Seers (15 page)

This isn’t right. She isn’t right.
In the head.
She isn’t right in the head? How can this be? She’s Eri. She’s normal. She has an above-average functioning brain that should be easily Navigated. This is an easier Navigation than even the first mission Tobias sent me on. So where are the layers, then? Where are the usual finish line dividers that direct me deeper down? I don’t even know which way is down. And why can’t I See?

Despite the increasing burn I feel in my eyes, my thinking clears and I remember the Navigation where I had no idea which way was down. I had no idea where the layers divided. I couldn’t See well. There were obstacles in my way. It was the missing-child Navigation. The aunt of the missing girl. The aunt I could barely Navigate. Because she was mentally ill.

I reach out instinctively to steady myself, forgetting that these chunky globs will offer me no support. I surge forward instead. Mentally ill? There is no way Eri is mentally ill. I would have known. Someone would have known, someone on the mission at least. Tobias? He would have been privy to that kind of information. There would have been signs, right? She can’t be. A sudden panic surges through me as I imagine the worst. What if no one knows? What if I am finding it out right now?

As I careen toward hulking globs and churning gray and brown swirls, I know that my thoughts are swirling just as fast. Am I finding the answer? Is this the key to Eri’s inability to excel at the pace her dad has set? Is it because she lacks the wherewithal to achieve because of something wrong with her brain?

The fear of this being true sends a sinking rush into my stomach like the sink you feel when you inch over the summit on a roller coaster to make that initial drop. That an-alarm-clock-is-going-off-in-my-stomach feeling jolts me. But quickly, the jolt fizzles. No way. Not true. Something is keeping me from believing that Eri is sick. But what?
I just know
is the only answer I come up with. I just know.

Eri’s brain is not like the aunt’s brain. It’s not as cold. It’s more gray, less brown. These globs … they’re not attacking me. They don’t have to. They’re defensive. They’re blocking, but not aggressively. It’s like they know, this brain knows, Eri knows, that I can’t get in. In the aunt’s brain, I couldn’t tell which way was down or where the layers were divided. It felt like the needle in a haystack cliché. I was searching for something that I knew was in there despite the challenge. But here I’m not searching. I’m walled in. I’m not in a hallway navigating through doors to find the answer. I am in a hall closet, closed off from not only the rooms that hold the answers but from the hallway itself.

So Eri’s brain is not sick. But if she’s not mentally ill, why can’t I get in? And then it’s there. The flutters and pangs of panic are replaced with a booming thud in the gut. I know why I cannot Navigate Eri. And I know it’s not because something is keeping me from going in. No. Not something.
Someone.

The only two scenarios in which a being cannot be easily Navigated, Tobias says, is if the being is mentally ill or if the being has been trained against Seers.

Trained against me? Eri has been trained against me? How does she know about me? About Seers? The thud in my gut turns into a wave of nausea as my mission explodes in my head. The burning in my eyes isn’t unbearably dangerous yet, so I stay partly because I can’t gather myself enough yet to get out and partly because I can’t imagine, can’t grasp, can’t stomach, the fact that I have to face Eri in a matter of seconds.

She won’t know I was in. They never do. Wait. I cannot expect the outcome of this Navigation to be like any other. She is not a “they.” And all of a sudden I am faced with a new unknown. I think of the state the aunt was in at the end of my only guarded Navigation. If she had been aware that I was in her brain, she was in no state to articulate it. She was too busy shrieking at the realization that she had murdered her niece. And she was guarded because she was sick. But Eri? Eri’s not sick. She’s lucid. She’s
trained.
I have to get out of here.

I take the leap. What else can I do? I have no answers anyway. I close my eyes and I am out. Instinctively my hands go to my eyes. No bleeding this time. Why would there be? I wasn’t in long enough to do anything. I floated around in globs and went from mildly freaking out to full-fledged mania. Awesome.

“You okay, Leesie?”

Even with my hands over my eyes, I know. By the way she holds on to the
kay
, by the way she adds my name, by the way there is no real concern in her voice. She knows. I was in her brain and she knows.

“Yep. Fine. Thanks.”

I take my hands from my face and drop them to the table. I have yet to raise my eyes to meet hers, and when I do I get what I expect. She’s staring straight at me. I’ve been in full freak-out mode for what seems like forever, so I almost can’t tighten up any more. But suddenly I don’t feel so tense. I don’t feel panicked or unsure or vulnerable. I drop my shoulders, pull my arms back, and rest my palms on the table. I can feel my stomach surging. I am not freaking out anymore. No. Now I am furious.

I hate when I feel backed into a corner. I have always understood why a caged animal will lash out and gnarl the hand that attempts to free it. At this moment I want to attack. I don’t want to hear her side, not right now. Right now I want to run until I am far from any human, and I want to scream and pound the earth and throw things and let this sink in. I hate that I never have a moment. I hate that I always have to collect myself. I hate that I failed.

“Leesie?”

I ignore her.

“Leesie?”

No. Do not talk to me. “Leesie!”

“What?
What, Eri?
What!” I spit the words at her. I imagine they are shards of glass. If she would leave me alone, give me a minute to compose, to figure this out, maybe I’d remember that I liked and trusted her a few minutes ago. But if she’s going to jump right into an interrogation, fine. Bring it on. But this is going to hurt.

Her eyes narrow as she takes in my tone, the look on my face, the way I am poised with elbows bent, hands down, ready to pounce. Her hand goes in the air.

“Mrs. Tiller? Mrs. Tiller?” She’s waving her hand now and turns in her seat toward our art teacher who is at the back of the room leaning over a sculpture on someone’s table. “Mrs. Tiller!” The last urgent call pulls the woman up. “Leesie’s, uh, sick. She says she’s nauseous. May I walk her to the nurse? Please?”

Eri is stern and pleading, respectful and demanding. Mrs. Tiller is convinced.

“Yes, of course, dear. Please do. Take care of her, Eri. Feel better, Elise.” Mrs. Tiller waves to the table next to ours to put away the supplies Eri had begun to set up. I guess she doesn’t expect us back. Fine by me. I feign a weak and wounded wave and follow Eri out the door.

As she crosses the threshold and steps out into an empty corridor, I look down at my feet. My right foot is about to cross the same threshold. I will be alone with Eri in a matter of seconds. In a matter of seconds she will turn to face me. Will she speak first? Will she expect an explanation? Does she need one? If she has been trained to keep a Seer out, then she is aware that Seers exist. So I won’t have to expose that, but does she know about the mission? Does she know about Tobias and my placement here? Has she known all along?

Before I am completely past the doorway, she speaks.

“Get your stuff. Walk immediately to my house. We will not speak until then.”

I am taken by the tone of her voice. It’s almost authoritative. She calls these words to me over her shoulder. She never turns around. She never slows nor quickens her pace. She doesn’t turn left to E corridor, where our lockers are. She walks down the flight of stairs in front of her, towards the side door that exits to the staff parking lot. And she’s gone.

Sweet, insecure Eri? Yeah, right. Ninja-brain, tells-me-what-to-do Eri is more like it. All this time I was treading lightly, loving my place here, dreading a betrayal of Eri’s trust. I was afraid to make a move, afraid to hurt her, afraid to Navigate her, and I was powerless against her all along?
Are you kidding me?
I do not like to lose, but what I hate more than anything is to be made to feel outplayed, defeated, and weak.

On the way to my locker, I make the conscious decision to shove everything that is in my arms now on the bottom shelf and grab only my wallet and keys. My focus on school is shot, so homework will not be an option anyway. Plus I need to go there with no baggage, nothing on my shoulders or in my arms. I need to feel ready for anything. After all, something tells me I will be meeting the real Eri in a matter of minutes, and I don’t know what she is capable of.

The walk to Eri’s is quick. I force my brain to focus on passing cars, colors of houses, barking dogs, anything. It’s when her house looms in front of me that I curse myself for not capitalizing on the precious minutes that have passed. I should have been strategizing on the walk over here. I could have been planning my opening should she leave it to me to talk first. It turns out I don’t have to worry about that. She’s at the side entrance door, waiting for me. She has one hand on the doorframe; the other holds the door open, beckoning me in. I study her face as I stride up the walkway. I try to decipher her expression. Is it one I have seen before on the face of the Eri I knew? Her eyes are narrowed, and her brow is creased. Her lips are in a straight line, but she doesn’t appear angry. She definitely looks serious though, whatever her mood.

“Hurry up!” Eri calls in a clipped, curt tone.

I breathe in as much air as I can. I loathe being told what to do. She’d better watch it. I don’t answer. I refuse to obey verbally or otherwise. As a matter of fact, I slow down a little. I never avert my eyes. I stare her down, attempting to let her know that I may not have gotten into her brain—she may have beaten me there—but I will not roll over. She has been given no title, no crown. This match is not over. She seems to sense my resistance. Her brow smoothes out a little. No smile, but she seems to soften.

I guess it would have been weird to lock eyes inches from each other as I brush by her into the house, but her staring straight ahead as I do is so cold. It leaves me feeling as if I am passing a stranger, an enemy, and it hurts me to think of Eri this way. I feel an instant pang in the gut as the possibility that I may lose her, or may have already lost her, bubbles to the surface. I continue to the counter to steady myself and will some of my fire back. I am better when I am angry. I am no good gooey and sensitive and worrying about friendship.

She shuts the door, and I hear her approaching. I do not turn. I do not look at her. No. You look at
my
back now.

“Leesie.”

Her tone is calm. I have so many questions that I cannot bear to be stubborn. I cannot bear to ignore her. I pivot to face her. The air is thick between us, as if we’re standing in a cloud.

“You’re angry,” she continues. “I’m not.” She lets the words settle. She’s looking into my eyes, into the space around my eyes.

Not sure what to say, I say nothing.

“I have been waiting for you to Navigate me. Now we can talk.”

“What? You’ve been what?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to Navigate me.”

Again she lets the words settle. She waits for me to gather my thoughts. It’s as if she can see me wrapping my brain around what she has said. She knew I would Navigate her? How long has she been waiting? And why?

“You have been sent here on a mission to Navigate my father. My father puts too much pressure on me. It has been taking him away from his work. He is on the cusp of a breakthrough that will change the world of Seers. Getting me in order will enable Dr. Kuono to focus on that breakthrough. You weren’t making enough headway. You decided to Navigate me for answers. You hoped the information you gathered from me would enable you to Navigate him sooner and more effectively. Is this an accurate description of your mission?”

Who is this and what has she done with Eri?

“Yes,” I answer with as much authority as I can, considering I cannot feel my legs.

“Do you have any questions about this mission?”

She’s leading me. I can feel it. But I have no idea where.

“Questions? What do you mean?”

“Is there anything about this mission that has you doubting its validity, its motive?”

“No.”

“No?”

My mind is reeling. I rifle through the past twenty-four hours. Back in my apartment on my chair, I sat questioning my next move, my feelings for the group, and my feelings about the mission. What conclusion had I come to? Had I come to one? What questions had I asked myself? I couldn’t reach them now. It was muddled like the cup of water used to clean paintbrushes. It was cloudy and an indescribable mix of colors inside my head.

“
I
am not the focus of this mission, Leesie.”

“You’re not the focus? What are you say—?” I don’t bother to finish my question. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to connect the dots. She is telling me who the focus is by omitting herself.