Project Eden

Chapter 31

I wash down my last bite of mole and rice with a healthy swig of horchata, though Zee still has a good portion of his dinner left because of his initial tepid response. I hope it'll give me a chance to answer his question sans constant interruptions.

"I suppose it's because I want to help people," I tell him.

Zee looks up from his plate, the intensity back in his gaze. What is it with his deep, brown eyes that make them so intense? The rest of him comes across as shy and reserved, but his gaze is all fire and heart. It's an interesting combination that I wish didn't fascinate me so much.

"You might understand a little better if I were to explain how I got into this gig in the first place."

He nods and drinks from his own glass of horchata, not bothering to speak. Good. The fewer interruptions, the better. Otherwise, I don't know if I'd be able to get this story out. Never in any my numerous lives have I shared this with anyone. At least not in full or with complete honesty. I have no idea why I'm about to now.

I'm not quite sure where to start.

"Since you plundered all of the records about me that you could find—which I still find hard to believe because they span thirty years at least—you probably already know that I was fifteen the first time I died. I can't remember anything of my life before the moment I woke up in a new body, and I mean that literally. Not a single cohesive memory. Sometimes I'll remember a taste or smell that will bring emotions with it, my own little madeleines, I suppose, but even those recollections are foggy. It might not be as big of a deal if the people at LAB had known—or even met—me before I died, but I've yet to find anyone who knows anything about me, let alone what I was like, before then. And believe me, I've tried. I've been chasing clues for more than a decade, but nothing. It's as if someone took a blowtorch to everything that had ever touched me up to that point. Like I didn't exist before that moment."

Zee gives me a skeptical look. "Someone at LAB has to know. There's no way they could have the entire cloning system in place and not know anything about you."

"Well, if they do, no one has ever said anything to me about it. And I'm guessing by your comment that there isn't any information about in LAB's database or files either."

He shakes his head after an almost undetectable pause. "Have you considered—"

"—that I wasn't born but implanted instead into the body of a fifteen-year-old girl? Oh yes, I've considered it many times, but I know that's not it. Like I said, I have these ghost-like memories that feel too real to be a hoax or some kind of implanted memory. It's impossible for me to explain, but I know that I did grow up as a baby and then a child before I arrived in the first clone. I just know it."

Zee doesn't seem to be buying it, but I can tell that he's weighing my words against what he knows. And that's the problem—I don't know what he knows, so how could I possibly guess at the direction his thoughts are headed? It's constantly being in the dark that frustrates me most about working with LAB. I get that there's a need for secrecy, but when I know less about who I am than complete strangers do . . . that's dangerous. I can't prepare against an attack when I have no idea who or what I'm fighting.

I sigh out my frustration. "The first time I died, I was too young and freaked out to be of any use to LAB, so they placed me in the home and family of one of their top-level scientists. He worked at the Denver office but lived within commuting distance of the city in a smaller suburb. LAB brass decided that I'd be of more use to the organization and its overall humanitarian mission once I had matured a bit more. Smart move on their part, because I was so freaked out by everything that it took me months to settle down into some semblance of a normal life with a caring family."

Zach sets his fork and napkin on the table, having finally finished his meal. Now he's looking at me intently as I speak, which I find it more than a little unnerving.

"Were they good to you?" he asks.

The question takes me aback because I would never have suspected his analytical, data-filled mind would narrow in on the human connection first.

"Well, yes." I pause for a moment. "Let me clarify. The scientist and his family are great people who love each other, and I believe they loved me as well. They never treated me like an outsider or an inconvenience, for which I will always be grateful. But it wasn't my family, and we all knew that. Plus, I figured out pretty quickly that my foster dad was also the researcher assigned to evaluate my progress, as it were."

"So you were essentially a science experiment he'd brought home from work."

Ouch. I'm sure that wasn't intended to be an insult, but the blunt phrasing of the statement stung. "I guess I was. It was subtle, though, and didn't interfere with how he treated me. Sometimes I'd notice him out of the corner of my eye scribbling down notes or tapping his chin with a ballpoint pen while contemplating something."

Are those tears collecting at the corners of Zee's eyes? I can't imagine what I'd said that would touch him enough to cry. Lots of kids who land in foster care have experiences a whole lot worse than mine, so I have no reason to complain. Zach blinks too quickly for me to tell for certain, though, so I pretend like I didn't notice anything.

"I guess I never really thought about how lucky I was to have such a loving and supportive family," he says. "I'm still lucky. I didn't spend a lot of time with other kids my age, so I don't have much to compare it to."

"Hey." I shake my head and pat his hand where it rests on the table. "Don't feel guilty for growing up in a great home. Appreciate it."

He nods but doesn't look me in the eye when I speak. From anyone else the intense sympathy would seem overdone, but I can tell he's one hundred percent sincere. Meeting his parents explains some of that.

I blink furiously for a moment to bring my focus back to the conversation. "Anyway, I spent two years with the scientist and his family. Up until that point they never thought they'd have kids, but shortly after I arrived they found out she was pregnant—with twins. Even though I got stuck with more poop duty and vomit cleanup than any teenager should ever be subjected to, I was happy. At least, as happy as a teenager on the cusp of rebellion could be."

Zach laughs at that. "I seem to have skipped over the requirement for teenage rebellion."

"Don't worry," I say. "You're still technically in your teens until your next birthday, so you've got plenty of time to rebel before you become a boring adult. Though I doubt there's much you could do to shock your parents. They are rather, uh, lax about certain teenage behaviors."

That comment is met with stony silence.

"Well, it's true." I take another sip of horchata, though by now the cinnamon has settled at the bottom and I nearly choke on the potency. "Either way, your parents are awesome and I would steal them for my own if I could."

Zee does choke on his horchata, which he'd been sipping while I spoke.

I pound on his back. "Careful, dude. It'd be awkward giving a potential sibling mouth-to-mouth. People might misunderstand." I say the last with my hand covering the side of my mouth, like it's some big secret. He really scowls at me then. I grin at him in response.

"Oh, come on, you know I'm kidding," I say.

"I know—" He coughs up the dregs of cinnamon and rice. I can't tell if the redness in his face is from embarrassment or the lack of oxygen. Probably both.

He downs the last of his water, and then reaches over the table to finish off mine. While he's busy with not dying, I take care of the check. By the time I get back, his face is reasonably calm, though his hair is a bit disheveled from all that violent hacking. It's strangely kind of cute.

When he stands, I hold out the crook of my arm to him. He takes it but smoothly transitions to where I'm holding onto him instead of the other way around. I refuse to consider whether that is some kind of cosmic sign about how things are going to go between us over the next few weeks. I've never relied on anyone before. Ever. The thought of doing so now terrifies me.