Etherworld (33 page)

Ayesha shakes her head and laughs. “I'm not ready to think about that yet. I've been through enough change already.”

I know exactly how she feels. The thought of college feels unsettling, especially with my dad coming home after all this time. I can't help wondering what life is going to be like, now that most of the hardships are behind us.

“Make yourselves at home,” I say. “I'm just going to take a quick shower.”

Although my mom and I stayed up late last night cleaning the house, I haven't had a chance to straighten my room. My mom likes it neat, so I've done my best, but between school, visiting my dad in the hospital, and homework, bedroom maintenance has been last on my list. I pause at the top of the stairs, weighing my options. Picking hygiene first, I hop into the bathroom, take a quick shower, and dry off.

Back in my room, I gather up the clothes that are tossed on the floor and stuff them all into the overflowing hamper in my closet. I throw on a red sweater and a black skirt. I catch my reflection in the mirror, and I step toward it, wetting my finger and rubbing off the mascara smeared under my eyes.

As I walk over to my closet, I hear someone say, “Hi, beautiful.”

Josh is leaning in the doorway, wearing a leather jacket and jeans, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. His military crew cut long gone, his shining amber eyes hide behind shaggy brown hair.

“How long have you been standing there?” I say, smiling.

“A fraction of a second, I think,” he says.

I walk over to him, and his hands snake out of his pockets to pull me toward him.

“I've been counting the seconds a lot lately,” he breathes into my ear. “I wonder why.”

I run my hands underneath his jacket and up his back. “Because you're a physics major?”

“Good guess, but wrong,” he says, bending down to press his lips against my right cheek on the way to grazing my mouth.

I kiss him back as his fingers slip down my hips, gripping them tightly. I hate pulling away. “My parents will be home any minute,” I tell him. He gives me a soft peck on the forehead.

“We better get back down there, then,” he says, putting his arm around me as we head toward the stairs. “How are you doing? Nervous?”

“A little. More excited than anything else. I'm glad we don't have to go back to that WellCare place anymore.”

“No, you don't. Your whole family can be here, together,” he says. “Life is going to feel normal again.”

Normal—I've forgotten what that is. For months, Mom and I have been commuting every day, first to the hospital and then to the therapy center, to see Dad. At first it was horrible. He was completely incapacitated for eight weeks, and that entire time, we felt like we could barely breathe. Things got better when he was finally able to speak again, but it's been a long road to recovery. As he gradually regained his strength, my mom and I developed our own routine and rhythm too. We even made friends with some of the staff members.

All of it—the hospital, the therapy, everything—would have been much more stressful if we'd had to worry about the medical expenses, but
someone
paid for every cent of my father's treatment, and will go on paying until he gets back on his feet.

By the time Josh and I get downstairs, that someone has made his way into the kitchen with the rest of our friends, and he's smiling with his best girl right beside him.

Patrick and Zoe.

“Hey, Ree,” he says, giving me a hug the moment he sees me. Wearing old jeans and a big wool sweater, he barely resembles his old corporate-drone self. Instead, he looks like he used to, before he was president of Orexis—mussed hair, bright hopeful eyes, and a smile that lights up the room.

“Yay! We're all here!” Zoe squeals, jumping onto the hug pile, squeezing Patrick and me hard. I haven't seen her since she left for college in upstate New York, but she's as gorgeous as ever. Her sleek brown hair is held back with a white headband, and she's wearing a cute little jacket that shows off her curves.

“Okay, Zoe, you're crushing us,” Patrick says, chuckling.

“Deal with it, babe,” she says.

Zoe and Patrick spent quite a bit of time together this past summer, and although for months neither of them admitted that they were a couple, it was obvious to everyone that it was just a matter of time. But it took Zoe leaving Detroit for Patrick to realize what he had. This is the first weekend she's been home since she left, and I know how happy he is to have her back.

When she unleashes us from the Hug of Death, Zoe steps back and straightens out my sweater for me. “Patrick was just telling me about the observatory. Sounds like it's going to be so cool.”

Now that the Orexis trial is wrapping up, Patrick is finally able to start focusing on his own life again. He's founding a massive conservation effort in the area, and in the process of building a state-of-the-art planetarium that will take the place of the old Detroit Observatory, which is now more or less a museum. I'm proud of Patrick. He's so smart he could've done anything, but he's committed himself to preserving whatever natural beauty is left in our world.

“Did he tell you he's hired Zared as program director?” Ayesha says.

“No,” Zoe says, impressed. “He just showed me the architectural drawings for the building.”

“We're hoping to have the planetarium open by January,” Patrick says.

“I can't wait,” I say.

“People are going to love it,” Josh adds.

All the excitement is interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up into the driveway. I hurry over to the kitchen window and see my mom behind the wheel of our car. She waves at me cheerfully and I wave back, my heart fluttering. My dad is in the backseat, and I can see him looking around the neighborhood, his face totally in awe. He hasn't seen this place in almost a year.

I'm about to go the door when Malik sidles up next to me. Now he sees my father getting out of the car too. And I hear him say my dad's name, slowly and quietly.

“David.”

So I take Malik's hand and smile at him. “He's finally home.”

“The cake looked beautiful,” my dad says, his voice not quite rising above a whisper.

My father is seated next to me in his automated wheelchair, his hands cupped around a mug of tea. His antique watch is back on his wrist, the dial once again set to the correct time. Everyone else is milling around and chatting while my parents' collection of jazz standards streams through the InstaComm speakers.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Did you make it all by yourself?”

I glance toward Avery, who is lost in conversation with Nora and Josh, and holding a plate full of cake.

“I had a little help,” I admit.

“Why don't you go and talk to your friends?” he says. “Everyone came such a long way.”

“To see
you
,” I say, placing my hand on his. “That's why they're here.”

“It's good to be with everyone again, especially my daughter,” he says, grinning at me good-naturedly, but when he casts his eyes around the room, his smile fades and I know he's thinking about all the ones who aren't here. The ones who didn't make it.

“It is,” I say. “Can I get you any more hot water?”

“No, thanks, I'm fine,” he says, his gaze landing on Patrick and Zoe, who are perched on the upholstered bench right near the window. “Has Patrick told you anything more? About the trial?”

“Not too much, no,” I say, which is the truth. Patrick is pretty guarded when it comes to conversations about Cathryn. I think he's been to visit her in jail once, but even then he came back tight-lipped and very quiet.

Actually, I've been tight-lipped about it too. While my dad is interested in the news story of the century for obvious reasons, I've only recently become open about it. At first, I refused to discuss the trial with anyone, even Josh. I couldn't deal with the media anymore.

When word got out that my dad was alive, journalists were all over my mom and me, harassing us for comments and sound bites. But we weren't alone. Every other family whose child wound up in Etherworld was also hounded by the media.

Patrick had it the worst. In fact, he actually had to leave Detroit and stay with his dad until things settled down. He's immune from prosecution now, but after the truth about Elusion came out, everyone who had worked at Orexis was scrutinized, including my dad. It seemed impossible for people to believe that a machine could've become sentient by accident—and even harder to believe that Bryce and Cathryn were the only ones behind the deceit.

“I hear the tape Patrick made at Bryce's house was ruled admissible,” my dad says. “Prosecutors think that Cathryn is going to be put away for life.”

“Orexis officially filed for bankruptcy, too,” I say.

“This is a party, you two,” my mom says, wandering over to hand me a plate loaded with a gigantic corner piece of cake. “No more talk about the trial, okay?”

“You, my dear, have amazing hearing,” my dad says, looking up at her with adoring eyes.

She gazes back at him. The glow that disappeared from my mom's face has returned, radiating from every part of her. “Really? Well, I also have amazing taste in husbands. What do you think of that?”

“I think you're right,” he says, laughing a little.

I feel silly for thinking this, and maybe I'm just feeling a wave of sentimentality, but I hope that years from now Josh and I will be joking with each other the same way.

“Are you really going to eat all of that cake, Ree?”

Patrick is standing next to the sofa with his hands perched on his hips. I pat the seat cushion next to me and he sits down, leaning forward a bit so he can smile at my dad.

“This is just five hundred of the millions of calories I plan on ingesting before the night is over, so watch out,” I say, shoving a big forkful into my mouth.

“So Patrick, tell me more about your planetarium,” my dad says, his voice perking up a little.

“It's going to be great,” Patrick says, rubbing his hands together. “There's going to be an indoor-outdoor amphitheater and a room for celestial navigation. The main focus is to teach people about the earth and the natural world around us. I was kind of hoping it might be a sort of homage to . . .”

“Thoreau?” my dad asks.

Patrick grins. “Exactly. I'm thinking of naming it after him. What do you think?”

My dad beams at him, like a proud father would. “That's a great idea.”

“I'm going to show Zoe where we're building it tonight,” he says. “She has to leave tomorrow morning and wants to see it before she goes.”

“Sounds romantic,” I say, with a nudge.

“Actually, she wants everyone to come. Kind of like an after-party,” he explains. “Are you in?”

“You guys can go ahead. I'm going to stay here with my dad.”

“You sure? It won't be the same without you,” he says.

“You can InstaComm me or something. It'll be like I'm there.”

“Hold on,” my father interjects, looking at me. “Patrick, could you give us a minute?”

“Yeah, of course,” Patrick says, revealing a heartfelt smile. “Welcome home, David.”

Once Patrick is gone, my dad sets his cup down on the side table and takes my plate, setting it next to his mug. Then he puts his hand on top of mine and looks at me with concern. His face has changed a lot since the last time we sat in this room together. There are more deep lines traveling across his skin, and since he's still not eating solid foods, his cheeks are much sharper. His salt-and-pepper hair is now completely gray.

But his eyes are the same kind, thoughtful, and energetic eyes I looked into the day he was taken from me. I'm so grateful to have him back, but I'm still secretly terrified that if I blink he might disappear from my life again.

“Are you okay?” he says.

“Shouldn't I be asking you that?”

“You do, all the time,” he says. “That's why I'm worried about you.”

“I'm fine, Dad. You don't have to worry.”

“Regan, listen to me. I know I tell you this all the time, but it's true: I'm the one who's supposed to worry. I'm your dad, and you're my daughter, and that's how it works. Parents worry about their kids, even when they turn into adults.”

There's an awkward moment of silence. My dad looks down at his lap and lets out a big sigh, and then focuses back on me again.

“It's not supposed to be the other way around,” he murmurs. “But for the past year, you've either been worried about me, missing me, or searching for me.”

“Dad, wait—”

“No, let me finish,” he says, and I stay quiet as his hand trembles a bit. “I couldn't ask for a more devoted and brave daughter. It's because of you that I'm here, Regan. It's because of you that I made it. That we all made it.”

I'm not sure that's entirely true—everyone in this room played a significant role in taking down Elusion, and we couldn't really have done any of it without one another. But I know my dad is trying to thank me, so instead of arguing with him, I just smile.

“But now that I'm home, I don't want you to worry anymore,” he continues. “Actually, I want you to get that time back. I want you to live your life, and go out with your friends, and plan for college, and . . .” He takes a moment to look over at Josh, who is now talking with Piper and Malik, making some strange gestures like he's telling them military-school stories. “And take off with your boyfriend on his motorcycle.”

I let out a loud laugh, which attracts everyone's attention. “Yeah, right!”

“Okay, that last part was hard for me to say,” he says, chuckling. “But I mean it. You know how I feel about him.”

Dad adores Josh, and rightly so. He's not only taken care of Nora, but has bent over backward to help with my father as well. And my dad has seen firsthand what a hard worker Josh is, taking a full course of classes and working at a restaurant on the side. “I know,” I say.