I Become Shadow Page 13

  My right hand instinctively reached for a gun I had hidden under the desk. Gareth was groggily stumbling toward the door. Was he leaving? Crap! I wasn’t ready. Not even dressed. I turned and grabbed a pair of jeans to throw on over my pjs and bolted out of the door, but paused as the telltale sound of a guy peeing came through my speakers. Disgusting. Half asleep Gareth dropped back into bed. I dropped my jeans, slumped back into my chair, and went back to my email to Junie.

  Here I was unable to take my eyes off one guy and longing to see the other. On the other hand, Junie had reached out. I wanted to respond. I needed to respond.

  So this is what I wrote him:

  Junie. My dearest love. Every fiber of my being aches for your touch …

  Seriously, folks? Like I would, ever. For real this time:

  Junie! It is me! Which you probably have figured out by now since I’ve responded. I wish I was a hooker, more freedom, better tips! I miss you too. Sorry to hear about your FIP. But at least you get a yard. I’m stuck in a dorm room next to a mega-nerd. Did I say I miss you too? I’m in College Station, TX. I think that’s close, no? Maybe one day my FIP will go to Austin. I would have no hesitation knocking him out and tying him up for a few hours so that we could hang out. Just kidding. Kinda … not really.

  ByEEEE!

  I pressed send before I could reconsider. Ugh. Being a girl is exhausting.

  With Gareth sleeping soundly, and me unable to sleep, I worked out in my room for an hour. I kept it silent for the folks below me. Six A.M. is too late for parties and too early to be up. I spent another hour double-checking all of my weapons’ hiding places. The guns were all still loaded, the knives were still sharp, and they were all still very well hidden.

  I took a shower (I had installed a waterproof monitor in there, too, to keep an eye on Gareth) and got ready to leave. It was already 82 degrees outside and humid as hell. I began to sweat just thinking about it. I opted to wear the least amount of clothing as possible and thus put on a worn, light shirt and my first pair of non-gym shorts since my abduction. They were cut-off jean shorts, and they felt strange. I looked like some kind of retro-hippie-surfer girl. Was this even in? Had it ever been? I didn’t care about fashion any more, I really didn’t, but I also didn’t want to look so ridiculous that people stared. Then again, the people who had supplied my wardrobe would not have bought me anything that would stick out.

  Gareth’s alarm went off at 7:30 A.M. Good morning, Nerdville! I strapped on a pair of sneaks and sat on my bed, fiddling with a butterfly knife until he was ready to leave. I waited for him to be about halfway down the hall before grabbing my backpack and following him. The bag had a false bottom where I’d hidden a pistol. The gun lightly bounced against the small of my back. Though I preferred knives, it was oddly comforting to me. Sometimes guns are all you need.

  CHAPTER 17

  POISON CONTROL

  The engineering class was held in one of those classic giant auditoriums you see in teen movies. The last time I had been in a room this size I’d been learning how to build explosives using basic household items. I assumed this would be a tad different, but if not, I’d get an easy A.

  Gareth took a seat up front. I could tell he had wanted to front-row-Joe it, but they were all taken. He was forced to sit in the third row with all the other got-here-too-late-for-suck-up-seats geeks. With the only exits in the back of the class, I was happily a back-row-Betty, sandwiched between two kids who looked too sleepy for a first period class this early.

  There was a closed laptop on the table in front of each of us. No one had opened theirs. Wanting and needing to be a lemming, I waited.

  A quiet, yet noticeable “Hey, Julia!” came from a few rows in front of me. Took me a sec to remember that was my name. It was coming from Lloyd. Great. The world is annoyingly too small sometimes—and I imagine that’s especially true at college. He gave me a grin and a head bob. I gave him a wave. Thankfully the seats on either side of me were filled so he turned back around and annoyed the guy sitting next to him instead of me.

  The Prof came in and motored his way down the stairs. He looked irritated, like he had something really important to be doing but was forced to be here instead with the peons. He flipped on a projector showing a Power-Point slide, and in true, don’t-give-a-damn fashion, began to read it verbatim. It was all that crap about what the class was about: exam schedules, skills we’d learn, yada, yada, yada.

  Of course the final slide read: “You will all do great things.”

  I snorted. Nope, only one of you will.

  It took me a second to notice that the room had gone dead silent and people had turned toward me. Apparently my snort had been a loud one. The Prof removed his glasses and stared in my direction. The rest of the class, who weren’t already doing so, followed suit. Two hundred pairs of eyes on the one person whose job was to be invisible. My face became the same color as my freckles.

  What made it worse was that I knew Gareth was looking at me, too. Like everyone else, he was wondering, Who is this girl? It was not something he should be doing. I wasn’t supposed to exist to him.

  “What’s your name?” the Prof asked.

  I thought about lying. I thought about running. I even considered pretending to pass out, you know, go dead fish on them. But instead, “Julia Roth” came out of my mouth.

  The Prof smiled, and said, “And you thought my comment was funny, why?”

  I quickly answered with something my mother always said to me, “World needs ditchdiggers too.”

  There were a few chuckles—the loudest from Lloyd. Prof wrote something down on a piece of paper. He looked up with a sinister grin that was reminiscent of Cole. “Well, my money’s on you, Ms. Roth. Failing this class will be an excellent first step.”

  I kept my face emotionless as I stared back at him. When he turned around to write something on the whiteboard, the eyes of the class turned with him. The tips of my fingers tickled the handle of a folded knife I had in my pocket. I could have it out and in the back of his head in half a second. He’d never know what happened.

  Of course, I remembered something then that made me smile and relax. Little did he know that all my grades would be fixed. I could get zeros on everything, fail every course I took (and probably would anyway), but all of my records would show Bs. So threaten all you want, sucker. Ren Sharpe, aka Julia Roth, owns you.

  He had finished writing whatever on the board and turned. His eyes flashed to me. Everyone around me was hurriedly copying what he’d written down. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, so I looked right at him and gave a big yawn. I knew it was a childish and stupid thing to do, but if felt good. I quickly went through scenarios in which I could justify killing him. Unfortunately, the only real justification I had would be if he ever threatened Gareth. Who knows? Maybe he would. A girl can hope, right?

  As the Prof dug into his boring lecture I wondered what Gareth thought of me now. That was not the best first impression. I know it sounds weird, but I wanted him to like me. Of course I did.

  I also realized the flaw in the plans of those who’d assigned him to me. Who the hell thought all of this was a good idea? The same people who’d left that stairwell door open and almost allowed me to escape, twenty-two days in? How the heck was I supposed to avoid direct contact with him? He was my neighbor, and we were in all of the same classes. Yes, the idea of it all was convenient, but was it practical? I could not talk to him, easy enough, but what if we were placed in the same study group together? Or how was I to stop him from approaching me and talking to me? What if he ran out of printer ink and knocked on my door to borrow some?

  Class ended with my thoughts racing. Just my luck: Prof asked for me to come down for a quick word. I panicked, realizing if I was forced to stay here, Gareth would leave without me. Luckily, like the rest of the front rowers, he wanted to introduce himself to the professor. I wouldn’t take the good fortune for granted. I needed to keep my mouth shut from here on
out and at least pretend to take notes in classes from now on.

  Again, all eyes were on me as I strode down the stairs. I passed right by the line of do-gooders waiting to speak with him, Gareth included. I didn’t want this. I didn’t need this. I was tired and this cocky bastard was rubbing me the wrong way. Something nasty was a-brewin’. And that’s when the idea hit me.

  Gareth wanted this guy to like him, the same way I wanted Gareth to like me. He aimed to be the student who asked questions, took copious notes, and laughed at all the stupid jokes Prof told. Above all, he did not want to be associated with anyone the Prof didn’t like. I needed to show Gareth that I was that smart-ass lazy back rower he’d do well to steer well clear of. I had to become poison. It would sting, but it would work.

  So while I had originally planned on apologizing, I had something a little different in mind.

  “I noticed you didn’t take any notes during my class,” Prof stated.

  I pointed at my head. “Keep it all up here.”

  He grinned without humor. “Ah, right. So you wouldn’t mind telling me what I said about the volatility of benzene with regards to petroleum refineries?”

  “Just ’cause I keep it up there, doesn’t mean I can access it whenever I want. I gotta let it digest for a bit first. Can I get back to you on that?”

  He nodded without missing a beat. “An excellent idea. How about we say in ten pages by tomorrow at nine A.M. or you don’t bother to come back on Wednesday.”

  I pretended to think about it for a moment before cockily saying, “Let’s make it fifteen. I wanna really explore this one; dig into it.”

  And that’s what we in the biz call shock and awe. I left them all wide-eyed and speechless, and in the case of the Prof, angry. Job done. Poison.

  While waiting on a bench for Gareth to finish his schmoozing I sent a text to the homework number I had been given telling them what I needed. They instantly texted back: Ready in an hour.

  When Gareth came out of the auditorium I took my customary place thirty paces behind him. We still had two more classes that day: calculus and our chem lab. Funny how I could have the lab for a class before I even had the actual class.

  In calculus we both stayed true to form. He sat up front, me in the back. I kept my head down and occasionally caught myself actually taking notes, which made me laugh at myself. You ain’t no real student, Julia Roth.

  I was briefly worried in our lab because when we got there I realized it was only a thirty-person class. Luckily, my plan to be poison worked, and Gareth sat as far away from me as possible; everyone did. You know when you’re on a plane and the seat next to you is empty and you fantasize about curling up for a nap? About rubbing your luxury in the faces of all the sardines around you, but then that hurried last passenger arrives and steals your dreams? Enter Lloyd. Out of breath, sweaty, and embarrassed, he came flying into the room. His eyes lit up when he spotted the one available seat.

  “Hey,” he said, dropping his bag on the table and hopping up on the stool.

  “Hey, Lloyd.”

  “I got lost.”

  “It happens,” I said.

  He looked at me in awe for a moment before saying so loud that everyone in the room heard, “You are the ballsiest person I’ve ever known!”

  I grit my teeth. “Thanks, Lloyd.”

  He then recounted the other ballsiest people he’d known, how they’d gotten to be on such a prestigious list, and why I was ballsier. This went on until the lab teacher came in and shushed him.

  I almost groaned when the teacher explained that whoever was next to you would be your lab partner in class all year. Lloyd beamed. But then I beamed, too, because as annoying as Lloyd was, I would be more than dead weight to him in this class, and thus punishment enough.

  We had a “simple assignment” (the teacher’s words) to do that first day. Lloyd had to show me how to do the entire thing since I didn’t understand any of it. It was cute watching him try to explain things to me. The little squirt was so proud when we finished our assignment and the TA gave us an A.

  I gave him my biggest, flirtiest grin and a pat on the back. “Thanks, you’re the best.” He ate it up. I should probably go easy on him. He had no idea what he was dealing with. So before he could ask me to marry him I quickly gathered my stuff to chase after Gareth.

  My wonderful nerd boy stayed in that night playing video games, just as I’d anticipated. So with the night off I did something I hadn’t done in a while. I looked in a mirror. Really looked.

  All I had on was a sports bra and shorts. I had gotten a good number of glances today (aside from the bewildered and irritated kind)—even caught some guys turning, their gazes lingering. I had never been attractive before, and I didn’t think I was now. I mean, yeah, I was thin and in shape from years of training. I had boobs. I guess those two things were all that really mattered to guys in college anyway. But the level of attention seemed to go beyond that. Why? Yup, I had hair. Oh, and I had freckles too. I could, at most, safely say I was a decent seven on a scale of ten. Was that all it took to make a boy’s head turn? Maybe in college, the answer was yes. Which was probably a bad thing for a Shadow.

  CHAPTER 18

  JUMP, JUMP AROUND

  Okay, let’s move ahead. Three months since school started. Yeah, I’m fast-forwarding a bit. I mean, it’s not much of a story, or at least a good one, if nothing is happening, right? No one wants to read about the mundane monotony of life. We all go through it every day so why be reminded, you know? So deal with it. Seriously, nothing really good happened. Fine, want the highlights? Here they are:

  • I lose Gareth a few times, totally panic, and imagine he’s rotting in a ditch somewhere, or floating upside down in a creek. But I always end up finding him in his room or a lab.

  • I start to agree with Junie. All of that training. All of the mental anguish, the kidnapping, the torture, and I’m just a glorified babysitter which is more acceptable than say, a stalker.

  • Lloyd asks me out almost every day, and he tries to kiss me once. I slam his head into a table and feel terrible about it. It’s a reflex.

  • A while later he decides to tell me he’s feeling guilty about something bad he did. I take the bait and ask him what. He tells me he’s thought about me a few times, alone in his room. Ew is right. Who tells a person that? Hey, you said you wanted the highlights.

  • Lloyd catches me following Gareth and asks me what I’m doing. I lie and say it’s a new social media game I’m helping a friend research. He buys it. My explanation is pretty convincing, but he really only buys it ’cause my bra strap is showing. Either way? Crisis averted. I don’t want to have to kill him.

  • Junie and I continue our emails to each other. As boring as my life is, his is excruciatingly so. You know what four-year-olds do? Nothing. Junie goes full weeks without leaving his house sometimes. So I tell him about the classes I’m taking, about what college is really like, anything and everything I can to keep his mind off of his own boring situation. He eats it up. And since he’s now living vicariously through me he always wants to know more.

  EVERY NIGHT, I CAN’T wait for Gareth to be asleep so I can email Junie. We have each other’s cell numbers, but neither of us ever call. I tell myself it’s because I’m sure we’re being monitored and that would bring in the hounds, so to speak. But part of me isn’t sure I can talk to him. Our emails are so perfect, and I know that the moment I actually speak to him I’ll screw it all up.

  And them’s the highlights—or lowlights, if you prefer.

  AS USUAL, IT WAS late Saturday night and I was waiting in the lobby of the engineering building for Gareth to emerge from the lab. He had been spending almost all of his spare time there now, and the couch I’d been sitting on for the past month was beginning to remember the shape of my butt far too well.

  I was minding my own business when an older security guard walked over to me and sat in a chair across from me. I wasn’t sure what was happeni
ng. My first instinct was the knife in my boot.

  He looked sweetly at me as he said, “Now, I know I should mind my own business, but just go for it, honey.”

  I raised my eyebrows, confused.

  He continued, “You’re here every night waiting for that boy. He doesn’t get it. My wife was the one who approached me and,” he snapped his fingers, “forty-five years later we’re still happy. So go ahead and ask him out. You’re a pretty girl, he’ll say yes.”

  I smiled at him. “Maybe I will.”

  He returned the smile as he stood up. “Now I’ll go back to minding my own business.”

  I let out a cursory laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Gareth exited the lab door across the lobby a few minutes later and the guard gave me a not-so-subtle thumbs-up.

  Gareth looked extra happy this evening. He was grinning from ear to ear. I guess one of his gizmos was doing what it was supposed to.

  It was late, about 1 A.M. when most college kids were either at parties or bars, so the campus was pretty much deserted. The weather was beginning to turn. A brisk early winter breeze whipped through campus. It never gets freezing cold in Texas, nothing even close to Amherst. I wondered if I’d ever see snow again.

  There was a sidewalk between the library and the math department that Gareth always took. It was more of an alley, but I guess when you line a walkway with bushes you get to call it something better.

  Right before he was about to take the shortcut Gareth paused, mumbled something to himself, and quickly did a one-eighty. The sudden turn caught me off guard and in the open. Deer in the headlights sort of thing.

  For the briefest of moments our eyes locked. I froze. He shook his head, then turned again and hurried toward the alley.

  I had become too lax in my attention here. Too comfortable. I’d been caught following him red-handed, and instead of at least trying to hide, or coming up with an excuse, I had frozen. It was official. I was horrible at my job.