Supernormal (14 page)

“Okay then.  I know what they did to you,” he said, quieter.  “You know I do.  Not all, but enough.  I see you fight it every day.  I’m proud of you.  And I’m on your side.”

Ashley looked away, stared at the sun reflecting off the water until it hurt.  Until she could speak.  “I need you to teach me how to fight.”

“You’ve been in fights.”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“Then why.”

Which was bullshit.  Brody
knew
why.  He just wanted Ashley to say it out loud.  He wanted Ashley to say it, and hear herself saying it.  “They took Ian.  They took him and they got away with it, and I’m not stupid enough to think they’re going to stop at one.  Next time they come, I need to make sure I can stop them.”

Brody nodded, that goddamn happy light in his eyes.  “We can start whenever you want.”

“Today.  Now.”

Ch. 14

For Ashley, every second in Paco’s was pain.  All those people in that small place, and the light searing, and the noise pounding at her, and smells,
god
the smells.  She had to be a fucking masochist to volunteer for this day in and day out.  But that was the point, wasn’t it?  The truth was just so goddamn stupid.  She did it because everyone else did it.  She did it because it was hard, because it hurt.  Because it also helped.  Or maybe she just told herself it helped.  But every day she could walk out that door was like winning.  It was almost like being normal.

She tried to focus on being calm and still, when she could feel something deep inside of her that wouldn’t stop shaking. 
Stay or go
, Brody had said, and she’d picked stay, and now there would be an every day, or as many as she could have.  And when Proom came, Brody would stand with her.

Ashley wasn’t entirely sure why her first thought had been to tell Cam.  To find him.

That was why she was here.  She’d gone because it was the best place to look for him. Because hunting for him would be too pathetic, and besides she knew he’d show at Paco’s eventually.  And until “eventually” happened, she’d use the time to stop shaking.

The lunch rush was almost over, which meant they should be in soon.  They usually waited for Liz to get out of camp to head over.  Ashley told herself it was a good thing she didn’t have her phone.  She didn’t want to call.  She didn’t want to, but she probably would’ve because while part of her didn’t want to call, the rest of her really just wanted to hear his voice.

Which was, she knew, pathetic.

Not as pathetic, though, as how she was just
focused
on the door, like a goddamn English Pointer.  Even as she watched a lifeguard native hit on bikinied tourists, or tried to pick out all of the ingredients in Paco’s enchiladas by scent, or pretended she couldn’t hear the guys in the back kitchen joke about whether or not Sam was losing his hair, her mind was on the door.  Waiting for it to open.  Willing it to.

Then the breeze picked up and waved through the open window and she smelled him.  The scent of mint and sawdust and
Cam
cut through the grease and cheese and hot peppers.  Ashley glanced at the door—waited…

The door swung open, and the tension in her chest deflated, slow as a Sunday afternoon.  I missed you, she thought, which shouldn’t have surprised her, though the strength of it did.  She tried to push it back, bury it deep.  She had to force herself to keep
there
and keep still, not call out to him, to wait until he saw her.

Then he did.

It had occurred to her once or twice that Cam had different faces for different people.  As if there were bits and pieces of himself that he set away, depending on who he was with, and whether or not he trusted them.  He was always honest, but he was rarely open, and Ashley understood that, and could appreciate it.

She’d never thought about how he looked at her before.  How he was looking at her now.  It almost made her want to run.

Cam came over, and part of her noticed how she didn’t so much mind the noise anymore, or the crowd or the smells.  How, if she thought about it, there was only one thing she could smell.  But it was a small part of her, and she could ignore it.

Cam stopped at her table, but he didn’t sit.  He just stood there, staring down at her, this tight look on his face that she couldn’t read.  So Ashley jumped in, rushing past all the awkward “hi’s” and “you’re back’s” and “what happened’s,” hurling out the one thing she could safely think about.  “You painted my room.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”  It came out like an accusation.

“I thought it would look nice.”  He set his satchel on the chair across from her, but didn’t sit.  “If you don’t like it, I can paint it back.”

“That’s not the point,” Ashley said, feeling stupid and silly but rushing on anyway.  “You went in my room, and you painted it, and you didn’t even ask me.”

The stubborn set left Cam’s shoulders.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.  I’ll fix it this weekend,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine.  I mean, I guess it’s fine.  It’s…yellow.  Thanks,” she added.

“Thank Tyler, too.  He helped.”

“
Tyler
was there?”  She glanced at Tyler, who was smirking at something Danny said.  “But he…hates me.”  Wow, that sounded really petty now that she said it.

“He doesn’t hate you.  He doesn’t trust you,” Cam said.

“Same difference.”

“There is, actually.  May I?”  He gestured at the seat across from her.  Ashley shrugged, and he sat.  “When someone hates you, there’s no mistaking it.”

He’s serious, she realized, and leaned forward on her elbows.  “Who hates you, Cam?”

He smiled and met her stare head-on, unblinking.  “My parents.”

It took her a moment; it wasn’t the answer she was expecting.  “Why?”

“Because of what I can do.  Because I won’t pretend I can’t do it, and can’t, and won’t, stop doing it.”

“Why?  Why would they hate that?” she added.  How could anyone hate you?

He stared down at the table, his expression closed.  “They think it’s ungodly.  ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch’ and all that.  To be fair, they never actually tried to burn me at the stake.”

“They’re wrong.”

Cam smiled.  “Thank you.  I think so, too.  Doesn’t make it better.”

“No.”  It didn’t.  “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said.  “I hated living there.  I like living here.”

He looked very alone then, and a little lost, in spite of what he said.  His hands were folded together on the table; Ashley wanted to reach across, take them, wind her fingers through his.  But that was a stupid thought.  She couldn’t think of the last time she’d touched someone—voluntarily—without wanting to hurt them—and besides she didn’t like touching anyway.  She’d meant it when she told Cam that, and he’d been very conscientious about keeping a respectful distance.

She appreciated that.  Really.  Ashley held out a hand, needing to do something with them.  “Can I at least have my phone back?”

Cam fished her phone out of his pocket, but held it back when she reached for it.  “On one condition.  Tell me what’s going on.”

“I—”

“Don’t,” he said, and the don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about
died in her throat.

“Haven’t we had enough heavy talk for one day?” she pleaded.

“I don’t know.  How heavy?”

“Really damn heavy.  That’s my phone, you know.”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“That’s stealing.”

He shrugged that off.  “I’ve stolen before.”  At her skeptical look, he smiled.  “Believe it or not, I have a police record.”

“Bullshit, Boy Scout.”

“I was a Boy Scout.  I was also arrested when I was sixteen for slashing the tires on a CAT bus.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“My parents said I was acting out because I was selfish and irresponsible and wanted attention.”

“Okay.  But why did you do it?” she asked again, and that made him smile.  A real smile, one that took the solemn look out of his eyes and showed off his dimples, and there was a thrill of pride because she did that, she could make him do that.  He’s cute, Ashley realized.  She hadn’t noticed before.  Why hadn’t she noticed before?  He was really cute.  There was a flutter of panic in her stomach.

“Something was wrong with the engine.  The mechanic wouldn’t have believed some kid off the street, so I took the direct approach.”  He drew himself in, sitting up straighter, waved her phone.

Ashley shifted in her seat.  “I could just take it from you.”

“You could.”

She looked at him for a long moment.  Then held out her hand.  He dropped her phone into it.

She waited until the restaurant cleared out.  It didn’t take long.  Cam didn’t press her, and he didn’t ask stupid questions just for the sake of talking.  Trust, again.  Ashley thought it would feel heavier.

Danny and the others came over and asked to join them.  That is, Liz started to ask, but Danny just slipped into a seat and plunked down a plate of nachos.  He called a good-bye when he headed out with the other two, with a general promise to meet up later.  Cam nodded and waved, and then turned back to her.  Ashley ate, hungry, even though she didn’t feel like eating.  “Now you can tell Meg that I did actually have lunch.  She’s been on me about eating regular meals,” Ashley explained.  “I think I’m her new project.”

“She worries about you,” Cam said.

“I know.  But I am getting better.  I’m gaining weight,” she said, spearing a cherry tomato.

“I know.”

Ashley’s head shot up, stopping the fork midway to her mouth.  “Thanks.”

Cam grinned.  “That’s not something you need to worry about, Ashley.”

“I am a girl.”  She shoved the tomato in her mouth anyway, and muttered, “In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I noticed.”

Ashley forced herself to chew and swallow, to focus on her salad and not think about why her face had suddenly grown hot.

“So.”  Cam cleared his throat.  “That’s a…a girl thing, then?”

“Yes.”  Ashley finally managed to look up.  “Every girl, everywhere.  Also their hair.”

“Oh.  Well, you do need to worry about that.”

Immediately Ashley tugged her fingers through her hair—she had combed it today, hadn’t she?—and then stopped when she saw his smile.  “Go to hell, Cam.”

“Stop, you’re making me homesick,” he replied dryly.  He nodded at where her phone lay on the table.  “Is there a microphone in it?”

“Yeah.  That’s how phones work,” she told him.

“Very funny.”

Ashley shrugged.  “There was,” she said, before he could ask again.  “Brody took it out when I first got here.”

“Just the tracking device, then.”

“Most phones have GPS.  You know, for parents who want to track their kids.”

“It’s not your parents, though,” Cam said.

Ashley shook her head.  “His name is Proom.”  It felt weird, saying it out loud, saying it to Cam.  It must be what the wizards in
Harry Potter
felt like when they said Voldemort’s name.  “He, um…I—”  The words were a knot in her chest, hard and sticky as old taffy.

“Maybe it would be easier if I went first,” Cam offered.  His blue eyes pinned her.  “You have superpowers.”

Ashley nodded.

“You didn’t come by these powers naturally.”

She shook her head.

“This Proom gave them to you.”  He stared at the scars on her arms, until she tucked them in close to her chest.  “Surgery?”

Another nod.  “Injections, too.  Pills.  And these weird machines—we never did figure out what they were for.  But, yeah, surgeries.  A lot of those.”  Her voice sounded hollow, oddly distant.

“How many is ‘a lot’?”

Ashley knew without having to look that they were alone in the restaurant now, more or less; the girls behind the counter had ducked into the kitchen to chat with the cooks.  She sat up straight and rolled her shoulders back, then twisted in her seat and pulled up the back of her shirt.  Heard Cam’s breath catch.  Which—be honest—was not surprising.  Ashley hadn’t looked in a while, but she knew it wasn’t good.  She healed fast, just not pretty.  Best she could say about it was those docs were organized.

Cam was quiet for a long moment, and then, just as she was going to turn around, she felt his hand on her back.  She almost jolted out of the seat, except…except his fingers were warm.  And steady.  And gentle.  She wrapped her hands around the back of her chair and closed her eyes against the sharp, sudden stinging.  She felt his touch trail along the line of her scars, and she wanted to lean back into it—

Then it was gone.  “Sorry,” Cam said quickly.

Ashley straightened her shirt and turned around.  “It’s okay.”

“Those two—they look like—”

“We were fighting,” Ashley said.  “It got ugly.  The guards had to draw their guns.  The real ones.  They used tranqs on us a lot, but after a while we’d adapt.  All they’d do is slow us down a bit.”

Cam blinked, looking randomly around the room.  It was the first time she’d ever seen him off-kilter.   “We?” he finally asked.

“I wasn’t the only one there.  I’m just”—she shrugged—“the only one left.”  Ashley tried to focus on explaining it.  On keeping it simple.  “The other kids.  The doctors said their bodies didn’t ‘take to the procedures.’  I didn’t have that problem.  Fortunately.  I just…couldn’t control myself.  That happened sometimes.  With the kids.  Sometimes it got—really bad.

“It was down to two of us, and we were in the cafeteria.  The doctors wanted to keep us socialized.  We just went at each other.  He went at me,” she corrected, because that’s what the doctors said, after.  They showed her the video, and if you watched it enough it almost looked like Jase made the first move.  They were both too fast to tell.  Or maybe she picked up on his mood, and—and it didn’t matter.  One minute they’d been sitting across the table from each other, and the next second there was snarling, and teeth, and clawing.