Walk Among Us, page 7
“You sent your emails?” Clea whispered to Jade, giving her a sidelong look. “After blowing up my phone all weekend telling me why I shouldn’t?”
Jade sighed. “I guess maybe I was trying to convince myself more than you. Don’t judge.” She turned to look Clea dead in the eyes. “I had my reasons. We’ll talk later.”
After they’d all gotten their fill of cocoa and doughnuts and Finn had answered the question of “Where’s the hot redhead?” several times from the Awkward Boys, Finn proceeded to go on a little bit about superpowers again, but this lecture was slightly more lackluster than the one the week before. It was more of the same stuff from the first week, about feeling invisible and how you could still have your voice heard and that you’ll always have someone to talk to at these meetings every week. Everyone seemed rather unimpressed, but Finn delivered his talk with his usual zeal, as if he didn’t notice how bored the group was.
Clea had a nagging feeling that he wasn’t trying anymore. Maybe he’d already gotten what he wanted, but she couldn’t put her finger on what that was.
When the meeting was over, Jade, Clea, and Finn were the last to leave.
“So I’ll be sending more assignments your way,” he said to them as he locked the Community Space behind him, “if that’s all right?”
Clea and Jade nodded, and Finn waved at them as he went off in the other direction. Once they were across the street, Clea saw him give the rest of the doughnuts to a homeless person before disappearing down an alley.
“I’m not doing this because it makes me feel empowered or anything,” Jade said after a while. They’d already passed the point where they would need to walk their separate ways, but Clea had decided to follow Jade back to her dorm and then walk home from there.
“Oh,” Clea said, waiting for her to go on.
“I just . . . I knew I’d stumbled on to something weird from the very first meeting,” Jade continued. “And now I just want to see how deep the rabbit hole goes, you know? I want to get to the bottom of this. I want to know who he is and why he’s doing it.”
“But he already told us who he is, and he’s doing it because of the less fortunate—”
“That can’t be all, Clea. That’s too simple. There has to be something more.”
Clea looked down at her sneakers, soggy from their snowy walk home. For a moment, she wondered if Jade was right, but she quickly pushed aside the thought. It was scary to think that Finn had ulterior motives considering the less than legal ways he was going about championing his cause . . . if “helping the less fortunate” was really his cause. If Jade ever got to the bottom of it, Clea might not even want to know the truth.
Because what scared her more was the possibility that she wouldn’t care either way.
“Do you have any ideas?” Clea hedged, fearing the answer. “Or like . . . proof?”
Jade sighed. “I don’t know. I just have a feeling.”
“Well, maybe he’s like Robin Hood.”
“Or maybe he gets off on conning innocent college kids into doing crime. Either way, I’m gonna find out.”
Clea was silent, but what she wanted to say was, I’m happy not knowing.
Because the truth was that writing those emails had made her feel . . . something. Purposeful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so engrossed in a project—even a drawing project—for so long that she’d forgotten to eat. It was a miracle she’d remembered to take her meds, although having an alert on her phone definitely helped.
Maybe I should do that for meals, too.
“You know there’s nothing about Common Cause out there, right?” Jade asked after a long silence. “No website, no social media, no nothing. They told us at the first meeting that these groups were popping up all over the country. But if they are, there’s no proof. I wonder what they’re playing at.” She took a deep breath. “And I wonder what really happened to Ingrid.”
“Do you think it had something to do with my drawing?” Clea asked meekly.
Jade arched an eyebrow and gave Clea a long look that said, Seriously?
Clea, who was used to such looks, shrank a bit. “Right. Of course not—it’s just a drawing, right?”
“A really good drawing, but yeah. I don’t think it had anything to do with Finn deciding to cut ties, y’know?”
“Right,” Clea said, thankful for the validation. But she still remembered that look on Finn’s face when he saw it . . . and then Ingrid was gone the very next meeting? It seemed like too much of a coincidence.
“By the way, do you have an extra pillow I could borrow?” Clea asked as they approached Jade’s dorm.
“I don’t—I’m sorry. I’ve only got the one,” Jade replied. “Why?”
Clea gave her the short version of the newest Burrito Incident and finished with “It was my roommate’s friend. It’s because she’s been picking on me since the first week of class, and I finally stood up to her and told her karma would get her one day. And the next thing I know . . .”
“Well, your roommate is just as much of a piece of shit, then,” Jade said. “Look, if you want to come stay with me sometime, my roommate has hardly been there since she started dating this guy who lives off campus. And she’s decently cool—I’m sure she wouldn’t mind it if you threw a sleeping bag on top of her bed some nights and crashed here.”
“Thanks,” said Clea. “If it gets any worse, I might take you up on it.”
“Cool,” said Jade, hovering near the door to her building. “And, Clea—just be careful, okay? With Finn? It really seems like he likes you, and like . . .” She made a face. “He really is kind of a lot older than us, you know?”
“I don’t like him that way,” Clea said stiffly. “I told you that the first day we met, remember?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you that way. Although maybe it’s just that you’re so, uh, good at this whole ‘crime’ thing.”
“Yeah, right.” Clea pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “See you later.”
Jade sighed. “See ya.”
After Jade disappeared inside, Clea headed back to her own dorm. It was nice of Jade to offer her a place to stay, but Clea doubted she would ever take her up on it. She’d gotten so used to being alone—it was nice to have her space while Hannah wasn’t there, to the point where it was worth it to put up with Hannah when she was.
At least, that’s how she’d felt until the burrito.
As Clea walked home, she had that familiar nagging feeling that someone was following her. A few times she looked over her shoulder and thought she saw a flash of red just disappearing behind the corner of a building or tree. But last time I thought I saw something like that, it was nothing, just a sign; this whole campus is scarlet and gray. . . .
Clea shook herself and quickened her pace. I wish I really could be invisible so I could stop feeling so . . . exposed. Like I’m being watched and judged and—and hunted all the time. Even though it’s nothing. It’s always nothing.
But what if it’s not? The thought shook her concentration and caused her to almost trip, but she regained her balance and walked even faster, and the feeling of being stalked still remained and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she hustled to her dorm. Once safely inside, her heart still beat erratically.
Her dorm room was blessedly empty when she entered—save for that still-lingering smell of taco meat—but the weight of her weekend as an insomniac suddenly hit her with its fullest force. She barely made it into her pajamas before she fell into bed, balling up an extra blanket to use as a pillow, and fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter Six
The weeks passed.
Clea wrote more and more emails and received private praise from Finn every week at the Common Cause meetings, which were increasingly lackluster—so much so that Clea and Jade both stopped going. But that didn’t mean they’d broken things off with their fearless leader.
Your last batch of emails was fantastic, Clea, Finn texted her often. So many clicks. You’re really very good at this!
That alone was enough to make Clea keep going. She started ignoring every other text from Jade—the ones about the digging she was doing on Finn and her suspicions about Common Cause. The part of Clea’s mind that agreed with her friend, the part that was curious about what Finn was really up to, was blocked out by the pride she felt at his compliments on her work, and she didn’t care if what she was doing was wrong.
The fact was that her sudden fervor for doing something had fed into her need to do other things besides sit around and watch Netflix, so she ended up going to class and completing nearly all her assignments. She even stayed in her dorm room and flat out ignored Hannah and her friends when they were around.
“Did you like your burrito, slug?” Delaney taunted Clea the next time they saw each other after the incident, but Clea only raised her eyebrows and gave Delaney a surprised, blank look, like she had no idea what the bleach blonde was talking about. Delaney’s sneer faltered just slightly at that, before she muttered “freak” and left the room.
Is this what it feels like to be a normal person? Clea thought as she turned in her last English comp paper online. Is this what it feels like to have the motivation to do things that regular people do every day without any effort?
And then worse: Am I really depressed? Was I really just lazy?
Jade, of all people, was the one to force that thought from her mind one night as they were eating dinner at Cane’s. “You take meds, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you ever tried to go off them?”
“Of course I have.”
“And what happened?”
Clea shook her head. “It wasn’t good.”
“That’s because you need them. You have a chemical imbalance, Clea, just like I have a chronic illness. It’s not our fault. We can’t help it, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. We just have to, you know . . .” Jade shrugged. “Live.”
“But then why am I so functional now?” Clea said, taking a long sip of lemonade. Her voice was dangerously close to a whine. “Why couldn’t I have been this functional the whole time I was on meds?”
Jade shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll always have your ups and downs, girl. I know I sure as hell do.”
“But I like this feeling,” Clea said, pushing the rest of her dinner away. She hadn’t had much of an appetite lately and, as a result, could only eat smaller meals, which Cane’s was not. “I don’t want it to go away.”
“Even if what started it was illegal phishing activities for a suspicious dude?” Jade said loudly and laughed when Clea shushed her. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t act like you’re not enjoying it.” She folded her arms on the table. “It doesn’t take a genius to see the change in you. How much more energy you have. How much more . . . I don’t know . . . comfortable you seem. You realize that?”
Clea put down her lemonade and tried not to beam as she lied, “Not really, no.”
“Oh sure,” Jade said. “Sure.”
By the week before finals, Clea was almost caught up on most of her assignments for class. One night when she sat at her desk, switching between writing donor emails and completing a psych paper, Hannah bustled in—alone for once—to gather some of her things, and she stopped and gave Clea a sideways look.
“Have you lost weight?” Hannah asked suddenly.
“Maybe,” Clea said without looking away from the screen.
Hannah slung her boxy Swedish backpack over her shoulder and gave Clea a friendly smile. “What’s your secret, girl?”
Like they were best friends. Like after an entire semester of standing by while her friends gave Clea hell, just because she lost a few pounds from her brain being so busy she’d been forgetting to eat every now and then, she was suddenly worthy of her roommate’s regard?
Hell no.
Clea gave her a blank look. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve been, like, manic?”
Hannah opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“Yeah, I think it might be an eating disorder at this point, actually,” Clea said, with mock sincerity. “But when fat people have eating disorders, we get congratulated for losing weight, so why fix what ain’t broken?”
Her eyes bored into Hannah, searching for a response, until the latter had to look away.
“Um, that’s not true at all,” Hannah said, making a face. “That’s actually a really fucked-up thing to say.”
“Oh? You think so?” Clea feigned genuine surprise.
Hannah shifted, tried to deflect. “Maybe you should see campus counseling.”
“But I mean, it’s working, isn’t it?” Clea blinked at her, trying her very best at this point to keep a straight face.
Hannah opened and closed her mouth again and then opened the door. “Well, have a good night . . .”
“Bye,” said Clea, who allowed herself a tiny smile as the door shut behind Hannah.
The Friday night before finals week, as the snow fell heavily outside, Clea finished up the last of the emails Finn had sent her way and texted him for more. After nearly all of Saturday passed without a response from him, Clea started to feel a bit antsy.
His reply came Saturday night: Sorry, that’s all I have! But you’ve done so well. I’m really impressed.
Her heart sank. But the three little dancing dots on her screen indicated he wasn’t done typing yet.
Although there’s something else I’d love your help with. Meet at the Community Space tonight if you’re free? Say 9? Just for a minute? It’s an assignment better talked about in person.
Yeah! Clea replied. But then she hesitated and followed that up with another text: Can I bring Jade?
I’d rather it’s just you, but if you’d feel more comfortable with her along, the more the merrier, Finn replied. It’s just, I’m not sure she’d be too keen on this one.
Clea shifted in her desk chair. The thought of meeting Finn alone made her nervous for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on: Is it that she didn’t trust him specifically or the thought of being alone with any man that made her so anxious?
Could we maybe meet at the coffee shop again instead?
Of course, whatever you’re comfortable with! Tomorrow at 9, say?
Sounds good. See you then.
Clea let out a deep breath and put her phone down. She spent the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday studying for finals in an attempt to keep herself distracted from wondering what Finn’s next “assignment” was, so when she got off the bus near the coffee shop that night, she was nearly shaking with excitement.
She almost didn’t catch that flash of red out of the corner of her eye—stark against the snowy streaks—but catch it she did, as it disappeared down an alley. Clea took a shaking breath and told herself she’d imagined it and pulled open the door to the coffee shop. The heat of the interior and strong smell of espresso greeted her like a warm hug.
“Clea! Come sit.” Finn flagged her down as soon as she walked in, and when she sat down across from him, he slid her an iced white chocolate mocha across the table. “You look great by the way.”
“Oh, wow, thanks—and thanks for the coffee,” she said. She hadn’t eaten much that day—she’d been too excited—so she hoped the drink wouldn’t upset her stomach. Plus, it had been hard to pick out something to wear that night because all her jeans were a little loose and her hoodies felt more like giant potato sacks than usual, but she flushed at his compliment nonetheless.
“It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?” he said. “I’ve been dealing with a couple of things, so Ingrid has taken the Common Cause meetings back over.”
Clea started. “But—I thought you two had gone your separate ways?”
“That’s true,” Finn said. “But you see, I’ve gotten pretty busy with schoolwork, which is why my lectures became a little, ah, lackluster. You may have noticed.”
“I mean . . .” Clea shrugged a shoulder.
He looked abashed for a moment before perking up again. “But you know, I thought to myself, this is Ingrid’s field of study . . . and I find that she draws more of the crowd. So she’s taken the reins, so to speak. So maybe it’s a good thing you and Jade haven’t been attending, since I know how you both feel about her.” He said it with no bitterness, as if he were merely stating a fact.
“I don’t—I never—Jade was the one who really didn’t like her.” Clea took a hasty sip of coffee, and her stomach churned. “Is this about the drawing?”
“Oh, heavens no. But in any case, since you mentioned drawing . . .” Finn folded his arms on the table and leaned in, his own cup of black coffee sitting untouched beside him. He took a piece of paper out of his sleeve and slid it across the table to her, facedown.
Clea detached herself from her straw and made to flip the paper over, but Finn’s hand covered hers before she could. His touch was cold, and it made her shiver.
“By now I think you’ve realized that the things I’ve asked you to do have been . . . less than legal. I hate to say that, but it’s the truth. More important, it’s for the greater good,” he said quietly. “Are you willing to take that one step further?”
Clea’s blood pounded in her ears. If she said no, would he stop giving her assignments? And if he did, would she stop being so . . . alive? Would she just revert to the person she’d been only weeks ago? To the “slug,” as Delaney so eloquently put it? She shuddered at the thought.
But if she said yes . . . how bad could it be? His hand was so cold on hers.
“Can you tell me what it is I have to do before I agree to do it?” she asked, fearing the answer.
“Of course. That’s a very fair request.”
Clea let out an internal sigh of relief.
“You see, my artistic skills are sadly lacking,” Finn said, looking a bit ashamed. “But I have a bag of spray paint in my rucksack, and I need you to draw this symbol on a building.”
He released his hand from hers and allowed her to flip the paper over. There was a strange symbol there, and beneath it was an address.
