Kei

  Truth suffers from too much analysis.

  --Frank Herbert

  Emily rushes in, looking bewildered. “Sorry, I overslept!” She pulls milk out of the refrigerator and pours it into the cereal Anya had sitting out for her. No bacon and eggs for Emily. She’s still deciding if she’s vegetarian or not. I’ve thought about slipping her some information on veganism, but knowing her, it would keep her up at night deciding about that, too.

  She’s moved past her morning ‘Death Smoothy’ phase of drinking unbelievably unspeakable things for their imagined benefits. Her smoothies are now quite nice, but she’ll skip even those when she’s in a real rush.

  Like now.

  “No problem,” I say. Joey, beside me, finishes the last of his toast, eggs and bacon in one massive gulp that somehow doesn’t leave him choking.

  So I pick up his plate and mine and glance over to where Haley is picking through her breakfast, pretending she’s still hungry.

  Our eyes meet, and I can tell we’re going to have ‘A Talk’ soon. Another one.

  That’s fine. Haley may be a bit unmoored with all the revelations we’ve picked up working with Tim, but she’s still extremely smart and now extremely motivated.

  Besides, it’s Saturday, and we’re planning a girl’s day out, just the two of us.

  Which means another long walk in the woods and a much longer, possibly heated, conversation beneath the trees.

  Haley is still processing. Emotionally, at least, just as I’m processing mentally. Well, calculating, really.

  Still, I can understand what it means to have your life blown up, though it’s been more literal in my case.

  ***

  “I just can’t believe it,” Haley is saying for the fifth time, counting variations. She’s shaking her head. We’re out in the woods now, and may link up with Tim later. We can’t be out too long. Apparently there’s a big party and announcement planned, and we’re not allowed to say anything to Tam or Joey about it.

  “Believe which part?” I ask patiently. I’m actually curious. “You knew something was going on here, right? You said so yourself.” They all did, really, out on the quad. On my first day. I’m not impatient, but the one thing that seems to help Haley cope with being so…

  “I’ve been so blind!” she snarls, kicking a rock out of our path. I think it’s supposed to be part of the edge of the trail, but her foot sends a foot-wide hunk of stone rocketing into the bushes. At least there’s no one around to get hit.

  “How so?” I ask. “Is this about Emily?” Finding out her fraternal twin wasn’t biologically related at all shook her, from what I’ve seen, but I’m sure that’s not the end of it. Though perhaps she’s the beginning.

  “Yes!” Haley snaps. “No! I mean… Why all the lies?” She snatches a fallen limb from beside the path and begins breaking off pieces and throwing them further into the foliage. The branch is around two-inches thick and shows no signs of decay, yet she’s snapping it like a twig, without even flexing.

  I can’t say it bothers me. I get even worse when I’m excited, and at least we got clear of the town before she erupted.

  I keep moving down the trail, incidentally herding my redheaded volcano a bit further from the hapless citizenry. Just in case.

  “Your parents might have wanted Emily to feel like she was part of the family, instead of wondering if she was as much their daughter as you were,” I pointed out. Not that I have any experience with being an outsider. “As for the rest, we don’t really know what they know. And what they think they’ve gotten themselves into, if anything.”

  Another chunk of branch whistles into the chaparral, scattering leaves before landing with a ‘thunk.’

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  “What have they gotten themselves into?” Haley demands. Her arm flashes again, and a pinecone goes skipping off in the opposite direction, bouncing over fallen leaves and twisted roots.

  “I’m not sure,” I admit. “I thought you guys knew most of the school was Enhanced, or at least genetically modified.”

  “It’s one thing to know people have been doing embryo selection for years,” Haley says dryly, “and even that some of us have gene edits – ‘thank CRISPR.’” She literally makes air quotes, then puts her hands together in mock prayer. “It’s another to realize they’ve been doing it for generations without telling anyone. And scanning the toilets to help fix our smoothy dosages? How crazy is that?”

  “Strange they haven’t killed anyone yet,” I observe. Because, honestly, that’s beyond strange. “Unless they’re incredibly good or incredibly lucky. But still, you did know…”

  “That helicopter parents want to buy their kids every advantage, sure,” Haley snaps. “Like they always do. That some of us weren’t coming out the way the black genelabs said we would, sure.” She turns to stare at me and huffs. “That Big Brother knows us all down to our genetic code and what we last ate and chemically scans our every fart and is tracking us individually, all the time… No.”

  “Fair enough,” I acknowledge. Chemically sniffing our gas is a little odd, though judging from Haley, she’s probably so perfect she doesn’t do that anyway.

  But I make sympathetic noises. I’ve found letting Haley vent not only calms her down. It’s also a safe way to find out what’s going on in her head.

  A few brief replies and the occasional head nod and she can keep going all day.

  I remember to give her a thoughtful nod, as if thinking over what she’s said. But what I’m really thinking…

  “What are we going to do about it?” Haley demands. She bends down and grabs something off the ground.

  “Investigate,” I tell her. “We’ve got three people now – you, me and Tim. More if we bring others on board. And I’m going to investigate what happened to my father, which might be related.”

  She looks at me. “It might?” she asks.

  “This isn’t the first ‘special school’ I’ve been to,” I tell her. “And some of this feels very familiar.”

  “Familiar?” Haley is intent. “How?”

  I shake my head. “My memories are still fuzzy. But they’re coming back.” I take in a deep breath, full of the scents of the forest. One that isn’t burning. “I’m pretty sure I was at a school for Enhanced before. Way fewer students, and…”

  “And…?” Haley prompts, her emerald eyes now razor sharp.

  “And I don’t remember why we left,” I tell her with a sigh. My amnesia is becoming more irritating all the time, for all that it’s fading faster than I have any right to expect.

  Not fast enough.

  Haley nods, then begins flipping the double handful of acorns in her hands randomly into the woods as we stand there. “Do you know the name? Or know anyone who could tell you more?”

  “I think…” I pause. It feels strange to say, but there is one hint I’ve hesitated to mention. “The one student I truly remember is a guy named Dante. But…” Something in me really rebels at saying this. “But the Aspects seem awfully familiar. I mean, I’m sure I went there as a kid, but I could swear there’s something about them.” I shrug. “It was so long ago they may just look like some people I knew or something. I’m sure I haven’t seen any of them for years.” Except for my Dad.

  Haley nods, her eyes hard as she flicks another acorn into the bushes. “Any idea why they wouldn’t say anything?”

  I shake my head. “There’s no reason not to tell me…” I pause. “Oh.” I take a deep breath. “Oh.” There doesn’t seem much more to say.

  “‘Oh’ what?” Haley demands, almost as though she’s not ready to be put off by cryptic phrases and my half-panicked/half-vacant stare into space.

  “Oh… nothing,” I say weakly. Confessing my Gift isn’t something I do casually. Or at all. But standing in front of Haley, her emerald eyes staring at me with laser focus, I have a feeling this isn’t something I can skip.

  “‘Nothing’,” Haley drawls slowly. “Could you expand on all that ‘Nothing’?”

  Haley deserves an explanation, but I can’t really give her one. One thing that’s been drilled into me, less by my father or my old school than by life… is that I have to keep this one truth closely guarded.

  “They probably don’t want to upset me,” I clarify. “I spend a lot of time trying to keep calm, and… it’s not good when I don’t.”

  Haley raises an eyebrow. “You’re dangerous, then?” she asks.

  I know how that sounds. She probably not worried about herself, though she should be. Given what Tim’s copied files said about her, she probably thinks she can handle anything – certainly the Kei Kimura described in the same database.

  She’s just wondering if I’m a danger to anyone else, like the family I live under the same roof with.

  So am I.

  “Not me, specifically,” I say. “Just something that comes with me. And I’ve got it under control.” Except that one time I was burning down the Redwoods. “And I can run away if it ever does get out of control.”

  Haley raises her other eyebrow. “Could you be more specific?” Apparently the vagueness isn’t selling her on my inherent safety. As it shouldn’t, but still…

  “I really can’t.” I spread my hands helplessly. Though I’m anything but helpless. The faintest twinge of cold fire stirs in the core of my being. “The more people who know, the more dangerous it is for everyone.”

  Haley is still staring at me. Silent. Finally, she shakes her head. “Nope.”

  “Nope?”

  “Not good enough.” Haley’s stance shifts subtly, as if preparing for a fight. Not that it would do her much good. Her only weapons are a fist full of acorns.

  And if my Gift erupts, well, I’m me. A living disaster incarnate.

  “I just can’t…” I begin.

  Haley raises the hand not holding acorns to stop me. “Enough. Kei, I like you. And I could absolutely use your help right now. But I’m not half-bad at reading people, and your face is like a whole encyclopedia on why I shouldn’t just take your word on… whatever this is.” She thumb-flicks another acorn to ricochet off a nearby trunk. “So out with it. Why would the Aspects be so skittish around you? What’s so dangerous if you get upset? If it’s not really you?”

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