The Darkest Minds
Page 113
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But not today. His mind might as well have been encased in concrete, and mine might as well have been made of jelly.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I couldn’t even muster the strength to feel disappointed. I could feel myself slipping into a strange funk, one in which every little noise or sight outside the window was enough to distract me. I just felt tired. Confused.
“I do have other things I could be doing,” he continued, something simmering beneath his words. “I have rounds to make and people to talk to, but I’m trying to help you. I’m here with you.”
At that, my stomach did a strange flop. I sat straight up against his headboard, ready to apologize again, when he rolled off his bed and moved across the room to his desk.
“Clancy, I really am sorry.” By the time I came to stand in front of the desk, he was already typing away at his laptop. He let me stand there in silent, gut-twisting worry, for what felt like nearly an hour before he bothered to look up from whatever he was doing. He seemed tired of pretending now, too. Annoyance had taken a sharp turn into anger.
“You know, I really thought that letting your Yellow go would help you focus, but I guess I was wrong.” Clancy shook his head. “I was wrong about a lot of things, apparently.”
I bristled, but I’m not sure if it was because of the way he said your Yellow or the implication that I wasn’t capable of mastering the things he was trying to teach me.
I needed to leave. If I stayed a second longer, I might say something that would ruin our friendship. I might tell him that Zu had a name, that of course I’d be worried about her out in the world without me there to protect her. He should have realized that I could have spent the last few weeks spending time with her, but instead I had agreed to work with him. Spend time with him. Comfort and support him.
Maybe I had learned a lot, and maybe I had a better grip on my abilities, but staring at him, my fists clenched and shaking, I couldn’t justify it. What was the point of being holed up with someone who didn’t believe in me when I had people out there who did?
I turned sharply on my heel and stalked toward the door. As I opened it, Clancy called, “That’s right, Ruby, run away again. See how far you get this time!”
I didn’t look back and I didn’t stop, though some part of me recognized that this might be it—that I was walking out on the one chance I had to learn how to manage my abilities. Sometime in the last ten minutes, my head had disconnected itself from the stubborn muscle beating in my chest and, honestly, I wasn’t sure which was guiding me outside and away from him. But what I did know, with dead, absolute certainty, was that I didn’t want him to see the way my face crumpled, or for him to glimpse whispers of guilt and sadness circling around inside of my head.
I couldn’t hide anything from him, but this was the first time I had ever wanted to.
It took a few days for me to realize that Zu’s leaving wasn’t the only event that had shifted the rotation of the earth. Once Chubs had pointed out East River’s similarities to camp life, I couldn’t go back. Where I had seen kids in jeans and black T-shirts, I was now seeing uniforms. Where I had seen kids waiting in line for their food, I was now seeing the Mess Hall. When the lights turned out in the cabins at nine p.m. sharp, and I watched a few members of the security team stroll past our window, I was back in Cabin 27, staring up at the belly of Sam’s mattress.
I began to wonder if the supposedly dead security cameras in the office and around the facilities were actually on.
I did try to go see Clancy a few times to apologize, but he always sent me away with a stern I don’t have time for you today. I got the sense he was punishing me, but I wasn’t sure what I had said or done to warrant it. In any case, it quickly became clear that I needed him in my life more than he needed me. That, combined with my stinging pride, made me feel even worse.
It was a Wednesday, only an hour before Liam and the others were meeting to discuss a new camp liberation strategy, before Clancy was finally ready to see me.
“I’ll be back in a little while,” I told Liam, squeezing his hand at breakfast. “I’ll just be a few minutes late.”
But when I walked into Clancy’s office and saw the state of it, I wondered if I should have come at all.
“Hey, come in—just watch your step. Yeah, sorry about the mess.”
Mess? Mess? His office looked like someone had detonated a bomb and unleashed a pack of wild wolves to pick over the salvageable remains. There were piles of paper everywhere, printouts, torn maps, boxes…and then there was Clancy himself, his hair falling into his face, wearing the same rumpled white shirt I had seen the day before.
In the weeks I had known him, I had never seen Clancy as anything less than impeccable. It was actually a little scary how put-together he was. I’m sure some of it had to do with the way he was raised. That even if his father hadn’t taught him himself, some crotchety old nanny had waxed poetic on the value of tucking your shirt in, polishing your shoes, and combing your hair. He looked like he was fraying at the edges.
“Are you okay?” I asked, shutting the door behind me. “What’s going on?”
“We’re trying to coordinate a hit for med supplies.” Clancy settled down into his chair but was back on his feet a moment later, when his laptop began to chime. “Hang on just a sec.”
I toed one of the paper piles on the floor, trying to peek at what was written on it.
“Those are reports of the usual nightly activity at a nearby truck stop,” Clancy said, as if reading my thoughts. His fingers flew over the keyboard. “And League intelligence about PSFs in that area. It seems that Leda Corporation is now employing the government to protect their shipments.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I couldn’t even muster the strength to feel disappointed. I could feel myself slipping into a strange funk, one in which every little noise or sight outside the window was enough to distract me. I just felt tired. Confused.
“I do have other things I could be doing,” he continued, something simmering beneath his words. “I have rounds to make and people to talk to, but I’m trying to help you. I’m here with you.”
At that, my stomach did a strange flop. I sat straight up against his headboard, ready to apologize again, when he rolled off his bed and moved across the room to his desk.
“Clancy, I really am sorry.” By the time I came to stand in front of the desk, he was already typing away at his laptop. He let me stand there in silent, gut-twisting worry, for what felt like nearly an hour before he bothered to look up from whatever he was doing. He seemed tired of pretending now, too. Annoyance had taken a sharp turn into anger.
“You know, I really thought that letting your Yellow go would help you focus, but I guess I was wrong.” Clancy shook his head. “I was wrong about a lot of things, apparently.”
I bristled, but I’m not sure if it was because of the way he said your Yellow or the implication that I wasn’t capable of mastering the things he was trying to teach me.
I needed to leave. If I stayed a second longer, I might say something that would ruin our friendship. I might tell him that Zu had a name, that of course I’d be worried about her out in the world without me there to protect her. He should have realized that I could have spent the last few weeks spending time with her, but instead I had agreed to work with him. Spend time with him. Comfort and support him.
Maybe I had learned a lot, and maybe I had a better grip on my abilities, but staring at him, my fists clenched and shaking, I couldn’t justify it. What was the point of being holed up with someone who didn’t believe in me when I had people out there who did?
I turned sharply on my heel and stalked toward the door. As I opened it, Clancy called, “That’s right, Ruby, run away again. See how far you get this time!”
I didn’t look back and I didn’t stop, though some part of me recognized that this might be it—that I was walking out on the one chance I had to learn how to manage my abilities. Sometime in the last ten minutes, my head had disconnected itself from the stubborn muscle beating in my chest and, honestly, I wasn’t sure which was guiding me outside and away from him. But what I did know, with dead, absolute certainty, was that I didn’t want him to see the way my face crumpled, or for him to glimpse whispers of guilt and sadness circling around inside of my head.
I couldn’t hide anything from him, but this was the first time I had ever wanted to.
It took a few days for me to realize that Zu’s leaving wasn’t the only event that had shifted the rotation of the earth. Once Chubs had pointed out East River’s similarities to camp life, I couldn’t go back. Where I had seen kids in jeans and black T-shirts, I was now seeing uniforms. Where I had seen kids waiting in line for their food, I was now seeing the Mess Hall. When the lights turned out in the cabins at nine p.m. sharp, and I watched a few members of the security team stroll past our window, I was back in Cabin 27, staring up at the belly of Sam’s mattress.
I began to wonder if the supposedly dead security cameras in the office and around the facilities were actually on.
I did try to go see Clancy a few times to apologize, but he always sent me away with a stern I don’t have time for you today. I got the sense he was punishing me, but I wasn’t sure what I had said or done to warrant it. In any case, it quickly became clear that I needed him in my life more than he needed me. That, combined with my stinging pride, made me feel even worse.
It was a Wednesday, only an hour before Liam and the others were meeting to discuss a new camp liberation strategy, before Clancy was finally ready to see me.
“I’ll be back in a little while,” I told Liam, squeezing his hand at breakfast. “I’ll just be a few minutes late.”
But when I walked into Clancy’s office and saw the state of it, I wondered if I should have come at all.
“Hey, come in—just watch your step. Yeah, sorry about the mess.”
Mess? Mess? His office looked like someone had detonated a bomb and unleashed a pack of wild wolves to pick over the salvageable remains. There were piles of paper everywhere, printouts, torn maps, boxes…and then there was Clancy himself, his hair falling into his face, wearing the same rumpled white shirt I had seen the day before.
In the weeks I had known him, I had never seen Clancy as anything less than impeccable. It was actually a little scary how put-together he was. I’m sure some of it had to do with the way he was raised. That even if his father hadn’t taught him himself, some crotchety old nanny had waxed poetic on the value of tucking your shirt in, polishing your shoes, and combing your hair. He looked like he was fraying at the edges.
“Are you okay?” I asked, shutting the door behind me. “What’s going on?”
“We’re trying to coordinate a hit for med supplies.” Clancy settled down into his chair but was back on his feet a moment later, when his laptop began to chime. “Hang on just a sec.”
I toed one of the paper piles on the floor, trying to peek at what was written on it.
“Those are reports of the usual nightly activity at a nearby truck stop,” Clancy said, as if reading my thoughts. His fingers flew over the keyboard. “And League intelligence about PSFs in that area. It seems that Leda Corporation is now employing the government to protect their shipments.”
