Before Tomorrow (Forget Tomorrow) Page 4

  His throat constricted; his chest felt tight. Coach’s words ran through his mind. You are my life’s work, Logan. My entire career is worth it because of you.

  “Yeah,” he said, staring at Roxy. Already, she was edging away. Already, she was exiting his life. For good. “No pressure at all.”

  Logan spent the next few hours smiling when he didn’t feel like it. Shaking people’s hands and accepting their congratulations when all he wanted to do was dive into a pool. He was thrilled about his future—but that didn’t make him like parties any more.

  The minutes doggie-paddled by, and he was about to jump into the wall screens themselves when the food tables finally started emptying. He shoved a mini gold-starred cupcake into his mouth to help the process along…and then Melie approached him. Fike. He swallowed the cupcake whole and wiped his fingers against his pants.

  Melie was a petite woman about his mom’s age with shiny black hair and blunt-cut bangs. She was also the one who oversaw the wilderness community from Eden City—and the person who controlled Mikey’s fate.

  “Congratulations, Logan.” Unlike every other person in the room, her tone wasn’t warm or hearty or the slightest bit congratulatory. Rather, it assessed him as surely as the eyes raking over his face. “This status. Will it interfere with your work for the Underground?”

  “No, ma’am. I’ll still be here, passing along messages from Mikey, as long as I’m needed.”

  Her forehead crinkled. “You sure about that? What, exactly, does the life of a gold-star swimmer entail? Long hours of practice. Stress. Competition. Maybe you’re no longer the best person for this position.”

  He stiffened. She knew damn well there was no one else for this role—no Receiver in civilization whose Sender just happened to be living in the wilderness. What was more, he’d been Harmony’s source of communication with the Underground for the last two years. Not once had he given them reason to doubt him.

  “I’m the only person for this position.” He fought to keep his tone even. “So like it or not, you’re just going to have to trust me.”

  “I do trust you.” She stepped forward and took his arm, and the movement reminded him of someone. Someone he’d seen recently. But he couldn’t figure out who. “However, you were dragged into this role when you were just a kid. Nobody ever asked if you wanted to be involved. We need you, Logan, but it’s up to you to reaffirm this choice. If you want out, say so now.”

  “Why would I want out?”

  “Because now you’ve seen how easy your future can be.” Her eyes flashed with something he couldn’t read. Passion, perhaps. Long-ago hurts. Not for the first time, he wondered how—and why—Melie came to be the leader of the Underground.

  “You have the option of riding out your gold star for the rest of your life,” she continued. “ComA can’t touch you now. Even if they discover your psychic ability, they’ll gloss over it. You’re their poster boy for how well their system works. It would be a simple matter for you to forget about the people who aren’t so lucky. Whose memories don’t work out so well.”

  “I would never do that!” he exclaimed.

  “Why?” Her tone was no longer assessing, no longer testing. She sounded as if she really wanted to know. As if she might actually care.

  “I will achieve my life’s dream, but I’m not the only person in this world,” he said quietly. “There are other people. Other dreams.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, as if this made total sense, and then switched on the recorder behind her ear. “Do you have a message for me? From Mikey?”

  He nodded. He’d jotted down the message, but he didn’t need to refer to his notes. He had the order memorized, as he did all his communications from his brother.

  “Size fourteen shoes. Underwear. A new supply of spices—mint, turmeric, curry, oregano, and cinnamon.”

  “Good, good,” she murmured. “Anything else?”

  “No, that was the entire message.”

  And it was. It always was. Just once, he wished his brother would communicate something personal. An inside joke, maybe, or even an image of how Mikey was doing. Anything that wasn’t strictly business. Because then he would know that Mikey had forgiven him a little bit.

  Even if Logan hadn’t forgiven himself.

  Chapter Nine

  “How are you feeling?” the female guard asked Logan the next morning. It was the same guard who had administered his memory two days ago—although two days ago, she hadn’t bothered to introduce herself. Today, she made sure he knew her name was Scarlett, “like the color, like the hue of her passion.”

  She read from a screen, questions standard for all recipients after they got their memories. But she was beaming at him again. A smile that didn’t reach her eyes but had her body leaning forward, chest thrust in his direction.

  Ugh. Any of his buddies would probably be thrilled to take advantage of her interest. But he wasn’t one of them.

  And she wasn’t Callie.

  “Fine,” he said shortly.

  “Receiving a glimpse of the future can be unsettling. It might cause the recipient anxiety, confusion, or fear. Have you felt depressed since you received your memory?”

  “No.”

  “Have you thought about hurting yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Have you lost interest in your daily routine? Do you still enjoy your favorite activities?”

  “No and yes.”

  “How are you sleeping? Eating?”

  “Fine and fine.”

  He’d given nothing but one- or two-word answers since the interview began. But Scarlett beamed as though he’d just proposed a solution for world peace. “Fascinating,” she purred. “What did you do before coming here today?”

  “Went to early morning swim practice.”

  “Ooooh.” The spider fingers were back, inching up his arm. “So much dedication. Let me ask: Why do you take one breath for every two strokes, instead of every three or four? That’s what other swimmers do. Is this a strategic decision, or did it just happen that way?”

  He froze. The air felt too thick for oxygen. “How do you know how often I take a breath?”

  She blinked. “I experienced your memory along with you two days ago.”

  “But how did you notice? Most of my teammates have never picked up on that, and they’ve been swimming with me for a decade.”

  “Maybe I think you’re cute.” She ran her fingers under the short sleeve of his school uniform.

  “Or maybe you’re lying.” He stared at her, hard, until she withdrew her fingers and dropped them onto her lap. And then he kept staring until she squirmed and turned away. “Come on, Scarlett. You’re better than this. Tell me the truth.”

  Still, she didn’t answer.

  He inched closer and placed a finger under her chin, gently turning her so that she was looking at him. Their mouths were less than a foot apart. If he leaned forward, he could’ve kissed her.

  The thought made nausea climb up his throat, and he pushed it back down. He had no idea if this was going to work, but it had as good a shot as anything else. “Help me out here. It would mean a lot.”

  “Fine.” Two bright spots of red appeared on her cheeks. “Your account was flagged. The Chairwoman asked me to watch your memory a few more times to see if I noticed anything strange. That’s all.”

  Every hair on his neck stood up. “Because I’m going to be a gold-star swimmer?”

  “No,” she said slowly. “It was flagged even before you received the memory.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged, but he could tell it wasn’t because she didn’t know. She’d just been instructed not to tell him.

  “Listen, Scarlett.” He grazed his fingers along her wrist. “If my account is flagged, I’d like to know why. You saw my memory. You know I’m not a criminal. So why is the Chairwoman interested in me?”

  She looked at his fingers. He could almost see her mind whirling. Which would better furth
er her interest? Staying loyal to FuMA…or aligning herself with a future champion swimmer?

  He bumped his knee against hers. Champion swimmer, he tried to scream with every contact, every touch. Pick me.

  Finally, she nodded and turned to the terminal. “Says here, it’s because of your family. Your brother, Mikey, was a known psychic.”

  There was no use denying it. The racquetball incident was right there in his records, and anybody who knew him knew the history of his brother.

  “As you might know, TechRA’s very interested in psychics right now,” she continued. “The scientists need them for their research, and psychic abilities typically run in families.”

  “Not always.”

  “No—not always. But we’re instructed to scrutinize the memories of every account that’s been flagged. That’s why I watched your memory so many times. Well, that, and your amazing pecs…” Her eyes went straight to his chest. “I’m happy to say, your memory checked out. So you have me to thank for your free and clear status.”

  Fike. He got himself into this mess. Now he had to extract himself without making her mad.

  “I won’t forget, Scarlett,” he said, his voice low and husky. “When I’m famous, I won’t forget you were the one who administered my memory. You were the one who showed me my dreams were possible.”

  With one last caress of her arm, he jumped out of his seat and made a beeline for the door.

  “Come back and see me,” she called out.

  He shot her a grin over his shoulder and hoped his dimples were half as charming as Roxy claimed. “I will.”

  He hurried out of the room. He should’ve felt relieved, but instead, the worry swirled around his stomach and made him remember what he’d eaten for breakfast. A rare piece of hangar steak and two eggs. It was not as appetizing now as it had been a few hours ago.

  Callie. She was somewhere in this building now, receiving her memory. And her sister was psychic. Did ComA know that? Was her account flagged?

  More importantly, his future memory had been vetted and cleared. But would her memory be quite as innocent?

  Chapter Ten

  Logan paced the lobby of the FuMA building, waiting for that day’s class of memory recipients to emerge. Okay, so he was stalking Callie again. That made two times in two days. Did that make him a creep or just a concerned friend?

  Creep, he decided, spinning on his heel. What was he doing, being so worried about this girl? He hadn’t talked to her for the last five years. Did one memory really change everything?

  Yes—and no. Truth be told, he’d always worried about her. Never stopped thinking about her. Had continuously involved himself in her business.

  He took another lap around the lobby. A few teens were beginning to spill into the room. He glanced at the red digits projected on the ceiling. Too early still for that day’s recipients to have their black chips implanted, so the kids must be here for their postmemory check-in, just like him. He turned to retrace his steps—and there she was. Like a vision from a dream.

  He inhaled sharply. Partly because she was beautiful (although she was always beautiful). And partly because of the desperate frenzy in her eyes. She glanced left, and then right, and then tucked her head down and scurried across the lobby floor. Her movements were jerky and stiff, as though she was forcing herself to walk.

  What in Fates? Did that mean her memory was flagged? Who was she running from?

  He looked around but didn’t see anyone chasing her. That didn’t mean nobody was coming.

  “Callie? Is that you?” he called, hoping she would slow down. He was already practicing his speech, about how he just happened to be in the lobby and was decidedly not stalking her.

  But she broke into a full-on run and sprinted out of the building. Instinctively, he followed. Instead of heading toward the bullet train, however, she took off in the other direction, toward the woods.

  He lengthened his stride and put his arms into the run. She sprinted even faster. What? Why was she running? He didn’t mean her any harm. Surely, she knew that. Surely—

  That was when he got it. From her perspective, someone was chasing after her. Him.

  Putting on a surge of speed, he ran up next to her and then slowed down, so that they were keeping pace with each other.

  They hit the woods, and the trees closed in around him.

  “Logan?” she said incredulously, as if he were the last person she expected to see. And he probably was. With a pang, he realized that although he’d been thinking about her nonstop these last two days, she probably hadn’t given him a second thought. “What are you doing here?”

  He curved his lips and hoped it looked like a smile. “Just being a good citizen, reporting to FuMA for my post-memory check-in.”

  “No, I mean, why are you chasing me? Do you work for FuMA?”

  “Of course not. I’d never do that.” Now he was the one who was incredulous. They hadn’t talked for five years, but good Fate. Didn’t she know him at all? “I called your name and you took off. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  A siren sounded, and a couple of birds exploded from a tree, nearly stopping his heart.

  “I’m in trouble, Logan,” she said, her eyes taking up half of her face.

  “Don’t tell me that’s for you.”

  “They were going to arrest me. I ran.”

  He creased his forehead. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing!” She shuddered. “Almost nothing. It was my memory.”

  The concrete began gathering at the pit of his stomach. “They’re after you because of something you did in your memory?”

  She nodded.

  The pulse thrummed in his throat. Aw, fike. She had gotten one of those memories. The ones where you commit a future crime. The ones that FuMA never talked about—and for good reason. It wasn’t exactly wise for them to admit they locked up innocent people for doing nothing wrong.

  But that was impossible. This was Callie, for Fate’s sake. How could she be a criminal? She’d cried in biology class when they had to dissect a frog—not because the frog was dead, but because she felt sorry for the frog’s family.

  And then, he heard dogs—faint and far away, but there, nonetheless. A manhunt. Any doubts he had evaporated. The dogs only came out when they were searching for a fugitive.

  She stumbled, and he caught her, turning her to face him. “Your memory. How bad was it?”

  She blinked rapidly. “It was bad. Really bad.”

  He curled his hand into a fist. Damn the future. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t what she deserved. If anybody should’ve received a good memory, to live happily ever after, it was Callie.

  He took a shaky breath. And then another. He had never done this before. It had always been someone else who directed a fugitive to Harmony. Not him. Not the most junior member of the Underground. Not the boy who betrayed his own brother.

  Fate help him, he’d like someone more experienced to help Callie, but neither of them had a choice. He was the only option she had.

  “Okay,” he said, pushing out every last breath from his lungs. “Follow me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  They ran deeper into the forest. Logan’s first few steps felt like his first few strokes after the starter gun. Adrenaline pumped through his blood, stirring up the chaos in his brain. He attacked the ground like he charged through the water, as though he could scare her future into submission.

  But he was no match against her destiny. He was just a swimmer. All he could do was lead her to a cliff and point her toward the escape route to Harmony. The real battle would be left to the people who actually had power. The thought made him stomp even harder.

  And then, a canopy of leaves covered their heads, infusing him with a measure of calm. In the distance, he heard the bark of the dogs, but the air swirled around him, cool and moist. It was almost as peaceful as being submerged underwater.

  He slowed his steps and snuck a look at
Callie. She was still there, still keeping up, although she looked like a single thread held her together. One hard yank, and she would fall apart and tumble to the ground.

  What could her memory be? As hard as he tried, he couldn’t imagine her as a criminal. That was why he kept looking at her, he told himself. That was why his eyes were drawn, again and again, to the different parts of her. The sweat dotting her upper lip. The chest heaving as though she were swimming a race. Her skin.

  Creamy. Smooth. Cool. She always had the kind of skin he wanted to rub up against, to wrap around himself and sink into, as though she were the deep end of a swimming pool.

  His mouth dried. Stop staring, he ordered himself. You’re going to make her uncomfortable.

  He faced forward and vowed not to turn back around. He didn’t need to. He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye. The curve of her cheek, the sharp angles of her hips, her breasts, round and full—

  Fike. There went his thoughts again. He took a deep, steadying breath and focused instead on the details surrounding him. The pebbles that gave way under his sneakered feet. The bramble crisscrossing in front of his path. The ground that slowly but surely sloped up, up, up.

  They didn’t talk, but that was okay. He was used to the silence between them, and this was the silence of two people lost in their own thoughts, not the hostile, angry silence of feuding ex-friends. He’d take this silence over the meaningless chatter of his classmates any day. It meant that he got to be with her again.

  Finally, as they neared the top, she spoke up. “Where are we going?”

  He looked over his shoulder, pretending to scan the ground below, but really sneaking another look at her. Her skin was flushed, and tendrils of hair escaped from her braid. But it was her eyes—wide and uncertain—that sent a flash through his body, one made up of equal parts desire and protectiveness. “You can’t stay here. They’re going to find you, no matter where you hide.”