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  “Of course,” I said, not knowing what else to do. In spite of everything I knew was smart, I stood next to him, his shoulder close to my cheek, and watched him put my number in his contacts while his brother looked on.

  I felt John’s mood change to pure happiness. It was nice to know what that felt like.

  As I walked away I heard his brother ask, “What was that?”

  John said, “Nothing.”

  “You like her.”

  “She’s from a whole different world.”

  “Well, now she’s in ours.”

  I stood by and watched my phone buzz, the unfamiliar number lighting up the screen. Right before it was about to go to voice mail, I grabbed it.

  “Hi,” I said in a completely normal voice, as if he called me all the time.

  “Hi,” John said.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Well, not nothing. I just finished dinner with my family. I have a lot of reading to do. What are you doing?”

  “Supposed to be reading, but I’m staring out the window.” I looked at my bare feet, trying to get a grip. I couldn’t believe I was nervous. I realized too late that not being able to read his mind from this distance put me squarely in the same position as any other girl on the phone with John Ford.

  “What are you looking at?” he asked. John didn’t sound nervous in the least. It made me want to know what he was thinking even more.

  “The lake.”

  “Nice. Are you in your room?”

  “Yes. I practically live up here.” I didn’t mean to make that sound like a bad thing.

  “I hear you. I walk out, and I have to answer thirty questions.” John laughed, a little humorlessly.

  “It’s nice they ask you.” God, I didn’t want to sound like I felt sorry for myself. “Where do you live?” I sounded pleasant, like I wanted to get to know more about him. If he only knew.

  “I live in Zilker. Right by the elementary school. Actually you probably never come south of the river,” he teased. We always seemed to fall into easy flirting.

  I laughed. I wasn’t expecting the playful shit-talking to start already. “What are you saying? I go south all the time!” I realized I was winding my hair around a finger and smiling. I dropped my hand to my lap. “I spent many a night at the train tracks.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  I was sure he had visions of rich kids buying drugs. “I’d watch my friends try to jump on the passing trains. It was pretty frightening actually, but safer than watching them play chicken with their cars.”

  I had to be careful, I realized. The only people I was used to talking to and spending time with were my family. It was too easy to get sloppy with him. “You’re leaving the tennis team, aren’t you?”

  “How’d you know?” John asked.

  “That’s why your brother was there today, right?” I lowered my voice in case anyone was in the hallway outside my door.

  “Yeah, it’s time to go back to my real coach.” He sounded like he actually regretted having to leave.

  “I’ll still see you in English.” I realized I’d just admitted there was something between us.

  “True. But I’ll miss seeing you after tennis.” I couldn’t believe he just said that.

  “I know.” What was I doing?

  “Are you seeing that guy? The one who punched the cop?” John sounded like he wanted to know once and for all if he was wasting his time. I’d caught him in class thinking about the way I’d looked at Angus at Barton Springs. He hated Angus. It bothered me how much he still thought about Angus touching the police officer and what he thought he saw.

  “No,” I said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

  “It’s weird. I don’t know why I went to Barton Springs that day. I never go there.”

  What if I hadn’t met you? My own thought flashed by and took me by surprise.

  I decided to ask, “What about you? Do you miss…what’s her name?” He knew I knew her name.

  “You mean Sarah? No, I don’t miss her. I miss believing she’s a good person. And that Tom is my friend. Whatever.”

  “Not whatever. Maybe they’re basically good but they made a mistake.”

  “Mistakes are one thing. But I think you can’t consider someone good when they hurt other people. On purpose. Repeatedly.” He was definitely cold to the people who crossed him. It looked like he never thought about Sarah or Tom anymore.

  I needed to change the subject. “What are you doing this weekend?” Oh no, now he was going to think I wanted him to ask me out.

  He sounded resigned. “I have to play a tournament this weekend.”

  “Where?”

  “In town, actually. At UT. It’s a big one.”

  “Maybe I’ll come by.”

  “No, don’t.”

  “Why?” I was curious.

  “Because I’ll want to impress you.” Wow.

  “Can I come?” I persisted, suddenly realizing what I wanted to do. I was sick of feeling bad about Barton Springs and about reading his mind. It wasn’t appropriate to care. If I helped him win his match—one more time—I’d absolve myself and be able to move on.

  “It’s open to the public.”

  Oh, now I had to be at this tournament.

  “No, of course you can come,” he finally said.

  “Okay,” I said, as though we’d reached an agreement. We had a moment of warm silence. I felt myself begin to blush. “I gotta go.”

  “Good night.” I heard the smile in his voice.

  “Good night.” I lowered my voice to almost a whisper.

  I placed my phone down on the bed and stared out my window, telling myself I had this thing under control.

  The night before the tournament, I wandered downstairs after talking to John. I was looking for something to eat, deliberately waiting until late so I wouldn’t run into Victoria or my sister.

  I was replaying our phone conversation—which, this time, had lasted for hours—enviously thinking about all the cool concerts he’d been to, and laughing to myself about his unexpected devotion to both Run the Jewels and Taylor Swift.

  Unwittingly I stumbled onto a scene. As soon as I set foot in the living room, I saw Victoria and three other group members, including Paul’s mother, Anne, standing stock-still across the room. Victoria quickly got my attention and held up her hand, halting me from taking another step. It was like they were all watching a dangerous animal, no one making any sudden movements.

  Novak sat on a plush white sofa in the middle of the living room, Kendra tucked in at his side. He had his arm around her and was murmuring in her ear. Kendra had her face turned into his neck, and she was sobbing.

  After what felt like minutes, she lifted her head, looked up at him, and, in a tiny little-girl voice, said, “But I don’t understand where I am.”

  Novak couldn’t have been more loving. “You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re Kendra, right? Can you say it?” Novak spoke so soothingly. Kendra just nodded. “I’m going to have Anne sit with you, and then she’s going to take you home, now that you’ve seen me. You know Anne.”

  “But I want you to stay with me.” Kendra sounded about four years old. She seemed so lost.

  Novak very gently untangled himself and stood up. As soon as his back was to Kendra, disgust played over his features.

  The abrupt change in demeanor was chilling. He lifted his chin to Anne, and she immediately walked over to Kendra and took Novak’s place.

  I wanted to go back to my room, shut the door, and take a shower. Anything to wipe what I’d just seen from my memory. Kendra had finally gone the way of the other assistants. She had just been helping me, arranging my transition to Austin High. It was different seeing it in person instead of hearing about it secondhand—seeing someone lose all sense of who they were and their life before they met Novak. Kendra had lasted much longer than anyone else. Maybe that made the comedown even worse.

  For the first time in
my life, I hoped Novak wouldn’t acknowledge my presence. I hadn’t seen him since that day at his downtown office. I hadn’t known he was home. Usually I could tell because the air felt supercharged, like everything in the house changed focus and turned uniformly in his direction.

  Novak crossed the white room to where I stood, rooted. He kissed both my cheeks. Victoria and the rest of the party nodded at me as they passed on their way to the dining room, where presumably they’d been interrupted during a late dinner. No one seemed concerned by what had just happened. Novak was the one who seemed most bothered. I tried to look like I wasn’t shaken either, even though Kendra sat in plain view in the middle of the living room with Anne.

  “Julia.” He held me at arm’s length to really look at me. Then he dropped his hands from my shoulders and took my hand, as if he instinctively knew I had a nasty cut on my palm. Novak turned it over and then clasped it between his hands while he began to talk.

  “How are you finding your new school?”

  It was hard to switch gears and suddenly have an important conversation with Novak. What was the right thing to say? I settled on “Very different. But I’m handling it.”

  “Ah” was all he said as he studied my eyes. Then, “Is there anything I need to know?”

  What did he mean? He couldn’t know about what I was doing, could he? He had never concerned himself with the details of my life.

  “No,” I said, hoping nothing in my voice gave him pause. “I’m staying under the radar.”

  He nodded slowly. “Be careful at that school. Obviously these people can become addicted to us.”

  He squeezed my arm before turning his back on me to return to the long, orchid-covered table beyond. I was not invited.

  “Julia, one more thing,” Novak said, as if he had just remembered something.

  “Yes?”

  “Be on guard if anyone approaches you. It seems the Department of Justice has sent the FBI to town.” Novak said this almost laughingly, and I knew he wasn’t worried. This case against Novak was an annoyance, if even that, before Relocation. Novak would never get caught.

  “I would never speak to someone about us,” I said sincerely.

  The next morning I felt off the second I woke up, my mind preoccupied after my face-to-face encounter with Novak. I wanted to withdraw, not potentially fix a tennis match.

  I hadn’t really thought out going to John’s tournament. I didn’t have a plan for what I was going to do, and I hadn’t given enough thought to what it meant that I was showing up. I arrived at the tennis complex late, not in the mood for the task.

  I’d thrown on the wrong clothes, I hadn’t had time to put on sunscreen, and I’d forgotten my sunglasses.

  Of course I found him. I always knew exactly where he was, even in this impressively large space.

  “Hi,” John said when I walked up.

  “Hi.” Damn, the sun was bright. John was looking in my eyes. For a second I got caught up looking in his. It grounded me somehow, like I remembered him again. I felt the excitement begin to come back.

  “I’m playing on court three, so why don’t you go sit anywhere else.”

  I smiled. “No.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here. Don’t you have anything better to do on a Saturday morning?” He was joking, but he also wasn’t. My being here was a lot of pressure. His breathing was too shallow.

  “Sadly, I don’t. No, seriously, you’ll play better if I’m here. You won’t want me to see you lose.” I smiled, torturing him.

  “Stop. You’re killing me.” His smile lit up his eyes, even in a moment when I knew he was stressed. Then both of us were silent, unsure of what to say next.

  Somehow it had been easier on the phone. Now it was like we were too blinded by the reality of each other to behave normally. Over the phone my senses weren’t overloading me with an outpouring of information about him—the way he moved, his scent, his expressions.

  At school this week we’d had our same routine. We’d sit next to each other in English, where I would think about him thinking about me. Next we’d see each other at the end of the school day, when we had a little more time to talk. So much of what we communicated was silent, though. Like how he carried my tennis bag yesterday. And how I’d grabbed his arm when I was laughing earlier this week. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin. I didn’t know why I did it. Because I could. Because I wanted to, and I liked what it did to him.

  “Okay, I’ll see you afterward. But feel free to leave if you get bored. Or if it goes long.” He looked serious.

  “Stop! Don’t worry.” And because I couldn’t resist, I reached over and grabbed his hand. “You’re going to do great.” He surprised me by snatching his hand back.

  “What? Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Then I realized. I reached out for his hand again. Reluctantly he let me take it. It was pretty bad. So scaly and irritated. I grazed it with the fingers of my other hand.

  “John!” We both jumped. His mom was standing a few feet away. I knew that’s who she was. She was tall—really tall—wearing khaki shorts and a polo shirt. She dangled a baseball hat in one hand. John had told me she was a middle school principal, and you could tell. I dropped his hand immediately. She knew who I was and she wasn’t happy I was here.

  “They’re ready for you.” I watched her turn and walk away, not even bothering to introduce herself. She was mad at John. Crap. He didn’t need this.

  “That was my mom. Sorry—she’s pissed at me. It’s not like her to be unfriendly.” He blew it off gracefully.

  “You don’t want to meet my stepmother,” I joked, although that really wasn’t very funny. When John had asked about my family, I’d shut down, making it clear I wouldn’t talk about them. He had actually stopped wondering about them as often. He was too caught up in us.

  “Okay. Good luck,” I said, about to walk away, but at the last second John caught my hand and kissed my cheek. He smelled like really nice sunscreen. He was gone before I had a chance to say anything. Very smooth, Ford. I actually hadn’t seen that coming at all. That should have been a sign I wasn’t paying attention.

  I was a little rude and squeezed myself onto a bleacher next to a family where there really wasn’t any room. But I needed to be close, in the front row, so I could see what was going on. I felt John noting his family’s presence, and I quickly glanced over my shoulder. His mom was watching Alex on a different court, so I guessed the man sitting two rows behind me who bore a striking resemblance to John was his father. He looked like he was of Asian descent, which explained where John got those dark eyes.

  I watched John cross the court, tense, then gracefully serve the ball like it was nothing. It was rare for us to be impressed, but John had skill and a quiet confidence to go with it that even I found enviable.

  Seeing him on his stage, I finally admitted to myself how deeply attracted I was to him. And how not okay that was.

  What was wrong with me? This made me different. He was supposed to be nothing to me, just an experiment. I would be abandoned here if anyone ever found out about him. It had to stop.

  I realized John was losing badly. And that was when I made several technical errors at once. John was panicking, and it was intermingling with my own panic. I felt the pressure overwhelming him. His mother had now joined his father in the stands, his brother had probably won his match, I was here, and his shoulder was hurting.

  I watched John’s opponent, a much higher seed, slam the ball back at John, and I decided it was time to intervene. It wasn’t hard—it only took a second until I could actually see the traces of light coming from the ball. I focused just ahead of where I wanted the light to go, and I began to manipulate the trajectory of the path. Out. I did it again and again, also moving John’s shots in.

  But no one was playing along. John’s confidence didn’t change, and neither did his opponent’s. The opponent kept questioning calls, which annoyed me, so I broke the strings of two of his rackets and cracked the
frame of a third. Unfortunately it threw off the rhythm of the match even more.

  I had to handle the majority of John’s points. He won, but the match had a terrible energy. Something felt not right.

  I was ready to brush off the match. It was over. I didn’t feel okay about it, but I hadn’t figured out why yet. My plan was to watch the last match and then be done with him completely. Just set John up and then he would be on his own from here on out. I stood up to leave. It was hot, and I decided to seek out some water, hoping that would make my sudden nausea disappear.

  “Julia.” Dripping sweat, John was standing discreetly just outside the exit. Why hadn’t I known he was there? “I need to talk to you.”

  I realized I couldn’t feel anything because he was so pissed.

  “Where are you parked?”

  “I don’t know—over there somewhere. Why? Are you okay? Congratulations, by the way.” It was starting to dawn on me what this was about, and my mind scrambled to figure out how I could cover my tracks. I realized it was hard to build a defense when I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d done in front of him today that was so obvious.

  “Not really. Let’s go.”

  “Sure,” I said slowly, and reluctantly turned in the direction of the parking lot.

  “John!” his mother called after him. Of course.

  He turned around and said loudly, “I’ll be right back!” He didn’t wait for her reaction. He just kept walking.

  We got to my car. Stalling, I turned it on and toyed with the air-conditioning. The music was on, and I only turned it down, not off. “So…”

  “I know what you did with the match,” he said, his voice sounding raw.

  I took a deep breath, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Why are you fucking with me?”

  “I’m not! Why would you say that?” I found it hard to look him in the eye.

  “You think I’m an idiot? You don’t play tennis your whole life and not notice when something’s that off.” He shook his head, like he didn’t understand why I was blowing up his world like this. “You didn’t have a random premonition at Barton Springs. And what about Sarah? How did you know she was going to be there that day and that she was cheating on me? And that paper on Beloved you wrote…”