I Become Shadow Page 11

I blushed at his compliment. I kind of wanted to hug him. Even in his lab coat, he looked so comfy—like a model dad in an Eddie Bauer magazine. He moved closer.

  “I never do this, but since you’ve been such a hoot I had to come by and wish you luck. You were a joy to watch. I’m glad you made it.”

  He offered his hand for me to shake. Grinning like an idiot schoolgirl, I stepped out of my circle and shook it. I kind of dead-fished him too, but I didn’t care. It was Mr. S, he’d understand.

  Up close, I saw that his eyes were super light green, almost white. I got a funny feeling in my gut from them, but pushed it aside. So he had creepy eyes; I bet there were some people who thought freckles were creepy. Who was I to judge, right?

  We stopped shaking and Mr. S. motioned for me to return to my spot.

  “We’re not monsters, you know,” he whispered. “It’s harder on us than you’ll ever imagine.” His voice rose. “Now relax and enjoy the show!”

  I watched him walk away. “What’s your name?” I blurted out.

  He looked over his shoulder as he said, “Blake. But my friends call me Mr. S.”

  He left me alone, still grinning like a moron. I knew I shouldn’t be happy, but I was. Why?

  Not-Beth returned and said softly, “That was a first.”

  She held a black metal box. Inside was a pair of lighter-than-air glasses, similar to the kind that had given me my history lesson when I first got here. Only these looked different, sleeker. I started to grab them from the box but paused. I looked at Not-Beth, and she nodded encouragingly. I took a deep breath. This was it.

  Not-Beth patted my shoulder. “Good luck out there, Ren Sharpe.” She then left me alone in the room. Without warning, the circle of light turned off and the room went dark. But in my hand, the lighter-than-air glasses glowed light blue and hummed.

  I put them on.

  HIS NAME IS GARETH Young.

  My life no longer matters. I only care about one thing: him. I have to see him. I have to make sure he’s okay. As I remove the glasses I find I’m having difficulty breathing not being sure he’s safe; not seeing so with my own eyes.

  It isn’t love, or a crush—it’s more of an obsession. But for his safety only. It’s hard to explain the feeling any more than that.

  Regardless, I can’t stand it here anymore. I have to get to him. I have to leave right now or I’ll lose my mind. Everything else is inconsequential.

  AS WITH ALL LINKS, I did not know what or who he would become. That way, I wouldn’t try to influence him. All I knew was that my FIP, Gareth Young, was about to begin college and thus I was going as well. College. My parents would be so proud.

  I could hear the conversations of the other students already.

  Oh, I went to this high school, or I got this on my SATs. What about you, Ren?

  Me? I can kill you with a Capri Sun straw.

  Gareth had been identified for our program three days ago and had been assigned a temporary protective unit immediately. They would be officially handing him off to me in two days. I didn’t want to wait that long to see him, but this was how it was. He had made it this far without me, so what was another couple of days? Thank God he wasn’t a baby.

  I got back to my apartment. No-Personality Girl was waiting at the door. She gave me a box and told me I could put whatever I wanted in it. All the clothes had been packed up and taken away already, so there wasn’t much left to snag. She waited while I packed.

  I put the knives from Junie in first. It was all I had really that was truly my own. I then tossed in the Harry Potter books and a couple others for good measure. And the giant box of Golden Grahams. Unless I wanted to take the pictures off the walls, or keep the silverware, that’s all I could really take from the place. I shrugged.

  “That’s it I guess,” I told her.

  “Your clothing and other necessary gear have been loaded and are already en route to your location. They will be waiting for you upon arrival. Proceed to the elevator and press D.”

  “The real one or the super-secret one?”

  “Real,” she said in the same flat voice.

  I grabbed my sad little box of items and started to leave but paused when I glimpsed the grappling hook still attached to the balcony. My mind went back to the kiss with Junie. Now that I was linked, nothing was going to get in my way, and yet Junie had fought that same overwhelming desire, been strong enough to push it aside to come see me. I didn’t know if I’d have been able to do the same.

  “You need to leave now, Ms. Sharpe,” came the girl’s stupid voice. I couldn’t help but give her a little snarl as I left the room. I smirked as I heard her mutter to herself, “… don’t need this crap …”

  The D stood for departure, because when the elevator doors opened I found myself facing a long hallway with an open end. They were oh-so-clever and original here. Sunlight streamed through from a vast open space. I was guided to a small jet.

  The aircraft’s interior was a huge disappointment. I’d seen enough movies growing up to expect nothing less than plush chairs and sofas on private planes. Not the case here. The plane had been stripped to its bare bones, the necessities. It, like me, had a job to do, so why waste anything on bells and whistles? Regulation jump seats lined the walls and nothing else. I took my seat halfway down the plane and buckled myself in.

  The windows were blacked out, so when the cabin door was shut only a small reading light provided any illumination. Even if I’d wanted to sleep I couldn’t. The need to see Gareth was a burning fire inside of me. The longer this took, the hotter it burned.

  THE LANDING WAS HARD. Who was this rookie at the wheel? Should have let me fly. My internal clock guessed we’d been flying for a little over three hours.

  After a very brief taxi, the plane stopped. I was absolutely blinded by the bright sunlight when the cabin door opened, and hit by a wave of pure heat and humidity that nearly knocked the wind out of me. The air was heavy and hard to breathe. Still half-blind I stood up and hopped off the plane onto the tarmac. With watering eyes, I got my first look at College Station, TX, the home of Texas A&M University.

  CHAPTER 15

  JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE

  If America had an armpit, it was College Station, TX, in August. I instantly began to sweat the moment I got off the plane and cursed the stupid jeans I was wearing. I’d probably never be able to comfortably wear a pair of them in this place.

  Ahead of me I saw a giant water tower that read WELCOME TO AGGIELAND, and beyond that, sitting in the middle of campus, stood the monster of a football stadium they called Kyle Field.

  The campus was a few miles away from the airport with nothing but dead, summer-withered plants as far as I could see. I felt like I was about to go into Thunderdome from the Mad Max movies. Two men enter, one Ren leaves.

  Behind me the door of the plane shut and the plane began its taxi for takeoff. Job done, get the hell out of here, crank up the AC. As it moved away, it revealed an old, beat-up green motorcycle with a sidecar sitting across the tarmac. It looked like it’d seen better days, much better days. This must have been their idea of a gift. I’d always chosen a motorcycle over a car whenever I could in training. Would have liked something a bit newer, but this would do.

  I watched the plane take off, bank away, and soar off into the horizon. Finally alone.

  I then did what I hadn’t done in a very, very long time: the happy dance. It must have been about 140 degrees on the asphalt so if anyone had been watching it probably looked like I was trying to avoid melting my shoes. But if they had really looked they’d have seen the telltale spins, hops, and claps of a genuine freedom dance. Yeah it was hot. Yeah it was humid, but I didn’t care. I was out, suckas!

  Upon completion of a very extended and, in my mind, very deserved dance, I jogged over to the motorcycle. In the sidecar was an envelope with two sets of keys. One was for the bike and the other was for my dorm room. Hot damn.

  I started the bike and it hummed lik
e a kitten. It looked like hell, but it was all a ruse. This thing was a hoss and proved its derelict façade was just that as I tore off out of the airport and let the wind whip my hair and fly across my face. I had a lot to do before my FIP would arrive the next day, but I allowed myself an hour for a joyride around town and down a few country roads.

  The campus was a beehive of activity as everyone was moving into the dorms. There were sobbing mothers, handshaking dads, and jealous younger siblings surrounding the over-excited kids finally tasting true freedom. In that respect we were similar, these college freshman and I, but that was probably about the extent of it.

  When I pulled up to my dorm, everyone took notice. Some stopped what they were doing altogether; others glanced sideways at me. I saw my reflection in a mirror and realized why. First of all, I had no helmet. Second, I had no makeup. Third, I was wearing a beat-up pair of jeans, tight T-shirt, and old-school, classic grey New Balances. Combine that with pulling up on old Hank—yes, I named my bike Hank—and I got it. So much for blending in. I looked like the dangerous badass I was.

  A group of Abercrombie girls gave me the stink eye. Bitches. I stared back until they scampered off.

  I turned off Hank, hopped off, and made my way inside, keeping my face cold and emotionless so no one would bother me. I snaked my way through the students and their overprotective parents. Seeing this made a small part of me miss my family. Not so much for their company, but because I knew it would have meant a lot to them to be here with me. Okay, fine, everyone seemed to have someone besides me and it sucked.

  I found my room at the far end of the building on the corner and slipped inside. Boxes. Cases. More boxes. The place was packed floor to ceiling. They had finagled me my own room somehow, which was good because the very numerous and very obvious cases of guns would probably have been a little awkward to explain to a roomie. One was even marked c-4. Real subtle, guys. Anyone who’d seen a decent action movie knew what that was.

  I found an inventory list by the door and took stock of what I had, making sure it was all here. It was the basic package given to each Shadow. I could list everything that came with it by heart, but I still wanted to be sure.

  An hour later I had successfully accounted for all 532 items included in my slightly non-traditional welcome baskets. Enough dillydallying, time to go to work.

  Gareth’s room was right next to mine. Coed dorms, heyo! With all of the activity going on, no one noticed as I slipped in and out of his room, setting up equipment. I hid eighteen pin-sized cameras in the walls, lights, and bathroom so that there were no blind spots. I placed seven microphones in strategic places. And to finish off the job, I installed infrared motion detectors at his door, inside his room, and outside his window. I then spent some time in my room fiddling with the various feeds. I was done by four o’clock.

  I looked at the train wreck that was my room but wanted no part of unpacking anything else at the moment. I needed to get out. I needed to stretch my legs. I needed to keep myself occupied as the excruciating wait for Gareth dragged on and on.

  Okay, I needed to hit something.

  I found workout gear in one of the clothing boxes. Walking to the rec gave me my first good look at the campus. They’re all pretty much the same though, you know? A library. A quad. Old buildings. Juvenile idiots running around. Hippies tossing Frisbees. There was far too much here to annoy a trained killer.

  As if on cue, I ducked under a rogue Frisbee before it could hit me in the head. As he passed me, a long-haired, bearded, cut-offs-wearing dude said, “Nice duckage.”

  I watched him go. Protecting Gareth was going to be easy. Protecting these idiots from me was going to be the real challenge.

  By the time I reached the rec center and received directions to the punching bags, my fists were already clenched. If I heard one more excited sorority girl scream, frat boy “bro,” or unnecessarily loud laugh, I would rip someone’s heart out through their belly button.

  Solace came in a fifty-pound bag. I didn’t even bother to wrap my knuckles or put on gloves before unleashing hell on that poor thing. After fifteen minutes I was beginning to wear a small hole in it. I was just starting to feel better when a deep, cocky voice interrupted me with a, “You know, your form’s off.”

  I dropped my hands and turned. A had-to-be-frat guy was about ten feet away. You know the type: short spiky hair that takes hours to look perfectly messy and tiny stick legs because all he works out are his chest and arms. He instantly reminded me of Trey, the boy I’d crushed hard on back in Amherst, two lifetimes ago. He was the spitting image of the person I imagined Trey had become. Not good for this guy.

  I raised my eyebrows at his comment.

  “Yeah. You need to rotate your hips more.” He then demonstrated for me slowly, showing the “hip” rotation.

  I kept forgetting that if you didn’t know me, I might actually be attractive. In my mind I was, well, me, so those thoughts didn’t exist. That was why I tried not to sound too annoyed when I said, “Thanks,” and went back to my business.

  I only got in about five hits before he walked over and said, “Still wrong. Like this.” He then grabbed my hips and began to twist them for me. That’s what you would call the final straw.

  I was about to break his thumbs, but luckily he spoke up again first. “You know, I could maybe show you a thing or two if you wanna spar.”

  Funny: all at once I remembered that beating the hell out of Trey was something I’d once dreamed about, after “the splash zone.” I still owed him for ruining the only day of high school I ever got to experience. The similarities between Trey and this idiot were too close for me to pass this up.

  I smiled. “Now that’s a great idea.”

  We walked over to the mini-ring that was set up.

  “So my name’s—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said cutting him off.

  He grinned as if he liked whatever game I was playing. Poor thing. We climbed into the ring and put on gloves. Lame.

  “You see, it’s all in the hi—”

  “I learn a lot better by doing, actually.”

  “Cool.”

  We touched gloves. I allowed him to circle me once. He feinted a few times, but I didn’t even flinch. He took one half-hearted swing at me which I easily ducked, and in quick succession I hit him with a right cross to the chin, a left hook to the ribs, and then finished him off with a spin kick to the temple.

  Kid was out like a sack of potatoes. I crouched down next to him and lightly slapped him on the cheek until he came too.

  “You all right?” he asked me.

  “Fine. Thanks for the lesson.”

  “No problem,” he said groggily. As I walked away he called out after me, “Wanna go out sometime?”

  “How ’bout Nevuary,” I said over my shoulder.

  “Cool,” he said. Then I’m pretty sure he passed back out.

  I caught a nerdy runt of a kid staring openmouthed at me. I smiled awkwardly and waved. No response. I still had energy to burn but sticking around here seemed like a silly idea after what I had done to stick-legs.

  So now what? Treadmills? No, overcrowded with girls “running” at speed two while reading magazines. I hadn’t brought a suit, so swimming was out. With no real options, and the fear of being ratted out by the runt, I decided a simple run around the massive campus, like any normal student, would do the trick. A normal student who had just assaulted and knocked out another one. Who hasn’t done that, right? Totally normal.

  AFTER A QUICK SHOWER and a check that all of my surveillance equipment was still working, I made my way to one of the cafeterias. I found a table off in the corner and sat down ready to do work on a big bowl of mac and cheese. Before I could raise the fork to my mouth, a tray slapped down across from me.

  It was the runt from the gym.

  “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said breathlessly. “You were like wham, hack, walloo, and he was all uhhh, budoooo, out.” He
of course had punctuated every odd sound he made with finger and hand movements. “You should be in movies. Or have your own TV show.” He stuffed a massive spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and then added, “I’d watch.”

  I was frozen, my first bite of mac still on the fork, inches from my lips. He sat there beaming as he worked the potatoes around his mouth and swallowed.

  “I’m Lloyd,” he said right before popping in a whole chicken finger. He reached across the table to shake my hand.

  I forced myself to be polite. I shook it. “Nice to meet you, Lloyd.”

  “You gotta name? ’Cause if you don’t I’m gonna call you Kung Fu.”

  I kind of liked the name, I admit. “Julia,” I said.

  Julia Roth was my FATE-given alias. Better to use a phony name than your real one in case you ran into someone from your old life. Weirder things could happen.

  “Cool name. Like Julia Gulia.”

  This kid—and he was a kid, he looked about twelve years old, max—was ridiculous. I didn’t want to like him. I didn’t want to be his friend. But come on. Coke-bottle glasses, short hair, and clothes that had obviously been passed down from an older brother. Not to mention the random Wedding Singer reference.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Just turned eighteen,” he said. I raised my eyebrows and he quickly said, “Okay, sixteen … fifteen.”

  “You’re not fifteen,” I said loudly.

  “Shhhh. Yes, I am.” He paused and then added, “Why, do I look older?”

  I snorted. “No. You look like you’re twelve.”

  “Well keep it on the low-low.” He looked around. “Don’t wanna ruin my rep.”

  “It’ll be our secret.” This kid was awesome. He was the little brother your friend hated but who cracked you up. I nibbled on my food a bit before asking, “So are you some professor’s son or something?”

  He shook his head.

  “Visiting your brother?”

  He shook his head and looked a little confused. That made two of us.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t get it,” I said. “Why are you here?”