The Similars (The Similars #1)(35)

Once duty ends, I race back to Cypress, fetch the package from under my mattress, and slit open the envelope with the beveled edge of my key. My hands tremble as I pull out the letter. It’s written in the bot-generated handwriting I recognize as Jane’s.

Dear Emmaline,

This letter has taken me weeks to write. I hope you are well, though I know it’s a loaded term. I hope you are better than I am. That’s not saying much, I suppose.

The days are long, and each one makes me feel like I’ve lost him a little more. I’m sorry I haven’t seen you since the funeral. We haven’t forgotten about you. You were always like a daughter to us.

Have you heard about the dedication ceremony? Booker and I donated a sizable fund to Darkwood for a new arts building in Oliver’s honor. We will be there after fall break when they break ground. I look forward to seeing you.

This is for you. There is a note enclosed…from him.

All my love,

Jane

A note from Oliver? My pulse thuds in my throat as I fish in the envelope for the hard object I felt when I first picked up the package. I pull out a gold key, and with a rush of emotion, I realize it must be Oliver’s. It was on a chain around his neck when I found him in his room, not breathing. Jane must have removed it before he was buried. And now, it’s mine.

The note is a folded scrap of paper. I weigh it in my hands. Whatever’s written there will be the last words from Oliver that I’ll ever read. I can’t open it. Not yet. I stuff the note in my hoodie pocket and make my way to the dining hall, suppressing tears.

One day passes into the next, and when I arrive at the library for my next duty, Levi isn’t sorting yet. He’s reading another paperback. I get close enough to glance at the cover. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

“It’s not what you think,” he says, snapping the book closed.

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“You were feeling sorry for me. The sad, test-tube clone. I don’t think I’m Frankenstein’s monster, you know. I don’t believe I’m a freak of nature. Though part of me has been struggling to figure out why I’m here, ever since I understood that I was different.”

Levi looks at the worn pages of his book. “Of course, Frankenstein’s monster wasn’t a mistake at all. He was quite wanted by his master, at least when he was first created. I can’t say the same for myself.” He pauses. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he says. “You really don’t remember her?”

“No.” I turn to the book cart. “For a lot of my childhood, I told myself I did. But when I was about ten, I realized I’d been recreating who I thought she was from old photographs. They weren’t memories at all. The mind can be quite convincing when it wants to be.”

“But you had a mother…once,” he says. “That means something, Emma. Not all of us can say the same.”

“So you didn’t…?”

“Have a mother?” he asks, turning to face me. “No. We had artificial wombs, motherless births. I believe we were the first babies to be successfully gestated outside a human body.”

I have to admit, I’m taken aback. “I always assumed a surrogate carried you,” I say softly.

“You and everyone else,” Levi quips. “But aren’t you lucky! You’ve got a real Similar, here in the flesh, to set the record straight. Go ahead—what else do you want to know?”

For some reason, I feel shy now—like I’m afraid to ask. “Um, if you didn’t have mothers or surrogates, did your guardian give you super formula?”

“Naturally. No one was there to nurse us, were they?” He adds, “But super formula is considered nutritionally superior to human breast milk, so it’s not like we were deprived.” The sarcasm in his voice is hard to miss.

I press on. “What was homeschooling like?”

Levi laughs sharply. “You could call it that. We had lessons from top specialists in every subject. They taught us everything from math and science to archery and forensics, but we never met any of them in person.”

“Forensics? Why would you learn that?”

He shrugs. “Our guardian thought it might come in handy.”

“And the martial arts?”

“I learned a mix of aikido, kung fu, and jujitsu with acrobatics and gymnastics.”

“You know all of those?”

“We each had to master a sport. That was mine. Surely you didn’t peg me as a basketball player.”

I ignore his joke. “Your guardian. Pippa mentioned him too,” I say as I stack some history books into a pile. The conversation is easier if I don’t look at him. “Who is he? What is he like? That night by the lake… You and Maude and Jago were talking about something he asked you to do. You called it deplorable,” I whisper.

“His name is Gravelle,” Levi says simply, ignoring the second part of my question.

“Gravelle,” I repeat. Levi Gravelle. “Like your last names?”

“He gave us his surname, and legally, he is like a father to us. He’s paid our expenses, educated us, raised us. In a sense.”

“Did you—? Was he—?” I stop, at a loss for how to pose this next question.

“Did he love us?” Levi finishes for me. “It’s okay. You can ask me.”