The Secret Page 12

  “And?” I could tell there was something he wasn’t telling me.

  He moved his hand from my hair to my shoulder and squeezed tightly. “I had this dream last night, Lanie.”

  I didn’t move, but I felt my heart skip a beat.

  “In the dream, you were yelling out for me, but I couldn’t get to you. And the faster I ran toward you, the farther away your voice got.” He brushed his lips to my forehead in a protective gesture.

  “I’m here, Jake. I’m here.”

  His breath went ragged.

  “What else, Jake?”

  Jake swallowed. “And then…I was in this room with all these mirrors, and everywhere I stepped all I could see was a reflection of myself. I started smashing the mirrors so I could figure out which one was real and which one was a way out…and then I saw him…”

  I was confused. “What? Who? Who did you see?”

  Jake closed his eyes. “Luth. All I could see in the mirror was a reflection of him.” Opening his bloodshot eyes again, a tear fell onto his cheek. “I found a birth certificate. After he told me that I was his son, I spent a few days digging through more of my mother’s boxes. And I found a birth certificate that lists S. Luth as my father.”

  Staring into his eyes, I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted to take some of his pain inside of me and hold onto it.

  The front door shut and I could hear Mr. Drake’s voice downstairs.

  Jake wiped his face, leaning back. “We’ve got to get down there.”

  Reaching up on my tip toes, I put my hands on his shoulders, pulling him to me. “You’re not him, Jake. You’re not.”

  Jake pulled back. “That’s what I keep telling myself. But sometimes there’s no fighting what’s true—is there?”

  His question scared me a little bit and I frowned.

  He looked at my lips and leaned forward. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Lanie. Do you know that?”

  It felt wrong to kiss him. Like I was taking advantage of the fact that he didn’t know I was about to betray him. But I couldn’t stop myself.

  Our lips touched and the familiar electricity pulsed inside of me. He pulled me closer to him and I felt that little corner of myself—the part that no one but him has ever seen—come alive.

  I wasn’t betraying him. My heart was his. And this was the most right thing that I had to hold on to at the moment.

  “Where is she?” Marsha’s voice raged through the warehouse.

  Pulling away from Jake, I kissed him one more time quickly on the cheek. She had to know. Sam must have told her. “I’m sorry, Jake. I can’t explain—but it’s…I’m sorry.”

  I turned for the stairs.

  “Lanie!” Marsha stalked into the living room. “You—”

  I kept my face hard as I went down the stairs. “He asked me.”

  Marsha ran full force at me, roaring, “I HATE you!” Then, dropping her head, she plowed into me.

  Screaming pain went through my back as I went into the wall and felt the statue that had been sitting on the side table gouge me. “Ouch!”

  Before I knew what was happening, I sent her body flying across the room onto the wicker couches.

  “Don’t hurt her.” Reed was immediately beside her.

  Jake rushed down the stairs. “Lanie!”

  I rolled over, gasping in pain.

  Mr. Drake came forward, his eyes looking dangerously sharpened by my display of power. “What is going on?”

  Letting Jake help me up, I didn’t say anything.

  Marsha huffed loudly, leaning on Reed to stand. She pointed at me. “She’s going to take everything!”

  Mr. Drake looked suspiciously between us.

  Marsha turned her glare to Sam. “How could you?”

  Pursing his lips, he looked down. “You don’t understand.”

  Reed tried to take both of her hands in his. “Baby—I’ll take ya to prom.” His eyes looked pleading. “It’s only right I take you to prom anyway—you can’t go with your brother.”

  As she shook herself loose, tears moistened the corners of her eyes. Raising her chin in the air, she started down the hall. “Don’t talk to me—any of you.”

  Jake didn’t move and his face held confusion. “Are you going to prom with Sam?”

  Feeling like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, I nodded, not wanting to say it out loud.

  Jake stepped back from me, a look of pain washing over him.

  “Jake—” What could I say? “I’m sorry.”

  Pushing past me, he went for the kitchen. “I’m going out,” he said, taking his keys off the tiny key hooks attached to the wall and slamming the kitchen door shut behind him as he left.

  Sam met my eyes, lifting his eyebrows and then turning down the hall toward Marsha’s room.

  Karen shrugged, starting back into the kitchen. “Drama.”

  Mr. Drake sat on one of the plush, beige couches and looked out the window. “This is so…incredible—it’s like I’m repeating history.”

  I moved to him, rubbing my back and watching Jake’s Mustang peel down the driveway. I wished I could tell him—but deep down I knew that Sam took his threats seriously. He wouldn’t help me unless I kept up my end of the bargain. “What are you talking about?”

  Mr. Drake sighed. “The first fight your father and Nicholi had—was over your mother.”

  Episode 17: Change

  “Character arc is one of the most important components in a good work of fiction. People must change. Remember that when you analyze character development, static characters won’t capture the hearts of the readers.” Mr. Drake drummed his fingers on the podium at the front of the class, avoiding my gaze.

  The bell rang and Mr. Drake waved his hand in dismissal. “See you tomorrow.”

  Jake bolted from his seat without a glance in my direction.

  I closed my eyes for a second, trying to put up a wall against the sting of the silent fury that had been coming off of him since yesterday. I just needed to get through the next four days until prom. Then I would tell him everything.

  Staying in my seat, I heard Mr. Drake approach. His voice was quiet. “I told you—I’m not talking about it.”

  Opening my eyes, I pushed down the urge to slam my fist into the desk. “Then why did you talk about it yesterday?”

  Pulling off his glasses, Mr. Drake sighed. “I shouldn’t have.”

  I didn’t move. “Don’t you think it’s too late for that, I mean…really?”

  “I don’t feel comfortable telling your parents’ secrets. I don’t think it’s ever too late to try to guard other people’s privacy—do you?”

  Frustration built inside of me, looking for a way to vent. Turning my palm up, I imagined his glasses in my hand. Then they were.

  Mr. Drake looked at his hand and then at mine. He reached for the glasses. “Lanie.”

  Pulling my hand away, I felt myself start to shake. “After you left yesterday—I got to thinking that there has to be more, right? I mean, we know there were seven of you. We know there was this sick experiment that gave us all these powers. But we don’t know anything about why The Foundation was formed. We’ve all just been trying to stay alive. But I want to know. I want to know about my parents and about Nicholi. What’s the whole freakin’ point of it all, anyway?!”

  Frowning, Mr. Drake seemed to measure my words.

  A tear snuck down my cheek and I didn’t try to wipe it. I felt like I would disappear if I didn’t know the truth. “Please.”

  Shifting nervously, he pulled up the sleeve of his corduroy jacket and looked at his watch. “All right. I can’t talk now, but I’ll pick you up tonight.”

  I held his glasses out to him. “Where?
”

  As he took them and put them back into place, I saw little beads of sweat on his forehead. “I shouldn’t even be alone with you—it doesn’t look right.”

  Lifting an eyebrow in challenge, I stood. “We can call a group meeting, if you prefer.”

  Mr. Drake turned away from me. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Waiting outside of the apartment, I tried to pull my coat tighter around me. I didn’t want Rob to know where I was going. Not that he was even paying attention, still consumed with cracking the code embedded in the book. He and Stewart were in constant communication. Stewart had enlisted one of his most trusted friends to help them, so Rob was always video conferencing with them. And, while I was grateful that he was working so hard, I missed him.

  Looking up, I saw a car coming down the street.

  Marsha’s silver Jetta pulled up to the curb. Anger surged through me.

  The passenger side window rolled down. Sam leaned forward, his hair falling

  into his green eyes. “You goin’ my way?”

  I lowered my head. “Don’t pretend we’re friends, Sam.”

  Opening the driver’s side door, he stepped out, starting toward me. “I thought we should talk prom details.”

  Backing up, I put my hand out in front of me. I hated the way his presence affected me. I knew I was blushing and it angered me. “Just pick me up before the dance. I’m wearing black—it kind of symbolizes my mood.”

  He stopped, shoving his hands into his coat pocket. “So this is how it’s going to be?”

  Mr. Drake’s car pulled up behind the Jetta.

  Moving down the steps, I quickly got into Mr. Drake’s car, calling out the window, “Black—that’s all I’ve got to say.”

  “Have a good night, Lanie.”

  The heat from the vents blared into my face. “Go. Go.”

  Mr. Drake put the car into gear, easing away from the apartment and onto a main street toward downtown Boulder. “Good evening to you, too, Ms. Hart. Another lover’s quarrel?”

  I felt my heart constrict. Sam was the last person I wanted around tonight. Putting my hand over my chest, I leaned back into the seat. “Did my mother date both of them?”

  Mr. Drake drove slowly. “You want to know? Really?”

  “Yes. That is why I am here.”

  Turning on his blinker, he turned onto Main Street. “Do you realize that the more you know, the more you can be corrupted? I understand that you all are involved, but let me ask you, what is the end game here? What will happen when they get their powers back? And what will happen when we find Nicholi and Luth—or they find us? What then?”

  I looked at the driver’s side window, thinking about his question. “I don’t know.”

  “Exactly. They’re just so determined to get their powers back. Reed can’t talk enough about what he’s going to do to Luth and Nicholi when he finds them. None of you realize that it all just starts to escalate. It just gets out of control.”

  I studied his face in the street light coming in through the window. “You’re afraid—aren’t you? You still want to run from this. You want to take Sheila and Tim and run.”

  His brown eyes squeezed in agony. “I want to protect them.”

  I thought of my mother, lying in her bed at the Facility. “My parents tried to protect me too, Mr. Drake. And it made everything worse.” Gritting my teeth together, I leaned closer to him. “Tell me. Tell me about my mother. Tell me everything.”

  He leaned away from me, staring at the road in front of us. Finally, he spoke. “You probably know this, but she, like the both of them, was a philosopher of sorts.”

  I had never thought of my mother as a philosopher type. That was always my father’s department.

  “Nicholi was dangerous—even then. And I think your mother could see it. Your father and Nicholi never got in to a direct fight over your mother, but they would get in heated debates over ideas. And sometimes it would end in blows.”

  Drake tapped the steering wheel, glancing at me. “But Nicholi backed down when your parents started to get close. I could tell he was disappointed, but he wasn’t a man to wear his feelings on his sleeve. And then, luckily, he met Jasmine. And she made him happy. And the rest of us were grateful. I think that’s why your mother didn’t go with us to India. She felt the tension. And she didn’t want to come between them. And Jasmine wasn’t there, either. When we got back from the trip and started to realize that the things we had wished for were becoming real, Nicholi called a meeting. He insisted that we’d been gifted these powers for a reason—that we were important. Back then I was sucked into his ideas. It took me a while to see the truth under his words.”

  I started chewing on the inside of my lip. Rob said it was my new tic, instead of fluttering my eyes. “What changes did he want to make?”

  “I can’t explain to you how charismatic Nicholi was. He got us all on board with his plans for a utopic society. A place where there would be no hunger, no disease, and The Foundation would be at the center. It would control financial institutions, governments, and the very core of freedom throughout the world.”

  I shook my head. “But there were only seven of you.”

  “Nicholi thought he could give powers to others. He kept trying to give powers to Jasmine—but he couldn’t. And he just got more and more obsessed. Over the next five years, as children started being born and manifesting powers, The Foundation changed into an elitist school. By then, Thomas was resisting Nicholi’s control over you kids and they started to fight more and more at the meetings. The Foundation was in full swing. Dr. Luth was brought on to work with the gifted kids; he was brought to the meetings and touted as a brilliant scientist who would catapult the next generation to greatness.”

  I tried to digest all of this. “And this pulled my mother further away.”

  “Yes. And it tore your father apart. I remember thinking that I could see him starting to crack. But he sided with your mother—obviously.”

  A dull ache came into my chest as I thought about my mother. “Until he couldn’t resist him anymore.”

  Heaving a sigh, Mr. Drake nodded. “Yes. No one could resist Nicholi.”

  I looked out the car window, not really seeing the little shops that dotted Boulder’s downtown, trying to imagine it all. “So you all wanted to take over the world, and you decided to get a motto and coins and make it official?”

  He scoffed. “I guess. It’s the old saying—the road to hell is paved with the best intentions. Nicholi’s view was that we had to gain the power to control the power. He thought that once we had governments in our pocket, we could do some good. We had this idea that every human being needed to be free. Nicholi touted the basic tenets of the Declaration of Independence—life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We had a vision that freedom would abound. We were arrogant.”

  Startled, I felt confused. “Why is that arrogant?”

  Mr. Drake clicked his tongue. “You see, Lanie, it sounds good—doesn’t it? But what most people don’t realize is that there is a cost to freedom. It usually isn’t given without a heavy price. Look at most free societies—lots of men and women have died to give their children something better in life. But it usually takes a war to achieve freedom. That’s just how it is. And any type of organization that tries to control people, even with good intentions, will always become corrupt.”

  “And the coins, the Latin phrase.” I lifted and lowered my eyebrows. “Kind of dramatic, don’t you think?”

  Mr. Drake nodded. “Yes, it was meant to be dramatic. It was meant to engender a feeling of uniqueness in us. You have to understand that the coins were made with blood—our blood. It was symbolic of our link; that we were in this together.”

  Running my finger behind my ear, I felt like it was all starting to make s
ense. “And the mark is another symbol?”

  A faraway look came into Mr. Drake eyes. “Yes. After seeing it on the cover of the book, we did some research on the symbol. A long time ago, science and magic and philosophy were combined. People didn’t distinguish between what could be proved scientifically and what could not. It was called metaphysics.”

  I recognized him slipping into lecture mode.

  “Aristotle studied metaphysics. He coined the term ‘arche’ to describe the starting point of something indestructible, something that only the gods could have created. And The Foundation was the place where you were supposed to realize your full potential.”

  A warm, tingling feeling started to go through me. The potential to change the world.

  The wrinkles on Mr. Drake’s face deepened and he put the car into gear and started backing up. “Oh no—I’ve seen that look before. See, that’s why it’s dangerous to tell you all of this. Freedom sounds good until it blows up in your face.”

  My mind started whirling. Everything he was saying started to spread in front of me in a winding loop. All of his words seemed to come at me from every possible angle. And then—comprehension poured through me. My heart started thudding rapidly in my chest. “It’s the key to the block. It’s all connected?”

  Mr. Drake’s face turned a putrid shade of white. “What?”

  And then I knew—that he knew. He had known this whole time. Trembling started inside of me.

  I slammed my hand into his dash. “That’s how come the block works—it’s the Arche. Somehow Nicholi’s using it to interfere with their powers. And you’ve known that.”

  Shaking his head back and forth, his face whitened even more. “I wasn’t one hundred percent sure.”