скачать книгу бесплатно
We’re not touching, but we’re sitting close enough that I can feel the heat of his body through the damp chill of the air, and pick up his usual smell of smoke and chemicals, like a match that’s just gone out. It might be off-putting on anyone else, but on Jek it’s homey and familiar. Stretching my legs, I notice a syringe set among the usual beer cans and cigarette butts on the floor.
“Geez,” I say, nudging it with the edge of my sneaker. “Since when did people start using this place to shoot up? I remember when this town was strictly smoking and snorting territory.”
“Strange days,” Jek agrees, eyeing the object.
“I guess it was inevitable the London Chem brats would get there eventually,” I observe wryly.
Our high school is rated among the best in the country, and officially all the science-track students are serious, hardworking and committed to their studies. Unofficially, everyone knows that these same students take turns throwing extravagant keg parties every weekend where they indulge in the latest fashionable decadence. There’s always a house available, because someone’s parents are off presenting results at a conference or lobbying in Washington on behalf of the company. The parents kind of know what goes on, but by some unspoken agreement they all look the other way. As long as everything is cleaned up before they get back to town, no one ever has to acknowledge the masquerade.
“‘London Chem brats’?” Jek raises an eyebrow at me, and I can’t tell if he’s seriously offended or just kidding around.
“You know I don’t mean you,” I tell him. “You’re not like the rest of them. You’re always too busy geeking out in the lab.”
Jek laughs. “Was that supposed to be a compliment? Anyway, they’re just messing around. Since when do you judge people for having a little fun?”
I give him a sidelong look. “I don’t care what they get up to,” I insist. “I’d just rather not know about it.”
Jek nudges against me with his shoulder. “Afraid it will give you ideas?”
I feel my face heat up at the suggestion. “Nothing like that.”
“No? Maybe you don’t need the help. Maybe you’ve got enough depraved ideas of your own.”
I huff out a breath and turn away from him.
“Aw, come on, Lu,” he says. “I’m just kidding. I know you’re not like that.”
And that, of course, is even worse, as it sets me thinking of all the things I’ve dreamed of doing with Jek. I may not hang around with the party crowd anymore, but that doesn’t mean my mind is completely pure and innocent. There are things in my head that I’d never tell anyone.
Still, it’s tough to hide anything from someone who knows you so well, and I’m convinced Jek will draw the worst—and most accurate—conclusions from the way I’m squirming. But when I glance over at him, he’s looking out into the fog again and I can’t tell if he’s noticed.
We’re both quiet for a moment, listening to the soft patter of rain that just started.
“So what are you hiding from, out here?” I try after a bit.
Jek shakes his head. “Not hiding,” he says. “Just...getting away. Clearing my head before I do something stupid. Stupider,” he corrects himself.
I raise my eyebrows.
“My stepdad,” he explains. “There was an experiment. Everything was going just as I predicted. And then it...wasn’t.”
I hiss in sympathy. I’ve seen the results of some of Jek’s failed experiments.
“A very small explosion,” he says. “Hardly any damage. But Tom heard breaking glass and smelled smoke, and ran down to see what was going on. When he realized I had locked the door between my apartment and the main house, he hit the roof. Said it was a safety hazard. Then he went off about me being so secretive, and how they would all be burned alive in their beds one day on account of me. Things got heated, and I had to get out of there.”
“Sounds like quite a scene.”
He sighs. “I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”
I nudge my knee against his. “Hang in there, kid. Another year and a half, and you’ll be off to college.”
Jek presses his lips together and stares off into space.
“Might take off a bit earlier,” he mumbles.
I freeze. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs. “Just... There’s always Emerson, right?”
“Your dad?” My chest tightens up at the thought that Jek might leave town, that I might never see him again. “You’d really think of moving in with him?”
“I don’t know. He mentioned it again the last time we talked. And it couldn’t be worse than this, right?”
I give a little snort. Most people would probably think life with Jek’s dad sounded like paradise. He made a bunch of money as a stockbroker a few years ago, and since then he’s “retired” to a Caribbean island. But he and Jek don’t exactly have a lot in common—Emerson believes a lot of odd stuff about how science and technology are instruments of state control and repression, and last time Jek visited him, they got into a big fight.
“I know, he’s kind of a crackpot,” Jek concedes. “But maybe it would be good for me to get to know him better. I love my mom, but between her and Tom... Do you have any idea what it’s like to be one of the only black people in this town? Hell, I’m the only black person in my own house. There’s this whole part of myself that’s completely cut off from anyone like me.”
I nod again in sympathy, but the truth is, I know I can’t begin to understand his situation. I deal with plenty of racism around this town, but at least there’s a big Latino population here, including a lot of people who care about me, who understand and support me. I can’t blame Jek for wanting that kind of community, even though it breaks my heart to think of him leaving.
“What about your lab?” I ask. “You wouldn’t have access to equipment and supplies with your dad.”
Jek is quiet for a while, considering that. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” he says at last.
“Jek, come on. You love science. It’s the only thing you’ve cared about for I don’t even know how long. You can’t seriously consider giving that up.”
“Why not?” he says sharply. “Who says I can’t try something new? Just because I’ve always been one way doesn’t mean I have to be like that forever.”
I stare at him. “You’re serious?”
He leans back and some of the tension leaves his body.
“No,” he says. “I don’t know. I’m just talking. What about you? You’ve been tailing me all week, so I figure you must have something big to report. Finally hack that coupon site so we can get free pizza for life?”
“Nothing like that,” I say with a snort. I glance up at him and find his gaze on me, warm and steady. For the first time in weeks, I have his complete attention, but for a moment, I can’t help being distracted by his warm brown eyes and long lashes. His intelligence is so clearly written on his features, but it’s not just that. There’s kindness and generosity, too. And, caught up with it, our whole history together: laughter and games, teasing and skinned knees. Jek looks the same as ever—same baggy, practical clothes, his wild hair tucked up under his usual knit cap—but it’s been a long time since I’ve interacted with him in nonelectronic form, and I’d forgotten how comfortably we fit together. How right it feels just to be with him.
I shake off these thoughts and focus on what I need to tell him. Now that I have him listening, I’m not sure where to begin.
“I met a friend of yours the other day, when I went looking for you,” I try. Jek’s gaze slides away from my face and he looks a little annoyed already. Not surprised, though. “Hyde,” I say, just to be clear. “He was coming out of your place.”
“And?”
“And, well...” I say, frustrated. “I’ve heard things about him. Not good things.”
Jek shrugs. “Hyde’s made some bad first impressions. Ruffled a few feathers. That’s all.”
“I don’t know, Jek. How well do you know this guy, anyway?”
“Better than you do,” he says sharply. “Come on, Lu. You of all people know better than to listen to gossip in this town.”
I can’t help wincing at the comment. Of course Jek knows how I once became the object of London’s rumor mill. Everyone knows about it. But he hasn’t made any reference to it in years—he knows how uncomfortable it makes me. For him to bring it up now means he’s either suddenly transformed into a complete asshole, or he’s desperate to change the subject and deflect attention from himself. But I won’t let him throw me off course so easily.
“This is different, Jek,” I press on. “I’m not just satisfying some prurient curiosity, I’m trying to look out for you. How do you know you can trust this guy? What if Hyde is...”
I’m not sure how to finish. I’m worried Hyde’s a con artist, but Jek is the smartest person I know, even in a town of some extremely brilliant people. How can I sit next to a certified genius and tell him that some stranger has outsmarted him and tricked his way into his finances? But the fact is, there are different kinds of smart, and Jek isn’t always so smart about people. Since Jek doesn’t care about money or possessions, he can’t imagine anyone else would. In the past, I’ve always been around to look out for him. Maybe the recent distance between us gave Hyde an opportunity to manipulate Jek.
I take a breath.
“Have you checked your bank account lately?”
“What?”
For the first time in this conversation, I seem to have surprised him.
“That’s what I wanted to tell you, Jek. I heard...” I’m not sure how much to say. I don’t want to break Maia’s or Natalie’s confidence. “Something happened at a kegger, with a girl. I don’t know what, exactly, but I heard Hyde paid her to drop the issue. Paid her a lot.”
Jek looks away. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Because he transferred the money from your account.”
Jek looks up sharply. “Who told you that?” He sounds agitated, maybe even nervous. Not the disbelief and anger I was expecting.
I look steadily into his face, trying to read him.
“Is it true? Did you already know about this?”
He leans his head back against the wall. “It’s fine, Lu. It’s... Look, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry about it. I’ve got it under control.”
“Oh.” I’m baffled. I had expected Jek to be shocked by my revelation, or to offer some totally reasonable explanation for it at least. Not to brush me off. “Okay then.” I feel my temper rise along with my confusion. “I guess that’s cool. I just didn’t realize that your new hobby was bankrolling rapists.”
I stand to leave, fuming, but he stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Lu, I swear. That’s not what it is. You don’t have the whole story.”
“All right,” I say. “So tell me.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. But I... Look, just trust me, okay? It was a misunderstanding. A mix-up. It’s all taken care of.”
“Why can’t you explain it, then?”
“Because it’s none of your business!” he explodes, rising to his feet. I take a step back from him, surprised and hurt by his outburst. The pattering rain fills in the silence between us. Finally Jek lets out a slow breath and rubs his face. “Jesus, Lu,” he says more quietly. “Just stay out of it, all right? If I tell you it’s fine, it’s fine.”
“Fine,” I mutter, moving toward the exit. “Sorry to bother you.” He calls my name as I head out into the rain, but I am about 300 percent done with him right now. Why do I even bother? Let him clean up his own messes.
CHAPTER 5 (#u8dc10260-3b01-5885-be9a-4a674dfbd769)
I fume about Jek on the entire drive home, and it’s only when I pull into the driveway and I’m hit with the scent of my mom’s carnitas emanating from the house that my mood starts to improve. Whatever psychodrama Jek is involved in, it’s not my problem to deal with—especially now that he’s told me to stay out of it.
I park and go in through the back door, which leads directly into the kitchen. My house may not be big like the ones in Jek’s neighborhood, but it’s clean and comfortable—Mom always says, a small house means less to clean. I guess she would know, given how much of her life she has spent scrubbing the big houses on the hill. I used to dream of living in a house with a second story, but Jek pointed out that having a bedroom at ground level meant we could crawl in and out of my window without my mom knowing. Not that either of us have made use of that feature recently.
Moving stealthily through the kitchen, I pull a fork from the drying rack and dip it into the simmering pot.
“Lulu?” My mom’s voice comes from the living room. “You better not be touching that pot before it’s done.”
“I’m not,” I call back, then shove a chunk of meat in my mouth.
“And you’re late,” my mom continues. “You promised to fix my computer right after school.”
With a sigh, I drop my fork in the sink and follow her voice into the living room. A couple of lamps are lit, but as usual the room is dominated by the bluish glow emanating from the large-screen TV that perpetually plays Spanish-language sports and news, thanks to a satellite hookup. My uncle is pretty much always lying on the couch in front of it under a pile of wool blankets—he says it helps distract him from his joint pain.
He’s lying there now, watching a soccer game with the sound off, while my mom occupies her usual spot in the recliner, her laptop on her lap. She passes it off to me before I can even sit down in the remaining seat—a stiff-backed chair that no one likes. Sometimes I wish I’d hidden my interest in computers from the family so they wouldn’t badger me all the time for help with theirs, but just like Jek’s circumstances fostered his love of chemistry, I have my family to thank for my talent—mostly because every laptop, phone and tablet I’ve ever owned has been a hand-me-down or a thrift-shop find. They’ve always been junked up with spyware when I got them, or hopelessly out-of-date. I had no choice but to teach myself how to fix them up.
“I bet you burned yourself,” Mom mutters as I poke gently at the blistered roof of my mouth with my tongue. “You never learn.”
“What’s wrong with it this time?” I say, ignoring the dig.
“Keeps freezing,” she says. “I have to shut down the whole thing, and I lose my place.”
She gets up to tend to the pot in the kitchen, and I start in on the usual troubleshooting steps even though I’m almost positive she’s let her hard drive get cluttered with malware again.
“Remind me why you play this game,” I call out to her as I work. It’s the most boring game I’ve ever seen: your character has to do all these real-life things like go shopping and plant vegetables and pay taxes, but my mom’s obsessed with it for some reason. “You have to do all these things in real life, so why would you do them in your free time?”
“It’s more fun when it’s someone else’s life,” she calls back.
“Plus,” my uncle Carlos says, “when she screws up in the game, she can just start the level over.” He giggles. “Can’t do that in real life.”
“I heard that,” Mom yells from the kitchen, and Carlos rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the soccer match. He used to be a big soccer player and thought about going pro, though you’d never know it to look at him now. He decided to stay here and put his energy into the family business instead, working his way up from farm labor to running his own feed store. But now he can’t do much. He’s lost so much weight that his skin sags off him, and he feels dizzy whenever he stands up. I remember how he used to pick me up and throw me in the air when I was a little girl. Now he gets winded just walking to the refrigerator. We all know it’s because of the chemicals he worked with every day, but he won’t talk about it. Doesn’t want to admit that the business he built with his own hands is slowly killing him, and the rest of the family, too.
“Where were you all afternoon?” Mom nags, coming back from the kitchen and standing behind my chair to watch my progress with her computer. “You’re always going out after school, when you know it’s the only time I get to see you.”
Mom used to clean for people like Puloma when I was a kid, but a few years ago she took a job cleaning the offices and labs for London Chem. It means she has to work nights, but the pay’s better and it’s steady. And the most important part is it keeps her away from the farm chemicals. Ever since Uncle Carlos got sick, Mom has lived in terror of all the products used on the crops around here.
“I was out with Jek,” I tell her, bracing for her disapproving grunt before she even makes it.
“Always with that boy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, bristling.
She strokes a hand along my hair in what’s meant to be a soothing motion. “Lulu, sweetie, I’ve known Jek since he was a little boy, just like you, and you know I care about him too...but you’re growing up now, and boys like that are only going to get you into trouble.”
I crane around to look at her. “What do you mean, trouble?”
She sighs and leans against the chair back. “I’m not saying he’d ever try to hurt you, but things are different for him. He can do whatever he wants and the world will give him all the second chances he needs. His mother indulges him, his teachers and everyone else. He can afford to screw around. You have to stay focused and work, mija.”
“You’re wrong about him,” I say, even though I know there’s no winning this argument with her. This is more about her own life experiences than anything to do with Jek or me. Just because she made some bad choices, she thinks I’m destined to go down the same path. “No one I know is harder working than Jek.”
Mom scoffs. “Because he plays around in his little laboratory? That’s not work, that’s fun. Work is what you do because you have to, not because you want to. Jek knows nothing about that.”
“Neither does Lulu,” Carlos comments idly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Why don’t you make her work? She could be useful at the store, but you keep her here like a little princess.”