Untouched The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,42

people down and you see what they do, you’ll eventually come to realize that we’re the good guys. We don’t expect a decision right now.”

“You have a great deal to think about,” Old Man Winter said. “You stand at the edge of the rest of your life. The decisions you make now affect everything from here on. Gone are the times when simple and inconsequential matters governed your life. It is now the time for you to choose who you want to be, what you want to stand for, and what you want your life to reflect.” He walked around the desk, buttoning his suit coat as he walked to the door and opened it for me. “So few people get to truly steer their course the way you have the chance to now. And the question before you is—will you strive to be normal and live an ordinary life? Or will you do what no one else can do—and be more?”

Chapter 13

I carried the compensation sheet with me, crumpled in my fist, when I left the meeting. I had read through it, though I confess I was in a haze as I left them. One item stuck out, though—a $10,000 bonus to be paid when I signed on for the training program. I still didn’t have a great concept of how much that would buy me, nor what I would do with it. The sheet indicated I could continue to stay on the campus free of charge with all meals provided.

The meeting had taken longer than I expected and I’d skipped breakfast. I had a lot on my mind—after all, the question of how Gavrikov got out of his box was a pretty good one, and I hoped my theory was wrong. We hadn’t discussed Full Metal Jackass in much detail; not that there was much to discuss. Why did I doubt he was the sort to just give up and go home after one encounter that went awry?

Probably because he dressed himself like a submarine and paraded himself into town in hopes of capturing me. You doesn’t dress like that unless you’re a hopelessly delusional loser who will continue to swing for the fences long past the time you should have returned to the dugout.

I entered the cafeteria at half past eleven. It was crowded already. I made my way through the line, again ignoring the animosity of the workers as I gathered my food. I was picking my way over to the far wall, prepared to eat by myself (again) when I caught sight of Zack, sitting with his back to me. I took one step toward him and halted. He was at a table for four and it was filled. Kurt Hannegan sat next to him and Scott Byerly and Kat Forrest sat opposite.

I began to slink back toward the window when Kat waved at me, her big eyes and a wide smile visible even from across the cafeteria. An inward feeling of desperation enveloped me as she tried to wave me over. I sighed and closed my eyes, and when I opened them, Zack was also gesturing for me to join them. He got up and pulled another chair over. With greatest reluctance, I made my way across the room and endured the enthusiastic greetings of Kat and Zack and the muted one from Scott. Hannegan ignored me, I ignored him, and we were both the happier for it.

“Scott has something he wants to tell you,” Zack said as I sat down. I could feel my motions reduced to a severe stiffness, as though all my joints were locked together and it was only through acts of absolute will I could bend them to seat myself. I looked at Scott, who was at my left, and had his head bowed.

“I wanted to apologize,” the young man said, his face angled toward the table. Kat and Zack watched him while Hannegan continued to shovel a burrito into his face. “I didn’t really know you when I wrote that note and it was wrong and inappropriate.” He managed to look up and I got the impression that he was rather like a child caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“All right,” Zack said. “Now we can put all that unpleasantness behind us.” He looked at me, the satisfaction disappearing from his face. “Right?”

I thought about arguing, but what was the point? Byerly couldn’t have hated me any more than I had hated myself when he’d written it.