Foreseen (The Rothston Series) Read online

  “You don’t really know me.”

  “True. But I still think I’m right. You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

  I conceded with a sigh. “My dream isn’t very realistic.”

  He laughed. “That’s pretty funny to say to someone who said he’s going to build a transporter.”

  “That’s much more likely.”

  “You want to be the first person to be transported?” he offered. It made me smile, and I leaned back on my elbows, shaking my loose tangle of hair behind me.

  “How ’bout the second. Depending on how the first turned out, of course.”

  “You haven’t answered my question,” he prompted again.

  If I could do anything I wanted, I knew what it was, but my forehead knotted as I thought about how to explain. “Have you ever noticed how screwed up the world is? I mean, in ways it doesn’t need to be. The people running the government – the politicians make decisions that don’t make sense, or block changes that should be made, just to keep themselves in power or because … well … just because.”

  “Congress doesn’t make any decisions anymore,” he pointed out sarcastically. “They just deadlock over everything.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that. But if I could do anything I wanted, I’d fix it.”

  “How?” he asked, shielding his eyes from the final rays of the sun as he looked at me.

  “The government is supposed to take care of people – I mean, not directly, but make it so people can live decent lives. But no one is saying, let’s analyze the options and do what’s best for the most people. Or even do what makes sense. They’re figuring out what will make the other side look bad, or make them look good, or repay a favor that someone did for them. That’s no way to run things.”

  Greg sat up grinning. “That’s why there’s the deadlock, but how would you fix it? You want to be dictator? That doesn’t sound like you. Of course,” his eyes twinkled, “I don’t really know you.”

  I sat up as well, folding my legs under me, and decided to play along. “I rather prefer to think of it as emperor – of the world of course. It would be better that way, but I might be willing to start smaller.” He looked like he was sizing me up to see if the role fit. “I told you it was ridiculous.”

  “Empress,” he attempted to correct me.

  “No, emperor. The female version has a weaker connotation.”

  “Right. No weakness for you,” he joked. “But emperor doesn’t fit either. Czarina,” he said majestically. “That’s the right title for you. Czarina of the universe.”

  I pursed my lips and nodded. “Kind of like the sound of that, Mr. Langston.”

  “If I thought it was a good idea for someone to have that kind of power, you might be a good choice,” he said, grinning at me.

  “But you don’t think anyone should?”

  “Do you? Power changes people, Kinzie. I’ve seen it happen …” His eyes dropped to study a rock between his feet and his face clouded, so I didn’t ask. Instead, I looked up at the evening sky, the peach now fading into darkness. The Rothston Institute. I needed to know more about the place. Could adepts fix things so better decisions got made? Or did they do something else entirely? The image of Greg standing on his head came to mind. Maybe they staged circus shows. And why were they paying my tuition? I shivered at the last thought, as it brought me back to the idea that people had been watching me … my whole life apparently … and my dad had known.

  “Are you okay?” Greg asked again.

  It took me a moment to focus back on where I was. “I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

  “Here, take this,” Greg said, pulling at the orange hoodie. His shirt came halfway off with it, and in the fading light, my eyes stuck on his six-pack abs. I didn’t think guys like that were real, but then again, I’d never been this close to a guy like Greg, and certainly never seen under their shirts. Like a walking Abercrombie ad. My heart beat unevenly to point out that I was staring. But Greg didn’t notice, or maybe he was used to it.

  “You’ll be cold,” I protested, pushing the hoodie back at him as the smooth muscles disappeared under his gray t-shirt. And I found myself wishing they would come back, just so I could study them.

  “I’m a lot bigger than you, and you’re freezing in your windbreaker. I’ll be fine,” he insisted, pulling it over my head. His hand wrapped around my wrist, and an electrical jolt raced through me. Like a shock, and for a moment, all the air seemed sucked from the universe. But it wasn’t a bad feeling. A thrilling warmth filled my body, then flowed back to his. It left behind a feeling of ease … once my lungs remembered how to work.

  “Static?” we asked simultaneously, as Greg moved his hand away, staring at it the whole time. I looked up and his blue eyes were deeper, with an expression as curious as mine. Or maybe that was just me. I felt dazed. I shook my head and pushed my hands through the sleeves, pulling the front of it to my face and inhaling deeply into the rich, comfortable scent of autumn leaves and bonfires and thick warm blankets. The remaining tension left my body as the warmth of Greg’s residual body heat drove away the cold.

  “I should head back to the dorm,” I said, not wanting Greg to feel like he needed to stay with me in the cold. And honestly, I felt better now, even if I had no answers.

  Greg grimaced. “We can stay if you’re not ready to face Sasha yet.”

  “You don’t like her, do you?” I asked curiously as I stood up.

  “Is it that obvious? I’ve been meaning to break up with her. I’m not sure why I haven’t.” I did a mental eye roll as we climbed the hill in the gathering darkness. This wasn’t hard to figure out. Greg was a guy, and not only did Sasha have the body of a supermodel, she was quite willing to share it. Guys weren’t very complex.

  We walked quietly across the oak-lined academic quad, listening to the dying leaves rustle on the branches. “Thanks for showing me that place,” I said before he turned from the brick path for the road that led down to frat row.

  Greg shrugged his shoulders. “What are friends for? Can I ask you something?”

  “You just did,” I grinned.

  He groaned at the bad joke before continuing. “You did agree to do the philosophy term project with me, didn’t you?”

  I scrunched my nose. “To be honest, Greg, before you said anything on Friday, I didn’t even know you were in the class.”

  Greg shuffled his feet. “Yeah. I’m usually half way back. Hate the class, but I need it to fulfill the grad requirements.”

  “Boy, that really makes me want to have you as a partner. Listen to that motivation,” I half teased.

  “I suppose I’m not a very good partner,” he agreed.

  “Me neither,” I admitted. “Sounds perfect.”

  “Good. How ’bout we meet at six o’clock tomorrow to get started? Give me your number.”

  I spouted off the digits for my phone and started to pull off his hoodie, but he stopped me.

  “You can give it to me tomorrow … Czarina.” He shot me a smile then turned to head down the hill. I watched him walk away feeling warm inside, an aftereffect of the static shock, I suppose. I headed for the dorm, with my thoughts turning back to adepts and whether any of this was real. For some reason, it was easier to think about now, and I had questions for Sasha.

  Chapter 4

  Greg

  I flashed my ID to the bartender – a new guy. Seemed smarter than the usual one. He took the plastic card out of my hand and eyed the picture and the date. I’d always looked at bit older than my nineteen years and altering the birthday had been easy with equipment in the physics lab. “Erwin Schrödinger,” he grumbled, squinting at what usually passed as a Massachusetts driver’s license. “What kind of name is that?”

  “German,” I answered easily. Experience had taught me that Austrian didn’t sound as convincing.

  “Erwin, huh?” he asked, turning the altered id over in his hand. For a moment, I thought I was busted, but then t
he burly bartender smiled and picked up the José Cuervo to pour. I threw back the first shot and savored the numbing burn.

  “Schröddy, you made it!” Boomer’s voice called from the back of the dingy room. I grabbed my Dos Equis and a second tequila shot and headed to where the shaggy-haired Boomer propped himself on a battered wooden table with our Alpha Delt brothers, Pete and Murphy, around him.

  “Mr. Turing, Mr. Keynes,” I said, nodding to Pete and Boomer – roommates who lived next door to me in the basement of the fraternity house.

  Pete nodded his dark head. “A fine evening, Mr. Schrödinger. Good of you to join us,” he formally greeted me with a bad British accent. Murphy, who lived upstairs in the frat house, stared at the three of us blankly, not remembering that our fake IDs used names from our respective majors. Murphy didn’t need id. If you were six-six, bartenders assumed you were legal.

  “Happy birthday, man,” I said to Boomer with a raised shot glass. From the glassy eyes of my tablemates, they were well ahead of me in the celebration.

  “How’s it hanging?” Boomer asked back, wiping his dirty-blond bangs from his eyes. The guy perpetually needed a haircut, but the look fit him.

  “Not bad, not bad. Cat’s dead though,” I said casually. Pete snorted his beer, and we all cracked up, except for Murphy who looked perplexed.

  “You had a cat?” he asked me. “How’d it die?”

  Pete burst out laughing again, but Boomer was a bit more kind. “Murphy, you know … Schrödinger’s cat?” he half explained. Murphy smiled and nodded, although I don’t think he understood.

  “Where were you all afternoon? Off with Reynolds again?” Pete asked. I shrugged it off, not wanting to get into what I’d actually done. I couldn’t explain why, but I’d felt like Kinzie had needed me – or at least someone.

  “What’s up with that, Langston?” Boomer asked before I had a chance to answer. “You’re with Reynolds all the time. She yaps like a yorkie. Nice tits, though.”

  “I’d tap that,” added Murphy, and we all stared at him. No doubt, he was being honest, but it was no way to talk about another guy’s girlfriend, even if it was Sasha Reynolds. But it brought Kinzie’s words ringing through my brain – “You don’t like her, do you?” Damn. I was seeing a girl I disliked. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Time to get rid of Reynolds,” I announced, telling my friends so I would stick to it this time. Boomer nearly cheered, and we launched into a contest to come up with the best bad lines to ditch a girl. Pete suggested, “if your phone doesn’t ring, it’s probably me,” while Murphy went with a more direct approach: “This isn’t working out. It’s not me … it’s you.”

  After a beer and another shot of tequila, I pulled out my phone to call her. “I need to talk to you, Sash,” I said over the hooting in the background.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  I walked into the empty billiards room in the back to get away from them. I felt shitty enough doing this over the phone. She didn’t need to know that dumping her had been the source of our amusement for the last half hour. “Brewer’s,” I told her. It was the closest bar to campus – a roadside dive in the middle of nowhere with pool, lax bartenders, and cheap beer.

  I stared at the neon signs lighting the wall, and ran my free hand over the green felt of the pool table. Silence hung on the other end of the phone, and I took advantage of it. “Look, I wanted to tell you this before, but this isn’t …”

  “Wait. I’ll come down,” Sasha interrupted.

  A confused feeling came over me. “Uh … you will?”

  “Unless you don’t want me to,” she cooed with a pout in her voice.

  My stomach tightened, hating that tone. But then again, if she were here, at least I could break up with her in person. “Uh … yeah. Sure. I guess that’d be okay.”

  “Great! I’ll see you in fifteen,” she said brightly.

  I headed back toward the main room, when I stopped in my tracks. What the hell? I stared at the phone still in my hand like it had betrayed me, uncertain which was worse – telling the guys that I hadn’t dumped her or having her stroll in here and glom onto me again. I couldn’t stomach either one.

  My thumb hovered over the icon to call her, but I hesitated. Talking to her wasn’t working. I had another idea. It was shittier, but foolproof. I raised my phone and tapped out a message, hesitating as the words seared into my brain:

  We’re over.

  Don’t come here.

  More than shitty. I took a deep breath and pressed send. Done. I strode back out to rejoin my friends, a free man. At last.

  “Did you do it?” Boomer asked eagerly. I nodded, feeling like a jerk, and motioned for another round of shots. More tequila would take care of the guilt. At least for now.

  ψ

  We staggered up the hill to campus after the bartender stopped serving us. Pete and I were pretty well lit, but Boomer and Murphy were toasted – singing the Gilligan’s Island theme song at the top of their lungs. We missed the path through the woods that would have brought us to the back entrance of the Alpha Delt house, but managed to steer Boomer and Murphy the right way at the turn off to frat row near the top of the hill. Murphy launched into a rendition of the song from Sponge Bob with Pete dancing around, yelling out “Sponge-Bob-Square-Pants!” An empty can pelted past us and clattered on the road as someone from the TKE house yelled for us to shut up. That gave Boomer the giggles. We crouched as we hurried down the road, as if that would magically make us silent as well.

  I glanced furtively around as we passed the other frats. A movement in the Sig Chi parking lot caught my eye and I straightened at the sight of Brolie’s stark blond hair shining in the streetlight above him. I wasn’t sure what he was doing until he shifted and I saw him performing mouth-to-mouth on a bleach blonde. He released her and she willingly lay back against the side of a black Acura while Brolie began fumbling with the button on her pants. I gawked like it was a car wreck. Kinzie was seeing this guy. And now he was going to do this slut – and in the parking lot? This guy had no class.

  I ripped my eyes away, looking instead up the hill where Bolt Hall lay a block away. In that dorm lay a quiet girl who wasn’t like the others. Her dark eyes – the darkest I’d ever seen – appeared in my memory, searching through me. And now, she was probably asleep, maybe even dreaming of this asshole in front of me. I considered walking over and pounding the shit-head for her. She deserved better than …

  “Langston? You coming?” Murphy’s voice blasted through the night.

  Brolie raised his head and spotted me and our eyes locked, neither of us intending to be the first to look away. But after a moment, his face grew puzzled with an odd, dazed grin, then he chuckled and spotted Murphy as he staggered to the side of the road.

  “Aw, Murph, no!” Pete’s voice called. I looked back as Murphy turned around. He’d been taking a leak in the bushes, except that he’d skipped opening his fly. He stood there, holding himself through his khakis as a wet stain spread down the leg.

  Brolie threw his head back and laughed into the night air. Ass.

  Chapter 5

  Kinzie

  I leaned my shoulder against the thick wood of the window frame, breathing in the worn scent of the tattered books on the shelves while I waited for Uncle Mark. I was comfortable today – so different from when I’d entered this office the day before. Yesterday’s gloom had departed and the afternoon sunlight streamed in, warming my face. A completely different day. A new day. I was adept. I could do things other people couldn’t.

  During the long night tossing in my bed, I gave up fighting the idea that adepts existed. It wasn’t Sasha’s dinnertime assurances that being adept was “the best thing in the world” that made me accept it. Rather, it was the improbability of such an elaborate deception. Mark Collier, Rex Brolie, and Sasha Reynolds would all have to be in on it. While the guys might be up to the challenge, not Sasha. No way. She wasn’t a good liar. And then there were
the rats. Something made them run the maze the way they had. Twenty-one billion to one odds was just too unlikely.

  But then there was the part about my dad. My brow creased at the thought that I should have answered his call last night, but I wasn’t ready to talk to him. I didn’t know what to say. My own dad – the one person I was supposed to be able to trust completely – had lied to me my entire life. Or at least hidden things from me. Probably both.

  Maybe this was some sort of joke, and if I’d talked to my dad, I’d know that. But it didn’t seem like it. And if I was wrong and this was a joke, fine. They’d got me, and got me good. But after what I’d heard from Sasha before she’d gone to sleep, I had to take the chance that this was real. She had been lounging on her bed while I prodded her for what they do at this Rothston place, only to find out it was the boarding school she’d gone to. She’d delved into an endless stream of stories about breaking into the pool to go skinny dipping, and picking blueberries, and daring people into springtime swims in the frigid bay, until I finally stopped her.

  “I don’t care about that,” I’d said, turning around in my desk chair. “What does Rothston do? What’s its purpose?”

  “Oh, that,” Sasha had said with a toss of her hair. “I figured you knew. Everybody knows that from the time we’re, like, six.”

  “Sash, I didn’t grow up there, remember? And it’s secret.” Honestly, sometimes she seemed more like a dumb blonde than a brunette.

  “Oh yeah!” she’d giggled, and I’d rolled my eyes.

  “So tell me what they do,” I’d demanded, aggravated at my roommate’s inability to answer a simple question.

  “The adepts of the Rothston Institute are pledged to improve the fate of humanity by intervening to keep humankind safe,” she’d answered as if she was reciting some litany. She’d launched back into stories about people I didn’t know, but I didn’t listen. Improving the fate of humanity. I had to find out more.