“But what do you—”
“Everly.” This from Luca, who spoke the word so quietly, yet so firmly, that Everly’s words froze on her lips, shrinking back inside of her as she met and held his steady gaze. When he looked away, he shifted the conversation into talk of tasks for the rest of the day.
It didn’t matter. Everly wasn’t listening anymore, wasn’t even thinking about the strange partial conversation she had stumbled into. Her mind had begun to drift in a way that by now was becoming uncomfortably familiar.
It was this place, she thought. The sprawling dining hall with its tiled floors and uniform tables. It had triggered something, a memory that wasn’t hers, a vision of sitting here, in this same cafeteria, eating the same gruel in different company.
Or the same company? In the non-memory, she still thought she saw Luca.
She still thought he was smiling at her, in a way very similar to the way he had smiled at her before.
And . . . someone else?
Blond hair blue eyes fair skin.
It was—
It couldn’t be.
It—
It was her mother.
A faint voice whispered the name. Mary.
Everly blinked. The vision didn’t go away. She saw herself—or rather, she saw through her own eyes—and she saw Luca and she saw her mother and she saw them sitting and eating and laughing and—
Blink blink blink.
The vision continued. The Everly of the vision was staring sidelong at Luca. She was blushing. She was . . . scared? Happy? How could she be both scared and happy?
And the Luca of the vision—he looked scared and happy, too.
The Mary of the vision—her mother—not her mother, it couldn’t be her mother—a woman who looked deceptively like her mother—looked happy and . . . concerned? Anxious?
She looked like she was keeping a secret.
A secret she captured with a camera; one shot, caught in a moment of inattention. A photo slid out of the camera and Mary shook it in her hand, then put it away in a pocket. In the vision, Everly barely took notice.
Blink blink blink blink blink blink blink.
The memory that wasn’t a memory finally dissipated, leaving Everly still seated in the cafeteria, pale and shaking. Luca had placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, and his brow creased in concern as he assessed her.
“You okay?” he asked her in a soft voice.
Somehow Everly managed a tight nod, though she couldn’t meet his eyes. She just kept seeing the Luca of the vision—the joy and terror that had filled his eyes—and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a premonition of some kind. A glance into their future. And then she couldn’t help but wonder what they had been so afraid of. And also so excited for?
And then there was the picture. Everly thought back to the photo album she had found buried in her mother’s old things, the single image of herself that she had no memory of taking.
Could it be . . .?
No. None of that made sense. She didn’t have any memories of her mother, certainly not memories where they were . . . the same age?
It was all very confusing, and making her head spin, so Everly was grateful when Luca nodded toward the other side of the room and led Everly to a slot in the wall that she hadn’t noticed before. He pulled out two plates full of fresh, steaming gruel, and Everly tried not to grimace as he set one in front of her. Catching her expression, Luca passed her a fork.
“Eat. You’ll regret it more if you don’t than if you do. Trust me.”
Begrudgingly, Everly took a few small bites, chewing as she listened to the conversation the others had fallen back into.
“I’ll take care of the rounds today,” Luca said to Caleb. Caleb seemed grateful, dipping his head before returning to his breakfast slop. Anker looked at Luca, though.
“How come you never offer to do my work, eh?”
Luca slowly rolled his head in Anker’s direction, glaring at him until Anker held up his hands, grinning.
“Just asking,” Anker muttered into his plate. He rubbed a hand, almost absently, against the side of his temple.
Forcing down a particularly salty mouthful, Everly asked Luca, “So what do these rounds entail, exactly?” Jamie had told her that she was supposed to shadow Luca for the time being, which meant that she would be going with him, it seemed.
“You’ll see,” was all Luca said.
Caleb rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing special. Mainly just chores.”
Everly nodded, though she still wasn’t sure she fully understood. She wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying anymore, anyway. As Caleb spoke, Luca had pushed up the sleeves of his gray scrubs, and Everly’s eyes caught on the skin of his forearms that were now bared.
They were covered in thin, red lines, from his wrists up past the fabric of his shirt. Scars. His arms were covered in scars. Everly was staring—she couldn’t help it—and catching sight of Everly’s stare, Luca’s eyes darkened, and he quickly shoved his sleeves back down, going so far as to lower his arms beneath the table. For another second, Everly’s eyes remained fixed on the space where his arms had just been, but then she averted her gaze, fixing it firmly on the plate of mush in front of her instead, trying hard not to think about what the scars might mean.
The four of them lapsed into silence as they all shoveled down the porridge-like substance. Then, plates clean, Luca grabbed both of theirs and walked back to the slot in the wall, sliding them through. Everly tried to peer through the hole in the wall, but she couldn’t see anything beyond.
