“Point taken.”
“I probably have about as much connection to my Indian heritage as you do to your African heritage,” I said. “My mother’s favorite food is sushi.”
“Latkes.” Jamie smiled for a second, but then it faltered. “This is bullshit,” he said suddenly. “We’re teenagers. We’re supposed to be sarcastic.”
“And preoccupied with sex,” I chimed in.
“And impulsive,” Noah added.
“Exactly,” Jamie said. “But we’re in here and they’re out there?” He shook his head slowly. “Everyone’s a little crazy. The only difference between us and them is that they hide it better.” He paused. “It . . . kind of makes me want to burn this place down?” He raised his eyebrows. “Just me?”
I grinned. “Not just you.”
Jamie stood and chucked me on the shoulder. Then yawned. “Rain check? I’m beat. You guys staying?”
I looked over at Noah. We hadn’t gotten what we came for yet. When our eyes met, it was obvious that he was thinking the same thing.
“Yeah,” I said.
Jamie picked up his file and dropped it back in the appropriate drawer. He reached for the door. “Thanks for the fun. Let’s do it again soon.”
I waved. Jamie closed the door behind him.
And then Noah and I were alone.
63
NOAH LEANED BACK IN DR. KELLS’S CHAIR and watched me. I was still in his lap.
And suddenly self-conscious. “What?” I asked as I blushed.
“Are you all right?”
I nodded.
“You sure?”
I thought about it, about what was in my file and what it meant. “Not entirely,” I said. Not being believed about Jude would always hurt. Noah’s arms tightened around me, solid and warm.
“You can read it,” I decided.
He shook his head, his hair tickling my skin. “I showed you mine with no expectations. You don’t have to show me yours.”
I looked up at him. “I want to.”
Noah’s hand wandered over the folder on the desk behind my back, and then he leaned back in the chair to read with me still in his lap.
We were silent. His fingers wandered beneath my T-shirt, drawing invisible pictures on my skin. Distracting me, I realized with a smile. I was grateful.
Then he said my name, bringing me back. “Mara, did you see this?”
I leaned over to look. Noah flipped the file around so I could read it. Under my stats, the ones I’d skimmed, there was a handwritten notation beneath a section called CONTRAINDICATIONS that read:
Sarin, orig. carrier; contraindication suspected, unknown; midazolam administered
My heartbeat thrummed in my ears. “Sarin. My mother’s maiden name.”
My grandmother’s last name.
I wasn’t sure if Noah heard me. He handed me the file and shifted me up, off of his lap. He was up in an instant.
The rush of blood was loud in my ears. “What does it—what’s a contraindication?”
“It’s like,” Noah started to say as he began opening drawers. “It’s like if you have a penicillin allergy, the contraindication is penicillin,” he said. “You shouldn’t take it unless the benefit outweighs the risk.”
“Like a weakness?” I asked. “What’s midazolam?”
“They use it at the clinic,” Noah said, thumbing through file folders. “They never told you they were giving it to you?”
“Wait, what clinic? The animal clinic?” I asked, my eyes widening.
“Most veterinary drugs started as human drugs, not the other way around. If it’s what I think it is, they use it for sedation, presurgery.”
“Why would I need to be sedated?” The idea made me shiver.
Noah shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Unless there’s a human indication I’m unaware of, which is possible.” He glanced at the clock. “They’re going to start waking up soon,” he said. He was silhouetted in the dark. “You look for Phoebe’s file, I’ll look for Stella’s.”
I looked without words because I couldn’t find any, not then. I kept searching, careful as I could be not to disturb anything as I tunneled through file cabinets and scoured the desk drawers. In the bottom-right one, on top of a pile of papers, I found something. But not what I had been looking for.
I withdrew the fine black cord with the silver pendants—mirror images, mine and his—that should have been hanging around Noah’s neck.
“Noah,” I said. “Your necklace.”
He turned to me, placing a manila file folder on the desk. Benicia, the label read—Stella’s last name.
I handed Noah the necklace and he fastened it around his neck. Then helped me search for Phoebe’s file.