Larkstorm (10 page)

12

Since Maz doesn’t have a ticket and is bleeding all over the place, I have no choice but to bring him back to my room. I’m not as angry with him now that he’s injured. Still aggravated with his suggestion I leave Beck, but not angry. There is a certain logic to his thinking, after all.

I unlock the door and flick on the wall lamp. My backpack’s on the table.

And I swear I left it on the chair.

“Maz
—
you didn’t come by here earlier, did you?”

“No, why?”

I put my finger to my lips and pick up the bag. A quick check shows everything’s there
—
even the money. Maybe I’m more tired than I thought. Still, something seems off.

“Just wondering.” I motion to the chair and place myself on the bed. “Do you want me to clean that for you?”

He touches his forehead gently. His fingers find the semi-sticky blood and he pulls them away. “Is it bad?”

“Hard to tell. Head wounds always look worse than they are. You should at least clean it.”

He shrugs. From the way he winced when he touched his head, I know it hurts. Stupid male pride.

“Bathroom is in the hallway to the left. Do you think you can go by yourself or do you need help?”

He wrinkles his nose at me. “I think I’m okay.”

I stand up and help him toward the door, not quite convinced he should be wandering around by himself. “Okay. But if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming to find you.” I slide the door open.

He doesn’t argue.

A few minutes alone is just what I need. I sit on the bed cross-legged and try to piece together what Maz has told me. Out of everything he said, one thing burns brightest in my mind: Kyra told Maz. She confided in him. But not me.

So why didn’t Beck tell me? I can keep a secret just as well as Maz.

Maybe he was ashamed. Or scared. Maybe both?

The door slides open and Maz lumbers into the room with a thick pad of tissue stuck to his head.

“All better?”

He collapses in the chair. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

But from the way he holds his head, I wonder if he suffered a concussion. He probably wouldn’t admit it if I asked, so I’m just going to have to watch him. After years of watching Bethina treat Beck, I’m an expert at identifying concussions.

First thing, keep him awake and check for signs of confusion. “I know you think it’s a bad idea and all, but we should get to Summer Hill tomorrow morning. We need a plan.”

Maz clasps his hands behind his neck and stretches. “You haven’t changed your mind?”

I shake my head.

“Well in that case, I guess we’ll just walk up there and ask to see Beck. See what happens.” He’s joking, but I don’t find it funny.

“But what if it’s not that easy? What if there are guards or something?” My mind leaps ahead to prison cells and espionage. “What if he’s not there?”

“Yeah, no.” He shakes his head. “Don’t think it’s gonna happen. They only lock up the really bad cases. The rest are quarantined or something.”

“Do you know
what
exactly they do with them? The other ones, I mean.”

“I think the State keeps them under house arrest until their trial. The ‘safer’ cases get put on a labor team and relocated to a settlement. You know that.”

I stare at the floor, studying the speckled carpet pattern. The train sways and Maz closes his eyes. I can’t let him drift off yet, but the question I need answered sits on my tongue, waiting for me to muster courage. Finally, I ask, “Kyra didn’t know until her mother told her, right?”

“She had no clue. Her mother thought she’d be torn up over it, but Kyra was excited. She said it was like learning you’re a superhero.”

She didn’t know. So maybe Beck didn’t either. At least not until today.

With my finger, I draw a series of circles on the table between the bed and chair. The repetitive movement helps me focus. “I wonder why she thinks it’s like being a superhero? She’s not saving the world. She’s a Sensitive
—
they’re the bad guys.”

“She has powers Lark. What’s not to like about that?”

I ignore his question. So far, he doesn’t seem confused and is recalling our earlier conversation. That’s good, even if his opinions are misguided. I get off the bed and stand in front of him, peering into his face.

“What are you doing?”

I hold up one finger. “Can you see this? Is it blurry?”

Maz’s goofy laugh fills the little room. “Doctor Lark, are you checking me for a concussion?”

I scowl. Just like a guy to make fun of my concern. “So what?”

“I never thought of you as the nurturing type.” He laughs again before patting me on the head. “See, nothing to worry about. Now, who gets the bed and who gets the floor?”

“Who do you think?” I give him my best ‘you-must-be-kidding’ glare, grab my pack and head for the restroom.

I keep my head down as I wait next to the door for another passenger to finish. Once she vacates the tiny bathroom compartment, I seal myself in and hang my pack on the clothing hook. From the free toiletries container, I retrieve toothpaste and a toothbrush. I hate bad breath.

And then I see my face. It’s just my normal face. I don’t look worn out or freakish or anything. It’s just my face.

My olive eyes stare back at me. Beck’s eyes. Our eyes.

If he didn’t know…then maybe I don’t either.

I glance away. What if Kyra lied to Maz? That’s what Sensitives do. Lie. She most likely didn’t want him to out her, so she pretended she didn’t know.

Which means Beck knew.

I hurry through the rest of my pre-bed routine but avoid looking in the mirror.

When I get back to the room, I find Maz curled with the extra pillow and his coat on the floor. I step over him and crawl into the bed.

I lay awake after Maz dozes off. The sound of his snoring is nothing like Beck’s rhythmic breathing. I peer over the edge of the bed at him. It feels wrong having this boy share my room.

I scrunch myself into the corner of the bed and shove the pillow over my head. Maybe if I try hard enough, I can imagine Maz is Beck, and I’ll sleep soundly.

I should hate Beck. I should fear him. But I don’t. I can’t. He’s ingrained in me. His smile and laugh threaded into the very fabric of me. Who am I without him?

I squeeze my eyes shut and give in to the images of Beck dancing behind my eyelids.

Hurry, Lark. I’m waiting.

Beck’s deep, honey-toned voice echoes around my brain. My eyes fly open and search for him. But, of course, he’s not here. It’s just wishful thinking.

I clutch my little bird pendent and pray his voice will weave itself into my dreams.

“I’ll be there soon. Promise,” I murmur as I drift off to sleep.

#

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen!”

A monotone man’s voice on the intercom startles me awake. A pause. “Due to the unexpected change in weather, we’ll be stopping in thirty minutes at the next station for a train change. Please gather your belongings and board train 2-B to continue on your journey. We’re sorry for the inconvenience.”

Another weather delay?

My moved bag.

The ticket agent.

“They don’t want me to find him,” I mutter aloud.

“
What
?”

I hang over the edge of the bed, surprised Maz is awake. He stares up at me.

“I think someone’s following me. Someone who wants to keep me from Beck,” I say.

“It’s only a weather delay. What does it have to do with you?” He watches me like you would a senile caretaker. “I think you’ve gone nutter.”

I jump off the bed. “I’m not crazy.” I cross my arms. “At the train station, the ticket agent knew my name
—
without seeing my wristlet
—
and someone came in here and moved my backpack. Someone
is
following me.”

Maz gives me a pitiful look. “Okay, first. You’re acting like a two-year-old. Second, everyone knows who you and Beck are. I’ve seen the birthday cards you guys get from members of the society
—
people you’ve never met.

“Third,” he holds up three fingers. “The room attendant probably came in to tidy up. Your room was locked, remember?”

My heartbeat slows. He’s right. Beck and I are well-known, partly because of our ancestors and partly because of Mother’s position with State. And the attendants do come in for evening turndown service.

But I’m not convinced.

I pick up my backpack and head for the restroom. “I’ll be back in a few.”

The hallway and bathroom are empty. I brush my teeth and resist the urge to smooth my hair into a ponytail. I know I’m right. Someone doesn’t want me to find Beck.

I don’t change my clothes
—
no need to use up my clean pieces too soon. After giving myself a satisfied once-over, I head back to my room.

“Your turn,” I say as I slide open the door. “Oh! Sorry! Sorry!” I try to slide the door shut but it’s stuck.

Heat works its way up my cheeks. Maz is only wearing his underwear.

I hear him laugh. “It’s not like I’m completely naked.” He steps into his pants and grabs his shirt off the floor. I look away as he pulls it over his light brown hair.

“No, really. I’m sorry!” My ears burn.

Maz’s lips move into a lazy smirk. “Haven’t you ever seen Beck without clothes?”

“Of course. When we’ve gone swimming.” I cross my arms. “I’ve seen all of you shirtless.”

“That’s not the same. Shirtless and naked aren’t even close. What
do
the two of you do in your room all alone?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“Huh. I guess Beck wasn’t lying.” He clicks his tongue.

I cycle through a list of snappy retorts but give up when the train lurches to a stop. Thankful for the interruption, I motion to Maz. “Come on. Grab your pack and let’s go.”

Before we head out, I give the window shade a tug and it coils around itself.

I gasp. Snow covers everything.

Last night, before dark fell, it looked like we had moved into warmer weather. But now, a thick layer of ice and snow coat the ground.

“What the hell?” Maz says. “The bartender told me we’d passed into the Southern Territories.”

It never snows in the Southern Territories
—
it’s one of the warmest areas of our Society.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Must be what’s causing the weather delay. No one knows what to do.” He yanks his school jacket out of his pack. “Looks like I’ll need this after all.”

I slip on my heavy jacket. “Ready?”

“Yup. Do you know what stop this is?”

“No idea. Can you check your wristlet?”

Maz shakes his head and his hair flops into his eyes. “It hasn’t worked since I left school. Tried it earlier.”

“Can you try again?” He starts to shake his head but I stop him. “Please?”

An odd look flickers across his face. Maz holds the blue band and taps it. Nothing happens. “See? I think they turned it off or something once I left school.”

Why would the State turn off his wristlet? “That’s odd. They normally want to know where we are.”

Maz shrugs. “I’m probably not interesting enough.”

“Feel left out, do you?” I joke. Poor Maz. Like me, he’s always been a little overshadowed by Beck.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and motion toward the door. “Okay. Ready to go?”

We walk into the cramped hallway and exit the train. Despite the announcement, confused people clog the platform and form a crowd three deep around the conductor.

Maz and I bob and weave across the slick ground and through the crowd. Unlike the other passengers, who struggle to walk, we’re used to this weather.

“Hey Maz, where?” I yell over the blast of the train whistle.

“Platform 2-B!”

The whistle screeches again. I jog left, careful not to slip, and press through the growing crowd. Cold air stings my face and each breath feels like inhaling icicles.

A sign catches my attention. “Look.” I point to the sign, which reads
Falls Way, Summer Hill and Tryse
. “We’re here
—
no need to board– ”

“Oh no,” Maz whispers loud enough for me to hear.

Before I can ask him what he’s talking about, an arm grabs me and spins me around.

“Sister! How good to see you!” Callum yanks me into an embrace.

To my right, Maz stands confused and unsure what to do. I lift my head and with my eyes, tell him to stay back.