Your One & Only Page 8

  As much as his books had tried, they’d failed utterly to prepare him for what this was. Her touch burned. Her lips inflamed every part of his body as they caressed his own. He felt like an electric current was running through his skin. Her softness and warmth was like sinking into a bottomless pool that made him want to sink farther, and when her warmth enveloped him completely, he finally understood what loneliness truly was and that he’d been drowning in it his whole life.

  After, they lay side by side on the bed, and Jack ran his fingers along her brow. She touched his necklace, holding the bead so it faced the candle he’d lit. She ran her finger along the curve of the heart design.

  “Why do you wear this?” she said, contemplating the bead. “I’ve never seen a boy wear a necklace.”

  “Inga-296 made it.”

  He’d seen the older Nylas in the lab every day for the past year, but he’d never noticed before how their black lashes sloped up at the corners of their eyes or how their petal-soft skin smelled of violets.

  “They had a Binding Ceremony for her, didn’t they?”

  “Yes. The bead is made from a cohune nut we found in the jungle after she ran away from Vispera. She carved it one of the nights we were gone. I’ve worn it ever since.”

  Nyla’s nose wrinkled. “Why?”

  Jack had never known a clone to be sad in the face of death. It would be hard for Nyla to understand why he wore the bead. The clones simply moved on as if each life were replaceable. But his mother wasn’t replaceable, and he wanted Nyla to understand.

  “I don’t want to forget her, and the bead reminds me of her.”

  Nyla thought about that for a moment. “Why would she run away from Vispera?”

  “She’d fractured,” Jack said simply.

  “Well, it’s good they held the Binding.”

  Jack was silent, not wanting Nyla to hear the tightness in his throat. He’d never talked to anyone about his mother except Sam. He wished he knew more about her. He remembered her making him bowls of amaranth stirred with honey and then watching him run through the yard of the cottage. Sometimes he’d get so mad at her for turning him into such an outsider. He forgot how, back then, he always felt like he belonged. He felt loved.

  The night she ran away, he was seven. He remembered her panic. She was talking about the Council, and her sisters, and how the asthma that Sam had recently diagnosed meant he wasn’t safe anymore. She rushed haphazardly through the cottage, hurriedly packing mismatched shoes and random food. That first night in the jungle, she laughed with a tinge of hysteria at finding among their supplies a useless bag of cornstarch. She made a circle with it around their fire, telling him the white powder would magically keep out the snakes and bugs. She wrapped him in a blanket and then stayed up the whole night keeping watch.

  By the third night, Jack wanted to go home. He missed his bed; he was hungry. The nights were cold. She told him they had to keep walking, that they’d be safe once they crossed the mountains. They never reached the mountains, though. The Viktors caught up with them and forced them to go back to Vispera. They told Jack she was sick, and her sisters were suffering because of it. She fought them every step of the way, and once in Vispera, they rushed through the ceremony. Jack didn’t understand what was happening, and then they were holding her down, the needle that would kill her poised above her arm. She grabbed Sam, her fingers white as they pressed into the flesh of his neck. Protect him! she said. Promise me! Sam stumbled backward, repulsed by her vehemence and how unhinged she’d become.

  She died never hearing an answer from Sam, but he’d brought Jack to live in the little room in the lab, telling him the Inga had fractured, and there was nothing anyone could have done. Jack didn’t know what Sam ended up saying to the Council, but he was an experiment they let continue, asthma and all.

  Nyla continued to fondle the bead, making it wink in the flickering light of the candle. “If you like the Ingas so much, you could always Pair with them, too.”

  Jack’s hand covered hers, stilling the fingers that idly twirled the bead on its string. “I didn’t like her in that way. And I don’t like the other Ingas at all. I like you.” He turned to face her. “Nyla, why’d you come here?”

  “I wanted to. Are you sorry I did?”

  He held her close. “Of course not.”

  She tilted her head. “I was curious what it would be like with you.”

  “And?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious.

  “You’re different than the others during the Pairing.” Jack felt a twinge when she mentioned others she’d been with. He pushed the thought away. “With you,” she said, “it’s like you think the whole world might end if we stop.”

  “Maybe it would.” He smiled.

  She shoved him playfully. “I was going to teach you the rituals and what the Nylas like. That’s usually how it is with the first year of Pairing. I mean, if someone hasn’t been with a Nyla before. You show him what to do to pleasure us, and he’ll show you what pleasures the model he belongs to.”

  Jack’s discomfort intensified the more she talked about it, but he didn’t want her to stop. He wanted to hear everything, know everything about her. “Show me,” he said. “Show me what you like.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. You make it seem like none of the rituals matter. Does that make sense?”

  Jack leaned over her. “Show me anyway. I want to know.”

  She smiled, slipping out from under him. “I have to go.”

  He drew her back into his arms, where she settled for a minute before she sat up again and collected her robes. Jack leaned on his elbows, watching her dress. “Do you have to leave?”

  She looked at him strangely. “Don’t be silly. My sisters are expecting me.”

  He grasped her wrist, pulling her down to sit on the edge of the bed, and ran his fingers along her arm. “Can I see you again tomorrow?”

  She laughed. “I can’t tomorrow.”

  “When?”

  “You will,” she said. She stood up and then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “But listen, don’t talk about this, okay? Let it be our secret.”

  “Okay,” Jack said. “But wait, I don’t even know . . . which Nyla are you? I don’t even know.”

  “Nyla-314,” she said, laughing again.

  After she left, Jack lay in bed with his hand resting on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart pulsing into every corner of his body. He fought to keep his eyes open for fear he’d fall asleep and miss a moment of the peace that had come over him, a peace he’d never known was possible.

  Chapter Seven

  Althea

  The Council was talking about the cornfields, and Althea was finding it difficult to pay attention. She hadn’t seen Jack since spending that awful night locked in his room, but for reasons she didn’t understand, she couldn’t get him out of her mind.

  Althea had always been so proud that she was an Althea, the model that was supposed to be full of compassion and understanding. She hadn’t been very understanding that night. She and Carson were the ones who barged in on Jack, and Carson-312—​all the Carsons in fact—​had made a game out of tormenting Jack anytime they saw him. Jack took it all silently, with only the tense muscles of his jaw betraying emotion.

  For some reason, the image of Jack climbing that tree to rescue the injured monkey kept coming back to Althea. The monkey had died in the end. The Ingas mocked Jack when he took the body outside and buried it in the ground, a strange, human ritual. The Ingas were as bad as the Carsons sometimes, blaming Jack for Inga-296 fracturing years ago. The more Althea thought about Jack, the more she realized how terrible everyone had been to him. True, no one ever attacked him the way he had Carson, but Althea was beginning to understand that there were other ways to hurt someone. And she’d thought it didn’t have anything to do with her, but it did, didn’t it? She could have at least tried harder to be nice.

  She thought perhaps she should go to him and apologize.

 
; “It’s sabotage!” Carson-292 yelled suddenly, startling Althea back to the meeting.

  They were still talking about the cornfields. A whole section of field had failed, and when they tested the soil, they found the ground had been doused with vinegar. No one knew how it happened. The Hassan at the table in charge of food production was alarmed.

  “If it was the same vinegar we use to treat weeds,” Inga said, “it must have been an accident. The machines in that particular field simply malfunctioned.”

  “The machines can’t hold enough vinegar to drown a whole field,” Carson-292 said. “This was no accident. This was purposeful.”

  “Who would sabotage the field, Carson? That’s our food,” Samuel-299 said. “If the crops fail, we all suffer. No one in Vispera would do such a thing.”

  The Samuel was right. The community always worked together. The idea of any brothers or sisters sabotaging Vispera was inconceivable. They’d only be hurting themselves. It simply made no sense.

  Carson-292 raised his eyebrows. “No one?” he said.

  Samuel-299 glared. “It wasn’t Jack.”

  “And I suppose it wasn’t him who stole the timers for the amniotic tanks? We can’t have him wandering around, free to do whatever he wants.”

  “We should lock him in the labs again,” Hassan said. “This wasn’t some prank. We’ll have grain shortages in the fall now, and nothing to send to Copan.”

  After several more moments of discussion, the Council adjourned the meeting, and Althea caught Samuel-299 as he headed for the door.

  “Samuel?” she said.

  His eyes grazed over her face. He was distracted by the debate inside, the way they’d all accused Jack.

  “Can I help you, Althea?” he said.

  “I wanted to say that I was sorry.” Samuel clearly had no idea what she was talking about. She continued, “About Jack, I mean. I feel like that night I could have been nicer about everything. I was mad, and I took it out on him. Not that he was really nice about anything, but anyway—” She shook her head. “That’s not the point.” She stopped and thought out what she really wanted to say. “You remember that day when you taught our class, the day you brought Jack to school?”

  Samuel-299’s mouth turned down. “Of course.”

  “That day, you told us to behave. You told us, actually, to be kind. We weren’t very kind. And no one has been very kind since.”

  “The Carsons tend to—”

  “No, I don’t just mean the Carsons,” Althea said. The Samuel might not know how badly her Gen had treated Jack whenever they’d seen him around town. How they mocked him, called him names, tried to get him to lose the control he always seemed to be clinging to. “The Carsons behave badly sometimes, but that’s nothing new. It’s the others, too. And those of us who don’t do anything about it, we’re just as bad, aren’t we?”

  Althea couldn’t see Samuel-299’s face. He seemed to be studying the palm of his hand, rubbing it with his thumb. Maybe he was thinking of himself that day. While the Carsons threw pebbles at Jack, he’d been standing behind a window with a notepad.

  “Can I ask you something? Do you really think he’d try to hurt us? That he’s the one doing those things to the fields and the tanks?”

  “I think he’s given them reason to suspect him, and they’ve given him reason to do those things. But he didn’t, and so far, the Council has decided to tolerate him.”

  “But you think they’ll change their minds.”

  “Yes, I do. But don’t worry. You’ll know when that happens.”

  Samuel turned to walk away, his shoulders tense.

  “Wait, what do you mean?” she called after him. “What happens when they change their minds?”

  Without slowing down or turning back to face her, he replied, “He’ll be dead, Althea.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jack

  It was the sixth week Nyla-314 had come to him, and each time was wonderful and different, and they learned more about each other. He felt he knew her inside and out, the feel of her skin on his, her breath in his ear, their legs entangled, her soft whispering. And when she left, he’d lie on his bed and replay everything in his head, eyes closed, dazzled by the way she’d changed everything. How long, he always wondered, before she’d return?

  Jack spent the whole week waiting for the night she’d arrive, waiting to spend those few hours with her. He’d think of her, of her depthless dark eyes, the way it felt when she touched him. And as much as he loved what they did together, he cherished more the moments after, when they’d lie together and his hand would drift over her body and he’d listen to her talk about the parties she’d be going to, or the experiments she was working on in one of the labs. In the daytime, he would seek the Nylas out in town and watch them from a distance. He could always pick her out from the way secret smiles seemed to pass between them. He wanted to be with her the way her friends were, but he couldn’t ask for too much, not so soon. He didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize these few nights they were able to share.

  For the first time, he felt like he had someone to talk to. He told her about the books he liked, and she would murmur in understanding, all while running her fingers through the hair on his chest, which was a never-ending fascination to her, but he didn’t mind. He told her about growing up in his cottage on the hill with Sam and his mother. He talked about his music, though her eyes drifted away on that topic, so he’d bring their conversation back to something that made her face light up again, like one of her parties or a clever experiment with food flavors. She told him about the pigs they were breeding. She and her sisters had manipulated their genes so that, when roasted, the meat would be infused with the taste of pineapple. Jack couldn’t imagine such a thing.

  “You’re the prettiest Nyla,” he said.

  They were in his bed with the door to his room locked, and the drifting calm had come over him. He felt like he could sleep with his arms around her forever, but he didn’t want to miss one second of being with her.

  Her forehead wrinkled, and the laughter faded from her eyes. “That’s a funny thing to say. We all look alike.”

  “You’re more beautiful than them.”

  “Don’t say such strange things. You’re already strange enough.”

  Jack quirked his mouth at her. “Okay, then. The Nylas are more beautiful than any of the other clones.”

  He was pleased to see her mood lighten. “Stop it,” she said, poking him in the ribs. “And don’t say clones.” She turned solemn again. “Anyway, everyone looks the way they look, that’s all. Why would you bother comparing?”

  “As long as we’re comparing, I must be the handsomest human you’ve ever met.”

  “You’re also the only human I’ve met,” Nyla said, gently punching him again, but no longer irritated. She got up from the bed.

  As he always did, Jack pulled her back. “No, stay longer.”

  “You always say that.”

  “You always stay longer when I do.”

  She settled back down with her back to his chest, and he ran his fingers along her arm. They’d just Paired, and already he was aching to feel close to her again. Every time she left, it became more difficult.

  “Nyla,” he said, trying not to hesitate in what he planned to say, but sometimes he couldn’t predict how she’d react. “Do you like being with me?”

  “Yes,” she said, picking up his necklace from the bedside table. He always took it off now when she visited. He knew she thought it was strange for him to wear it, and he didn’t want her to think he was strange. “It’s fun, Pairing with you. You’re different from the others.” She rolled the bead in her fingers.

  Jack cleared his throat, pushing away the images that came when she mentioned the others. A Gen-310 Pairing Ceremony was coming up. He knew the Nylas had hosted the last one, so she’d definitely participate in the next one. If he had his way, she’d never Pair with anyone but him. Jack wondered if that meant he lov
ed her. Was this the feeling so many of his books dwelled on?

  “I was thinking,” he said, letting his touch roam to her shoulder, feeling a slight scar at the base of her neck, shaped almost like a heart. “Maybe you don’t have to participate in the Pairing.”

  Jack envisioned them spending the Pairing nights together. It would almost be like he was finally allowed to take part in the Pairing. Except now, after all these years of not being able to, he didn’t even want to. He only wanted to be with her.

  “Don’t be silly,” Nyla said. “I can’t miss the Pairing.”

  “But don’t you want more than this?” Jack sat up. “Why do we need to be a secret?”

  He stood while she gathered her robes. She wasn’t really paying attention to him.

  “Why do you wear this?” she said, dangling the bead she still held by the string. “I’ve never seen a boy wear a necklace.” She dropped it back on the table, not noticing as it rolled to the edge.

  Jack’s chest tightened.

  “Why would you . . .” he said, but his voice died in his throat. He bent close to her, hearing a tap tap tap as the bead fell off the string and rolled over the edge of the table. His heart went silent as it missed one beat and then tripped to a start again. He tilted her chin to the side and brushed his thumb over the heart-shaped crease of skin. “Has this always . . .” His touch wandered to her chin, her forehead, her hair. He squinted, staring intently, like he was trying to see into her mind, her heart. A feeling overcame him, making him choke on the breath he’d just taken in. “Oh, God.”

  She brushed his hand away and continued fastening her robe. “What?”

  He couldn’t breathe. The panic of losing his breath swelled his lungs further, and he desperately wanted his inhaler from the bedside table, but he kept his hands clutched at his sides. He refused to let her see him like that. As if it were happening to someone else, he saw his hand reach out to recover the polished bead from the floor, and he stumbled to the wall. He let his forehead rest against the cool tile. Slow and deliberate, he said, “Who are you?”