Page 23

James

Chapter 23

“I think it’s a great idea,” says Juliette, smiling at Warner the way she always does. Like he can do no wrong.

“I think it’s a stupid idea,” I argue. “It’s messy and dangerous—”

“You’ve lost the right to vote,” Warner cuts me off. “We’re in this situation because of you. The girl has clear vulnerabilities, and we should be utilizing every advantage we have over her. While we’re in the discovery phase this is possibly our best course of action for gathering intel—”

“I’m not doing it,” I say angrily.

“Why not?” he shoots back.

“Because,” I say, pushing my hands through my hair. “Because it’s weird. It feels weird.”

Kenji laughs. He’s eating popcorn. “Bro,” he says, shooting me a look. He makes air quotes with one hand. “ It’s weird is not the counterargument you think it is. We’ve all had to do uncomfortable shit over the years in order to survive. Take Jello over here,” he says, throwing a piece of popcorn at Juliette’s face.

She swats it away.

“You want to talk about weird? This girl was once mind-controlled by your own dad. She was forced to become his super-soldier—”

“Oh God, don’t remind me,” I groan. “I hate this story.”

“—and she nearly killed all of us just because Daddy Anderson asked her to.”

“Jesus.” I drag my hands down my face. “Don’t call him Daddy.”

My brother, I notice, has gone sheet white.

Nothing sends Warner spiraling faster than a reminder of how much Juliette suffered at the hands of our father. As if he’s somehow complicit in the sins of the man who tortured him every day of his life. Maybe because I was a kid when it all happened, I can make this distinction.

Warner can’t.

Kenji goes on, undeterred. “And if Warner hadn’t been able to save J through the power of love”—he mimes a firework with one hand—“we’d all be mind-controlled puppets of The Reestablishment right now.”

“Let’s not relive all the details,” Juliette says, squeezing Kenji’s arm. She’s looking worryingly at Warner, who’s now staring into the abyss of middle distance.

“That was a long time ago,” she says gently, “and, actually, it was lucky that I underwent—and survived—the experiment, because otherwise we wouldn’t have known the extent of the program. We had no idea they’d already begun connecting civilians to a neural network, and we didn’t realize that destroying Operation Synthesis would sever the nervous system of the program.” She glances again at my brother. “Warner thinks they’ve rolled out a new version of the network on the Ark. His theory is that they never abandoned the project.”

Then, beaming at me, she adds brightly: “That’s why he’s so excited about the chip you brought home. He’s really proud of you, James. It’s a big deal, what you did, despite the way it made us feel. He talks about it all the time.”

This last bit is a stroke of genius, and achieves what I realize is her desired effect: Warner is instantly snapped out of his gloom.

“I wouldn’t use the word excited ,” he says, shooting me a warning look. “Or proud . Or big deal . Or all the time .”

Still, I feel a little like I’ve been shot with sunshine.

“Wow,” I say to him, fighting a smile. “Look at you.

You can’t even help it. You love me so much it disgusts you. You’re disgusted with yourself.”

Juliette laughs.

“I’d like to get back to the original topic,” Warner says stiffly. “Stop trying to change the subject. We have important things to discuss—”

Kenji ignores this, adding, “Warner loves me, too,” around a bite of popcorn. “Sometimes it’s a little too much, you know? It’s always Oh my God, Kenji, you’re amazing, you’re my best friend, don’t tell Juliette but I love you the most —”

“How is it that every time you speak,” Warner cuts him off, “you have food in your mouth?”

“Don’t exaggerate because you’re jealous,” says Kenji. “If you want popcorn, all you have to do is ask.”

“I shouldn’t have to ask,” Warner counters icily. “You’re supposed to offer.”

“All right, you know what? I can’t even take you guys seriously right now,” I say. “This isn’t a real meeting. This is some kind of sabotaged slumber party—”

“It is by no means a slumber party,” Warner says, alarmed.

“And it’s not sabotaged,” Juliette adds, stifling a yawn. “Kenji and I are going to stay up late and watch old movies. You can join us if you like.” She shifts to sit cross-legged on the bed, her long brown hair cascading down her shoulders. She’s cradling her enormous baby bump with Kenji propped up beside her, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. They’re absolutely surrounded by junk food.

“The hell he can,” Kenji mutters. “He talks through all the good parts. And anyway, he needs to go, like, shave and shit. Shower a couple of times. Run around the block and release those pheromones. Get ready for romance.”

Warner raises an eyebrow at him. “If that’s what you do to get ready for romance, I can see why you’re single.”

Kenji pauses mid-chew, cocking his head at Warner. “You know what? Not all of us can have some kind of happily ever after the way you did, okay? The rest of us live in the real world, where the loves of our lives don’t quite love us enough, and it has nothing to do with how many times we shower. Or maybe it does. She wasn’t really clear on that point.”

“Kenji,” Juliette says softly. “You know it was more complicated than that—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “But, for the record, we, the people, do not appreciate having the past thrown in our faces. Especially not on movie night.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Warner says, his voice clipped.

Kenji shrugs. “I’ve made peace with it. Besides, I’m not alone in my misery.” He pops another piece of popcorn in his mouth. “Winston and I both got dumped years ago, and we’ve been happy being bitter ever since. In fact, we’ve decided to make ugly collages and use them to decorate our place. He’s going to gather up anything with Brendan’s handwriting on it and use it to papier-maché a bunch of toilet rolls. I’m going to bang my head against the wall until it leaves an impression. We figure it’s finally time to put up some art in the living room.” He crunches some more. “Winston calls it depressing chic .”

“Is this a joke?” Warner looks at Juliette, then Kenji. “I put up that drywall myself. We repainted those walls just last month—”

“Nazeera didn’t dump you,” I point out, pulled into this discussion against my will. “You know that. She just couldn’t stay here. She has to live on the other side of the world. Her people are there—”

“I know,” Kenji says, holding up a hand. “And look, I’m not bitter about it. We had a good run, but we’re rebuilding our world. I get it; we all have work to do. She needs to be in West Asia, and long distance is super hard. But she wanted to reconnect with her roots, her culture, her people. For an indefinite period of time. That’s called being dumped. That’s called I’m probably going to marry some hot Arab dude and lose your number. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Kenji—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” He says this with finality, and the room falls silent. Then Kenji points at me and says, “Anyway, for what it’s worth, I also think Warner’s idea is solid. This Rosabelle girl is”—he blows out a breath— “yeah, she’s, wow. You should absolutely pretend to best friend the girl who (a) murdered you, and (b) threw up all over you. The results will be adorable.”

I’m about to respond to this when Juliette cries out without warning, doubling over as she sucks in a sharp breath. Warner shoots upright, his eyes flaring with panic.

Shit.