One (One Universe) Read online

  Daniel starts the round of nervous laughter, changing the subject. I wonder how often he comes to her rescue like this, how many times he’s saved her from comments by jerks like me.

  “Are you the only three?” I ask.

  Now Leni’s mouth turns down even more. “There are other Ones, but they won’t admit it. We’re the only Ones we know of around here who have kept trying.”

  A wave of intensity throbs through my chest. I’m not the only one who hasn’t stopped practicing my One in my free time?

  I turn to Leni, asking the question that I don’t want to put words to. “Wait, so you…you still can…”

  “Yeah.” She smiles, and there is a glisten to her eyes. She kind of rubs her fingers together, then flings them open. I see the hint of a dancing orange glow hover above her whole hand, centered on her palm. One second later, she winces, sucks in a breath, and claps her hand shut, putting out the fire. She shows me the redness of her fingertips and the scald in the dip of her hand. “Still hoping the Second will manifest kind of. I really don’t have any fingerprints left. So, if it never does, I can always turn to a life of crime.”

  “That’s my girl,” says Elias, and her eyes turn from sad to grateful.

  Yeah. I hate this girl, even if I really, really like her.

  I shake my head, trying to distract myself. “So, wait,” I say, looking over at Daniel, who’s sitting on the floor against the wall, absorbed with something on his cell. “What can you do?” I silently scold myself for talking about these Ones like they’re a freaking parlor trick. I would have spit at anyone who suggested the same to me.

  “I’m indestructible.” The tone in his voice is weird, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to make a joke.

  “Really? But nothing else?” Every kid I know who’s indestructible also has super-strength or could combust or was super-fast. If Daniel’s telling the truth, his One is like a Second — the physical traits that make the Ones possible.

  “Yeah. Pretty lame, huh? I’ve cut myself more times than any of the depressed emos or cheerleaders here, and nothing.” He stretches out his arms, insides up, to show me. He’s right. His skin is completely flawless.

  “Shut up about the cheerleaders,” Leni says. Her eyes dart between the floor and her hands, which she twists and untwists over and over again. I can tell that she’s torn between fitting in and being a One, between being loyal to her Normal friends or to this ragtag group of Ones. Whether she wants to take a natural place in the world or fight to make her own.

  I’ve never done anything but fight, never even imagined another option. But then again, I’m not like Leni. I’m not beautiful or sweet or smiley. Even if I should be on antidepressants, I’m not.

  I’m just Merrin. And my only option is to get that Second. Because the only way I’ll ever be worth anything is if I figure out how to fly.

  We don’t study any calc. When Rosie announces, “Fifteen minutes till dinner,” the three of them flip open their readers, and their styluses fly across their tablets, working the problems. I follow suit, plopping myself down on the floor.

  Daniel switches off his reader no more than 10 minutes later, and I’m next to finish. He grins up at me, eyes flashing again, and I can’t help but smile back. “Brought us a genius, here, man. And you said she’s a sophomore?”

  Elias snorts and looks up at him, his eyes darting to me first. “Your ego’s so huge you don’t think it’s possible that an underclassman is smarter than you?”

  “No,” he says, still smiling. “Just because she finished almost as fast as me doesn’t mean she got the answers right.”

  “He probably hacked his tablet to work the problems for him,” Leni says, flipping the cover back over her reader.

  Daniel snorts. “Please. I could do that, but then I’d have nothing to do while you losers take your sweet time.”

  Well, I’m impressed. It took me days to hack one thing about the ID file on my cuff, and I’m not sure it wasn’t a mistake.

  Leni smiles at him with an unmistakable fondness, then hoists herself out of her chair and looks down at Elias, who’s still scribbling. “Gotta go,” she says. “Family game night.” She rolls her eyes and smacks Daniel on the head. “Coming, genius? Or are you going to make Merrin drive you home?”

  Daniel gives me one look and says, “Nah, she’s had enough of me for one night. And maybe the extra few minutes will keep you from the ‘pick a Monopoly piece’ drama.”

  She laughs, the sound of it like a bell. Real, not like the stuttered laugh she gave off at school.

  “See ya, Elias.” She throws a glance at him over her shoulder on the way out.

  If they’re letting themselves out, they must be here all the time. This is the Nelson High crew of Ones. And they’ve just let me in.

  “Glad you were here,” Elias says, jotting down one last answer before finally closing his reader and sliding it onto the bed next to him. “I was really starting to feel like a third wheel.”

  Did he just read my mind? “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “Len. She’s been crushing on Daniel for ages. Somehow my room turned into flirt central last year. I think you helped.”

  New visions of friendship with Leni flash through my mind.

  Mrs. VanDyne’s voice rings through the staircase and into his open door. “Elias? You still have someone up there? I have dinner for you two!”

  “Yeah, Mom,” he calls down. “Be right there.”

  He stands up and reaches down for my hand, and I give it to him without thinking. His hand is so huge that his fingers and thumb overlap a good inch when they wrap around mine, and he hoists me up with no problem.

  “After you,” he says, motioning me down the stairs. I try to think of an excuse to get out of there, back to the safe familiarity of my car, but Elias’s mom is standing at the kitchen island, and when she smiles at me, it’s too late. She presses a button, and the counter opens and pushes up two huge, gorgeous, incredible-smelling homemade pizzas. His mom pulls a giant green salad out of the fridge and throws on what must be the last of the season’s tomatoes.

  “Thanks for dinner, Mrs. VanDyne,” I say.

  “It’s no problem. Rosie made it. And you can call me Dierdre, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart? No adult’s been that affectionate with me for ages, not besides Dad, anyway, but somehow this presumption, coming from her, doesn’t bug me.

  “Okay. Um, thanks, Rosie.” I look up and around, uncertain of where to say it.

  “Elias, honey, I’ve got some things to finish up. You two going to be okay here?”

  “Yeah, fine,” he says.

  She makes herself a plate and heads off to another room, picking up a leather ladies’ briefcase on the way. Elias sits on one of the stools at the island and pulls out one for me.

  Elias puts a piece of pizza in front of me, and I start on it right away. Hopefully my chewing means he won’t try to talk to me for a few minutes. I wrack my brain for anything we’ve already talked about, anything I know for certain we have in common.

  The kitchen is lit up, but the house has an open floor plan and I can see that the rest of it is dark. The living room sits pristine and empty, and the two hallways leading off of it are dark too. There’s a spot of light from some French doors at the corner of the living room, which must be Dierdre’s office.

  We always feel cramped at my house, especially now that Michael and Max are shooting up so quickly, but it never feels empty. I’d rather feel full than empty.

  “Is it weird without them here? Your sisters?”

  Elias still chews on his first piece of pizza, even though I finished mine a while ago. He puts another one on my plate, and I pick it up to take a bite. He puts a napkin to his mouth and wipes his fingers too, and finishes his mouthful before he speaks.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it is. I mean, I expected them to be gone for college anyway, I guess. They didn’t get into any of their top choices, of course — Normal Ivy L
eagues. I wasn’t surprised when they took the option to spend the year at the Hub. But they don’t call.”

  “Never? Are you guys close?”

  “Never. And, yeah. Really close. They’re awesome. They never treated me like I was an annoying little brother, even though I was, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.” I smile. “I try to treat my brothers that way, too.” I can’t imagine I would ever leave them without word from me for that long.

  Elias’s eyebrows furrow. “I haven’t gotten an email from them, even. Should see them at the Symposium, though.”

  I had almost forgotten about the Symposium. Every year, the hob-nobbiest Supers flood Superior to check out all our advances in Supers’ biotech. I’d always wanted to go to check out what it is exactly that Mom and Dad do. But you only get to go if you work there or if you’re rich or important. Then I remember. Elias’s family is all three.

  I clear my throat. “I’m jealous,” I say, smiling.

  “I’d trade places with you in a second,” Elias says. “That biotech stuff bores me to death.”

  My stomach twists. He has no idea how lucky he is, but I’m not going to hold it against him.

  My eye sweeps along the living room walls and catches on a photo on canvas, a huge one. It’s a portrait of the three VanDyne kids hugging each other and smiling. The setting sun kisses Nora and Elias’s blond and Lia’s brunette hair with gold.

  “My brothers are too young to be that close to,” I say, nodding toward the picture. “I’m still training them to do simple things, like take showers and pick up their damn dirty socks. And be nice to girls instead of picking on them.”

  Elias laughs while chewing, puffing air out of his nose. He swallows and says, “Their wives will appreciate it one day.”

  “Guess so,” I say, reaching for a third piece of pizza.

  Elias raises his eyebrows at me. “A little thing like you can put away that much pizza?”

  I don’t like being referred to as a “little thing,” but he looks at me with admiration, so I let it slide.

  We eat in silence for another minute. Then he says, “It’s mostly the quiet, you know? They used to freak me out by teleporting into my room, and I always threw something at them. Scared the hell out of me and reminded me that I couldn’t do the same thing.”

  I grin. That’s what I do with the boys when they cruise across the water — use them as targets for pool darts. I never hit them, but sometimes I get close enough for them to catch one and bring it back, dripping water all over me. Punks.

  “It’s weird, but I’m still kind of…I don’t know…expecting them to show up one night, you know?” Elias continues. “But they never do. One reason I’m glad you’re here.” He looks at me, puts his napkin on his plate. I swear I see his cheeks flush, and he stares at the napkin. “I mean, Len and Daniel, too.”

  I look at his face, and I understand him. He’s jealous of his sisters, but the love is stronger than the jealousy. We’re the same.

  Suddenly, I’m afraid to look at him, afraid he’ll see something in my face that I’m not ready for him to see. Fondness. Sadness instead of anger.

  I don’t want him to see that we’re the same even though I think he already knows.

  I stare out the glass kitchen wall. The sun’s setting earlier and earlier as Nebraska moves from summer to autumn. Thinking of it, the warm familiarity of it, makes me feel comfortable in my own skin for the first time in a long time.

  I feel a rush of bravery, enough to make me look over at Elias again. “Why didn’t you show me yours? Your One?”

  Elias lowers his voice and says, “Mom doesn’t know I still practice.” I can’t keep myself from smiling for a second. His shoulders lift once, then drop again. “And I didn’t want you to feel alone.”

  Affection for Elias creeps into the corner of my mind. He’s not a showoff. He didn’t use his One to impress me, and because of that, he really doesn’t have to. I’m impressed with him. Just him.

  Elias slides our plates down the counter and on top of a large square section built into it. He taps the counter twice and says, “Thanks, Rosie.” The panel flips, lowering the dishes to below counter-level and sliding a perfectly clean surface in their place.

  “My pleasure, Elias.” Rosie’s voice comes from two round speakers in the kitchen ceiling.

  “Maybe a little less garlic next time, huh?” Elias smiles and winks at me.

  “My apologies, Elias. I’ll put that in the log.”

  “Oh, Rosie, I’m just kidding. It was perfect.” He looks at me. “She’s still learning to pick up on humor.”

  I shake my head at him, look up at the speakers and clear my throat. “It, uh…it was great. Rosie.”

  “Thank you, Merrin.”

  He smiles at me, and I feel warm all over. “It’s good for her. Recognition of stuff like sarcasm in the human voice helps refine the AI tech. Right, Rosie?”

  “Yes, that is my understanding.”

  “Wanna see the rest of the house? I’ve got to…uh…I’m not allowed to have people over too late, so if you want to…” he says.

  “Uh…”

  Elias’s eyes crinkle into a smile — since when does “uh” mean “yes”? — and he stands up and calls, “Mom? I’m giving Merrin the tour.”

  “Okay,” his mom shouts back from her illuminated corner.

  SEVEN

  The sun has almost completely set now, and the last of the daylight flares the deep blue sky with purple at the top layer. It makes me look at my watch. It’s quarter to nine. How long did we spend eating pizza?

  We walk toward the main corridor of the house. Now that it’s dark, I can see that the floor tiles light up as we walk across them. Just as we’re about to step into the darkness, Elias says, “Lights please, Rosie,” and a low, warm glow fills the hallway. My breathing eases. “You’ve seen the other wing,” Elias says. “Just my bedroom, the girls’ bedrooms, and a bathroom. Here,” he motions to the first door on the right, “is the master suite. Nothing else on this side besides a bathroom on the end.”

  “I don’t need to see that,” I say.

  He chuckles. “No. Although the shower in there is pretty sweet.” He turns a handle to the room on the other side of the hall. “Here’s the movie room.” There are rows of leather chairs on a tiered floor, and a huge flat-panel TV suspended against the glass wall. “Rosie, turn on my favorite, huh?”

  The screen glows to life with — of all things — Superman, who pushes his way through the clear, blue sky and fluffy, white clouds. I plop down in a black leather chair.

  “When you just have the TV on, it’s kind of like you’re watching the movie outside,” he says. “Rosie, lights down.” The lights dim, and Elias rolls his eyes, reaches out and taps the wall. “Sorry, Rosie. Lights out.”

  “My apologies, Elias,” Rosie says, and suddenly, the room is pitch black.

  If this evening hadn’t been so strange on its own, this house robot would be seriously weirding me out.

  But soon as the lights go out, the familiar beauty of the outdoors is the only thing I can see or think about. The sky is a deep indigo now, and a few stars wink at me.

  “Oh, yeah,” Elias says, like he read my mind. “The view from here is incredible. Check it out. Kill the screen, Rosie.” The TV dims, and all of a sudden, the sky sparks to life, its intoxicating sapphire studded with a million diamonds. I can see hundreds of stars, and I gasp with the wonder of it.

  Growing up, I would have loved to have had a view like this. But I probably would have laid on the floor of this movie room, staring so long at the hazy-white cloudless summer sky, or the gray and brooding autumn one, or the bright white moon and stars against the black night, that I would never have done anything else.

  I’m totally lost in it until Elias clears his throat. “Rosie, lights please.”

  I realize that my eyes are wet and turn to leave ahead of him so he can’t see.

  We walk further down
the hall, and he points to the next door. “This is the music room, and that down there at the end is the gym.”

  I turn the handle to what Elias lamely called “the music room.” He follows right behind me.

  “Lights, Rosie?”

  The room fills with a warm, golden glow, and I look inside. This is no music room — it’s a concert hall. Three of the room’s walls are glass — two sides and the front. Whoever plays in here has the stars or the clouds or the sun itself as their audience.

  The hardwood floor, the color of honey, gleams at me. Even though I’m only wearing rubber-soled flats, my steps echo gently. The acoustics in here are incredible.

  A baby grand piano sits in the center of the room, flanked by three electric guitars, two basses, and the sweetest amps I’ve ever seen. They’re all lined up and waiting for some action. But something more amazing than all that catches my eye. It’s shining and winking at me, I swear, and begging me to come sit and play.

  My freaking dream drum set.

  “Yeah, so that’s boring.” Elias says.

  “Wait,” I say, and it’s the first time I’ve said something bossy that’s also pleading, or nice in any way, in a very long time. Maybe ever.

  I move slowly over to the drum set and sit down, positioning my bony bottom over the seat that’s way too low, adjusting it to meet my body at the right height for playing. I let my hands hover over the spotless cymbals, not even touching them because they’re so perfectly shiny and gorgeous. I stare at the toms, painted a gleaming red, their clear tops unblemished. Never been played. The snares are the same color with star-shaped vents.

  “Wait a minute,” Elias says. “You play?”

  My voice shakes now, and my hands, too. “A little,” I say. “But my set is… Well, it’s not like this.”

  Elias crosses the room and rummages inside a drawer, but the drums are so beautiful that I can’t tear my eyes away from them, not even to look at him. I push my foot lightly down on the bass pedal, and the most satisfying boom comes from the soft contact. So firm and quick.

  I giggle again. That’s twice in one week I’ve giggled within twenty feet of this guy.