. Justin got up as well and grabbed our plates. He said we should all sleep for a few hours.

“Come on, I’ll show you your room,” he said. I followed him down the hallway and he opened a door into a simply furnished guest room. A queen-size bed sat in one corner, windows with the shades half closed lined the farthest wall, and double closet doors lined another. A tall dresser stood near the door and there was a rocking chair next to the bed.

“They keep some clothes in here,” he said, and opened the closet. Inside was a dozen pair of shoes on the floor, all tennis shoes or sandals, nothing fancy. There was also a heap of jeans, sweaters, and T-shirts, enough options for any kind of weather.

“Just wash your underwear in the sink. They don’t stock extras of those but we can pick some up.”

I felt my face redden at discussing my underwear situation, but he spoke plainly as if this was all routine. “Okay,” I said.

I opened one of the dresser drawers and found some books, notebooks, a blanket, and a few more sweaters.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall with stuff to use, extra toothbrushes, soap, whatever you should want. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. I wasn’t used to being treated as a guest. As I stood there, I realized this was my first time sleeping away from my family.

“I’ll be downstairs,” he said, and headed for the door.

I sucked in a deep breath and turned toward him, panic flaring up in my chest like steam. I didn’t want to be alone. He understood my expression, like he’d seen it hundreds of times before. He took a step closer to me and kept his eyes steady on mine.

“Look, Maddie, I know you’ve been through a lot, but I can guarantee you’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. All right?”

I nodded and looked down at my feet.

“Try and rest for a while and then we’ll talk. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything.”

He shut the door behind him. I walked over to the other side of the room and pulled the window curtains closed. I stretched out on a soft quilt and suddenly it was impossible to keep my eyes open. My mind and body crashed with exhaustion and before I had another thought, I drifted to sleep.

I woke up and opened my eyes to a room that was dim with fading sunlight streaming through the curtains. I blinked up at the ceiling above me and frowned. Where was I? Where was my ceiling canvas? I reached over to my nightstand, but it was gone, replaced by a rocking chair. I stared at it, surprised. Did my mom redecorate my room? Why would I want a rocking chair? I rubbed my eyes with confusion. My toes felt constricted and I glanced down to see my tennis shoes sticking out from underneath a throw blanket. I sat up in bed and looked around the room with blue walls and a single painting of a boat harbor hanging in front of an old dresser.

I shook my head and slowly the pieces fell together. It wasn’t a dream. I had actually managed to escape and was hiding away in, what town? Bayview? I looked down at the blue blanket and didn’t remember having it on me before I fell asleep. I also noticed a folded white towel and washcloth were set out for me on the dresser.

I opened the closet and scanned my choices. I grabbed a dark red T-shirt that looked worn and soft. I held a pair of blue jeans up to my waist and they looked about the right size.

After a long, hot shower, I scampered toward the kitchen, ringing my hair out with a towel. When I walked in, Justin was sitting at the table and his presence caused a flurry of movement in my stomach. He looked up from his flipscreen and asked me if I was hungry. I felt my stomach rumble staring at him, but I couldn’t describe what my body was craving. I set my towel down on the chair and frowned at being so needy.

“You’re not going to cook all my meals. And you don’t have to set out towels on my dresser and tuck me in,” I said.

He grinned. “Actually, that was Stacey, the woman who volunteers for us.”

“Oh,” I said, and blushed.

“She brought groceries over. But I asked her to check on you, if that counts for something. And,” he said as he stood up, “I’m not going to cook for you. I’m going to teach you.”

“Teach me?”

He turned to face me. “How to fend for yourself.”

I glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Eric?”

“He left a little while ago.”

I had to fight a smile and I could feel my heart applauding in my chest. I was alone with Justin. All alone in a house on the ocean. Secluded. Quiet. My life instantly turned from a tragedy into paradise. Crazy how a guy can have that kind of psychological power.
And pathetic.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and I watched his dimples form half-moon indentations around his mouth. “So, how much cooking have you done?”

I thought hard, which was difficult with him staring at me.

“My grandma used to bake around the holidays, but she passed away when I was ten,” I said. “So, I’m a little rusty.”

He motioned for me to go on. I stared at him, confused with what he was waiting for. “What did you make?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I remember melting butter over the stove once.”

He nodded and stood to his full height. “Okay. I have one basic rule, Maddie. When you’re with me you eat real food, not preprocessed, scientifically engineered, supplement-enriched, genetically altered, chemically fortified crap that you’ve been tricked into believing is food.” He took a deep breath.

“Wow. I guess you hate all modern conveniences.”

He shook his head. “It’s not convenience that bothers me, it’s people’s obsession with saving time. Everything’s a race. I just don’t get who or what we’re constantly racing against.” He waved his hand in the air. “You know what, don’t even get me started. Like I said, when you’re around me you’re not going to eat a piece of cardboard that some fancy food scientist claims is full of vitamins.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you putting down my mom’s cooking?”

“Yes.”

I watched with interest while he emptied the grocery bags and set the food on the table. He pointed out sandwich options to me: deli meat, cheese, mustard, mayo, peanut butter, lettuce, cucumbers, and tomatoes. He set two slices of bread on a plate and told me to choose whatever fixings I wanted. It was my first cooking lesson. I examined the choices and grabbed the peanut butter first. I swiped it over the bread and threw a few sliced tomatoes on top.

“There,” I said. “My first homemade sandwich.” I looked at Justin. “Did I pass?”

He chuckled. “Um,
I
wouldn’t eat that.”

“Why not?”

I studied my open-faced sandwich with indifference. It seemed appetizing enough.

“You just don’t want to mix certain flavors. There’s an art to it.”

“There’s an art to eating?”

He pulled the tomatoes off my sandwich. He popped them into his mouth and chewed them. I could hear the juicy texture squishing between his teeth.

“Go for it,” he said, and nodded to the table. I reached for the lettuce this time and set a few leaves over the peanut butter. I scanned the rest of the condiments. I opened up a container of mustard and squirted a design of stars and swirls on the bread like it was paint. I smiled at my picture and held it up for Justin to admire, but he just creased his eyebrows.

“You said eating was art,” I pointed out.

I pressed the slices of bread together and he watched me take an enormous bite of my peanut butter, mustard, and lettuce sandwich. I swallowed and tried to ignore my gag reflex kicking in.

Justin gauged my reaction and fought to control his features.

“Well?” he asked.

I licked my lips and forced a smile. “It’s so good. You have no idea what you’re missing,” I taunted him.

“Right,” he said with a grin.

“Try a bite.” I waved the sandwich in front of his face. I knew I was flirting, but I couldn’t help myself. It was too much fun to make him smile. He pushed my arm back and grabbed the sandwich out of my hand. He threw it in the garbage and got out two new slices of bread.

“You know, Maddie, for how book-smart you are, your lack of common sense is a little scary.”

I frowned at him. “Why didn’t you warn me? You’re the teacher.” He lathered up another slice of bread with peanut butter. He looked at me over his shoulder.

“I can’t watch your every move. You’ve got to make mistakes once in a while. It’s the only way you learn.”

He opened the refrigerator and leaned down to grab something from the back shelf. He stood up with a jar full of thick red sauce.