Before (The Sensitives) Read online

  She dabs my eyes with the sleeve of her tunic before turning her attention to Beck’s side of the room. “He’s never going to learn to pick up after himself, is he?”

  I shake my head. The movement rattles the inside of my head and I wince. “Good thing he has us.”

  A sadness falls across Bethina’s face. “You’ll both be gone soon.”

  As excited as I am about moving on, leaving Bethina behind is the one thing I’m not looking forward to. Only lately have I begun to truly appreciate what she does for us, how much she cares for us.

  “Look at me, getting all teary-eyed over you growing up.” She bends and picks some of Beck’s discarded clothes up off the floor.

  “I’ll miss you too, B. But I’ll make Beck come back and visit.” I smile at her, hoping to ease some of her sadness. “We’ll ohhh and awww over your new house of babies. And who knows, maybe one of our children will be assigned to you.”

  “I hope you visit. I really do.”

  She shifts her weight and stares into the distance. “Lark.” Seriousness peppers her voice. “I know you don’t feel well, but I need to ask you a question, and I need an honest answer.”

  I meet her eyes. “Of course.”

  “After what happened with Ryker and Lina…” She hesitates. “Have you and Beck been…involved?”

  Swallow me whole, floor. Please. “No. Never.”

  She nods her head curtly. “Good. I don’t want you to mess up your placement.” She pats my arm. “You’re a responsible girl. I trust you to do the right thing.”

  As she walks toward the door, I ask, “What would happen if we did?”

  Bethina freezes midstride. She turns slowly and I glimpse a hint of panic in her bottomless brown eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “What would happen? He’s my selected mate. We’re both Founder descendants. There is no one else suitable for either of us. The State won’t let us be Singletons.”

  “Why are you asking me this?” She switches from cautious to accusatory. “What have you done?”

  I hold up my hands, eyes wide, and shake my head. “Nothing. I swear. But we share a room. What message do you think that sends? It’s okay for us to be together, to sleep in the same room, but we can’t be intimate even though we’re going to be bound in a few weeks. It’s not fair, B.” I cross my arms. “And it’s hard.”

  Color drains from her face. “Lark, listen to me. You can never, ever break the rules. Do you understand?” Her eyes study me before continuing. “You’d let everyone down. You’re supposed to be a leader and the others look up to you. You need to set an example.”

  That’s what it always comes back to—doing what’s right.

  “They will separate you,” she whispers, so softly I can barely hear the words. “If the State suspects…” She pauses. “Lark, please. I’m begging you.”

  Bumping and banging from the hallway announces Beck’s arrival. He bursts into the room and drops his gear on the floor—in the exact spot Bethina just picked up.

  His gaze bounces between Bethina and me. It’s obvious we were having a heated discussion.

  Bethina sighs. “You know how to make an entrance, don’t you?” She collects the rest of his dirty laundry and carries the pile to the door. “Don’t stay up too late.”

  She doesn’t look at me, but I can tell our conversation has her worried. Maybe it’s nothing more than being upset over Ryker and Lina. Or maybe she knows about Kyra and Maz but is afraid they’ll be separated too. Having students separated for inappropriate sexual conduct reflects badly on Bethina as housemother. Some have lost their jobs over it.

  She pulls the door shut behind her. I can’t help but feel like she’s happy to have an excuse to leave.

  “What was that?” Beck asks.

  I shrug. I’m too embarrassed to tell him the truth—that I wanted to know what would happen to us if we broke the rules. “She’s upset about Ryker and Lina, and wanted to reinforce that we must abide by the rules. We have to be an example.”

  Sweat glistens on his face and snow melts into his golden hair. I walk to my dresser to get a towel. “You’re soaking wet,” I say, turning to toss the towel to him.

  My breath hitches in my throat. Beck stands just a few feet from me, his olive eyes devouring me. He’s peeled off his damp shirt and tossed it on his desk chair.

  Even without Bethina’s lecture, I absolutely know we shouldn’t do anything. But I want Beck to kiss me. And more than anything, I want to kiss him.

  My pulse accelerates as I try to avoid staring at his bare, muscular torso.

  Beck plucks the towel from my outstretched hand as if afraid to touch me and runs it over his face. A little longer than necessary, I think.

  “Thanks.” With that one small word, he’s brought us back from the brink of…what? Staring at each other? That hardly seems scandalous.

  “What took you so long?” I say, trying to act like I’m not at all distracted by his shirtlessness.”I was worried.”

  “Practice ran late.”

  Leave it to me to assume the worst. Of course practice ran late. It happens all the time. “You could have pinged. After what happened today, I…” The final piece of thread holding me together snaps and latent tears flood my eyes.

  “Hey.” Beck stoops over me and wipes away the tears. “We’re safe. Everything’s okay.”

  Snot bubbles in my nose and I sniff. “You’re scared. Don’t deny it.”

  He pulls a tissue from the container on my desk and hands it to me. While I blow my nose, he sits on his bed and kicks off his shoes. They fly across the room and end up near his closet. “You’re right, I was scared. They could have killed us.”

  The memory of the woman pointing at me burns in my mind. The crazy look in her eye. Her shrill voice. “Annalise said they wanted me.”

  “I know.” He flops into his pillows.

  Even though I know better, I walk to his bed. It’s always been like this between us and why should we stop now? Besides, Bethina didn’t say to stop. She simply said we couldn’t be intimate.

  Beck moves over to make room for me and I curl into his arms, my head against his chest. My heartbeat slows and I stare at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. My eyes land on the one that resembles a dragonfly. Beck says it reminds him of Summer Hill, his family estate.

  His fingers twirl a piece of my hair. When we were little, Kyra teased that he treated me like a security blanket, always playing with my hair or hanging on my arm. But here we are, and I’m the one who needs him.

  “You don’t have to worry. Your mom will have bodyguards for you. You’ll be safe.”

  He’s right. Our Society will protect us. What happened today was a fluke. The Sensitives won’t be able to get us.

  I can’t talk anymore. I’m exhausted. The endless stress of the day, combined with my headache, has worn me out.

  I sit up and swing my legs off the side of the bed.

  “You need a shower,” I say inhaling the musky scent of his sweat. It’s actually not that bad. In fact, I kinda like it.

  Beck gives a devious half-smile and ruffles his hair. “Care to join me? I’ll let you soap me up, if you’re nice.”

  “No.” I throw my hands over my face. Why is he teasing me like this?

  “I’m kidding, Lark.” He climbs around me and grabs his shower supplies from next to his dresser. “Be back in a few.”

  I can’t come up with any sort of coherent answer before he slips through the door.

  Once I’m sure he’s gone, I bury my face in his pillow. Damn it, hurry up and be October already. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

  7

  Ryker stands in the entryway with the representative from State on his left and a bag of his belongings slung over his shoulder. He, Beck and Maz give each other one arm hugs. To my surprise, Ryker doesn’t act upset. After the hugs, he and Maz punch each other’s arms and Maz jumps on his back. Beck hops on top and the three boys collapse into a l
aughing pile on the floor.

  But moving to another house may as well be moving to a different society—we’ll only see Ryker in passing, if then. Sometimes, I don’t understand boys.

  At least the State waited until after breakfast to transfer him and didn’t rip him away last night. I’ve heard of that happening.

  I strain to hear what the Statesman says to Bethina, but Lina’s hysterical sobbing drowns him out.

  “This is why you need to stop, Kyra,” I whisper. “Or that could be you.”

  Girls crowd around Lina, patting her back and trying to console her. But Kyra and I stand away from them, on the stairs. She slips her hand around mine. “Lina’s not special, Lark. The State doesn’t care about her. She’s going to just be some low-level Stateswoman.”

  “And we are?” I say, knowing the answer: I am. I’m special. Everyone knows it. But Kyra? She’s the daughter of upper-mid level Statespeople. Her brother is dead. And she’s not particularly wealthy.

  “Trust me.” She squeezes my hand. “They wouldn’t dare touch us.”

  #

  I follow a noisy pack of students away from the school’s main building and out across the sweeping empty space of the Presidio campus. Guards, armed with stun guns, now patrol the perimeter. Several even roam the halls of the main building, mingling with students. A precaution until the school finds out why the barricade failed.

  Their presence—a constant reminder of what happened—makes me nervous.

  In the distance, endless rows of greenhouses cover the hills like a small village. This area bustles with activity in the summer. But now, in the winter, only students forced outside rush about.

  My classmates’ retreating figures aren’t much larger than ants from my position. I spot Kyra leading a group of girls, and hold my thumb and index finger in front of my eye and pretend to squash her. A laugh tumbles out of me. Not that I want to actually hurt Kyra—it’s just a little thing Beck and I found amusing as children.

  “Heya.”

  I jump at Beck’s voice.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask. Student brush past us, too intent on fleeing the cold to pay us any attention.

  “Mr. Trevern needed to see me about something. He pulled me out of Calc.” Beck jerks his head toward the main building. “I’m heading back inside. You going to the greenhouse?”

  A gust of wind blows up and over the hillside, sending snow whirling around us. Beck’s red scarf flutters against his shoulder.

  “Of course.”

  He takes my hand in his. “Would you consider skipping and holing up with me in an empty classroom for the rest of the day? To study,” he adds quickly. “For the make-up assessment.”

  I stretch and push on his nose with my fingertip. His blond waves peek out from beneath his knitted hat and his cheeks look like some old caregiver has pinched them.

  “No. We need to set an example and that includes going to class.” He scowls. “Besides, after the security breach yesterday, I think everyone would notice if you or I went missing. But I’ll see you at lunch.”

  Quickly, before I can register what’s happening, Beck pulls me to him and brushes his lips softly against mine.

  I tense up. After what happened with Ryker and Kyra, we can’t do this.

  “Beck—”

  He places his finger over my lips. “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

  And then he’s gone, running through the snow, away from me.

  Snow beats at me as I stand dazed. Granted, it wasn’t a passionate kiss, but he’s never kissed my lips before. Heat tingles inside of me and I hold my gloved hand against my thick jacket, just over my racing heart.

  As soon as I gather my senses, I look around to see if anyone saw. In the distance, two guards patrol near the barricade, but they’re too far away.

  A slow smile spread across my face. I should be upset—Beck broke a rule and risked getting us both in trouble.

  But I’m not. He did what I’ve wanted to do for so long.

  I skip across the last few yards of the vast lawn. The lashing snow is not at all like the soft, dancing flakes yesterday.

  A chill runs through me. Even though up until two minutes ago today had been the most uneventful day of my life, I’m still not convinced the school is one-hundred percent safe. Best to not be outside by myself.

  I reach the edge of the greenhouses and quickly step down the icy path to number thirty-four. Around me, the howling wind sounds like a song of lament.

  I shiver and heft open the door to the greenhouse. Kyra leans against the wall, the brunette curls of her ponytail weighed down by humidity. She snaps her fingers impatiently as I remove my outerwear and hang it on a hook.

  “Heya, Kyra.” Excitement bubbles in my voice.

  “What have you done with Lark?” Kyra places her hands on her hips playfully. “You can’t possibly be her because you almost sound happy.”

  I grin. “I just saw Beck.” A dramatic pause. “And he kissed me,” I whisper.

  Her mouth drops open. “He didn’t! Lark, you have to tell me everything. Start at the beginning.”

  It’s odd, the way she says it. Like she’s interested but also concerned. Like Beck kissing me isn’t a good thing when all she’s been doing is egging me on for the past two days.

  “It was nothing.” I blush, recalling the warmth of his mouth. “He just brushed his lips against mine.”

  A huge exhale tumbles out of her. “That’s it?”

  I nod.

  She touches my arm and little pricks run down it. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  I stare at her. “I thought it didn’t matter what Beck and I did?”

  She draws her eyebrows together. “After this morning, I’m not so sure any more.”

  “That’s funny, you seemed fairly confident we’d never get in trouble. We’re special, remember?”

  She chews on her lip. “Maybe I was wrong.”

  Apparently Ryker being removed from the house has resonated with Kyra. Finally. Something.

  Without waiting for a response, she walks to her seat.

  I cross the long hall to my station and toss my bag under the worktable. I grab my apron, tie it on and start collecting supplies from the storage closet. Humidity clings to me. Even though I hate the heat of summer, I love being in the greenhouse. Probably because when I’ve had enough, I can leave.

  I’ve spent some of my favorite days here, working side by side with my teacher, Mr. Trevern. Advanced food production—developing new strains of commonly grown foods to meet vegetarian diet requirements—is my dream job. There’s something relaxing about digging in freshly prepared soil and watching small, green shoots break the surface. Mr. Trevern promised to put in a good word for me, after the binding, with the Ag branch of State.

  I reach for a fennel and dill seed hybrid and pour the tiny specks onto my collection tray. With tweezers, I place a seed under the magnifying lens and dissect.

  Another teacher enters the room, speaks quietly to Mr. Trevern, and leaves. That’s strange. Normally, teachers communicate by wristlet, so as not to disrupt the class.

  Over my lens, I can see Mr. Trevern move to the front of the class. I turn my attention back to my work.

  A tiny bell calls us to attention. Engrossed in my work, I glance up, more out of respect than anything.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Trevern says as he looks us over and waits for the group to quiet down.

  I blink my eyes and rub them hard. Mr. Trevern’s face is out of focus—blurry, except at the edges. Around him, everything is in crisp, sharp focus. The contrast is unnerving. Must be eyestrain from staring too long into the microscope. I press my palms into my eyes and blink again. He looks normal now.

  “Attention.” He pauses again and looks toward me, his face trying to mask something. “There’s been an unfortunate incident involving some of our students.”

  Whispers. I try to hear what they say, but Mr. Trevern starts again, his voice sha
ky.

  “I have been instructed to ask you to return to your homes immediately. Further information will be distributed as needed.”

  The whispers break into a roar. A blur of noise. An incident? Something so bad we’re being sent home? It can’t be another security breach. If it were, we’d be on our way to the safe rooms, right? It has to be something else, something worse—if that’s possible.

  I strain to pull information from the conversations of others, but no one knows anything. The lights flicker, adding to the overall sense of confusion.

  Not wanting to add to the panic, I organize my supplies on a tray and carry it back to the pantry. I begin placing each bottle in its proper spot. I will not let myself become hysterical. I will remain calm. I need to set a good example.

  “Lark?” Mr. Trevern is next to me.

  “Yes?” I continue handling the tiny bottles.

  “Let me finish that for you.” He takes the tray from my hands. “I think you should get back to your house as quickly as possible.” His uneven voice shakes.

  Throughout the steamy room, the confusion turns to chaos. “Mr. Trevern? What happened?”

  “I think you should go home, Lark,” he repeats. He focuses his attention on putting away the bottles. “Bethina will have more information for you. Go.”

  A dread fills my body and slams into Mr. Trevern’s words: an unfortunate incident.

  Beck. Where is he? My wristlet runs through his schedule until it locates him. Calculus. He’s over in the main building—far from here.

  My stomach churns. That’s not right—he had Calculus last period. I’m sure of it. Is his wristlet malfunctioning? He should be in English. I’m positive he comes from there when we meet for lunch, which is next.

  Mr. Trevern rings his bell again and shouts over the din. “Please pair up with your housemates who are in this class, and walk as a group. There is nothing to worry about, but we ask that you go directly home. Do not wait for the rest of your housemates.”

  I stare at my favorite teacher hard, challenging him to look me in the eye. But he doesn’t. Mr. Trevern sees me and turns away.