Chapter Ten
August 20X6, Keystone
When I wake up, I take the entirety of my worldly possessions that Allard has stored for me and head to my new dorm room. I buoyantly step on the button to open the tree trunk that disguises the elevator to the grow house like it’s second nature. Inside the elevator, I grin as I descend underground. Remembering my astonishment at this time last year that a place like this could exist beneath the ever-watching eyes of the world, warmth expands in my chest that I’ve found a home here.
The elevator doors slide open and I enter the massive white and bright greenhouse. Inhaling the warm, earth-scented air, I walk past perfectly spaced barrels growing everything from herbs to snap peas under the glass ceiling and I can’t help but compare myself with the girl who took this same path last year, when everything was lost. I was homeless. Hopeless. Alone. A castaway. But I’ve come a long way.
In so many ways this place holds everything I’ve ever wanted. Here, I’ve made true friends. And they were out there the whole time. A wave of dizziness washes over me that I found my way to them. We may not be related by blood, but they are my family more than my Influencer parents ever were. I wasn’t born from love—I was engineered—and they’ve helped to fill the emptiness that has long hollowed me.
Instead of taking the glass hallway that circles the perimeter of the grow house to my dorm in the tomato and chili fields, I wander through the strawberry fields and orange trees dotting the third-year wing outside my old dorm room. Tickled by the sweet orange blossom scent, a pang in my chest reminds me that one person is missing, bringing up memories of months spent trying to one-up Garrett as we prepped for his Initiation heist.
I suck in my cheeks, hating that his betrayal has marred this place for me. That I was gullible enough to trust him. That, to be honest, some absurd part of me still trusts him. How is that possible? Did he somehow trick my instincts? My insides contract and I knit my eyebrows that he could have some superpower secret command over me. The worry is met almost instantly with a rush of certainty that he can’t control me. I thrust my chin up, determined to extinguish the needy little voice in the back of my head that wants me to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after with him. No way. I don’t need him. And when I see him again—because I will see him again—he should be afraid. Very afraid.
When I arrive in the “Netherlands” wing of the grow house, I make my way through perfectly spaced rows of tomatoes to a yellow door with the number 333 stenciled next to it. After unlocking the door, I step inside to find a room nearly identical to last year’s, designed with the same bamboo floors and white walls cast in the illusion of natural light, the same white bunks and yellow chairs. The only difference is Rayelle has a new Cirque du Soleil poster hanging over her bed. This one looks like rainbow butterflies fluttering around a circus scene inside a striped tent, until I look closer and realize the butterflies are actually people dangling from colorful ropes.
The first thing I do is peel off my catsuit and take a hot shower. Once I’ve dressed in an olive Keystone jumpsuit, I unpack and place the stolen sketch inside my journal. I bury the book beneath the Balenciaga dress I still can’t bring myself to part with, glad that this year, in addition to it, I have my catsuit, mask, LED hat, lock-picking kit, tool garter, note from Nash, and new safehouse map to place in my dresser. Last year I had nothing, but these possessions are evidence of a life lived, a life I’m building. I pin Garrett’s gift over my heart inside my jumpsuit so it can serve as a constant reminder he can’t be trusted and place the key fob he left me on my desk for decoration.
Satisfied my things are in order, I survey the space, remembering how much I was missing Adam a year ago. If only that me could have known he’d come back into my life as Nash. I shudder at my naïveté and head back to my dresser where I take out the note from Nash before climbing onto my bed to study it. Sitting cross-legged, I spread it out over the crisp white bedspread.
I bite my lip, still having no idea what it means. And as much as I know Garrett will be in my life again, I’m also certain Nash will be, too. My skin crawls at the thought but before I can dwell on the possibilities the door bursts open and Rayelle bounds into the room.
“Elisha!” She squeals, climbing the ladder to my bed and practically tackling me. “You’re here. Finally. I’ve been dying without you. Tell me everything.”
She looks the same as the day I met her, down to her winning smile and thick glasses. Laughing, I tuck the note into a cargo pocket then hug her back. “I don’t know how much I can tell,” I say into her glossy black hair, realizing I didn’t ask Allard if the Warhol mission was still top secret, especially since the tape is still at large. “I forgot to ask permission, but I’ll tell you later if I can. You tell me everything. How was your summer?”
She releases me and settles onto the mattress, crisscrossing her legs and resting her elbow on her knee and her cheek in her hand. “It wasn’t as exciting as yours, that’s for sure. I mostly hung out with my parents and sisters.” She shrugs. “My sisters came up with a game where we had to pick someone’s pocket while we were performing. There’s this one part of the show where we do back walkovers over the seats through the audience and I was actually able to steal stuff without getting caught.”
“That’s amazing. And great practice.” I pull a pillow onto my lap and hug it to my chest, happy we’re falling right back into our old ways. It’s like we were never apart.
“It was. We couldn’t steal just anything, either, it had to be something interesting—and whoever got the weirdest thing won bragging rights. I even won once.”
“What did you win with?”
“A frog. A live one. It was really tiny and cute, but who keeps a frog in their purse? So weird. But you should have seen me trying to hide it in my leotard.” Her eyes bulge.
I giggle.
“But frogs. That’s the only thing that got in my pants. Like I said, not very exciting.” She sighs.
“No cute Vegas boys?”
“No one Kyran-worthy.” Her eyes soften, lose focus, and she gazes across the room like she’s a million miles away. “It’s going to be kinda boring around here without him. Hoping to bump into him used to be the highlight of my day.”
Not wanting to destroy her Kyran fantasy, I cringe and file my run-in with him for another time. “I know what you mean,” I say, Garrett involuntarily inserting himself in my mind.
“You’re totally going to miss Garrett, too, huh?” She cocks her head to the side as if reading my thoughts.
My stomach growls, saving me from having to answer. “When do we eat? I’m starving.”
“I’m supposed to meet Stewart and Sophia for dinner. Do you want to come?”
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” I slide off my bed and drag her down with me.
We leave our room and cross the tomato fields toward the Atrium, as Keystone’s cafeteria is known.
“Can you believe we’re going to be initiated this year?” Rayelle says as we walk, plucking a cherry tomato off a vine and popping it in her mouth.
“Ready to lead your heist?” I nudge her arm with my elbow.
She almost spits out her tomato. “OMG, no. I’m terrified.”
“You’ll be fine.” I laugh.
“Easy for you to say, Miss I-already-ran-my-own-heist. You’re like the new Garrett. You’ll probably win this year’s Quest and pick your partner.”
“I’m more Garrett than Garrett ever was.” I wet my lips. The spirit of our old rivalry has me fluttering with anticipation even if he just one-upped me. I’m not declaring him winner in this game, ever. “But who would I even pick? I don’t know many of the kids younger than us and, honestly, I totally forgot I was going to be partnered with somebody.”
“There’s definitely nobody Garrett—or Kyran—or Elisha—worthy.” She sneaks a strawberry as we weave through the maze of plants.
We pass the third-year dorms and I squint at the windows, trying to picture the occupants, unable to envision who might be my other half during my Initiation Heist. I don’t want another partner. I have the only one I want. The realization strikes with a sinking thud, taking my excitement down a notch. Ugh. Why does he have to suck so much?
“But speaking of Garrett. Where do you think he is?” She interrupts my thoughts and I slowly shake my head.
“I don’t know, but after last night I’m going to find out,” I mutter, still partially lost in thought. Apparently, my subconscious is dying to confide that I saw him.
“What?” Grabbing my arm, she brings us to a halt. “Did he contact you?” She stares at me, her lips parted.
“No. Yes.” I stumble over the words and my cheeks flush. I know they’re a dead giveaway. My tell.
“Elisha. You cannot leave me hanging like this! What do you know?”
“I can’t talk about it.” I moan, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. “I know I’m a total tease, and I promise to tell you as soon as I get clearance. But please, please, please don’t tell anyone—not even Stewart and Sophia—that I saw him. Please. It’s really important it stays secret.”
She considers me before nodding. “I promise.” Crossing her heart, she links arms with me. We enter the olive grove ringing the Atrium and are about to step onto the concrete patio nestled at its center when Professor Weiss crosses our path.
Dressed all in black and his brown hair in disarray, he materializes seemingly from thin air, though he must have been lurking in the trees.
“Elisha. You made it back alive.” He comes to a halt in front of us, blocking our path, and fixes me with his wild-eyed stare.
I startle, cold spiking in my core. He’s our escape and evasion teacher and he’s had something against me since the day I arrived here. I’ve never figured out what it is but I usually avoid him at all costs. Today, however, some post-heist bravado must be lingering because I puff up my chest. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
Rayelle’s mouth falls open. It’s unlike me to be combative, but his presence tarnishes my homecoming, is a reminder that though Keystone may feel like home to me, I’m not entirely welcome. Weiss isn’t supposed to know about my past, but I get the sense he thinks I’m not worthy of initiation because I’m not a legacy. And I can’t help but wonder if he didn’t send Kyran.
“Well, we need you alive, don’t we? So they say.” Weiss presses his lips together like it pains him to hold back his decidedly unfriendly smile. “Welcome back, girls. It should be an interesting year.” With that he brushes past us.
Rayelle grips my shoulder and ushers me into the lunchroom. “What was that about?” she whispers as soon as Weiss is out of earshot, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.
“I have no idea,” I lie. “He’s always had it out for me, and I don’t know why. Maybe he hates me because I’m not a legacy.”
She frowns. “Maybe.”
“Let’s just forget about it, okay? I want to think about happy things. Not Weiss.” We skirt around metal tables packed with kids happily chattering about their summers and I mean it. I file Weiss away as a problem to deal with later.
“Okay,” she agrees, then her face lights up with a mischievous spark. “And don’t you think your little run-in with Weiss is going to make me forget about Garrett. I’m literally going to wake you up by blasting circus songs every morning until you tell me what happened with him.”
“Oh, I will get permission to tell you about my summer ASAP.” I laugh. “But until then—” I press my finger to my lips.
“Yeah, yeah.” Her answer gets lost in the din of conversations and soup slurping as we arrive at the food line. Long metal tables are laid with steaming vats of broth and platters of rice paper spring rolls and dumplings. We load our trays with bowls of lemongrass noodle soup, piling them with fresh cilantro, basil, and mint.
Citrusy steam wafts up from my soup, reminding my stomach that I haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, and I can’t wait to dive in. Across the way, I spot Stewart and Sophia tucked into an alcove created by metal scaffold shelves holding pots of fresh herbs near the concrete firepit. We make our way toward them, careful not to spill our soup.
Sophia, ever the chameleon, has her hair pulled up in two messy buns on either side of her head and sprayed bright violet, matching the ombre makeup flawlessly airbrushed around her eyes that drips down her cheeks. Stewart, on the other hand, hasn’t changed, with his close-cropped black hair and analytical attitude. His warm brown eyes brighten, and he jumps up when he sees me.
“She’s back.” He wraps his skinny arms around me in an affectionate hug as soon as I set down my soup. “I knew you would be.”
I squeeze him back.
“I knew she would, too,” Sophia says, when Stewart releases me. She’s not a hugger, but she bumps fists with me, her violet lips stretching into a crooked smile, and I know she’s happy to see me.
“There was never any danger of me ditching you.” I sit between the two of them and Rayelle sits across from me, completing the circle. I look around at my friends’ familiar faces with shining eyes. It’s like zero time has passed and I’m feeling lighter than I have in weeks.
“We knew you wouldn’t desert us on purpose. But sometimes things are out of your control.” Stewart pushes his soup away and rests his elbows on the table, giving me his full attention. “We thought maybe they’d send you on another mission right away.”
“No danger of that, either.” Maybe if I hadn’t f-ed this one up. I duck my head against his interrogating stare and concentrate on winding noodles with my chopsticks.
“I know you can’t tell us specifics.” Stewart rolls his eyes. “But did you get what you were after?”
“Sort of.” I wince but cover for my shortcomings by keeping my voice bright. “And you’re right. That’s all I can say for now. But I’ll tell you everything when I can. Besides, I’m starving. Tell me how your summer was while I eat. What did you guys do?” I swallow a big spoonful of soup, savoring the aromatic broth as it warms my insides.
Stewart shrugs. “I spent most of it in Virginia studying codes at the Marshall Library.”
“Did you learn anything?” I ask, focusing on getting more soup into me.
“Yeah. Some cool stuff about Shakespearean ciphers, but it’s pretty old-school. Good to know for ancient stuff, but not so useful for the here and now. But I bet I was pretty close to where you were in DC.” He winks.
Looking up from my bowl, I laugh. “Nice try. But I wasn’t in DC.”
He grins. “It was worth a shot.”
“What about you?” I ask Sophia.
“I spent the summer taking a Maker makeup course in New York. It was awesome.” She fluffs her glitter hair buns. “If this thief thing doesn’t work out, I have goals.”
“It shows.” I admire the blue-violet gradations on her lips, knowing disguises are something I have a long way to go at mastering. “I’ve been relying on CV dazzle makeup and hats. There’s no danger of me ever being a decoy with my pathetic makeup skills.” To illustrate my point, I gesture at my signature haphazard stars painted over my eye.
“Speaking of decoys.” Stewart coughs.
Chloe approaches our table, her long, chestnut hair falling in perfect waves to her waist and swaying with the swish of her round hips.
“Allard sent me to get all of you,” she announces, coming to a stop behind Rayelle. Pursing her full lips, she doesn’t bother to say hi. “She wants us to meet her in the Vault. She says it’s important.”
“She wants us to go with you?” Stewart does a double take.
“I don’t get it, either.” She yawns, seeming more interested in her manicure than us. “She said it has something to do with a ‘Book of Secrets.’”
The blood drains from my face and my spoon clatters to the table. “If she says it’s important, it probably is.” I bolt to my feet. “Come on. We should go.”