If anyone had had any idea that it was even possible for there to be aliens—or half aliens—among us, they would have picked these guys out immediately.
As it was, the other students gave them subtle but perceptible distance, moving around them like water around rocks. It was as if some part of their brains registered a threat that they didn’t understand.
But none of that was what had me reaching for Ariane, fumbling for her arm and locking my fingers on her wrist just to make sure she was still there.
I’d known that Ford would resemble Ariane. I’d been prepared for that, a girl who looked like Ariane in a vague, smeared way, like siblings or first cousins. Like if you squinted your eyes—or were half-crazy from stress and pressure—you might think they were the same person.
But Ford didn’t just look like Ariane. They were freaking identical. Not just the same out-of-control white-blond hair, pale skin, thin limbs, and small nose—we’re talking mirror image. Except Ford hadn’t bothered with blue-tinted contact lenses to hide the true color of her eyes. None of them had. Of course, no one here would theoretically be searching for them as escaped lab projects, so maybe they could get away with that. They were just weird-looking kids, as far as anyone else knew. Exotic, from another country, albinos. Or suffering from a rare genetic condition, as my mom had suggested.
Still, it was creepy.
I shuddered. Ariane and Ford’s shared features were a huge, screaming reminder that they’d both been deliberately and precisely created. Manufactured, for lack of a better term. It went beyond eerie, venturing into downright freaky and unnatural. Was this girl simply Laughlin’s version of the GTX “Ariane” model?
Suddenly all the strange behavior we’d witnessed since walking through the door at Linwood made sense. The teacher had thought Ariane was Ford. So had Lara. No wonder she’d been angry; she’d seen Ariane and thought we were making fun of her with my search for Ford.
Laughlin’s hybrids drew closer, and I saw the girl—Ford—notice us. Rather, notice Ariane.
She cocked her head to one side in that curious bird mannerism that I’d seen from Ariane countless times.
It sent a weird jolt through me. Some part of me responded as if it were Ariane, even knowing logically that it wasn’t, and the urge to reach out and pull her away from the others rose up before I quickly squelched it. Because an equally powerful urge was screaming at me to run.
Something about Ford was wrong. Her eyes were too hard, too empty, something. I couldn’t even say what it was for sure, or how I knew, except that maybe it was in how they moved. They were predators in a field full of prey. I’d never, ever felt that from Ariane. It was like seeing a version of Ariane with all the humanity and personality drained out.
I stood my ground but found myself blinking rapidly, as if that might help, as if this was simply a matter of double vision.
It didn’t; it wasn’t.
Ariane and Ford locked gazes, and I braced myself, not sure what to expect. Would we be slammed against the wall by invisible hands? Or, worse, would Ford summon Ariane forward and welcome her with, what, a hug or a handshake or some kind of secret alien greeting?
I envisioned them silently making room for Ariane in their midst, a quartet instead of trio, and the four of them floating off down the hall.
Just the thought of it made me feel vaguely ill, and I wanted to step between them to prevent even the possibility of that happening.
Instead, after a long moment, Ford’s gaze moved on from Ariane, returning her attention to the hallway in front of her.
As if nothing had happened. Which, I guess, technically, it hadn’t. But it was more as if she’d simply decided Ariane didn’t exist.
“That was…weird,” I whispered to Ariane, staring after them. None of them even glanced back; they just kept moving, in step with each other. “Wasn’t it?”
Of all the potential scenarios I’d imagined, that was not one of them. And the rush of relief that followed made me feel disloyal to Ariane, but I couldn’t help it. If they were going to ignore us—her—I could only see that as a good thing compared to everything else that might have happened.
When Ariane didn’t respond, I turned to glance at her, expecting to find her frowning at their backs.
But instead she was watching, transfixed, her body angled in their direction, as if they were magnets drawing her in.
Damn.
13
Ariane
IT WAS LIKE LOOKING IN A MIRROR. I'd heard full-blooded humans use that expression before, marveling at the resemblance of their offspring or horrified at seeing their own worst characteristics reflected in someone else.
But I’d never experienced it. Until now.
In all three of Laughlin’s hybrids, I could see pieces of myself. The pale skin, the dark eyes, the minimal nose and disproportionately small ears. It was disconcerting and also somehow a relief. Family. Connection. Proof that I wasn’t alone.
Looking at Ford, the female, though, it went beyond all of that. She was…me.
It made my breath catch in my throat, and I felt the ridiculous urge to wave to see if she would mimic the motion, just as a dutiful reflection would.
Or maybe I was the reflection.
I shook my head. How was this even possible? The obvious answer, under normal (a.k.a. human) circumstances would be twins. But we’d been made, not conceived. And even if someone had created two identical “samples”—I hated that term—I doubted that either Laughlin or Jacobs would have been much in a sharing mood with a competitor.
Next to me, I could feel the prickling of Zane’s discomfort. He thought it was unnatural. And it was. We were. Humiliation churned inside me. This was just one more explicit reminder that I was not of his kind. That he and I were not the same.
I told you, Mara’s voice drifted across my memory.
Mara. Both she and my father alluded to GTX and Laughlin Integrated regularly spying on one another. So, perhaps, then, our shared looks were simply a sign of successful corporate espionage. I could easily imagine Laughlin or Jacobs driven to act on the information gathered or materials stolen. Out of scientific curiosity, maybe. Or, more likely, a case of thumbing his nose at the other guy. Anything you can do, I can improve upon.
I wondered which I was—the chicken or the egg. It didn’t matter, really. But it felt like it did. Was I, on top of everything else, just an imitation of someone else’s creation?
Upon closer inspection, we weren’t completely identical. Ford might have been an inch or two taller. Her hair was paler than mine, but I was pretty sure that was only because she had not dyed it. Her eyes were the same penetrating darkness that I saw before I put my contact lenses in. She was more me than me, in that respect.
As they passed, Ford turned her head to look at me. Meeting her gaze sent a shockwave through me. It felt like falling forward into open space with no way to catch myself and only a vague idea of where the ground might be.
From this angle, I could now see that she bore a small, dark line on her right cheekbone, like a single hash mark. It appeared almost as though someone had written on her face, but it was too precise and permanent-looking to be someone’s carelessness with a pen.
Before I could figure out what to say or do, if anything, she broke eye contact, and they continued down the hall without any further sign that they’d noticed my existence.