Regulators, p.17
Regulators, page 17
“None of you have any idea how uncomfortable I am right now,” Seb said at my back.
I had a very good idea, actually.
“Is there some cue that we don’t know about for hugging?” Garret asked curiously. “Like . . . one second it’s fine and the next it’s not?”
“I think we passed it,” I whispered.
“I think you’re right,” Brent agreed.
Everyone released everyone else, apart from a hand still on my stomach that had me standing as stiffly as I had been.
Paige frowned. “Am I the only one who was still enjoying that?” She looked at me. “I know you were. And you up there. And both of . . .” She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, trailing off. She then nodded. “Never mind. I think I get it now.”
Seb removed his hand—finally—and moved around my stiff form to the front of me, putting his back to everyone else. “I’m sorry,” he said extremely quietly, “for how I acted. It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault. It just . . .” His lips pursed for an instant. “It is what it is.”
Why did such a little thing make the hurting in my chest dull itself? It was like . . . it was still wrong, but one tiny thing for just an instant made it less wrong. These sorts of feelings were horrible things, but . . . they also weren’t.
Because, during that brief instant . . . it felt like my heart was up in the clouds I’d seen for the very first time outside pictures yesterday. There was something amazing about the feeling of it.
I smiled in what felt like a very small way and nodded.
“Seb . . . why do these sandwiches look the way they do?” Garret asked in confusion.
“What do you mean?” Seb asked over my head.
“They’re . . . square,” Garret told him. “They’re usually in smaller triangles.”
The only thing Seb said afterward was, “I am not cutting your sandwiches for you. Knives are there. Do it yourself. And please try not to kill yourself in the process.”
“You mean . . . they don’t come that way?” Garret asked.
Seb stared at him for several long seconds before shaking his head and being on his way without answering the question.
Garret stopped him with, “By the way?”
Seb glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m sure we all know how to use knives.” Garret seemed to think about it. “Except for maybe Paige over there.” He paused. “Is that not in our files?”
Seb turned around. “Let me see you cut one of those without destroying it.”
“Let me see you—”
“I’m not getting into a pissing contest with you,” Seb said, which was probably the most insane thing I’d ever heard. Top five, at least. “Seriously.” He gestured to Garret and the sandwiches. “Just one.”
Rather than so much as look at the knives, Garret grabbed a sandwich and took a bite of it as it was. Seb was again shaking his head as he grabbed a plate and went on his way. Only when Seb was gone from the room did Garret begin analyzing knives. He stopped when he found a serrated one then cut his sandwich into the triangles without destroying it even a little. He smiled, took a bite, chewed, and then the smile on his face widened.
Garret was still smiling when he said, “So much better this way.”
Seb stepped back into the doorway.
“Want me to cut yours too?”
“How did you know which knife to use if you didn’t even know that bread has to be cut?”
Garret was still smiling a little when he shrugged.
Chapter 13
Caring
The four of us had all sat down at the table together, only to watch Seb leave the room once more with his heaping plate of sandwiches in one hand and one sandwich with a large bite out of it in the other.
When Seb disappeared around a corner, Brent looked from that direction, to us. “We don’t have to . . . eat at a table?”
I’d seen Seb eating while standing earlier, but he’d been in the same room where food was prepared, so I’d thought tha—
“Wait!” Paige said loudly, looking at me. “We don’t have to wear our hair up!” She immediately jerked her hair out of its bun, letting it fall around her shoulders. It was the same length as mine. Approximately.
Brent picked a piece of it up for just a second and looked at her face. “I like your hair.”
Both their hearts were going, hers picking up and going past the excitement of what she’d realized. She asked, “Why?”
“I don’t . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
She did have very . . . shiny hair. I supposed liking it made enough sense. Sort of like liking lines or colors.
“You want to . . .” Garret said. All three of us looked at him, but he was looking at me. He gestured with his head backwards.
“I don’t want to eat at a table if we don’t have to,” Brent said. “It’s so weird, being able to do things.”
He stood, and then Paige stood with her gaze only on him and her heart still going the way it had been, leaving Garret and I alone together.
“I think we need to work out a silent communication system,” Garret whispered several seconds later. “For when we’re making each other uncomfortable or something.”
“I think you’re right,” I agreed. Strange, that Garret would be the one to suggest it. Maybe whatever had just happened with Paige and Brent had made him extremely uncomfortable, for some reason. It had made me a little uncomfortable, but there were worse things. There were much worse things. It was still a good idea regardless. Maybe my initial assessment had been very off.
But then he added, “Or for when we should give each other space.”
I didn’t know which it had been for him—being uncomfortable or believing they needed space—but I still agreed so I nodded. We both stood up, grabbed our plates, and walked into the other room at that. There, we found Paige and Brent staring at moving pictures on a screen.
“Television,” Paige breathed.
“Cooking station,” Seb said with a grin, nodding his head slowly. “Watch it. Learn from it. There’s so much more to it than knife skills.”
Garret walked into the space more quickly than I had, sitting himself down on the vacant end of the sofa that Paige and Brent had sat quite close together on. I stopped after taking several steps, not knowing where to go. I’d never not known where to go until leaving, but this felt different than not knowing what to do with myself when crying. There was more space on the sofa with Seb than the one with the three of them, but . . .
Seb took another bite of the sandwich from his left hand and patted the sofa beside him with his right. He’d already eaten two sandwiches, I believed, if the general size of the pile was accurate for measuring specifics. Even though I’d been watching him make them, I hadn’t counted. Or picked up on as much of anything as I likely should’ve.
I walked over slowly to where I’d been instructed, getting in the way of the television, which made everyone but Seb grumble at me like they were missing something important in the possibly two seconds they hadn’t seen. I sat down as far away from him on the space of the sofa as I could, for a number of reasons. It seemed the best thing to—
“I don’t bite,” Seb told me. “Unless I need to.”
“Why would you ever need to bite anything?” I’d had an instructor mention biting while fighting, but . . .
He grinned at me through another bite of sandwich and shrugged his shoulders. I supposed he meant in that regard. Biting to eat.
“How much do you eat?” I asked him in disbelief.
He laughed a little. “A lot.”
I’d seen him eat a lot of snacks in the vehicle, spread about through most all of the drive, but . . .
Was he planning on eating that entire plate of sandwiches at once? I’d thought . . . Maybe he would spread them out. Or maybe there was extra in case anyone needed more. That would’ve never been even a little all right before because everyone was given what they specifically needed, but we were all eating the same things as each other here.
“Wow,” I heard from several feet away in Brent’s voice. “How is she doing that?”
Seb laughed a little again.
“Oh my god, I’m so hungry.” Garret took a bite of his own sandwich, transfixed on the television. His mouth was full of partially chewed food when he spoke next. “That looks so good, whatever it is.”
“Ew!” Paige’s face scrunched. “Don’t talk with your mouth full!”
Garret’s mouth was still full of food when he held two hands up in the air—one with a half-eaten sandwich—and asked, “What?” It sounded like wuh.
I laughed a little as well and took my first bite of the sandwich. I chewed it a little, spit it out onto the plate, and looked at Seb. “What is on there?”
“Mayonnaise.” Seb grinned. “Do you not like it either? Is it another thing like potato chips for you?”
“No, it was . . . it was amazing,” I said.
He laughed a bit louder at that. “Then why’d you spit it out?”
“It was just strange.” I then realized how disgusting what I’d just done actually was. I looked down at the partially chewed food and felt my face burning, which was also strange. Maybe it was just the sunburn. “I’ve never had it before.” Then it hit me. “I know why it’s amazing.”
“And why is that?”
“It changed sandwiches as a whole,” I replied. “The texture and taste. I’ve always thought they were weird. All the things typically in them taste better on their own, I think. That really brought it all together and made it something different. It is strange, though.”
“I didn’t figure you’d had it before,” he said. “Not with Brent going over his caloric intake with a few handfuls of chips. They must keep you all on an extremely tight leash. I don’t know how they expect you to do substantial PT.”
I didn’t know what he meant, or what a leash was, but I supposed the point of it was clear enough. Very clear when Garret said, “I’ve had this before.”
Interesting.
I looked back to Seb. “Do you get to eat that?”
“Oh yes,” he answered in amusement. “Absolutely everything we eat is chockfull of calories and fat. We just burn through it all. And Garret, you might get that because you have a higher metabolism, but it’s probably because you’re a PT stud. Supposedly.”
Garret again had a mouth absolutely filled with sandwich when he looked at Seb and asked, “A what?”
“You’re good at PT,” Seb said. “Has no one ever told you that?”
Garret shook his head.
“God, they do not do the same with you as they do us. I can’t believe any sort of camaraderie isn’t permitted.” He sighed. “That’s in your file.”
“Oh,” Garret said. “I didn’t think it would be.”
“Why is that?”
Garret shrugged. “Nothing is ever good enough. I always try my hardest. It’s hard to sometimes. To want to, I mean.”
Brent nodded, surely in agreement.
Seb seemed to be speaking carefully to ask, “No one has ever told you you’re satisfactory? Not even your instructors?”
Garret laughed. “You’re joking, right?”
Brent said, “I think he’s being serious.” He looked to Seb. “I’m not sure how you do things, but it’s clearly different.” He shrugged. “There’s always someone better. If we aren’t as good, we’re not good enough. I’d imagine everyone has their ideas about why us. I’m pretty sure we’re near the line of expendable and not. Meaning we are and they want to see how we do before sending any above us out.”
Seb was still speaking in the same way to ask, “Do they tell you you’re expendable?”
No one responded.
“Do they?”
Garret shrugged. “I’ve heard worse things. We probably all have.” He seemed to think about it. “Maybe not her. Until today. Anyway. So is this mayonnaise stuff bad for you?”
Seb said, “I’m sure you can work it off.”
I was still focused on that. I knew that Gen bodies did strange things, but they’d never taught us about their diets. I knew they were fast, that their hearing and eyesight was . . . ridiculous, but they also had a lot of issues. A lot of those issues hadn’t been worked out until the later Gens. All their bodies just burning broke them down, shortened their lifespans.
How had I not thought about that? My stomach felt like it had sunk. It was churning so uncomfortably, but I had to know . . .
“What Gen are you, Seb?”
“Ninety-two.” He took another bite of a new sandwich.
The feeling that went through my entire body at the number was very strange. It took me a little bit of time, analyzing the information along with the feelings, to realize I was . . . relieved.
“You’re only twenty?” Garret asked in disbelief.
“Yep.” Seb answered that question with a mouthful of food. “Doesn’t look like it, does it?” He shook his head, swallowed his food, and added, “Or so they say, age-wise.”
“When did you get that big?” Paige asked him curiously.
“I broke six feet when I was eight,” he replied. “I reached six-seven when I was ten and stayed there.”
“No,” Paige said. “When did you get that big?”
“I’ve been this shape and size since thirteen,” he told her.
“I’ve heard some Gens can pick up tanks.” Garret narrowed his eyes in Seb’s direction. We’d all heard stories about them. “Is that true?”
“I can’t.” Seb laughed. “Got to give a little to get a little. If they hadn’t stopped messing with our adrenal glands so much . . .” He nodded. “Maybe. But I’d probably be falling over dead in a year or two, if not already. The extra time is worth one Gen not being able to pick up a tank on their own.”
He seemed quite amused by it, but I set my plate in my lap and looked at the nearest wall.
“How much can you pick up?” Brent asked.
“Anything in this house but the house,” Seb said. “Probably.”
Garret said, “I’ve got to see that.”
“Maybe later,” Seb told him. “We all have to do some PT anyway. We’re going to have to figure out some sort of schedule here.”
Paige’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “I am not doing physical anything with this sunburn.”
“I promise you are,” Seb told her. “You’re the one who wanted to go to the beach. You’re going to have to deal with that. So this is what’s going to happen. You’re all going to eat. You’re going to study the file while your food is processing. You’re going to do PT because you all overslept this morning. Then you’re going to get ready for tonight.”
“What happens tonight?” Brent asked.
Paige almost perked up a bit, looking to Seb. “We’re going to a club, aren’t we?”
Seb grinned at her. “Only if you do your PT.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, took another bite of her sandwich, and looked at the television.
It didn’t take long for the two boys to get transfixed by it again as well. Shortly after they had, Seb whispered, “You’re not eating.”
I looked over, realized that had been directed at me, then said, “I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“What Gen you are,” I replied.
“Does it bother you that I’m not as old as you assumed I was?” A grin stretched on his face. “My god, what would you have done if I was only fifteen or something?”
He clearly thought it was much funnier than I did, by his tone and the expression on his face. I didn’t really get it, but . . .
“I’m relieved,” I whispered.
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
I didn’t answer him because I didn’t really know how.
He must’ve understood well enough though because he said, “It’s not like it matters. We’ll never see each other again after this mission is over. If you think they’d tell you when I fall over . . . you’re wrong. It doesn’t matter what happens here. They won’t ever care, and we will never see each other again. I can promise you that. So . . . why do you care?”
I couldn’t answer him then because I had no answer at first. He resumed his eating, staring at the others staring at the television, but I was thinking. I was thinking about feelings. The only person I’d ever really had substantial feelings for in my life was Kelsey.
I looked out at the other three, so captivated by someone preparing food on a screen, staring at it with their wide eyes. And I kept thinking about feelings. Were they something that grew over time and only occurred because you were around a person consistently? Or did they just . . . happen?
It had taken me years to feel a substantial amount of something for Kelsey. Only enough to say . . . you’re meaningful to me. There was nothing else to be said about it.
Did the medicine they gave us stop us from caring about people? Did the lack of knowledge stop us from caring about people? Or could we truly not care about anything or anyone when we were stuck inside our tiny little pocket of the world, not living but breathing?
Did living make you form bonds with people, unbreakable things that could make people go out of their way to help you without seeming like it was a burden on them? Hugging someone in an attempt to make them feel better. Declaring they were all you had, even when you didn’t really know them at all. Realizing people could be all you had, even when the only tie that made any sense to have was that you were all in the same situation together. But regardless of there only being that one thing that made sense, that didn’t mean it was the only thing.
I felt something for all of them. I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know the differences between all the feelings. But I did know something.
I looked back at Seb. “I care because . . .” I trailed off, trying to think of how strange it was to contemplate saying the words because I’d never said them to a person before. But I still said them. “I care because I care about you.”
He just blinked at me for what felt like an eternity before frowning. “Jaycee . . . whatever this is,” he gestured at the space between us, “it doesn’t mean you care about me. We don’t know each other at all. I understand this is confusing for you. It’s confusing for all of us, but—”
