Renegade (24 page)

Samuel, Dixon, and Abby were already in the room. “Well, look who’s gracing us with her presence,” Samuel said, in his booming voice. His grin told me he was teasing.

“Oh, man, I’m sorry, Mila. The only empty bunk is next to Abby’s, and she snores like a freaking bulldozer.”

“Shut up,” Abby said, punching him in the arm.

Dixon paused midlaugh, eyes widening in an arrested expression. “Hey, do you even need to sleep?”

Before I could stiffen, Abby yelled, “Dixon!” She pulled her fist back to punch him again, but he darted away.

“What? No offense, Mila. I was just thinking how cool it would be if you didn’t have to—think of all the practical jokes you could pull in the middle of the night.”

He winked, and just like that, I felt included again. Crazy how something so small could be so reassuring.

Samuel groaned, sitting on his cot and pulling off his shoes. “She’s not going to think of that regardless, because she’s not five, you arse.”

Abby pinched her nose and backed away. “Oh my god, could your feet reek any more?” She scooted over to me and patted a cot that looked freshly made. “Here’s where you’re sleeping—let me show you where we change.”

I bit back a smile at their ridiculousness as I looked down at my stale clothes. “I, uh, don’t think I have anything to change into.”

“Oh, I loaned you a pair of sweats and a T-shirt—I figure we’re close enough in size. They’re under your cot.”

I reached down and sure enough, there was a bag, holding a few items. I grabbed the makeshift pajamas from inside and clutched them tightly. Sharing her clothes, like I was any other girl. Her thoughtfulness ignited a wave of emotion and made my eyes burn.

“Thanks,” I said, trying to swipe at my eyes without anyone noticing.

“Oh, Jesus. Not another crybaby like Abby. I tell you, that wee girl might be tough, but she cries whenever she sees a kitten. It’s pathetic,” Samuel joked.

“I’ll show you pathetic,” Abby shrieked, pulling off her shoe and lobbing it at his head. He ducked, his laughter booming through the room.

“Ignore them, Mila. They can’t help it if they’re an inferior species. Men,” she said, shaking her head.

As I followed her to the bathroom, I allowed another spark of hope to bloom, deep in my chest.

Welcome home, Mila
, Quinn had said.

The spark fanned into a larger flame, and a newfound optimism lightened my footsteps. Maybe, just maybe, she’d been right.

When we came back, the room had filled up. I got a few curious glances, but mostly smiles. “Glad you made it here,” said a brunette with the cot on the other side of mine.

I smiled.

After lounging back on my pillow, listening to Abby grouse about boys for the next fifteen minutes, the call came. “Lights out!”

“Five, four, three, two, one . . . ,” Samuel counted, and on target, the room plunged into darkness.

Someone screamed, and I shot up.

But then the laughter that followed told me this was a regular occurrence.

Practical jokes. Right. That might take a little getting used to.

It took me a while for my sleeping algorithms to kick in, but it wasn’t because of all the sounds—the breathing, the tossing and turning, the creaking of cots. Well, maybe it was. But instead of finding the noises bothersome, I found them comforting. They reminded me that here, in this room, there were people who didn’t find my very existence repulsive. They reminded me that I could have some sort of real life.

I rolled onto my side, the growing flood of warmth only slightly dampened by a bittersweet chill. For the first time, without Hunter, I didn’t feel alone.

The next morning, I woke up, soft snores and heavy breathing alerting me that most everyone was still asleep. I slid from my cot and edged my way to the bathroom to change.

When I returned, the hall was restless with slow risers and whispers. Then, like a cannonball blast from nowhere came Samuel’s deep boom of a voice. “WAKE UP, YOU LAZY BASTARDS!”

An instant later, the lights all turned on. The room burst to life with groans, threats, and good-natured insults.

“You survive your first night okay?” Abby asked, still snuggling into her sleeping bag and rubbing her eyes.

“Looks that way.”

I followed her to breakfast, in the lounge room, where food was out buffet-style.

“Dude, I bet you could eat, like, a thousand sausages a day and never put on any weight,” Dixon said to me, stuffing his face with eggs.

Abby rolled her eyes. “And that’s different from you how?”

“Good point,” he said, after shoveling in another mouthful.

I smiled as I listened to their silly banter, and again, the sharp longing tugged at me. I let myself fantasize. I could be part of this. Or maybe I was grasping at straws, because the alternative was too grim to bear. Without Mom, without Hunter, I had no plans beyond here. Beyond now.

Somehow, my life had boiled down to this: without the Vita Obscura, I had nowhere to go.

Near the end of breakfast, Quinn sauntered into the room, looking trim and fresh in a pair of black riding pants and a fitted green sweater. She wore the same boots as yesterday. “Mila, can I talk to you for a moment?”

When we got to the hall, I noticed she had a duffel bag in her hands. My duffel bag.

She sighed. “I’m sorry to bother you when you’re still settling in, but we’re going to need to put you in your own room.”

I took the bag she offered numbly. “Why?”

“I’m afraid that a couple of the crew complained about the sleeping arrangements. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just temporary, until they get to know you better. But we do some important work here, believe it or not, and I can’t have them rattled. I’m sorry.”

“What did they say?” The newfound thrill I’d felt, just this morning, punctured like a balloon, leaving behind an empty ache.

“Just that they were a little uncomfortable, for the time being.”

I read between the lines. They weren’t uncomfortable—I
made
them uncomfortable, with my otherness. So much for the acceptance.

Her hand fell on my shoulder. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time . . . and hey, you’ll get a private room out of it. Everyone will be jealous, trust me.”

“Can I ask who?”

She cleared her throat, looked at the floor. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I guess there’s not any harm. Samuel was one of them.”

Samuel. The person I’d felt so at ease with. That made it even worse.

But as she led me to my new bunk, I wanted to tell her I didn’t want them to be jealous. I didn’t want a private room.

All I wanted was someone, somewhere, to accept me for who I was.

Well, I supposed there was still one person. And that person was Quinn.

After she dropped me off, I curled up in the smallish but cozy room, too upset to emerge and face everyone. It actually had a single bed with a comforter versus a cot, and a dresser, and a tiny nightstand. It was probably a closet at one time, converted into a makeshift bedroom. But I would gladly trade all of those things.

I lay down on the bed, stared at the ceiling, and mourned.

It must have been an hour before I heard his footsteps in the hall. Easy, familiar. But with a pace that faltered as they neared my doorway.

The sound of his approach alone was enough to make my pulse quicken to a thready thump-thump-thump beat. My heart, it would never care how much percent machine I was, or that it was manufactured in a lab. My heart craved, needed, felt. It begged for another chance with this boy. It insisted on feeling one hundred percent human.

On the other side of the door, the footsteps hesitated. I imagined him pressing his forehead against the wood, contemplating turning back. Hating me, yet maybe somewhere inside, there remained a glimmer of hope for us. A spark that wouldn’t die, despite everything.

My hands curled into fists as I stared at the door and willed him to open it. And even though I’d steeled myself time and time again for the revulsion on his face, my heart, my stupid, needful, aching yet mechanical heart, clutched at a tiny speck of light. Maybe, just maybe, the fact that I was partly human would mean something to him. That look he’d given me in the hall, the brief words. He hadn’t ignored me, or curled his lip, or looked right through me. I’d seen something flicker in his blue eyes. Emotion. Not hate, not anger. Something else.

If he could feel something, there was a chance for us.

But he had to make the first move. I’d promised myself that I would respect his wishes, even if that meant we never talked again. Never touched. Never laughed, or rode a Ferris wheel, never shared Slurpees or walked on the beach. Never kissed.

I rose on unsteady feet, took a halting step toward the door, then cursed my weakness. Waiting, waiting, waiting . . .

A soft knock finally sounded, and the sigh that escaped my lips was half sob, half laugh.

“Mila? It’s Hunter.”

His voice was soft, a little hoarser than usual. Raw. The sound formed a noose around my chest and tightened, bunching every bit of longing and need together, until I thought I might implode.

“Come in.”

The door slowly pushed open, and there he was.

Even though I’d seen him briefly earlier, the sight of him there, in my doorway, all floppy hair and hesitant smile and anxious fingertips, drumming his thigh, made my entire body shudder.

He carefully edged inside, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. His lips parted, like he wanted to speak, but no words came. But it was his eyes I watched with complete fascination. His eyes that made my heart begin to rev, slowly at first, but with an ever-increasing frequency. A pumping, beating, bursting beacon of hope.

Because his eyes, they weren’t full of disgust, or fear, or even anger. No, in the depths of his faded blue eyes, I saw a longing that was echoed deep in my core. Or, if I were being poetic—my soul.

My feet demanded that I run to him; my arms wanted nothing more than to fly around him and never let him go. But it was always me, running to him. Always me, foisting myself on others—all except for Quinn. I couldn’t force the choice this time. He had to come to me, freely.

Like I’d willed it so, he started to move toward me, his eyes locked with mine. Everything else in the room felt like it froze, like the world ceased to exist except for the two of us. One step closer, two. He was only a few paces away now, and then he paused.

Noooo!

The word rebounded in my head, so loud, I was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

I braced myself for the rejection I knew had to follow.

“Maybe we could just start over. Hi, I’m Hunter Lowe. My parents are crazy people who take part in secret underground technology-stealing, and use me as their unwitting dupe to get info. Oh, and don’t forget—I like really crappy TV.”

He smirked, lifted a brow, and gave me a pointed look.

It was hard at first. Even now, knowing that he knew, that everything was out in the open once and for all, it was so incredibly, heartbreakingly, painfully hard to get the first words out. But once I started, the tightness in my chest eased. Like each word I spoke released a tiny bit of pressure, until nothing remained but freedom.

“Hi, I’m Mila, and I’m an android. I was made in a lab, but even though I’m mostly machine, I feel like a real person.” The freedom was invigorating, so I continued. “I’m still figuring out who and what I am, how I work, what I need. Most of the time, I’m confused. But I do know one thing for sure. When I told you I loved you, I wasn’t lying. You, Hunter Lowe, are the best thing in this crazy, messed-up life of mine. When I’m with you, I feel alive.”

He reached out, and with one gentle finger, traced a line down my cheek. Then, both hands were gingerly cupping my face, and his smile was pure sunlight. “It’s nice to meet you, Mila.”

“How are you holding up?” I asked him. I knew all too well what he must be going through, and to be honest, he seemed to be handling things way better than I ever did.

“I think I’m in shock.” His hands slipped away from my face and grasped my hands. “It’s like I’m living in some kind of alternate reality, or like I’m watching myself from outside my body. I guess I don’t quite know how to explain it.”

“You don’t need to,” I said.

“I just want to pretend like this isn’t happening. Like all of this is a dream and when I wake up, we’ll be back in Virginia Beach.”

We
. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever hear him say that word again.

Suddenly, a woman’s voice called out from the hall. “Hunter! Peyton needs you.”

Startled, his hands fell away from mine and he half-turned toward his mom, who continued her approach. “Can he wait a few minutes?”

She smiled easily. “I’m afraid not.”

He turned back to me, and his smile, his wonderful lopsided, off-kilter smile, reappeared. “Sorry. We’ll talk more later.”

“Okay.”

He strode toward the door. “You coming?” he said, when he reached his mom.

“In a few. Quinn wanted me to pass on a few things to Mila first.”

She walked into my room, and I hastily straightened my rumpled shirt, nerves aflutter. A silly, insignificant thing, I knew, but this was Hunter’s mom, and even though I knew her to be the kind of person who would manipulate and con her own child, I still wanted to make the best impression possible. I’d sort of already blown the whole totally-normal-girl thing by virtue of being an android and all, so I had to try to make up with brownie points wherever I could.

“Would you like to sit down?” I said, darting over to pull out a chair. Her hand on my shoulder stilled me.

“Why don’t we both sit down here?”

I lowered myself gingerly to the bed next to her and waited while she did the same.

“Are you settling in okay?” She fidgeted on the edge of the bed, her gaze darting toward the door.

I shrugged. I noticed a lightness in my shoulders, my posture, as if a massive burden had just been lifted. Hunter and I might have a long way to go to reclaim our fledgling relationship, but at least the potential was there.