Defect - By Ryann Kerekes Page 0,45

for me. And suddenly, I know why Will had chosen to stay here rather than get assigned to another post. He’s waiting to see what happens with Stephen. The goodness I see in him, the strength he has – I now see it from a new angle. He’s doing it for his brother.

I begin to understand Will’s – and even Kane’s – hardened exteriors a little more. This place makes you forget all the good stuff; you’re forced to leave your old life behind. But I’m starting to realize, if we let them take that from us – they win. And I don’t want to let them win.

“You have siblings?” he asks.

“No, it’s just my mom and me.”

He’s quiet and I sense he wants me to continue, to fill the silence around us with the little time we have together. He clears his throat. “So, um, tell me about your mom.”

I decide to trust him, and tell him the truth. “She wasn’t like normal mothers, but in a lot of ways, she was better. She had endless patience for playing games with me. One night we decorated the whole house in butterflies cut from tissue paper. We kept them up for a whole year, before we needed a change and redecorated with hearts.” I smile lightly at the memory.

“But in other ways, she was hard to be around. She was distrustful of the government, though she would never say why. I still don’t understand why she wouldn’t have explained it to me. Maybe she just thought everything would turn out fine with me, and I’d never know her past.”

“I’m sure she was doing what she thought was best for you.”

“Maybe. Even the name she gave me – Eve – she chose from the bible story. Another strong woman who thought for herself, she’d said. And we all know how well that turned out.”

He chuckles. “She sounds strong. Like you.”

“I guess.” Before this place, I’d never thought of myself as strong, but now, I’m not sure what to think. I do what I have to do to survive. That’s all there is to it.

“So you never knew your father?” he asks.

“I didn’t even know his name until I came here.”

He nods, a sad look in his eyes. It was uncommon to grow up without both parents, but I didn’t want his pity. I didn’t want him looking at me like there was something wrong with me.

“I used to ask about him,” I explained. “But it made my mom sad, so eventually I stopped asking. Since my mom wouldn’t talk about him, I used to make things up about him.”

He glances my direction, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I imagined that he liked to jog first thing in the morning. And that he would make scrambled eggs when he got back and quiz me on my homework before school.” I smiled at the memory. “You probably think that’s strange.”

“No. Not at all.” He bumps his knee against mine, and I can tell he’s telling the truth. We sit in silence for several minutes, listening to the sound of branches swaying in the light breeze.

Will looks down, and though he’s trying to be subtle, I can tell he’s checking his watch.

“Do you have to get going?” I don’t mean for it to happen, but there’s disappointment in my voice.

“I can probably stay a little longer.”

I’m not sure which of us moved, but before long, we’re sitting closer, trying to draw body heat from each other. Though I’m sure it’s painfully obvious what I’m trying to do, I inch just a fraction closer. “I guess it is kind of cold out here.”

“Yeah.” He rubs his hands together. “Here, give me your hands.” I hold them out and he takes them, pressing my hands in between his. They completely enclose mine, and I warm up quicker than I would have thought possible. “That better?” he asks.

I don’t trust my voice to answer, so I nod.

We’re quiet for a few minutes, looking out at the darkened forest. Will eventually breaks the silence. “Do you ever wonder if there’s more to all this?”

Surely he doesn’t mean this life we have here. It feels like a dangerous conversation to have, even whispered in the darkened woods.

I let myself entertain the possibilities of his question. “Before I ended up here, no. I was probably more excited than most to get my mindscan – coming to the bright, shiny compound on my birthday – it felt incredibly normal, like something you