I was about to push off and up the wall, my one final shot, when Sara gasped and fell forward, losing her grip. Her shin smashed into the ledge an inch from my nose, a split second before my straining neck lost the battle and my head was pulled over the edge, my cheek dragged across the rough concrete.

  I couldn’t see anything but the wall in front of me. I flung my hand where I’d last seen Sara and clutched at the air. My fingers touched fabric and grabbed. “Pull, Sara! Pull!”

  Sara grunted and took off some of the pressure. I dug the tips of my shoes into the wall and kicked off and up.

  My head popped over the ledge and I slammed my face against the concrete, used it to pry myself forward. There was a loud rip and my hand fell against the ledge, Sara’s sleeve beneath it.

  I heaved up with everything I had as Sara pulled and grunted and pulled again. Finally, I was on my back, the wet roof feeling so good. Safe.

  Neither of us said a word, our ragged breathing saying it all. I tried to catch my breath and stared at the gray skies. When I was able to sit, I put my back against the ledge. Sara sat beside me.

  I was too embarrassed to look at her and I hated myself for ripping her blouse and hurting her leg. I grabbed hold of my pants to stop shaking. Everything was numb, no pain anywhere, but I’d feel it later. All the blood and scraped skin promised that.

  Once I could speak, I said, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “How’d you…?”

  “Danny called me. He said you were…”

  “I wasn’t going to jump.”

  “I get that now.”

  Sara felt stupid, knowing she almost got me killed. She’d run right up after Danny’s call, terrified I was going to take the plunge like Paul.

  She’d come to Brightside thinking that Danny was all that mattered, but then she had to go and meet me, the only person who’d ever been nice to her brother.

  “I’m sorry for pushing you away,” she said.

  I tried to lighten the mood. “I’m just glad you didn’t push me up here.”

  We sat there awkwardly. I knew there were people down below who must have seen what just happened. I knew there were people down there that were probably laughing their asses off. I wondered if Krystal was down there laughing, too. And Wayne.

  Sara said, “You’re an idiot.”

  “I know.”

  “Which makes you a bigger idiot.”

  “Yeah…”

  I’d thrown up my middle fingers to get caught.

  “I hate that I met you, Joe. I really do. I don’t want my life to be complicated. I just want things to be normal. For once in my stupid life. But…”

  I took Sara’s face, turned it ever so slightly, that cute little bump in her nose, those eyes. My lips pressed against hers.

  Some kisses are just the prelude to sex. Others are simply a kind gesture, a more intimate thank you. But every so often, a kiss silences everything. The universe just collapses and obliterates your silly existence. You realize everything you’d been holding onto was plastic, stupid, just a distraction. Like Rachel. I didn’t love her, never did. I just wanted someone to hold, press against. She never felt like this. Not like Sara.

  Die or escape weren’t my only two options. There was a third. Stay here in Brightside. With Sara and Danny.

  I thanked her for the kiss, for putting up with me, for saving my life. I figured I might not see them for a while. My stunt would be a ticket straight to The Cabin.

  Sara squeezed my hand and assured me everything would be alright.

  Sara’s entire arm was bare without her sleeve.

  “Sorry about the shirt. I’ll get you a new one,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about it. We should get back.”

  It took me a second to get to my feet, the pain finally settling in. I wanted to thank Sara for being so calm, but all I could think of was how I couldn’t even afford to buy her a blouse.

  Sara stood, her shin all bloody. “I’ll be okay.”

  We made our way down the stairs, my legs shaky. Not just from almost falling. But from the kiss.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  That voice. Not Sara’s. Hardly human. Crazed, deadly.

  Rachel’s.

  She stood at the bottom of the stairwell. Sara’s eyes glanced at me, scared. I told her to go and she went.

  Rachel pinned me up against the wall. “What the fuck were you doing? Everyone saw you!”

  “I know. I’m an idiot.”

  Rachel’s eyes narrowed. She raised her hand. I thought she was going to hit me, but she just wiped my lip with her thumb. Pink. Little flecks of glitter. Sara’s lipstick.

  Rachel’s mind bubbled with rage. Sara’s sweet neck in her hands.

  “It’s not what you think.” The dumbest thing I’d ever said, because it was exactly that and so much more.

  “I see…” Rachel trailed off, tiny steps back. She bumped into the wall, jerked forward.

  “Rachel, calm down.”

  She started pulling at her hair. Spinning round and round. I tried to touch her, but she threw off my hand. Her frantic thoughts came in flashes. Us making love. The Boots dragging her away. Krystal underneath me. Sheila telling her everything, the stupid bitch who promised she wouldn’t. I was pouring water in her mouth at The Cabin. I was telling her we could escape together, that I loved her.

  Everything closing in. The darkness. Hurt. Anger. Everything but hope. That was gone. Nothing but the vile truth.

  Rachel threw open the door, ran. I chased, but I couldn’t catch her. Then Carlos grabbed my arm. Demarius grabbed my other. Rachel kept running, crying, broken once again because of me.

  “Let go of me!” I shouted.

  “Naw, bro,” Demarius said. “You’re gonna see Sharon.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  After sitting in the waiting room for an hour, Demarius brought me in and threw me in the chair. He asked Sharon if she wanted him to stick around. Sharon said no, it was fine. Demarius closed the door and I sat there staring at her stupid Zen waterfall.

  Sharon’s mantra ran at full volume, caused my fists to clench. Unable to listen another second, I said, “Why don’t you just send me to The Cabin?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Since when do I have a choice?”

  “You chose to go up to the roof, showing everyone what you were capable of. A big F.U. to all of this.”

  I didn’t understand why Demarius had taken me and not the Boots. I didn’t see one of those assholes the entire walk over. They never missed a chance to crack down on an infraction.

  “Would you like me to call them?”

  The Boots.

  I just kept chewing on the inside of my cheek.

  “Getting caught makes things easier, doesn’t it? Takes away any responsibility?”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I figured she was trying to probe. I focused on Rachel and Sara, even Krystal. I thought about every dirty thing I’d done and thought.

  Sharon looked disappointed. Not disgusted. Not angry. Just sad.

  Something was different about her. She wasn’t spewing her New Age bullshit, just sat there waiting for me to speak. My mind started to drift to the cave, but I refocused. Thought about Danny, my drawings, the non-existent fish in the pond. I forced thoughts of Steven, bald and frail in his white room. The picture of the swan.

  “Joe.”

  “What?”

  You can trust me.

  I hadn’t even been thinking about the escape, but it seemed she already knew, that she’d known for a while.

  “Why do you think your father turned you in?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Take a guess.”

  “Because I’m a coward.”

  Sharon’s face squinched up, like she was mulling it over. “Seems strange, doesn’t it? Your father turning you in for that. I mean, if he thought you were a coward, why would he send you here, where you could easily tell us about him?”

  It didn’t make sense, but nothing ever did with him.

  “Everything I touch turns to shit,” I said. “He probably figured it was only a matter of time before I fucked up and he didn’t want me to get hurt. So he took the necessary steps to make sure…”

  “So your father loves you?”

  “What?”

  “He risked exposing himself, didn’t he? Drawing attention to you, put the spotlight on him. Seems pretty selfless. He must care about you an awful lot.”

  I didn’t want to let Sharon see me cry. I ran my fingers over the dried blood on my chin.

  “Why am I even here? I broke the rules. I should be in The Cabin, right?”

  Sharon sighed. “That’s correct.” Then she leaned forward. “But you wanted to get caught, didn’t you?”

  I honestly didn’t know why I’d stood up there like a maniac.

  “You didn’t think it was fair to get out by yourself, did you?”

  How did she know about the escape? Her range was beyond mine, sure. But I’d been careful.

  “You also didn’t want to get Rachel hurt, right?”

  Rachel… She must have said something in one of their little check-ins.

  Sharon shook her head. She never shared a single thought. “You were afraid you’d freeze at the edge and they’d find you, putting Rachel in even more danger. She would’ve been shot for attempting to escape.”

  “You have the wrong opinion of me.” I’m a coward. I only think of myself.

  Sharon cocked her head, smiled. “I don’t think so.” Her perfect posture returned. “Do you remember the first time you came to see me? I said I had a good feeling about you.”

  “And I said you were going to be disappointed.” Just like every other woman dumb enough to get near me.

  I turned. The distant sound of the helicopter grew louder and louder, even shook the window. I saw the metal bird racing across the sky, figured it was bringing in more pathetic fuck-ups like me. But then it started hovering, like it was looking for someone.

  “Joe, I need you to look at me,” Sharon said. “Joe!”

  I’d never heard Sharon’s voice above a librarian’s. My neck swiveled.

  “Do you really want to go to The Cabin?”

  I pictured myself in the chair, sitting there catatonic, not a care in the world.

  Sharon’s jaw clenched. Her mantra was failing her. “You know what? Why don’t we take a break?” Sharon stood, threw some stuff in her purse. “I’ll be back in five minutes and you can tell me your decision.”

  She was really leaving me alone in her office. The door closed and I sat there confounded, almost going out of my head. Was this some sort of ploy, some psychological mind game?

  The helicopter was still hovering. I got up, watched it circling around the Square, where the Boots were patrolling. Something bad was going down.

  I turned, saw Sharon’s desk, her stupid calendar of daily affirmations. Next to it was a letter. From my father. It was addressed to Dr. Sharon Appleton.

  I’m writing to you on behalf of my son, Joe. He’s a good boy, might not seem like it at first, but if you have patience, I have no doubt he can be everything you need him to be.

  Turning him in was the hardest decision I’ve ever made as a parent, and I will probably always wonder if I made the biggest mistake of my life. I will carry this guilt to my grave, because I can’t undo it, so I only ask that you look out for him. I’m trusting you here. He’s smart and has a good heart. He might not always act like it, but he knows right from wrong. And he’ll make the tough decision when called. He’s a soldier, just like his old man.

  The only other thing I ask is you don’t tell him right away that I’m the reason he’s there. He’ll need time to adjust first. But when you feel he’s ready, just let him know that I love him.

  Sharon closed the door. “Your father’s a good man.”

  I tossed the letter on her desk. “For turning me in? That’s your definition—”

  “He’s always been a good man.”

  I stepped back. “You know my father?”

  “I do. But I’m not going to say another word about it until I know your decision.”

  The way she said it, I realized The Cabin wasn’t just a physical location. Sharon wanted to know if I’d rather bury my head, sit there drugged up, my mind a gentle sea, or if I was ready to hear the truth.

  You can’t just dangle something like that. I didn’t move, stood there waiting. Sharon pointed to the seat. After a few seconds, I sat, knowing this was going to hurt.

  Sharon walked over to the window, stared out at the whirring helicopter. Just stood there and I started to shift uncomfortably, suddenly afraid.

  It’s okay, she thought.

  Then she silently began the tale, never once turning back, knowing if she looked me in the eyes, she’d never finish.

  According to her account, Sharon met my father twenty years ago at a small underground rally for people like us. Hardly anyone knew telepaths existed, but there were rumors, speculation. Some of us had been locked in loony bins. People like my grandmother. It’s why Dad showed up in the first place. He was angry and alone. He sat in the back and listened to unspeakable stories of violence and fear. And everyone knew it was only going to get worse.

  After the meeting, Sharon went up to Dad and they shared their experiences. She asked if he wanted to be more involved. Dad said he couldn’t, told her he had a family, a son with the same gift. He didn’t want to draw attention, see anything happen to me. So he left, but every so often, like once or twice a year, he’d seek her out, wanted to know how things were going, if there was anything he should know, prepare for, in order to protect his family.

  Sharon said he would’ve done anything to protect us.

  Then the government created Brightside. They started rounding up Thought Thieves. Soon we’d all be on the mountain or dead. Sharon and a few others arranged for friends to turn them in. To infiltrate. Only a few were selected, the ones with the strongest ability, able to quiet their thoughts, block everyone out, so their secret would be safe. The selected offered themselves up, settled in, got chummy with the Boots as hundreds of people from all over the country arrived by helicopter. These secret agents never let on, never aroused any suspicion, just quietly put themselves into positions of power.

  I’d moved out years before and Mom hardly came home, so Dad volunteered to help the cause. They turned him down though, because when they tested him, he couldn’t keep it in, the secrets. He would have broken, slipped up, and all this would be for nothing.

  Months went by and Dad kept trying to join the fight. There was talk that Brightside wasn’t sustainable. Too expensive. Soon they’d have to start cutting rations, supplies. Eventually there’d be only one alternative: execution. Quietly, of course. America would never hear a word, although they probably wouldn’t care if they did.

  That’s when Dad decided to offer me up. Since I didn’t know anything, I wouldn’t be a liability.

  My entire head felt like it was about to implode. I couldn’t feel my hands or legs. Just this throbbing in my brain. Why would he…

  Michelle, Sharon thought.

  And slowly, it all fit together, just like Grandpa’s shotgun.

  A week before I got to Brightside, Michelle said Dad had come over looking for me. She said he seemed panicked, asked for a drink. She said he sat there for an hour waiting for me, but I was working late, trying to boost my bonus. She turned on the TV, a newscast about Brightside. Michelle said she was just trying to make conversation, talked a bit about how dangerous these people were. Dad said he agreed, but kept asking these strange questions. She thought he was just afraid like the rest of the country. But here in Sharon’s office, I knew Dad had been testing her.

  Michelle would’ve turned me in without hesitation, even called up her brothers to take care of me first.

  Michelle’s mind made up Dad’s.

  I couldn’t breathe. Everything closing in, the walls. Sharon’s stupid waterfall was all I could hear, sounded like someone was pissing in my ears.

  I went for her desk, ready to tell Sharon to inject me, to make everything calm, like Rachel was in The Cabin.

  “Joe, you need to calm down.”

  My words to Rachel coming out of Sharon’s mouth.

  I’m sorry, she thought.

  I saw my father’s face, that big, dumb grin. I yelled at her and pressed my thumbs into my closed eyes, shoving them back into my skull.

  The door flung open. Demarius ran in, tackled me into the chair. Pinned my arms. I kept fighting. Demarius pulled tighter.

  Enough! Sharon thought.

  I told you he was going to crack.

  Sharon bent down, touched my face like I was a child. No, he’s not. Isn’t that right, Joe?

  I thought about Mom, rubbing butter on my face.

  “Joe, what’s it going to be?” Sharon asked.

  “Let’s just send this motherfucker to The Cabin.”

  “Quiet.” Sharon forced my eyes to hers.

  What’s your decision?

  My father’s voice flowing through my brain. Whatever you need.

  I found myself ten minutes later in the lobby. I don’t even remember taking the elevator. People were gathered outside the double-doors. There were whispers about a death. I entered the fray wondering if they were talking about me.

  Robert was four feet in front of me, his big black microphone held to his throat, the wire traveling down to the brown box at his waist. He said, “Hey. Joe. You. Know. What’s. Going. On.” The lack of inflection made it so you couldn’t figure if Robert was asking or telling.

  “No idea.”

  “Wayne. King. Escaped.”

  The reason for the accelerated news, why Sharon and Demarius said we had to do this tomorrow night, the end of Day 100. Their plan, my gun.