Touch

  “Wait—fully aware? You knew he was a Six?”

  Dad sighed. “Of course. It’s my job to know.”

  “What, do you guys like dump something into the water every night before bed? Is everyone in this town a freak?”

  “This area has the highest concentration of Sixes in the United States. We’re not sure why, but let’s just say it’s no coincidence that Denazen’s main office is located in Parkview.”

  “Damn right, I’m useful,” Alex piped up. “I’m resourceful and crafty and, best of all, my moral compass doesn’t point north.”

  “Is that so?” Dad sounded a bit intrigued. I even thought I saw a small grin.

  “It is,” Alex confirmed.

  Dad looked from Alex to me then back again. “And my daughter?”

  Alex shrugged. “What about her?”

  “What are your intentions?”

  “Buddy, if you’re asking if I plan on dating your daughter again, that’d be a big, resounding hell no. Way too high maintenance for me.”

  §

  I drove with Dad back to Denazen, and Alex followed in his own car.

  “You pissed about Alex?” No sense beating between the bushes. He’d been fairly quiet since we left the coffee house, and as usual, I couldn’t read his expression.

  “To tell you the truth, Deznee, I’m proud of you. You seem to be approaching this job with a new sense of responsibility and a level of maturity I didn’t think possible of you.”

  Ouch.

  “I’m recommending you start your field work within the next few days. I want you out there tracking down information on these underground Sixes as soon as possible. Something tells me our best way to find them is through you—and possibly Alex.”

  “Alex? As in you’re going to, like what, team us up or something?”

  “Would that be an issue?”

  Score! Could my luck get any better? I swallowed a grin and forced a frown. “Well, I’ll be honest, it’s not my idea of a party. He’s not my favorite person.”

  “You two seem pretty chummy.”

  “Um, hello? Trying to impress you by signing a new guy here. I have a feeling me walking up to him and sending his nuts up his throat wouldn’t exactly win him over to the idea of Denazen.”

  Dad laughed. He actually chuckled. I’d never heard him laugh before. If I didn’t loathe him so much, the sound would have made me smile. He flipped on the blinker and veered into the Denazen parking lot.

  “I think this is going to work out very well for everyone.”

  22

  They didn’t let me see Alex again the rest of that day. Or the next. Dad assured me he was fine and making progress with the good people at Denazen.

  I stood in front of the mirror, trying to decide if I should pull my hair back or leave it down. Brandt always loved it down. Said it made me look wild and that suited me. In the end, I went with what Brandt would have wanted.

  After all, this was his day.

  I smoothed my skirt and took one last look before grabbing the small, green wrapped package I’d been hoarding for months. Tucking it into my pocket, I went downstairs. Dad was waiting for me by the door, wearing one of the same suits he wore on a regular basis to work and looking at his watch. We were only a little late.

  The ride to the funeral home was too short, while at the same time too long. The atmosphere in the car was cold and uncomfortable, so I was eager to get out. Yet I was in no rush to arrive at our destination. My dead best friend. A depressing room. And lots of crying people—most of whom had known very little, if not nothing, about him—all gathered in one place. Not good times.

  I’d asked how Alex was doing the night before, but all Dad would tell me was they’d insisted he stay at Denazen during his training and I would get to see him tomorrow. I asked if he could be present for the funeral. Dad said no.

  So I was on my own, stuck in the front row of the church next to Aunt Cairn. The woman looked downright scary. With no makeup, she looked ten times older than I knew she was. Lips pursed in a thin line, her eyes stared straight ahead, trained on the mahogany casket set at the front of the church next to the altar. Father Kapshaw’s lips were moving—I’d catch a word here and there about tragedy—but honestly, I wasn’t paying attention.

  I focused on Dad, who sat in the front row next to Uncle Mark. Unlike his wife, Mark cried openly, clutching his brother’s hand for support and mumbling apologies to his dead son. It made me sick. Twice I had to bite down to keep from jumping up and screaming, it was his fault—not yours!

  The funeral home had been a bustle of activity. Friends and neighbors all dropping by to pay their respects and look in on the family. People I knew Brandt hadn’t seen in years surfaced from out of nowhere to mourn his passing. Boys he’d gone to high school with, girls who’d been madly in love with him, people he barely knew—all claiming to be his best friends. It made me want to scream. They all stood in the corner, trying to one-up each other in barely contained whispers.

  “I talked to Brandt the night before it happened! He sounded like he was freaked about something!” This from Manny Fallow, a guy Brandt never liked and who he’d gone out of his way to avoid every single day since the fourth grade. The guy always smelled like mothballs.

  “We had a date this coming Friday. We were so into each other.” This from Gina Barnes, an old junior high girlfriend he hadn’t spoken to in years. Into each other? Brandt had said just a month ago what a skank Gina had turned into. He wouldn’t have touched her with a forty-foot pole.

  “We were getting an apartment together next month. He already put down his half of the deposit,” remarked Victor Jensen, a fellow employee of the skate shop where Brandt worked. I knew for a fact that he and Victor had thrown down two weeks ago after Brandt found him stealing cash from the register.

  It was all too much.

  Thankfully, the church service and actual burial were family only. And since our family now only consisted of me, Dad, Uncle Mark, and Aunt Cairn, the church stayed pretty empty. Well, my mom was still a member of the family, but how can you count someone you weren’t supposed to know about?

  Father Kapshaw finished his sermon and blessed the casket as six men filed out from behind the altar to lift it. I had to bite down hard to keep from lashing out as they passed. All six men wore the same cookie-cutter blue suit. Dad was a bastard.

  We filed into the aisle as they passed, one by one, and followed them to the hearse. On the way out into the parking lot, I saw a guy standing off to the side. He wore simple black jeans and a brown button-down shirt. I remembered seeing him at the funeral home, but he hadn’t stood with the others from school. He’d stayed at the edge of the room, speaking to no one, eyes sad. He said nothing to us as we passed, only watched as the six men from Denazen loaded Brandt into the back of the creepy black car for the trip to his final destination.

  As we drove away, I looked back. The guy was gone.

  §

  The sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds as Father Kapshaw gave another longer speech about the tragedy of losing someone so young and full of life. He droned on and on about Brandt’s charity within the community and his gentle, soft-spoken kindness.

  Under me, the metal folding chair slowly sank into the mud.

  Above my head, a large, buzzing fly circled continuously.

  Next to me, Aunt Cairn began to hum.

  “The peaceful soul of Brandt Cross will be with us forever. He will be remembered as a charitable soul who always had a kind word for all he—”

  I wanted to jump up and call bullshit. I wanted to pull off my shoe and throw it at Father Kapshaw’s head. At that moment, I would have given the world’s supply of mint chocolate chip to see it imbedded in his pompous face. Hell, I would have settled for flipping them off and sto
rming away. But as I told myself before, this was Brandt’s day. The last thing I was going to allow was some bogus speech that said nothing about who he’d really been. Instead of making a scene, I stood, interrupting the Father’s fluffy speech with one of my own. One Brandt would have truly appreciated.

  “Brandt was a lot of things, but a soft-spoken, charitable soul with a kind word for all isn’t one of them.” I balled my fingers, nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my tone even. The sting kept me focused. “Brandt was a foul-mouthed pothead who loved his signed Tony Hawk skateboard above anything else. He hated crowds and loved sushi. Brandt believed in animal rights, hell, he never even killed a bug, and hated war. He was loyal and stubborn, and none of you knew him at all.” Unable to control it any longer, my voice broke and I turned away, leaving them to their fake sermon and empty words. I didn’t look back.

  I didn’t wander far—just out of sight and across to a large white marble mausoleum. I needed some air, and sitting there with that bunch of posers was choking the life out of me.

  “That was awesome,” a voice said beside me.

  I jumped, skimming along the smooth marble wall.

  “Sorry,” the guy said. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

  “I saw you at the funeral home. And outside the church.”

  “Yeah.”

  When he didn’t offer anything more, I pressed. “Okay, so who are you?”

  “I’m Sheltie. Friend of Brandt’s. I’m sorry we never got the chance to meet. He talked about you all the time.”

  Sheltie. The name didn’t ring any bells, but he looked a little familiar. Like a face I’d passed in the halls at school or someone in the background at parties. With a head of thick, sandy brown hair and shoulders any linebacker would have envied, he was kind of cute. Not my type—but cute. He was rolling something in his left hand. A small, circular black thing with a red stripe down the middle. Horrified, I realized what it was. “Is that—”

  He held it out, nodding. Rolling his thumb over the once-smooth surface, he said, “One of the wheels off Brandt’s board.”

  I went to take it from him, but he jerked it away. “What the hell are you doing with it?” I demanded.

  He hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Board broke a few days ago. I fix ’em.”

  “Why did you bring it here?”

  He snorted. “Did you even know Brandt? He slept with that damn board. I thought a piece of it should be here, ya know?”

  Why hadn’t I thought of that? It was true and thoughtful. I felt like a bad best friend for not coming up with it on my own. Glancing back to the crowd, I said, “I didn’t see you. How did you hear what I said?”

  He shrugged, tapping the side of his head. “Killer hearing.” He pulled out a small envelope from his back pocket and held it out. “Brandt asked me to give this to you.”

  “What is it?”

  Another shrug. “I didn’t open it.”

  I took it but didn’t look inside. Instead, I stuffed it into my jacket pocket. It slid in, right next to the small box wrapped in green paper. “Why would he give you something to pass along to me?”

  He sank down along the wall and settled in the grass. Rolling the wheel along the edge of the mausoleum, he said, “He didn’t like what you were doing with that Kale guy. It worried him. Said he knew you’d never back down.”

  What would Brandt have said if he’d seen me almost give it all up two days ago at Alex’s apartment? “He told you about that?”

  “We were pretty tight.” He picked up a blade of grass and twirled it between his thumb and index finger. “I know he loved you.”

  “I loved him, too.” Guilt gnawed at my insides. “It’s my fault. I asked him to do me a favor.”

  “Probably,” he said. He didn’t say it in an accusing way, just matter-of-fact. Still, it hit like a brick to the face. He reminded me a lot of Brandt. His in-your-face answers were blunt but not cruel.

  “My dad had something to do with his death. I know it.” I don’t know why I said it—Sheltie was a total stranger—but something about him was comforting. I trusted him…which was pretty stupid considering the amount of betrayal bouncing around my world.

  “I agree.” He got to his feet. “There’s one other thing. Something he asked me to tell you. He said you’d be wondering, and he knew how you hated unanswered questions.”

  “Okay…”

  “Brandt was a Six. He told me he tried to tell you a few days ago…” He shrugged. “But too late, I guess.”

  I couldn’t be mad at him for keeping it from me. I’d done exactly the same thing. And now I wouldn’t get the chance to make it right. “Are you a Six?”

  He gave me a sly smile. “I still say you should get the hell out of Dodge.”

  I froze. “What?”

  Silence.

  “What did you say?”

  He tried to play it cool, but failed. There was a look of horror in his eyes.

  “You said, I still say you should get the hell out of Dodge.”

  “So?”

  “That’s what Brandt said to me the last time I saw him.”

  “I told you, we thought a lot alike.” Sheltie stood, brushing the dirt from his faded black jeans. He pocketed the skateboard wheel and took several steps back.

  “You can’t still say something to someone you’ve never met before.”

  He shrugged. “I just did.”

  With nothing further to say, Sheltie turned on his heel and strode away without looking back. I got to my feet to follow, but Dad’s voice stopped me.

  “Deznee?”

  I stepped out from around the Mausoleum. “Here, Dad.”

  “It’s over. Everyone is leaving.” He stepped forward and looked over my shoulder—like he expected to see someone hiding there. “I’ll be in the car.”

  I nodded and watched him go. Once he and everyone else was out of sight, I made my way back to the burial site.

  The wind had picked up, knocking some of the flower arrangements to the ground. The top of the tent whipped back and forth, snapping like mad in the breeze. I bent down and pulled a white rose from one of the arrangements.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” I asked the silent brown box. “Why would you do something so stupid? I told you to back off…”

  Of course, I got no reply.

  If wishes were horses…well, then I’d probably get trampled.

  I stood there for a few moments more, just watching the wind whip the fake green grass-like cover at the base of the casket back and forth. I pulled the small green wrapped box from my pocket and brought it to my lips. Tickets to XtreamScream, our local version of the X games. Now he’d never go.

  I dropped it into the open grave along with the single white rose.

  “Happy Birthday, Brandt.

  23

  On the way back to the car, I overheard Dad and one of the men who’d carried the casket from the church talking. Dad spoke much louder than normal, so I could only guess he wanted me to hear. They’d made the decision to terminate Kale. Tainted, Dad said to the man. Ruined. They planned to bleed him dry and be done with it. Apparently, a suitable synthetic substitute for his blood had finally been found. They didn’t need him anymore.

  I had to act fast, but had no idea what I could do. There was no way for me to get past security and up to the ninth floor where he was being held.

  “I have a few things to take care of at work,” Dad said on our way back to the house. “I’m dropping you home to change. A car will be by in forty minutes to take you to Denazen. Mercy will be waiting to do another round of questioning. A car will return you home after she’s finished.”

  “More questions?”

  Dad nodded. “Yes. Tomorrow, you head into th
e field.”

  §

  “How have you been, Dez?”

  Today, dressed in an unflattering, tailored pantsuit the exact same revolting shade as pea soup, Mercy sat across from me sipping tea from a small china cup. “Have you found the rules here at Denazen hard to follow?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve never been a stickler for the rules.”

  “So I’ve heard.” She nodded and gave me a knowing grin. “You think you have it all figured out then?”

  “I’m sure I have plenty to learn.”

  “I have a list of specific questions here, as requested by your father.”

  I tried not to look concerned, but obviously I failed.

  “Does that worry you?”

  “Should it?”

  “Possibly.”

  I leaned back, trying to relax, and gave her my best go-for-it smile. “Let’s find out.”

  “This morning you were at your cousin’s funeral,” she said without emotion. “When did you last see him?”

  They knew. “A few days ago.”

  “And where did you see him?”

  Crapcrapcrap. “The Graveyard.”

  “Graveyard? What were you doing in the cemetery?”

  “Not the cemetery, the Graveyard. It’s a place we all go to party.”

  Mercy nodded and jotted something down on a piece of paper. “And what did you talk about?”

  I swallowed. “Not much.”

  Mercy set her pen down and sighed. She stood from her chair and stepped around to the front of the desk. “Let’s take a break from the questions for a minute, shall we? Let me explain a little about how my gift works.” She leaned forward and placed a clipboard in my hands. She set the paper she had been writing on onto the clipboard and tilted it up a hair.

  I looked down at the clipboard and bit back a gasp.

  Keep this tilted up. The camera cannot see it that way. We’re going to end this session early. Meet me in the B section of the parking lot. I’m one of Ginger’s people. When I ask you to read, say the following: My name is Dez and I’m a seventeen-year-old honor student.