Pete, Pete, Pete.
I take a shovel to my memories, digging up as many as I can of my brother. Carefree, laid-back, everybody-loves-him Pete. Until we moved to Thornsdale and he changed so drastically—turning dark and taciturn and moody. Little did I know there were powers at work in his life, powers my father and most of the world would laugh off as pure fiction.
Medicine prevented me from saving my brother the first time. Medicine almost prevented me from saving him the second. How vividly I remember the man with the white scar, searing my brother’s skin with that strange symbol—the same one I saw on Wren, the girl who barked at my old English teacher. If not for Luka, that symbol would have remained on my brother’s forearm and the Pete I grew up knowing and loving would have been lost forever. But I brought Luka with me to fight that battle and he threw out a force field that gave the man with one scar two.
Luka, my brother’s hero. Luka, the boy whose touch sets my skin on fire. Was he really created for the sole purpose of protecting me? And if that’s true, how do I feel about it? I give my head a fierce shake.
Pete, Pete, Pete.
Instead of counting sheep, I count my brother. I imagine a long line of Pete clones, sitting in a large circle as I walk around them tapping their heads. Three-hundred-six Pete, three-hundred-seven Pete, three-hundred-eight Pete …
Until my eyes grow heavy and my breathing becomes effortless and I open my eyes in a place that is every bit as dark and dank as the hub, but it’s not my new bedroom. I reach out and curl my fingers around cold, metal bars. This is a prison cell. Only instead of being inside of it, I’m outside looking in, at a man huddled in the corner. A man who is awfully familiar …
“Dad!”
It’s not me who shouts the word, but the young man beside me. He grabs onto the bars and shakes them for all he’s worth, as though enough strength might bend them apart and allow my father to walk free. “Dad, look at me! Please!”
But my father—
our
father—won’t look up.
I set my hand on Pete’s shoulder.
He stops his shaking and spins around, his dark eyes going wide. And before I can brace myself, his arms wrap me in a hug so tight it’s hard to breathe. His tall body—the one that has always grown too fast—is ganglier than usual. His bones feel sharper, more prominent than they should.
“Tess! I can’t believe you’re here. Where have you been?”
I lean away, wanting to see my brother’s face, and as I do, the setting changes. We’re no longer inside a prison. We’re in the woods, the ones outside my house in Thornsdale. For one brief, unadulterated moment, I want to spread my arms wide and sprint through this familiar place. Feel fresh air on my face and in my hair. But then I remember where we came from—the image of Pete desperately trying to get our father’s attention—and the woods turn dark and ominous, as if danger lurks behind every leaf.
Pete must sense it too, because he takes my wrist and begins dragging me up the path with urgent, frenzied movements that aren’t like my brother at all. “I have to get you out of here.”
I dig in my heels. “Wait a second.”
“He’s coming. He’ll know you’re here.”
“Who?”
“The man with the scars.”
Dread sinks through my stomach like an anvil.
“He’s after you, Tess. He’s looking all over for you.”
I grab Pete’s shoulders, desperate to calm him down. “Listen to me, this is a dream.”
“What?”
“This isn’t real. It’s a dream. You’re having a bad dream.”
“Then how are you …?”
There’s too much to explain. Too many questions I have myself. I don’t know where to start. “I found out a way to visit people in their dreams. That’s what’s happening right now. This is your dream and I’ve hopped into it.”
Pete’s eyes are wild and frantic, moving about inside his head as if at any minute the man with the scars will jump out and kill us both. My brother’s terror is palpable. Of course it is. When a person gets as close to evil as Pete did and lives to tell about it, they know full well the danger it poses. I will get no answers unless I can calm him down. So I do the same thing I did to Leela. I pinch him as hard as I can—nails and all—on the bony part of his hand.
He draws back, a divot forming between his eyebrows.
“You didn’t feel it because you’re dreaming. Nothing can hurt you.” At least not physically.
Pete’s eyes start to clear. His fear slowly ebbs. “Leela was telling the truth. She said something about getting a message from you in a dream, but it all sounded so …”
“Crazy, I know. Did she give you my letters?”
He nods.
A flood of gratitude washes through me. Where would I be without Leela?
“Tess, how are you? Mom’s worried sick. She’s not eating. She’s not sleeping. And now with Dad gone …”
“What do you mean with Dad gone?”
Pete bites his lip, as if to stop the tremble in his chin. It’s a look that brings me back to our innocent childhood, when the worst trouble Pete faced was getting caught for breaking Mom’s favorite vase.
“The police have him in custody.”
“What?” The word tumbles out in a horrified whisper.
“There have been all these allegations that he broke into a mental facility in Eugene.”
Oh, no.
“The police won’t let us see him. All we know is he’s being questioned and accused for a crime he swears he didn’t commit. Nobody will tell us anything. But the evidence isn’t good, Tess. They traced the break-in to Dad’s iPad.”
I shake my head, the horror in my throat spreading to my heart. When Luka and I asked Leela to divert attention to Shady Wood, we never considered the possibility that the police might trace the break-in to my father. It was his equipment we used. How couldn’t we have considered it? “Pete, Dad didn’t break into Shady Wood. That was me and Luka. We’re the ones who broke in.”
“Luka’s with you? I knew he had to be, but the police aren’t saying anything about him at all. It’s you they’re after. Mom thinks that by locking Dad up, they’ll get you to come back.”
But why? Why, why, why?
The horror in my heart pumps through my veins. Every part of my body pulses with it. My father’s in jail. My mom’s a wreck. And Pete’s having terrible nightmares. Even if my father gets acquitted, he won’t be able to get a job at Safe Guard or anywhere else for that matter. Not with this on his record. Not with me for a daughter. What will happen to my family? My mind grapples for a solution. Anything to fix all that I’ve broken. “Listen, Pete. You need to wake up and go to the police. Tell them it was me who broke into Shady Wood. I stole Dad’s iPad. It was all me. Tell them that if they let Dad out, you and Mom will promise to report me the minute you find out where I am.”
Pete’s eyes grow wide again. “Never. I’m not going to rat you out.”
“Pretend, Pete. You have to. Get Dad out of this mess and then convince our parents that you have to move. Move far away from Thornsdale and start over somewhere else. Convince Mom that I’m not coming back.” My throat closes tight, so tight I can barely breathe.
“Where are you?”
I open my mouth to tell him, to reassure him that I’m safe. But something Pete said earlier holds my tongue. “A little bit ago you were convinced the man with the scars was going to show up. Why? Has he been …?” I can’t finish the question. I’m not sure I want to know. The mere thought of that man tormenting my brother while he sleeps in an attempt to get to me is too much to handle.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.” But it’s obvious he’s not, nor will he be. His face is too thin, his eyes too hollow. “I’m not sure about Mom though. She needs to know where you are, Tess. If you tell me now, we can come to you.”
“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” The white-scarred man will never leave my brother alone if I tell him my location. I refuse to pull the pin and hand him such a grenade. “All I can say is that I’m as safe as I can be. Tell Mom I love her, okay? Tell her not to worry about me. Tell her to focus on getting Dad out and moving away.”
An eerie whistled melody rustles through the leaves.
Pete yanks me behind a bush.
“Oh Little Raaaa-bbit. Come out, come out wherever you aaaaare.” The familiar voice turns my bones cold. “I know you’re here. I’d recognize your presence anywhere.”
I peek through the mass of leaves and spot him strolling through the woods like it’s a beautiful summer day. “You dropped off the map, you know. Imagine my delight to sense you here tonight, in your dear little brother’s dream. Hop, hop, hop, you did. I knew it was only a matter of time before you came.” He walks a few more steps, pulling aside branches to search behind them. “I won’t stop tormenting little Pete in his sleep. Persistence is my middle name. I will continue until you return to me, or sweet Pete goes mad. The choice is yours.”
The threat makes my blood boil.
“Or maybe I’ll just put that mark back on his arm—”
I jump out from my hiding spot, wanting to destroy this man. To thrust my palm up into his nose and drive the cartilage through his demonic brain.
Pete jumps after me. “Tess, no!”
The air fills with an odd song, and just like that, my eyes open.
I’m back in the hub. The stupid hub. No! No, no, no! How could I leave Pete alone and defenseless with that man? Why did I wake up?
Footsteps fall outside my room. Someone is singing.
Artificial light filters through the crack beneath my door, which must mean it’s already morning. I kick the covers off my legs and fling the door open.
Danielle takes a startled step back wearing nothing but a towel and presses her hand against her chest. “
What
is your deal?”
My
deal?
My
deal!? My
deal
is that she woke me up. She woke me up on her way to the shower with her too-loud singing and now I’m here, away from Pete, with no clue if he’s okay.
Looking me up and down, Danielle mutters something about
somebody
not being a morning person, then makes her way to the bathroom with her song following her as she goes. I turn around and stare at my bed, my crashing heart confirmation that there will be no falling back to sleep to find my brother. I throw a sweatshirt over my tank, comb through my gnarled hair with trembling fingers, and pad barefooted into the boy’s hallway. I need to find Luka. I need to tell him what happened.
I march to his door and knock. There’s no answer. So I knock again. And again, and again. Until finally, a door does open. Only it’s not the one I’m knocking on. Declan sticks his head out into the hallway, his flaming red hair squashed and squished in every which direction, rubbing sleep from his groggy eyes. “He’s not in there.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“I heard him shuffling around earlier this morning. His door opened and closed a half hour ago.”
“Do you know what time it is?” Seriously, I need to take Jillian up on her offer to get me a clock from storage. It could be five in the morning or time for eight o’clock breakfast and neither would surprise me.
“Seven fifty-five.”
“Aren’t you going to be late for breakfast?”
“It’s Sunday.”
“Meaning?”
“Sunday’s are free days.”
“Nobody eats on free days?”
He chuckles a little. “Yes, we eat. But we get to eat whenever we want to eat. Cap thinks a full two-day weekend would give us too much idle time. He has no qualms about giving us Sunday, though. Which means sleeping in. No classes. No training, at least nothing mandatory. Eating, we still do.”
“Oh. Sorry for waking you up.”
“Your boyfriend already woke me up, remember? I’m a light sleeper.”
I nod awkwardly.
“I’d check the library if I were you. I saw him bringing some history books to his room before breakfast yesterday.”
Declan is right. I find Luka sitting in a tattered armchair—the only piece of furniture in the room. I can’t tell if the yellowish color is intentional, or the result of time and wear. There’s a thick book opened in his lap that reminds me of the book I saw in his bedroom that first time he invited me over for our world history project. He chews on his thumbnail and flips a page.
My fingers move self-consciously to my hair. For all I know, it’s sticking every which way like Declan’s. I shut my eyes, trying to blot away the memory of my brother and his dream. It’s no use. Pete’s gaunt face is forever seared in my occipital lobe, along with too many other disturbing images—the living dead at Shady Wood, my grandmother thrashing for freedom against the constraints that imprisoned her, Dr. Roth’s limp body swinging on a noose …
“Tess?”
I open my eyes.
Luka stands and tosses the book onto the chair. “What’s wrong?”
“The man with the scars. He’s tormenting Pete. He said he won’t stop until I come back. My dad’s in jail. The police think he’s the one who broke into Shady Wood.” My voice grows increasingly strained as I force the words out. “I have to go back. I can’t leave them in that mess.”
“You’re a fugitive. Returning isn’t going to make anything better.”
“It could set my dad free.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But shouldn’t I try? My freedom’s not more important than his.”
Luka comes to me in the doorway. “You think they’ll actually listen to your testimony? The second you set foot in Thornsdale, they’ll throw you in Shady Wood, and then what? Your dad will still be in jail and everything we’ve done to get here won’t matter.”
Desperation eddies and churns inside of me. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s right. I just know that my dad’s locked up because of me and Mom thinks the police are trying to lure me back. I don’t get why I matter so much. Why—in this world where drug lords and murderers roam the streets—are they using valuable time to search for me? I’m not a murderer. Despite what the media has to say, I’m not a danger to society. My fists clench by my sides. None of it makes any sense.
Luka gently pulls me toward him. “Come here.”
I resist at first, because I’m upset with him. He was talking to Cap about me behind my back. He didn’t help me rescue that woman. And he treated me like a little kid in front of Claire. But his skin is warm and he smells like books and I don’t have the strength to resist him. I let my body melt against his. I attempt to borrow some of his strength. “We can’t go back.”