He shrugs. “Just bringing some levity to it, I guess. Two of them were already imprinted. I was the third. I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before the other two are.”
“You’re all carriers?”
“Marlene—” His gaze flicks to mine. “That’s my foster mother. She gets paid more for fostering kids that are carriers. And she’s not afraid of us. Her brother’s a carrier. He’s in prison.”
“I see.”
“No. You don’t.” He shrugs like that’s no big deal. “You can’t even wrap your head around any of it.” He glances at my bedroom. “How could you when you come from this?”
And he’s right. Naturally. Even though I’m a carrier—an imprinted one at that—nothing about his life makes sense to me. For starters, I can’t see how anyone would open her home to multiple imprinted carriers.
I moisten my lips. “Isn’t she frightened of letting you all into her house? I mean even with her brother . . . anyone would be.”
“True. Marlene isn’t anyone though. She doesn’t scare easily. Besides, since she took us in, no one has broken into her house. She says we’re the best security system around.” There’s that hint of a smile again.
He sets the washcloth down and stares at me. The proximity, our closeness, makes me nervous, but I don’t move.
“Why did you come here?” I finally ask. “Why are you doing any of this for me?”
He doesn’t answer for a while, just looks at me in that intense way, like I’m a bug under a microscope. “Because I know this is hard for you. Harder than it ever was for me.”
I frown. I don’t like thinking of myself as worse off than him—if that’s what he even means. It makes me feel all the more alone.
“How so?”
“You have more to lose than me.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I was a kid when I learned I was a carrier. I was already parentless. Poor. No future. Hard to hit bottom when you’re already there.” His mouth flattens into a grim line. “I was used to being nothing.”
A nothing who showed up here today when I needed someone most.
A nothing who marched into the bathroom when Brockman cornered me.
A nothing who picked me up when I was stranded and out past curfew.
A myriad of responses rush to my lips. “You’re not nothing.” You’re here.
For a reason I still don’t understand, he came when no one else did. Discounting my own family, and they kind of have to be there for me when I live in the same house with them. He’s the only one who went out of his way to see me. Not only are my friends not here . . . they are the ones who made sure I got imprinted.
He turns away and gathers the scraps of gauze. “I didn’t say that for your pity.”
“I’m not saying it because I pity you—”
He snorts and rises to his feet. “No? Ever since we first met, you’ve either looked at me with fear or pity.”
“Okay. Maybe that’s true.” I speak hurriedly as he heads for the door, aware that he’s about to leave and I’m going to be alone again, and suddenly I don’t want to be alone. “But you’re not nothing. If you’re saying you’re nothing, then . . . what does that make me?”
He stops. I stare at his back. I hold my breath, waiting for him to keep on walking right out of my room. To leave me without fully explaining why he came here in the first place.
Then he turns. With just a few strides, he’s in front of me. My heart thumps hard and fast as he reaches for my face, cups it with one hand. And then he answers me with one word. Just a breath. A whisper.
My heart seizes in my chest.
I lean forward, savoring against my better judgment the sensation of his hand on my face.
Dropping his arm, he turns and leaves my room. Only the echo of his voice stays behind, lingers on the air, in my head.
Perfect.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers ..................................................................
* * *
Juilliard Dance, Drama, Music The Juilliard School, 60 Lincoln Center Plaza, New York, NY 10023
To Ms. Davina Hamilton:
We have been alerted of your recent HTS status and must, unfortunately, revoke our offer of admission. As you know, entrance into Juilliard is extremely competitive. Every year the most talented, most promising students vie for a place at the School, and it is the Office of Admissions’ responsibility to see that only the most deserving gain entry. Clearly, you no longer possess the necessary qualifications to be included among those ranks. . . .