Extracted

Cecelia

I push my door silently closed behind me and jump when Cecelia speaks.

“Where have you been? You’re not supposed to leave the room at night.” She’s sitting in the dark ramrod straight on the edge of her bed.

“I had to use the bathroom.”

“For an entire hour?” Her arms are crossed. “You weren’t there. I checked.”

Of course she had. “I couldn’t sleep so I stayed out in the lounge.” I thought quickly for what to tell her next in case she’d also checked the lounge as well and was coming up blank. There was nowhere else I could tell her without freaking her out.

She frowns, the ends of her perfect lips curling downward.

“If you can’t sleep, stare at the ceiling or practice calculus formulas.” She lifts her feet up to her bed and pulls the blanket up. “Do not go wandering around. I don’t need that kind of trouble.”

I want to point out that my actions have nothing to do with her, but since she seems inclined to drop it, I let it go. I’m shivering too hard anyway, trying to keep myself steady. A different body a different body a different body.

Would she tell on me? I don’t think so. Cecelia is more concerned about keeping herself under the radar of the trainers to cause trouble for me. At least I hope I’m reading her right. If it is to her advantage she’ll rat me out without blinking.

I still can’t sleep, too many questions and possibilities tumble through my mind. When I close my eyes all I see are images of aquariums where beautiful kids thrash inside pink water and pound on the inside walls of the tanks, screaming silent wails. They flail, claw to get out and I come to Jeremy’s tank. He sleeps peaceful, his bright blond hair lifting around his freckled face and too-wide mouth. I slam my palm to the aquarium, screaming for him to wake up. Wake up! The glass cracks beneath my hand, a tiny fissure. Pinkish water seeps out of the crack. Alarms ring. Lights flash like a strobe across his terminal. Jeremy’s body starts flailing as though everything keeping his life supported has gone on the fritz. He’s dying, he’s dying. “Jeremy, wake up! Wake up!”

Suddenly we’re spinning in the air, banging against glass and metal, a broken windshield, as the truck rolls, hitting the ground over and over. Jeremy hits the ceiling of the cab. His head wrenches back, and then snaps forward. Blood stripes through his hair, darkening the bright stands. Brown. He looks at me, afraid, through Gideon’s dark eyes.

I jolt up in bed, breathing hard, tangled in my blanket, my pajamas soaked to my body.

“Calculus.” Facing the wall on her side, Cecelia murmurs.