One (21 page)

"Jules." His
voice is a croak. For the first, time he sounds uncertain. "Jules."
My name sounds desperate in his mouth. "Jules, I think I lo-"

"Shh." I put
a frantic finger to his mouth. I shake my head.
No, no, no…
"Shh."

His eyes bore into
mine. I see the struggle there. I wonder if the same struggle is
reflected in my eyes.

"Kiss me."

I want his kisses to
take away reality. I want his kisses to be the only thing that
matters. I want his kisses to erase that powerful feeling inside both
of us.

I want his kisses to
deny the truth.

How can you love a
criminal?

One year earlier

"My name is Juan
Gonzales."

I flinch when he
speaks. His voice is heavy with his native tongue, but there's an air
of culture and authority articulated in every word he says. Gray is
speckled sparsely into his thick black hair. It's meant to make him
look sophisticated, but the pale color reminds me of disease and
destruction.

I feel a hand on my
back. "Go on, Julianna, greet him. He doesn't bite." The
polite laugh is a warning. Braidon's uncle, Jose Diaz gives me a look
and his hand pushes me forward.

I slip my hand into Mr.
Gonzales's outstretched palm. The second his hand closes over mine, I
want to run. I imagine the things he has done with that hand. I
imagine the pain, the loss. I imagine death.

He is the center of it
all.

The second he lets go,
I mentally breathe a sigh of relief. I want to wipe my palm against
my jeans but I don't want to contaminate them with it. So I put my
hand at my side, careful not to touch any part of my clothing.

"Julianna has been
a diligent worker in the farms. She is there day and night. We've
exceeded our quotas because of her hard work," Jose gives me a
smile, his eyes crinkling.

Mr. Gonzales adjusts
his glasses. "You don't go to school, young girl?"

I lift my chin. "I
am a senior in high school,
Senor
Gonzales. I take online
classes from home. It's better that way so I can find work." I
pause. This next part is important. "I am… all alone,
Senor
."

His gaze bores into
mine. For a while, there is silence. "That is a shame," he
finally says. He manages to sound regretful. My fists want to clench.
Liar
. "It is so important that the young people of this
world have a family, even if it is not a blood family. I have
traveled to many countries," he continues, gesturing with long
brown fingers. "And everywhere I find that people are all the
same. They have the same needs, the same wants." Pause. "The
same obsessions," he says quietly. "And everyone is willing
to do something if the price is right, and if they are desperate
enough." He comes closer to me. I fight the urge to spit in his
face. "Jose is an old friend. He says you can be trusted. He
says you are a good worker. Is that true?"

I nod solemnly, not
meeting his eyes. "Yes."

"He says you are a
loyal
worker. Is that true?"

"Yes."

He takes another step
closer. "He says you
obey
. Is that true?"

I feel bile rise in my
throat. "Yes."

He bends and his voice
is a whisper above my head. "He says you are ready to see the
farm on the hill."

I visibly flinch.
"Yes."

"Not many people
are allowed access there. It is hard work. We treat everyone well.
But
," he stresses the word, "you are sworn to
secrecy. Tell me, Julianna." I look up. "Can you keep a
secret?"

I see my grandmothers
still form. I remember how cold her body was.

"Yes."

He straightens. "Good."
There's a trace of a smile on his face. "We are ghosts,
Julianna. We will train you how to be invisible."

"I've been
invisible my whole life, sir."

"Do you know what?
I think I believe you." His hand touches my shoulder. I feel the
weight of it like cement. "Perhaps you were always meant to be
one of us."

"Perhaps," I
reply softly.

He clucks his tongue,
and his hands fall away. He nods at Jose. "Very well. Welcome
Julianna."

He is in a white suit
and I watch his retreating back. He is handsome and suave.

It takes everything
inside me not to vomit right now.

Braidon's uncle puts
his hand on my shoulder. It should feel lighter but it doesn't. It
should feel less confining, but it doesn't.

"Do you do what he
does as well?" I ask him abruptly.

"We have been
friends for a long time." He pauses and the warmth of his hand
seeps through like fumes. "There are not many opportunities in
Mexico. You do what you can to survive."

"Braidon says your
family is wealthy."

"My nephew does
not know everything. It is better for him. He can choose a different
path."

"And you?" I
ask, turning to look at him. "Have you chosen a different path?"

His surprise is evident
on his face. I'm asking more questions than I should. Obedient girls
don't ask questions. I want to kick myself. I lower my gaze to show
submission. It seems to work because after a moment he answers.
"Sometimes all paths lead in the same direction."

Silence.

His thumb rubs against
the soft part of my shoulder. I wonder if he feels the tension there.
"My nephew loves you with every cell inside him. He has chosen
well." The compliment seems a little less than sincere and I
know he's only trying to be polite. He doesn't know me well. He only
knows what Braidon tells him. Since Braidon is the only son in the
family, he often gets his way, especially with this uncle. It wasn't
hard for Braidon to get him to grant an audience with Juan Gonzalez.
Braidon kept his word. He got me to Grandma's murderer. He kept his
part of the bargain and I kept mine. I pretended to love him.
Sometimes I wonder if he feels the pretense. Other times I know it
doesn't matter.

Braidon doesn't live in
this reality. There is a cloud inside his head. It keeps him
delusional. He tells himself I love him so it's how he sees me. Even
when I am indifferent, his obsession keeps him nearby. I'm stifled
but I can't leave.

Not yet.

"Will you and
Braidon be over for dinner?"

I nod my head in
affirmation.

"See you then,
Julianna." I watch him walk toward the shadowed figure of Mr.
Gonzales.

All paths lead in the
same direction.

* * *

He's built an empire.

It's a kingdom built on
dirt, and the aching backs of immigrant workers.

It's a kingdom built
from blood.

I smell it in the
plants on the ground. I even smell it on the trees. The metallic odor
is so strong I taste it in my mouth. It makes me sick to my stomach.
I wonder how long I'll last here. Everyone I've met so far speaks
very little English. I'm the minority here, a small white girl with
haunting grey eyes. For the most part, they leave me alone, only
talking to me when teaching me what to do. I suspect many of the
people here are illegal immigrants, coming for a better life in
America. Instead, they are back where they started, trapped
underneath an unstable system with an even more unstable ruler.

An older man with a
brown wrinkly face teaches me how to cultivate each plant. His hands
shake uncontrollably, and I know he does more than just pick the
plants. He teaches me the process, and how to dry the plant. We work
together quietly for many hours each day before we go to a small
abandoned building nearby to package everything. They tell me it will
go to other parts of the country. Some will go to Canada.

I go to work early
every day and come home when the skies darken. I don't see Braidon
much, and sometimes when I am very lonely, I find myself even missing
him. The only thing that keeps me going is thoughts of justice.

Justice will be served.

"Maybe if you
flashed your chest, they would've let you cut the line," I tease
Pax as I suck the sauce from my finger. The Thai wrap sandwich in my
hand is sweet and spicy and completely worth the fifty minute drive
to get here. The food truck fair is in full swing, and the smells of
fried goods and scented suntan lotion invade my senses. We've moved
to the side, loitering near a sidewalk as we debate where to go next.
I've never seen a street so packed before. Nat, Alex and I were
hesitant to go in earlier, but I'm glad we did, because this wrap is
delicious
. "Flashing's an equal opportunity action,"
I explain. "Now days, anyone can do it."

"Is that so?"

I'm comfortable enough
with him to take our conversation here. The banter between us is what
I enjoy the most. Pax has engrained himself so much in my life that I
can't imagine a day without him. He walks me to class every morning.
He takes me out almost every night. He's become a regular to our room
to the extent that Nat has taken the liberty to hang a bed sheet
between our two sides to offer us some privacy and so she doesn't
"barf out her dinner every night" watching us "suck
face."

I don’t mind. I like
the privacy. I like the way Pax makes me forget anyone is in the room
at all. Fall semester will be over soon, and Pax already has plans of
how we're going to spend it. He wants to take me on vacation. He
wants to go to Mexico. I hate the idea but I can't tell him why.

Pax's voice intrudes on
my thoughts. "So
you
flashed your chest to cut the line?"
he inquires with a playful smile.

"I'm not in the
business of showing my body to men," I tell him seriously,
sucking another finger.

"Who said it had
to be a man? Equal opportunity remember?" His eyes watch me lick
my index finger. I suck it into my mouth.

"Well the birds by
my window have seen me naked, and they're still around, so it must
not have been too bad."

"Are you sure it's
only the birds?"

"Hmm, now that you
mention it there
is
this red blinking light on a camera that I
see from the neighbor's yard…" I trail off, deadpan.

Pax loves this. I can
tell by the way he's gazing at me, like I'm the most extraordinary
thing he's ever seen. All because I mentioned equal opportunity
flashing. Mentally I roll my eyes. Men. "What about that guy
hiding in that tree by your window? He sure did have a big telescope
last I saw."

"What?" I
fake a gasp. "You mean he's
not
looking at the stars? He
told me he was an astronomer."

"Unless you have
stars in your room."

I pretend to think
about it. "No wonder he kept telling me to take off my top and
bounce around… he said it helped him concentrate…"

"Tell me more
about this taking off your top and bouncing around," Pax asks
politely, as if he's ordering a meal or asking for directions. "There
might be some credibility to this theory. I need to see exactly how
you did it for him."

I have to bite my lip
to contain my laughter. "Well, the scientist told me bouncing
women can help him figure out the proper speed and velocity a person
can move in order to stay safe. He told me I was helping humanity."

"He was right,"
Pax comments, leaning closer. I smell his aftershave, and my body's
conditioned to start overheating. My breaths become shorter. My body
aches at his nearness. "Engineering is a scientific profession
too. We calculate speed, velocity, momentums, and forces. So if you
help him, you have to help me, too. Start bouncing," he orders
as he takes a sip of his beer.

"Make me," I
challenge.

"All right,"
he answers evenly. He sets the beer down at an abandoned table. "Come
here so I can take your top off, Jules."

I shouldn't feel so
excited but I am. The pulse of spontaneity in his eyes is what I've
craved for so long. It's a sign I'm living. It's a sign my secrets
might not matter so much. The question that's floated in my mind
since day one has always been: to let him go or to keep him? To
divert from my plan, or to embrace the unexpected?

To tell Pax my secret
or to keep it?

The life in his eyes
reminds me why I want him. It makes my worries disappear.

"No," I say
slowly, shaking my head. "Never."

"Never?" He
lifts an eyebrow. "I think it'll happen sooner than that."

His arrogant tone
should repulse me. Instead it only makes me hotter. Slowly, I set my
half-eaten wrap down. I begin to inch backwards, never tearing my
gaze away from his. I move in slow motion, seeing the curiosity in
his eyes. "Catch me if you can."

The challenge is one he
can't refuse. I don't wait to see if he will because I
know
he
will.

I know he'll follow me
wherever I go.

I run.

The crowds are thick,
but I'm small and I find crevices between bodies. Pax is not, but it
doesn't stop him. That's the difference between Pax and other people:
he doesn't give up. Somehow, I hear him right behind me, and I bolt,
ducking under a stand to slip behind.

"No, you don't!"
Pax tries to grab me, but I slip away, avoiding his hands like a
slippery fish. We're both laughing, but Pax is serious about
challenges. He wants to catch me.

I want to run away.

There's an alley up
ahead, but it isn't good to move away from the crowd. They're my only
defense against Pax. I swerve to the left, diving back in. Someone
elbows me in the face and I almost fall. I catch my balance quickly,
and attempt to push further in. A woman gasps as I bolt past her.

"Sorry," I
yell, not bothering to look back. Adrenaline is pumping in my veins.
The pulse of life I'd seen in his eyes is in mine right now. He opens
so much inside me.

I need to run faster.

A part of me wants to
stop, but I need to keep going. He can't catch me. He won't. I run in
a sloppy figure eight, trying to dodge between equipment and people.
He almost gets me a few times, but I manage to slide away like early
morning fog. It makes me feel proud. I run and run, letting the wind
pick up my hair, feeling the rush of blood pounding through me.