Uninvited (Uninvited, #1)(7)

Anxiety gnaws at me as I try to process how everyone will react. I remind myself that it’s just a few months until graduation when everything is about to change anyway. But then that leads to thoughts of the future, college. I’ve been expelled. What now? Will my new HTS status prevent me from going to Juilliard? I groan and rub my hands over my face. I don’t know. Don’t know anything anymore. Except what I am. What I’m not. Not a killer.

A knock sounds at my door and it pushes open. My brother stands there. “Hey.”

He looks like Mom. Brown eyes and dark hair. I’ve got the eyes but lighter hair. Like Dad. My father is mostly gray now, but when he was younger he had blond hair. Mom met him when he was lifeguarding at the country club. She said he looked like a young Brad Pitt. Whoever that was.

Mitchell wears his hair long and shaggy. Not because of any style he’s going for. He’s just too lazy to care. Staring at him now, I know Mom told him. He knows.

I force a smile. “Guess you’re not the family troublemaker anymore, huh?”

“Shut up,” he says without heat. He digs his hands into his pockets and walks into my room. Dropping his slender frame down on the bed beside me, he announces, “It’s crap. You know that. No one can predict the future. Your future.”

Sitting up, I cross my legs and drag a pillow into my lap. “There’s something to it. Why else are they testing people? You see the news? Some states even have special camps—”

“Yeah. Like ass-backward states. Not here.” He shakes his head. “You’ll see. In a few years, they’ll say HTS is all bogus. Some doctors will come up with something to discount the validity of it and all that.” He waves a hand like he’s swatting a fly. His gazes captures and holds mine.

I want to believe that. Really I do. That in a few years, maybe even sooner, all this will be a bad memory.

He leans onto his side. “There are a lot of bad people out there, Dav. These are dangerous times. People are scared. And when people are scared they need to feel in control. HTS lets people feel like they still have control against all the bogeymen out there.” He squeezes my arm. “No way are you one of them. Anyone can take a look at you and see that.”

I nod, his words feeding me hope. “In the meantime, I’m uninvited from Everton.”

“Everton sucks. I tried to get kicked out of that place but Dad kept getting me back in.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. It feels good.

He gently nudges my shoulder. “Hey. You’ll be fine. Everyone loves you. You’re, like, perfect—”

I sigh. “Mitchell. I’m not.”

“I’m serious.” His brown eyes look earnestly into mine. “This will all blow over.”

“I just want my life to stay the same,” I mumble into my pillow. “Or at least continue according to plan.”

It was a great plan, too.

“I know.” He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “But nothing ever stays the same, Davy. You just have to adapt. . . . Show them this HTS is all a load of shit.” He laughs brokenly. “I mean, if anyone in this family is a carrier, it should be me. I’m the screwup.”

Suddenly, my phone rings again. I stare at it for a moment, waiting for it to stop ringing. I guess Zac isn’t ready to give up on me yet. Hopefully, that won’t ever change.

“You’re going to have to tell him. Better if he hears it from you anyway. He’ll understand.”

I nod and squeeze my pillow tighter like I can crush all my fears and the ugly reality of this day. “I know. Tomorrow.”





UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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* * *





Tori

6:45 p.m.

Hey thgt we were studyin 2night u coming over?


8:11 p.m.

Tori

U there??? I’m starting to worry


Tori

10:58 p.m.

What’s wrong??? R U mad at me???


Tori

11:34 p.m.

Pls answer ur phone





THREE




MOM DROPS ME AT THE FRONT DOOR WHILE SHE hunts for a parking space. She’s paranoid I’m going to be late. Like the police will appear if I’m one minute late or something. It’s the “or something,” the not knowing anything anymore, that makes her nervous. The ground hasn’t just shifted beneath our feet; it’s been ripped away entirely.

I feel groggy from lack of sleep. A dull ache throbs at my temples. I still haven’t talked to Zac. I sent him a message saying I was sick and not to pick me up for school. I figured that might also offer some explanation for my ignoring him last night. It’s a reprieve. For now at least.

A receptionist sits at a desk in the lobby of the Wainwright Agency. Very utilitarian. Like most government buildings. Behind her, the first floor stretches into a labyrinth of cubicles. Phones ring. Voices hum in a low drone.

I give her my name and she motions for me to take a seat on a row of chairs lining a wall.

I move numbly and sink into hard plastic. I tuck my hands under my thighs and stare ahead with dry eyes. Even though I ignored Zac’s calls, I listened to his voice mails, letting the sound of his voice bleed into my heart. I’ll have to tell him today, and even though I know he’ll still love me, I can’t help worrying he’ll look at me just a little bit differently. The way Mom does.