Ignite Me

“Yeah, well.” Kenji nods. “Apparently that doesn’t mean he wants to lose all his friends at once.”

  I shake my head. “He’s not being fair.”

  “I know,” Kenji says. Sighs again. “Anyway, it’s good to see you, princess, but I’m tired as hell. And hungry. Grumpy. You know.” He makes a haphazard motion with his hand. Slumps to the floor.

  He’s not telling me something.

  “What’s wrong?” I sit down across from him and lower my voice.

  He looks up, meets my eyes.

  “I miss James, okay? I miss that kid.” Kenji sounds so tired. I can actually see the exhaustion in his eyes. “I didn’t want to leave him behind.”

  My heart sinks fast.

  Of course.

  James.

  “I’m so sorry. I wish there’d been a way we could’ve brought him with us.”

  Kenji flicks an imaginary piece of lint off his shirt. “It’s probably safer for him where he is,” he says, but it’s obvious he doesn’t believe a word of it. “I just wish Kent would stop being such a dick.”

  I cringe.

  “This could all be amazing if he would just get his shit together,” Kenji says. “But no, he has to go and get all weird and crazy and dramatic.” He blows out a breath. “He’s so freaking emotional,” Kenji says suddenly. “Everything is such a big deal to him. He can’t just let things go. He can’t just be cool and move on with his life. I just . . . I don’t know. Whatever. I just wish James were here. I miss him.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again.

  Kenji makes a weird face. Waves his hand at nothing. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

  I look up and find that everyone else has dispersed.

  Castle, Ian, Alia, and Lily are heading to the locker room, while Winston and Brendan wander around the facility. They’re touching the rock wall right now, having a conversation I can’t hear.

  I scoot closer to Kenji. Prop my head in my hands.

  “So,” he says. “I don’t see you for twenty-four hours and you and Warner go from let’s-hug-in-super-dramatic-fashion to let-me-give-you-an-ice-cold-shoulder, huh?” Kenji is tracing shapes into the mats underneath us. “Must be an interesting story there.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “You’re seriously not going to tell me what happened?” He looks up, offended. “I tell you everything.”

  “Sure you don’t.”

  “Don’t be fresh.”

  “What’s really going on, Kenji?” I study his face, his weak attempt at humor. “You seem different today. Off.”

  “Nothing,” he mumbles. “I told you. I just didn’t want to leave James.”

  “But that’s not all, is it?”

  He says nothing.

  I look into my lap. “You can tell me anything, you know. You’ve always been there for me and I’ll always be here if you need to talk, too.”

  Kenji rolls his eyes. “Why do you have to make me feel all guilty about not wanting to participate in share-your-feelings-story-time?”

  “I’m n—”

  “I’m just—I’m in a really shitty mood, okay?” He looks off to the side. “I feel weird. Like I just want to be pissed off today. Like I just want to punch people in the face for no reason.”

  I pull my knees up to my chest. Rest my chin on my knees. Nod. “You’ve had a hard day.”

  He grunts. Nods and looks at the wall. Presses a fist into the mat. “Sometimes I just get really tired, you know?” He stares at his fist, at the shapes he makes by pressing his knuckles into the soft, spongy material. “Like I just get really fed up.” His voice is suddenly so quiet, it’s almost like he’s not talking to me at all. I can see his throat move, the emotions caught in his chest. “I keep losing people,” he says. “It’s like every day I’m losing people. Every goddamn day. I’m so sick of it—I’m so sick and tired of it—”

  “Kenji—,” I try to say.

  “I missed you, J.” He’s still studying the mats. “I wish you’d been there last night.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  “I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

  “I thought you didn’t like talking about your feelings,” I tease him, trying to lighten the mood.

  He doesn’t bite.

  “It just gets really heavy sometimes.” He looks away. “Too heavy. Even for me. And some days I don’t want to laugh,” he says. “I don’t want to be funny. I don’t want to give a shit about anything. Some days I just want to sit on my ass and cry. All day long.” His hands stop moving against the mats. “Is that crazy?” he asks quietly, still not meeting my gaze.

  I blink hard against the stinging in my eyes. “No,” I tell him. “No, that’s not crazy at all.”

  He stares at the floor. “Hanging out with you has made me weird, J. All I do is sit around thinking about my feelings these days. Thanks for that.”

  I crawl forward and hug him right around the middle and he responds immediately, wrapping me up against him. My face is pressed to his chest and I can hear his heart beating so hard. He’s still hurting so badly right now, and I keep forgetting that. I need to not forget that.

  I cling to him, wishing I could ease his pain. I wish I could take his burdens and make them mine.

  “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says.

  “What is?”

  “If we were naked right now, I’d be dead.”

  “Shut up,” I say, laughing against his chest. We’re both wearing long sleeves, long pants. As long as my face and hands don’t touch his skin, he’s perfectly safe.

  “Well, it’s true.”

  “In what alternate universe would I ever be naked with you?”

  “I am just saying,” he says. “Shit happens. You never know.”

  “I think you need a girlfriend.”

  “Nah,” he says. “I just need a hug. From my friend.”

  I lean back to look at him. Try to read his eyes. “You’re my best friend, Kenji. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, kid.” He grins at me. “I do. And I can’t believe I got stuck with your skinny ass.”

  I break free of his arms. Narrow my eyes at him.

  He laughs. “So how’s the new boyfriend?”

  My smiles fall away. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Are you sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure Romeo wouldn’t have let us come live with him if he weren’t a little bit madly in love with you.”

  I look into my hands. “Maybe one day Warner and I will learn to be friends.”

  “Seriously?” Kenji looks shocked. “I thought you were super into him?”

  I shrug. “I’m . . . attracted to him.”

  “But?”

  “But Warner still has a long way to go, you know?”

  “Well, yeah,” Kenji says. Exhales. Leans back. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

  We both say nothing for a while.

  “This shit is still super freaking weird, though,” Kenji says all of a sudden.

  “What do you mean?” I glance up. “Which part?”

  “Warner,” Kenji says. “Warner is so freaking weird to me right now.” Kenji looks at me. Really looks at me. “You know—in all my time on base, I never saw him have, like, a single casual conversation with a soldier before. Never. He was ice cold, J. Ice. Cold,” he says again. “He never smiled. Never laughed. Never showed any emotion. And he never, ever talked unless he was issuing orders. He was like a machine,” Kenji says. “And this?” He points at the elevator. “This guy who just left here? The guy who showed up at the house yesterday? I don’t know who the hell that is. I can’t even wrap my mind around it right now. Shit is unreal.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I say to him, surprised. “I had no idea he was like that.”

  “He wasn’t like that with you?” Kenji asks. “When you first got here?”

  “No,” I say. “He was always pretty . . . animated with me. Not, like, nice animated,” I clarify, “but, I mean . . . I don’t know. He talke
d a lot.” I’m silent as the memories resurface. “He was always talking, actually. That’s kind of all he ever did. And he smiled at me all the time.” I pause. “I thought he was doing it on purpose. To make fun of me. Or try to scare me.”

  Kenji leans back on his hands. “Yeah, no.”

  “Huh,” I say, my eyes focused on a point in the distance.

  Kenji sighs. “Is he . . . like . . . nice to you, at least?”

  I look down. Stare at my feet. “Yeah,” I whisper. “He’s really nice to me.”

  “But you guys are not an item or anything?”

  I make a face.

  “Okay,” Kenji says quickly, holding up both hands. “All right—I was just curious. This is a judgment-free zone, J.”

  I snort. “Yeah it isn’t.”

  Kenji relaxes a little. “You know, Adam really thinks you and Warner are, like, a thing now.”

  I roll my eyes. “Adam is stupid.”

  “Tsk, tsk, princess. We need to talk about your language—”

  “Adam needs to tell Warner they’re brothers.”

  Kenji looks up, alarmed. “Lower your voice,” he whispers. “You can’t just go around saying that. You know how Kent feels about it.”

  “I think it’s unfair. Warner has a right to know.”

  “Why?” Kenji says. “You think he and Kent are going to become besties all of a sudden?”

  I look at him then, my eyes steady, serious. “James is his brother, too, Kenji.”

  Kenji’s body goes stiff, his face blank. His eyes widen, just a little.

  I tilt my head. Raise an eyebrow.

  “I didn’t even . . . wow,” he says. He presses a fist to his forehead. “I didn’t even think about that.”

  “It’s not fair to either of them,” I say. “And I really think Warner would love to know he has brothers in this world. At least James and Adam have each other,” I say. “But Warner has always been alone.”

  Kenji is shaking his head. Disbelief etched across his features. “This just keeps getting more and more twisted,” he says. “It’s like you think it couldn’t possibly get more convoluted, and then, bam.”

  “He deserves to know, Kenji,” I say again. “You know Warner at least deserves to know. It’s his right. It’s his blood, too.”

  Kenji looks up. Sighs. “Damn.”

  “If Adam doesn’t tell him,” I say, “I will.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  I stare at him. Hard.

  “That’s messed up, J.” Kenji looks surprised. “You can’t do that.”

  “Why do you keep calling me J?” I ask him. “When did that even happen? You’ve already given me, like, fifty different nicknames.”

  He shrugs. “You should be flattered.”

  “Oh really?” I say. “Nicknames are flattering, huh?”

  He nods.

  “Then how about I call you Kenny?”

  Kenji crosses his arms. Stares me down. “That’s not even a little bit funny.”

  I grin. “It is, a little bit.”

  “How about I call your new boyfriend King Stick-Up-His-Ass?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend, Kenny.”

  Kenji shoots me a warning look. Points at my face. “I am not amused, princess.”

  “Hey, don’t you need to shower?” I ask him.

  “So now you’re telling me I smell.”

  I roll my eyes.

  He clambers to his feet. Sniffs his shirt. “Damn, I do kind of smell, don’t I?”

  “Go,” I say. “Go and hurry back. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  We’re all sitting on benches around the training room. Warner is sitting next to me and I’m doing everything I can to make sure our shoulders don’t accidentally touch.

  “All right, so, first things first, right?” Winston says, looking around. “We have to get Sonya and Sara back. The question is how.” A pause. “We have no idea how to get to the supreme.”

  Everyone looks at Warner.

  Warner looks at his watch.

  “Well?” Kenji says.

  “Well, what?” Warner says, bored.

  “Well, aren’t you going to help us?” Ian snaps. “This is your territory.”

  Warner looks at me for the first time all evening. “You’re absolutely sure you trust these people?” he asks me. “All of them?”

  “Yes,” I say quietly. “I really do.”

  “Very well.” Warner takes a deep breath before addressing the group. “My father,” he says calmly, “is on a ship. In the middle of the ocean.”

  “He’s on a ship?” Kenji asks, startled. “The capital is a ship?”

  “Not exactly.” Warner hesitates. “But the point is, we have to lure him here. Going to him will not work. We have to create a problem big enough for him to be forced to come to us.” He looks at me then. “Juliette says she already has a plan.”

  I nod. Take a deep breath. Study the faces before me. “I think we should take over Sector 45.”

  Stunned silence.

  “I think, together,” I tell them, “we’ll be able to convince the soldiers to fight on our side. At the end of the day, no one is benefiting from The Reestablishment except for the people in charge. The soldiers are tired and hungry and probably only took this job because there were no other options.” I pause. “We can rally the civilians and the soldiers. Everyone in the sector. Get them to join us. And they know me,” I say. “The soldiers. They’ve already seen me—they know what I can do. But all of us together?” I shake my head. “That would be amazing. We could show them that we’re different. Stronger. We can give them hope—a reason to fight back.

  “And then,” I say, “once we have their support, news will spread, and Anderson will be forced to come back here. He’ll have to try and take us down—he’ll have no other choice. And once he’s back, we take him out. We fight him and his army and we win. And then we take over the country.”

  “My goodness.”

  Castle is the first to speak.

  “Ms. Ferrars,” he says, “you’ve given this a great deal of thought.”

  I nod.

  Kenji is looking at me like he’s not sure if he should laugh or applaud.

  “What do you think?” I ask, looking around.

  “What if it doesn’t work?” Lily says. “What if the soldiers are too scared to change their allegiance? What if they kill you instead?”

  “That’s a definite possibility,” I say. “But I think if we’re strong enough—if the nine of us stand united, with all of our strengths combined—I think they’ll believe we can do something pretty amazing.”

  “Yeah but how will they know what our strengths are?” Brendan asks. “What if they don’t believe us?”

  “We can show them.”

  “And if they shoot us?” Ian counters.

  “I can do it alone, if you’re worried about that. I don’t mind. Kenji was teaching me how to project my energy before the war, and I think if I can learn to master that, I could do some pretty scary things. Things that might impress them enough to join us.”

  “You can project?” Winston asks, eyes wide. “You mean you can, like, mass-kill everyone with your life-sucking thing?”

  “Um, no,” I say. “I mean, well, yes, I suppose I could do that, too, but I’m not talking about that. I mean I can project my strength. Not the . . . life-sucking thing—”

  “Wait, what strength?” Brendan asks, confused. “I thought it’s your skin that’s lethal?”

  I’m about to respond when I remember that Brendan and Winston and Ian were all taken hostage before I’d begun to seriously train. I don’t know that they knew much about my progress at all.

  So I start from the top.

  “My . . . power,” I say, “has to do with more than just my skin.” I glance at Kenji. Gesture to him. “We’d been working together for a while, trying to figure out what it was, exactly, I was capable of, and Kenji realize
d that my true energy is coming from deep within me, not the surface. It’s in my bones, my blood, and my skin,” I try to explain. “My real power is an insane kind of superstrength.

  “My skin is just one element of that,” I tell them. “It’s like the most heightened form of my energy, and the craziest form of protection; it’s like my body has put up a shield. Metaphorical barbed wire. It keeps intruders away.” I almost laugh, wondering when it became so easy for me to talk about this stuff. To be comfortable with it. “But I’m also strong enough to break through just about anything,” I tell them, “and without even injuring myself. Concrete. Brick. Glass—”

  “The earth,” Kenji adds.

  “Yes,” I say, smiling at him. “Even the earth.”

  “She created an earthquake,” Alia says eagerly, and I’m actually surprised to hear her voice. “During the first battle,” she tells Brendan and Winston and Ian. “When we were trying to save you guys. She punched the ground and it split open. That’s how we were able to get away.”

  The guys are gawking at me.

  “So, what I’m trying to say,” I tell them, “is that if I can project my strength, and really learn to control it? I don’t know.” I shrug. “I could move mountains, probably.”

  “That’s a bit ambitious.” Kenji grins, ever the proud parent.

  “Ambitious, but probably not impossible.” I grin back.

  “Wow,” Lily says. “So you can just . . . destroy stuff? Like, anything?”

  I nod. Glance at Warner. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” he says. His eyes are carefully inscrutable.

  I get to my feet and walk over to the stacks of dumbbells, all the while prepping myself mentally to tap into my energy. This is still the trickiest part for me: learning how to moderate my strength with finesse.

  I pick up a fifty-pound free weight and carry it over to the group.

  For a moment I wonder if this should feel heavy to me, especially considering how it weighs about half of what I do, but I can’t really feel it.

  I sit back down on the bench. Rest the weight on the ground.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Ian asks, eyes wide.

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask him.