I Become Shadow Read online

  “Because I’m a student.” Then, speaking to me like I was an idiot, he added: “I graduated early. Real early.”

  “So you’re like Doogie Howser smart.”

  “Wow,” he said dully. “Never heard that one before.” He gave me a look that said, You completely unoriginal horseface.

  “Hey, that show was awesome and being Doogie smart is a compliment.”

  “That show sucked.”

  “You know the guy that played Doogie’s best friend?” I asked. Lloyd nodded so I continued, “That’s my uncle. So if you think the show sucked, you think he sucks and by indirect correlation, me.”

  Total lie. All of it. But it was too good of a lie not to run with. The mac was okay, but watching Lloyd struggle with how to respond was pure entertainment. I could see his puzzled face form questions, then shake them off. After a minute or so he gave up. His head dropped and he began chewing on another chicken finger.

  It was so pathetic that I caved. “Kid, totally kidding.”

  He stopped chewing. His face reddened “I knew it. I knew you were joking. But man … that was good.”

  As we finished up, I learned that Lloyd had been home-schooled, shocker, and didn’t have many (code for any) friends, double shocker. Until now, I supposed. He kept me laughing. It felt good to talk with someone who wasn’t like me. Someone who would lead a normal life. At one point he asked me what my major was and what I wanted to be. I didn’t have an answer for either.

  “Well, if I were you, I’d major in takin’ ass with a minor in kickin’ names.”

  I stared at him, waiting for him to realize what he’d said. It took a few long seconds but when he did we both cracked up.

  He insisted on walking me back to my dorm for my protection, cute, and refused to leave until I took a sheet of paper with his email, cell phone, Facebook, and Twitter information on it. (That way, I couldn’t fake entering it into my phone. You couldn’t delete a hard copy.) It was for, as he put it, “If you ever, you know, wanna hang, study … or make out.”

  I spent the rest of the night unpacking and making my room look like a normal freshman’s. I’d been given classes on how to do it. No really, actual classes. You ever try hiding a grenade launcher in your room?

  Some things were easy. Clothes went in the closet. Posters, provided for me, went on the walls. Other things, like the aforementioned grenade launcher, were difficult even with the classes. At one point a couple of girls knocked on my door. I had been inspecting my blocks of C-4 at the time and hurriedly tossed them under my bed before opening up a crack. They invited me to a little party down the hall. I politely thanked them but said I had a lot of unpacking to do first and that maybe I’d make it down later.

  I didn’t.

  When I was finally done no one would ever guess this room was anything but normal; boring even. And that was the point. Be boring, be ignored, and don’t draw attention to yourself. Speaking of which, I’d get a motorcycle helmet first thing tomorrow. If someone were to walk in they’d never think the room housed a small arsenal, or that the person that lived there could kill them with anything, like a sticky note. No, the person who lives here is a sad girl who only likes to study. And sure, ride her sad little motorcycle. A loner. Awwww.

  I SLEPT POORLY, AND by poorly, I mean an hour at most. What little sleep I did get was filled with weird dreams. In one I watched Gareth arrive at campus, and when he opened his door he was run over by a bus. In another he never showed up at all and I was told to watch over Lloyd instead.

  Luckily, I had stayed up until nearly dawn unpacking. That and checking the Web. I decided to look up my old pal Mr. S. by name-searching “Blake+MIT.” I’d noticed the MIT class ring, the Grad Rat, on his finger when I’d met him. His image popped up almost immediately; he was an MIT grad, younger than I thought. So he existed in the real world, too, just like me. Interesting. I memorized his CV and shut down the computer. When I finally decided to get up and get dressed it was a respectable 8 A.M. Yeah, it was early for a youth, but not so early it would draw suspicion. Besides, if someone saw me awake, it would only enhance the loner image I was going for.

  I had access to any funds I needed—basically unlimited cash—and I could have eaten breakfast anywhere. But I wanted to stay on campus, close to where I needed to be. I chose a new cafeteria this time. I did this partly to try something different, but mainly to avoid running into Lloyd. He was a sweet kid, but I couldn’t have him tagging along.

  There were maybe thirty students, older grad-looking types, in the cafeteria. It wasn’t hard to find a table off on my own. I grabbed a copy of the student paper and sat down with a big plate of bacon and eggs. Student papers are hilarious. It’s funny what the top story of the day in college is versus the rest of the world. For example, the day’s top story was how the star quarterback was going to miss the first game due to a concussion. For real? Top story?

  I unfolded the paper, and it showed a picture of the poor sap. I dropped my fork on my plate. It was stick legs from the gym. I quickly skimmed the article, fearing they’d give some kind of physical description of his attacker. I scanned for words like gorgeous, and angelic-looking. You know, words that described me … to be safe I also looked for words like homely and bitter shrew. Just in case, mind you. But there was nothing about an attack of any kind. He said he’d hit his head while getting out of his car, which apparently this entire campus was ready to believe.

  I guess between admitting you got your ass handed to you by a 115-pound girl, or looking like an idiot, he chose idiot. I still felt kind of bad when I read that apparently the team had title hopes this year or something. Oops.

  When I finished my breakfast and had read the paper front to back I checked my watch: 9:12.

  My FIP was to arrive at approximately 10:15, according to intel. I was to wait at the clock tower, and once his car drove by, the temporary team would leave and he would be all mine. With nothing better to do I figured to hell with it and headed to the clock tower early.

  I was about halfway there when I heard a confused, soft voice. “Ren? Ren … Sharpe?”

  I froze mid-stride and turned. She was older, but I recognized her instantly. Crap. The girl’s name was …

  “It’s me, Becky. Becky Dooley. Is it really you?”

  They had trained us for this moment, but all the training in the world didn’t prepare me for the rush of emotions that came at this sudden contact with my old world. Beating up Not-Trey was one thing. And it wasn’t like we were friends. But she was real, and she still represented a part of me that I had buried. It was a part of me I never wanted or needed to creep back up. Yet here it came and I was fighting to control it.

  I had to act quickly.

  “I’m sorry, are you talking to me?” I asked her.

  “Ren, it’s me. How … how are you here? They told us you were … dead. That you died. My little brother went to the funeral.”

  It was hard, but I played my part well. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. My name’s Julia.”

  She stared at me for a moment. I could tell she was contemplating whether to believe me or her memory. Luckily, she shook her head and said, “Sorry, you look like someone I knew. But of course it couldn’t be you. She, um …”

  “Died,” I finished gently. “You said.”

  Becky nodded, troubled.

  I gave her a sympathetic smile, and then for good measure added, “Sorry about your friend. That sucks.”

  “It’s okay. But, wow, you really look a lot like her. See you around.” Still not sure about what had happened, she walked off taking a few extra glances as she went.

  “Yeah, see you around,” I said after her.

  My heart was pounding in my chest. I was happy she had relented because if she had kept going and called my bluff I would have had to kill her. No, really I would have. Whew. Rattled, I continued my trek toward the clock tower. It was one of the tallest buildings on campus and right by my dorm
so it was easy to find. I parked myself right under it and waited with my hands in my pockets. I pulled my hoodie over my head though in case someone else out there felt like recognizing me. I had grown up thousands of miles from here and hadn’t even heard of this place. What the hell was Becky Dooley doing here?

  I swear time was moving backward, or really slow on purpose. The ten o’clock chime even seemed to take longer than it should. Felt more like the nooner. But when it finished a new wave of excitement rushed through me. Fifteen minutes to go!

  I was looking for a silver Honda SUV. I never noticed how many damn silver cars there were in the world until now, not to mention how many of them were freakin’ Hondas. Was there a convention or something?! I was sure I spotted Gareth about a dozen times before I started to get frustrated and angry. With my background, angry was not something you wanted me to be.

  And here comes another one … wait … license plate T9L-ZZR?

  HOLY S***!!!!!!!!!!!

  CHAPTER 16

  STRANGE NEW WORLD

  I snaked my way through the heavy traffic, following the car. It slid into an impromptu unloading zone. After an interminable moment, he stepped out.

  Time froze. Everything went silent and there was only Gareth. He was beautiful. Not literally. In fact, he was average looking at best. He looked shorter than he really was because he slouched. His brown hair sat in a curly mess on his head. His face was wide, his green eyes set far apart. No, he was beautiful to me because I was now complete. I had been uncomfortable since my link. No, hollow. Yeah, that’s a much better way to describe it and I had never really been able to pinpoint why. Now I knew. He made me whole. I never wanted to take my eyes off of him. His folks got out of the car with him. They seemed more excited and curious than their son.

  I watched Gareth. Studied him. Tried to pick up on any mannerisms not covered in his bio. His clothes were just clothes. They were nothing trendy, nothing name brand. It was as if they served the purpose of him not being naked and aside from that what was the point? He reminded me of Junie in that way. But that was where the comparison ended. Junie was a huge, intimidating guy and Gareth was the exact opposite. Gareth was wicked smart; Junie, not even close. They actually could have been cast in a modern remake of Twins, only Gareth was much better-looking and not as short as Danny DeVito. Sorry Danny, low blow I know.

  Gareth looked uncomfortable, not sure what to make of the scene. His parents must have said something annoying to him because he snapped his head around and said, “Sure.”

  I was within about twenty feet of him at that point. His voice was, like the rest of him, a big old stick of average. Not too high, not too low. But to me it was like a singing bird. I got goosebumps from it.

  They grabbed boxes from the car and headed inside. With that came my first real choice. One of many I would make every day from now on. Should I stay put, or follow? At some point if they didn’t notice me lurking behind them someone else would. I’d scouted out the dorm. It had been secure enough. And with my added improvements I had no doubt he was as safe as he could be while in there. So I stayed where I was.

  The moment he was out of my sight, however, I regretted my decision. That hollow feeling roared back to life inside me. I considered chasing after him and his parents but instead imagined them walking up the stairs and down the hall. I reached the corner of the building and looked up at his window at the same time they entered his dorm room. Thankfully, none of them noticed a pasty, black-haired girl creepily staring up at them from the ground—because, well, let’s be honest, that’s what I was. A thought crossed my mind as I stood. Isn’t this occupation more like glorified stalking than anything else? Seemed like it to me. I guess Shadow sounded cooler. Yeah, saying I was part of the Stalker Program didn’t have that cool ring to it.

  I watched them drop their first load and briefly take in the room before they came down for another. This process was repeated four more times. I finally followed them up on the last trip, passing the open door as I shut my own door behind me.

  I watched and listened to them on my monitors. It was like reality TV, only right next door and a lot more important-feeling. His mom wanted to help him unpack, but he just wanted her to leave. She was embarrassing him. With no one in the room with them it was hard to understand how she was doing this, but you know how kids are.

  Gareth’s roommate hadn’t moved in yet, so Gareth took the bed by the window, which bugged me. Snipers love it when you stand by a window. He told his folks he wanted that bed because of some crap about leaves and birds. Huh? Okay, the rational part of me wanted to wait a bit longer to pass judgment on the kid who made me whole, but I couldn’t. It was official. Gareth was a nerd. A mega one. There were hints, of course. His clothes. His grades. The fact that he and his roommate knew each other from, and I’m not making this up, computer camp. All of this could have been brushed aside, ignored even. You know, he’s just one of those really smart, cool kids who gets good grades and doesn’t even try. But the “leaves” comment really sealed things. No huge parties for me. No late night concerts. No real college experience. On the other hand, this would make my job easier. He wouldn’t be hitting on any female that moved, driving drunk, or trying to show off to anyone. Even Lloyd, while also a nerd, had some charm and self-confidence. I doubt Gareth would sit at my table unless invited. No, nerds like Gareth shied from danger, at least the real kind. Video games and lab experiments do not a tough man make. I suddenly began to appreciate him a bit more for what he would be. A loner. Like me.

  I followed him and his parents to some place that served giant (and I mean GIANT) burritos. I ate mine in the corner across from them pretending to read the paper but really watched them through the reflection in the window.

  After the meal, the three of them took a stroll around campus before going back to the dorm to bid adieu and good luck. His mom cried. His dad started with a handshake, but crumbled and went in for the real deal bear hug. Then they climbed into their car and drove off. He watched them go and went upstairs to his room.

  LIKE A GOOD LITTLE dweeb he stayed inside and unpacked for the rest of the day. Even after his roommate, Lawrence by the way (I know, Lawrence), moved in they hung out and played video games. They even ordered pizza so they wouldn’t have to leave. This job was cake. I was also happy that my little FIP nerd didn’t have a car. It’s tough to protect someone when they’re driving. Yeah, he had a bike, but nerds wore helmets and used hand signals.

  I toggled the camera controller and zoomed in on his phone as he set his alarm for 8:30 A.M. He, well I guess technically we, had an engineering class at 9:15 A.M. I was in all of his classes so I’d have an actual reason to be around him all of the time without causing suspicion. It helped that he was an engineering major, too. Engineering majors had block schedules, which meant you took all of your classes with the same 200 people. It wouldn’t be easy to avoid direct contact, but it wouldn’t be too hard, either.

  The lights in his room went off, and my cameras instantly switched to night vision. Even with all the security I still couldn’t go to sleep. Every glance away from the screens seemed to bring back the hollow feeling from before. I had to keep my eyes on him. We were told these feelings would be very intense at first but over time they would lessen and just become a part of who we were—like any true emotional attachment. But now that I was here I wasn’t sure I believed them.

  At about 5 A.M. I decided not even to pretend to try to sleep anymore. Instead I flipped on my real computer to see if my mother had sent her long-dead daughter anything new. Nope. But my heart jumped and I grinned. There was an email from Junie.

  We had talked about our old email addresses years ago. I had forgotten his but instantly remembered it when I saw the message from sexpistol_danceman in my inbox. For a guy who numerous times forgot if the grenade he was about to throw had a three- or five-second fuse, remembering my email was impressive. I blushed, thankful no one, especially Junie, was around to see it. Nev
er would have heard the end of it from him.

  Ren! What’s up, hooker?! I’m pretty sure this is your email, but if it’s not, my apologies, sir or madam, for calling you a hooker. I’m sure you’re a lovely person and not a prostitute. But assuming it is you, Ren, hey! Where are you? I’m in Austin, TX. My FIP’s four years old! Four! I live next door to her and tell everyone I’m a writer (I know, all it takes is speaking to me for ten seconds to know I’m no writer). It’s so no one thinks it’s strange I stay home all day in such a big house. Not working, though. I think all the neighborhood kids call me “that creepy dude.” I bet if I showed them my gas-powered machine gun they’d like me more. I’d also probably get arrested shortly thereafter, but I’d go out as “cool” which would be awesome. It’s so boring here. Nothing happens. All this training and I’m really a glorified babysitter. I don’t miss being there but I do miss you. Way too much. Let me know how you are. Oh, her name is Emily.

  –Junie.

  P.S. Remember when balconies were for views?

  I blushed again at his mention of balconies. I missed him too and instantly hit reply. I didn’t know what to say though; I was never good at this stuff. I missed my friend but there was definitely something else there, too. I wanted to do more than just see and talk with him. That moment on the balcony had flipped a switch, and I still wasn’t sure how to deal with what it had turned on. Yeah, yeah, insert dirty joke here.

  I was about to write, but I paused. While contact between Shadows had never been forbidden—many FIPs might one day meet and even work together on some Future Important Event—was this okay? Revealing who we are to the outside world meant certain death at the hands of a Hunter. But it was assumed a Shadow could encounter another Shadow out there. Would I get a phone call about this later warning me not to do it ever again? Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?

  BUZZ! Movement in Gareth’s room. I cursed myself for being distracted.