The burst of cold gnawing at my back quickly turns into a hot knife digging into my skin.
“I can’t believe he . . .” I stop. “What else did he tell you?”
“He begged me to talk with you. And stop you from seeing Josh,” she adds.
I roll my eyes and let out a chilling laugh. “He’s warning you about me and Josh? That’s hilarious.”
My mom pats me on the leg, running her hand along the needlework of the quilt. “Listen to me, Regan. Whatever you and Patrick are fighting about, you should just let it drop for now.”
“Oh really? Why?”
“Because Patrick has always been there for you, and he needs you. The project is in real trouble.”
“I can’t do it,” I say.
“Yes, you can,” she says. For a moment, I allow my eyes to meet hers, and all I see is sweetness. But then she says, “Besides, your father wants us to stick by Pat, and defend him the best we can.”
Wants. Present tense.
“You’re wrong,” I say as I pull the copy of Walden out of her hands. “And this is why,” I add, holding the book up as proof. “I’ve read Walden from cover to cover at least a dozen times since I got home from Patrick’s apartment.” Then I grab my tab and start scrolling through the notes I took. “It’s all about self-reliance—going out into the wild and finding our own ways to survive. If anything, the creation of Elusion seems to have led in the opposite direction, to dependency. Patrick has changed Elusion. He’s turned it into something that Dad would never have approved of. People are getting hurt. I can’t sit by and let this happen.”
“Oh, Regan.” Her hand slowly pulls back from my leg, and her eyes dim. “Patrick was right. You’ve done something, haven’t you? What aren’t you telling me?”
I hesitate briefly, wondering if she’s strong enough to take what I’m about to reveal, but then I think about all I’ve done to look after her, like she said a moment ago, and I feel like she owes me that in return, especially now. But the actual magnitude of what I’ve done doesn’t sink in all the way until I’m ready to confess.
So I blurt it out and get it off my chest as fast as I can.
“I broke into Dad’s old quantum computer at Orexis. Then I copied a bunch of encrypted files onto a QuTap and stole them.”
The stoic look on my mom’s face evaporates in a heartbeat or two. In its place is a cloud of shock.
“Oh my God. Regan, that’s . . . that’s a—”
“Felony? I know.”
She stands up and begins to pace, her hands firmly propped on her hips. “Why? Why would you do something . . . extreme like this?” I can hear the disappointment in her voice.
“It’s because of this Josh, isn’t it?” she adds. “Did he make you do this?”
“No! This was my idea.” I can no longer hold in the emotions I’ve been bottling up for days. I blink back the tears forming in my eyes and turn my head in embarrassment as they begin to fall by the hundreds. “I wanted to find out what was wrong with Elusion.”
“Orexis is responsible for fixing Elusion, not you,” she replies, her tone softening a bit. “Your father understands that there are hidden flaws in any invention. Sometimes accidents are unpreventable.”
“But they aren’t being responsible, and I don’t think this is an accident. That’s why I had to do this.” I set Walden down on the mattress and spring off the bed, stepping in front of her. I spread my arms out a little so she’ll stop moving. “Patrick has been lying to me. Lying to all of us. He denied there were problems with Elusion. That people were addicted. That people could be harmed. But when I began to investigate things, I knew he wasn’t telling the truth. So I needed to force his hand. Don’t you see? I had to do this.”
My mom raises a skeptical eyebrow and sets the back of her hand upon my forehead. Then her mouth hangs opens a little bit, her lips forming a circle of worry.
“And what about me, Regan? Do you suspect me as well?”
I run my hands through my hair, like Josh does when he’s trying to think straight. It doesn’t help, though.
“I . . . I don’t know,” I stammer. “When I went to Elusion last week, I saw Dad. He held me and talked to me. It was so real, Mom. He even warned me about Elusion—and then he was somehow snatched away. He disappeared into the firewall.”
Mom doesn’t say anything in response. She just sits down on the edge of my bed, staring at me, totally stunned.
“Patrick said it was some kind of glitch. That he wasn’t really there. I mean—how could he be, unless he was still alive?”
“Regan,” my mom says. She’s barely breathing. “You can’t think . . .” She stops, as if the mere thought is too incredible to even mention.
“I had to at least look at the possibility. Think about it. That box from Orexis with the book inside. He left his passcard here—who does that? And there wasn’t any body. HyperSoars can be controlled remotely. . . . And then I found the prescription you wrote him, for Zolpidem.”
I wrap my arms around myself, and although I can feel my temperature rising and my head becoming fuzzy, I press on. “I thought, maybe he became addicted to trypnosis. And maybe you were helping him stay inside Elusion.”
“You thought I lied to you about his death? Why? Why in the world would I do something like that?” Mom says, choking back her own tears.
“Because you didn’t want to tell me the truth—he left me. He left you. He walked away from our family by choice. And he was never coming back.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, taking my hands in hers and then this alarmed expression flashes across her face. “You’re burning up.” She places the back of her hand on my forehead. “How long have you been sick?”
“I’m not sick!”
“You are. You don’t even know what you’re saying.”
My tongue is thick with suspicion right now. It seems like she wants nothing more than to drop this conversation as soon as possible.
“You don’t want to talk about this, do you?”
“You’re too feverish to think straight. You need rest.”
“No, I need you to stop lying to me,” I snap. “I need you to tell me the truth about Dad and why you were writing him prescriptions for a drug that’s strong enough to wake people out of comas. Then I’ll get some rest, okay?”
I didn’t expect to go after her like this. And I didn’t expect the pain to be so visible on her face when I did. What’s happening to me? I can’t be sure, but whatever it is, I’m powerless to stop it.
“Honey, I’d give anything to have your father hidden away somewhere, whatever the reason. And I’d gladly tell all the lies in the world to bring him back from the dead.”
“But he is . . . dead?”
She looks confused for a moment and then nods, letting go of my hands and turning away from me. “That prescription for your father was for chronic insomnia. He wasn’t sleeping at all when Elusion was getting ready to be sent before the CIT; he was so worried about what might happen. That his life’s work might be rejected.” Her voice cracks every now and then, and each time, it’s like I’m cut into more pieces. I’m afraid I’ve pushed her too far, and when she turns around—her face pale, her eyes weary—that fear is more than realized.