Imitation (12 page)

“
Yes,” I say. We fall into
step together, neither of us speaking another word.

***

I play tennis with Sofia on the roof
and after lunch, when Gus is convinced I won’t have another
migraine meltdown, I run laps. The guard watches from the doorway
but like before, I enjoy the solitude of being the only one in the
fresh air. Several laps in, I notice Linc stands in place of my
original guard. He watches from against the outside wall, but I
don’t mind. Linc’s presence is not oppressive like the
others.

The ends of my hair tickle my shoulder
blades as I move. It would be more comfortable pulled back but I
don’t want to risk exposing the ink behind my ear—or more
importantly, Titus’s anger should the staff notice. I am hyperaware
of the exposed skin between my cropped sports bra and the waistline
of my shorts but I tell myself this is me, her, Authentic Raven,
and they’ve all seen it before. Or they think they have.

Running is repetitive but it helps in
ordering my thoughts. I concentrate on my footfalls, the rhythm it
creates. Soon my heavy emotions fall away. I still think of my
situation. Of Titus and his threats, of my GPS chip ticking away
inside me like a bomb whose countdown I can’t read. But my physical
exertion has drowned out my mind’s reaction to it all. I am
detached and cold. For the first time since leaving Twig City, I
feel like I’ve been trained to feel … nothing.

When I finish my run, Linc is waiting
with a bottle of water. I take a swig and keep walking to let my
body cool down. He surprises me by falling into step beside me. We
are halfway around the loop when he speaks. The wind gusts are
strong this close to the roof’s edge and I have to strain to hear
him.

“
You’re different,” he
says.

As soon as he speaks the words, my
heart hammers against my chest double-time. Any coldness or
distance I’d achieved during my run vanishes. “What do you
mean?”

“
I mean there’s something
different about you, ever since that first attack where you got hit
on the head.”

I focus on controlling my breathing,
which is coming faster and has nothing to do with the four miles
I’ve just completed. “Well, I do have amnesia—”

“
No,” he interrupts. “It’s
more than that. You’re not … you. I haven’t figured it out, but
there’s something off.”

I can’t think of an answer that will
pacify him. The amnesia story is all I have and if that isn’t
working, I don’t know what will, short of the truth. But I can’t
bring myself to tell him that. Even if it didn’t mean his certain
death—or my own—I can’t bear to see the horror in him that I’m sure
my words would bring.

He lets out a frustrated grunt. “I
know there’s something you’re not telling me, Raven. I may only
have worked here a few months, but I can see there’s more going on
than I’m being told. Not just with you but Titus, Gus, all of them.
Everything’s a damned secret.”

“
I don’t know what you
mean. Maybe you should ask your boss.”

“
Titus is a liar and a
tyrant. I’m not asking him. I’m asking you.” He stops walking and
pulls me to a stop beside him. We are on the outer rim of the track
and I’m not sure if we can be seen from the glass doors, but I
don’t dare look away from Linc to check.

“
Linc, I …” I have no idea
what to say, but I desperately want to say something, because
suddenly this boy matters very much. As does his opinion of me. “I
am different. I’m not that girl from before.”

“
Why? What changed?” He is
leaning forward, hanging on my every word, desperate for me to give
him a real answer.

I open my mouth but the next words out
of my lips cannot be the ones on my tongue. I cannot tell him the
truth. I close my mouth again. He recognizes my decision and the
fire goes out of him.

There is nothing else to do. I begin
walking and clear the blind spot we stood in just as the door opens
and a guard steps out. He blinks at me in relief and then steps
back inside.

I hear Linc’s footsteps as he catches
up. He passes me without a word and disappears inside.

I don’t see him again all
day.

***

On Sunday, Titus joins me at
breakfast. He is all smiles and compliments and a complete stranger
in his forced joviality. It is the first time I have seen him since
he struck me but all traces of his anger are gone. My own, however,
has only grown. The sight of him jars me so heavily that I have to
grit my teeth to keep from snarling. I force one foot in front of
the other and somehow I make it to the table. Biscuits and eggs
have already been laid out. A steaming mug sits in front of my
plate and I concentrate on it.

“
Raven, darling, you look
lovely this morning,” he says as I take a seat and fold my napkin
primly across my lap.

“
Thank you,” I say. The
compliment makes my skin crawl because it has come from his
mouth.

My satin blouse is thin but more than
that, his gaze roaming over me make me feel exposed in a way that
disgusts me to my core. I smile and sip my gourmet
coffee.

The entire meal is Titus fawning over
me and telling me what a great job I’m doing. By the end, my nails
have torn the skin in my palms where I’ve curled my hands into
fists. Titus doesn’t notice, or pretends not to.

“
You should take a day off
from all this constant exercise, darling,” Titus says when the
dishes have been cleared. “It’s Sunday, a day for rest. You should
get out, get some fresh air.”

I almost choke on my coffee. “Excuse
me?”

He smiles. He is fully aware of what
he’s suggested—a reprieve from my prison—and I’m not sure if he’s
teasing me just yet. Still, my heart thuds against my chest at the
prospect of being allowed to walk out the front door.

“
I mean it,” he says. “Go
for a walk or something. This will all be here when you get back.”
He waves a dismissive hand.

I hesitate. I know there is something
he isn’t telling me, like the fact that I will never be without a
camera on me, no matter where I go. And of course there’s my GPS.
But the offer is too good to pass up and I rise to my feet, half
expecting him to laugh at me and tell me it’s a joke. He doesn’t.
Instead, he smiles a knowing smile and watches me leave.

“
See you later, daughter,”
he calls out behind me.

I don’t turn.

My steps are methodical as I wind
around the circular hallway to the elevator. I don’t bother
stopping at my room to change or dab on more makeup. I’m too afraid
Titus will change his mind and lock me away after all. I make it
into the elevator without seeing a single security guard. The door
closes and in this moment, freedom—however contrived—is so close I
can taste it.

The elevator stops and the doors open
to the lobby. My boots echo against the hard floor, a fast-paced
click-click as I hurry toward fresh air. The doorman sees me
coming, tips his hat, and pulls open the door for me. I pass
through and relish the feel of the air as it hits my
face.

Three steps onto the sidewalk, I stop.
I have no idea where to go from here. My familiarity of the city
ends at the curb, where I’ve only ever been ushered into a waiting
car and swept away. Now, with the entire city at my fingertips, I
have absolutely no clue what to do next. The thought of escape
cloys at the back of my thoughts but I don’t plan to try. For one
thing, I know it’s what Titus expects. I am not so naïve that I
don’t recognize this as a test. But more importantly, I promised
Linc.

I am also very aware that I appear
alone. And though I don’t doubt Titus is somehow watching, I feel
like bait dangling from a hook. Whoever wants me will no doubt come
for me should I attempt a tour through the city on my
own.

Car engines groan and whine as they
whir past me. The smell of exhaust is everywhere, mixing with the
expensive colognes of passersby in a way that makes me wrinkle my
nose. I shift my weight, looking this way and that, trying to pick
the least dangerous direction to wander. The longer I stand here,
the more I feel like a target. My rooftop attack is still fresh in
my mind and I know a repeat performance is a distinct possibility,
but I refuse to turn around and retreat inside just yet.

An engine sounds from behind, louder
than the passing cars. It dies off as it reaches me and I turn.
It’s a motorcycle, shiny black. I cannot see the rider’s face
through his helmet but I know him by the shape of his body. I think
I would know him anywhere. Linc.

“
Wanna ride?” he asks over
the sound of traffic.

Despite the way our last meeting
ended, I am glad to see him. We haven’t spoken since he walked away
from me on the rooftop, but if he’s offering me a ride, I suspect
some sort of truce is in effect. I decide to go with it, especially
if it means getting back on the motorcycle.

I start to tell him yes, then glance
over my shoulder at Rogen Tower. The windows feel like pupils:
cold, unblinking, always watching. I hesitate. He looks at the
building, as if guessing my reluctance. His hand rolls forward on
the throttle and the engine revs. Throaty. Loud.

“
Gus cleared it,” he
adds.

My lips curve upward at that, and I
take the helmet he offers. When it’s fastened, I slide in behind
him, loving the way my body tingles where it touches his back. I
slide my hands around his midsection, the gesture at once both new
and familiar.

“
Where are we going?” I
call out as his foot works the gears and we ease into
traffic.

“
Where do you want to go?”
he shouts back.

I try to think of an area in the city
I want to see again but there’s nothing. Everywhere I’ve been seems
coated with either desperate poverty or blood money, and I have no
desire to see either.

“
Is there somewhere with
no people around? No city?” I ask.

“
Mother Nature in the raw?
Of course.”

His hand slides on the throttle and
we’re off. He veers left, then right, weaving in and out of
traffic, missing bumpers by inches. I gasp, my fear turning quickly
to awe that we can move like this.

The city flies by on either side. I
let it all blur together and revel in the way every heavy thought
dissolves as we pick up speed. Wind rushes by and after a few
moments, I feel a chill on my thighs. It is a comfortable cold, a
windy, freeing, delicious cold. I love it.

The city disappears gradually. First,
the nicer buildings devolve into more dilapidated versions.
Boarded-up windows eventually turn into empty frames and walls
emblazoned with graffiti. Trash litters the sidewalks. It blows
across the road in front of us, giving off a feeling of loneliness
so strong that I blink back tears for all of the people who see
this every day—and know the extravagance that exists five miles
northward.

I see a few faces peeking out from a
sheltered storefront. No one stumbles through the streets here.
Even in daylight, it feels dangerous. Desperate.

Finally, the buildings and cracked
sidewalks give way to fields. Far in the distance to my left, I see
thick forest. Between me and the trees, it is only open fields and
grass so tall I think it might cover my head were I to wade in. It
is white and feathery. Wheat, maybe.

Ida once called my hair that color.
I’ve never seen anything like it outside of a television screen or
textbook but it is beautiful as it sways under the weight of the
breeze.

The road narrows and the double-yellow
line becomes a single line of dashes. I don’t know what this means,
though there isn’t much traffic here. My hands tighten around Linc
as he increases our speed. In front of us the road stretches as far
as I can see.

In this moment, with the wind whipping
my hair, the view endless and open, I experience joyful abandon for
the first time in my existence. It is sweet and sharp in my mouth.
I want to memorize it, store it up, so that when I need it most, I
can recall that this feeling does actually exist—and it is every
inch worth living for.

The clean air, devoid of the scent of
exhaust and oil, is refreshing. Linc leans in for a turn. We dip
lower and lower until we’re almost parallel to the ground. My heart
accelerates. My hands squeeze. The fear and adrenaline are
delicious. I grin as the turn rounds out and the road straightens
again.

It is a rare moment when I allow
myself to feel like me. Ven. An Imitation. And while that is
something I used to despise, I know now that I would take it over
Authentic Raven. She is shallow and easy and meaningless. I am deep
and complicated and appreciative of the simple experience of
joy.

My desire to be all of
those things
and
human is a pain that never dulls no matter how many times I
think it. This time, I push the thought away, determined to live in
the right now.

Linc slows the motorcycle and pulls
onto the dirt shoulder. “Let’s take a walk and stretch our legs,”
he says.

I dismount and stand beside him,
relieved he’s not suggesting that we head back. I know the time
will come but I’m not ready yet. I don’t know how he got permission
from Gus for this trip but right now, I don’t care. I’m still awed
by the openness of this place.