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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 5 years

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A Memory Of The Smell of Smoke, Ch 4.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Everyone liked to pretend that Campbell had been born bad. That their fear and hatred were logical, rational, justified, because Campbell was a monster incapable of making the choice between good and evil. Because he couldn’t feel the way they did. Well, fuck that. He was gonna prove them wrong. At least, that had been the plan.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Emotional Baggage, Mental Health Issues, Child Abuse, Substance Abuse, Animal Death, Complicated Relationships, Pre-Slash, Denial of Feelings, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Implied Rape, Campbell has mild ASPD and is self aware enough to try and be better, the non-con is NOT Campbell, didn’t add an official warning because it is the aftermath only, yes it is the party becca mentioned and there will be a warning in the notes of that chapter, Campbell/Harry, Campbell/Elle.

Word Count: 4673 (chapter 4/5).

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 5 || AO3

Disclaimer: This chapter involves what happened to Becca, and discusses the aftermath of sexual assault. (The perpetrator is unknown.) It is implied, not shown, but still may be upsetting. Reader discretion is advised.

Senior year didn't seem to be too wild, at first.

Knowing made things better, but they also made things worse in some ways. Campbell did agree with Cassandra that they didn't have to be evil, irredeemable people. Unfortunately, there were few resources out there that had any sort of positive, hopeful outlook. Campbell knew that, be he still tried to find some anyways. The ones he did manage to find were often anonymous men talking about how awesome they were and laughing about torturing animals, abusing their family, and sharing prison stories. Some forums were a bit less intense, but Campbell never bothered engaging. He was like a jalapeno among a bunch of ghost peppers. They weren't going to improve his situation any.

"It's like any other condition," Cassandra said while Campbell helped her bake cookies for some sort of asinine fundraiser. "There's a spectrum of severity. Some people are on the end where it's not really noticeable."

Campbell stirred a giant bowl of batter, taking out his frustration on the chocolate chip mix. "I know people can't help being what they are, exactly, but I don't know where I fall on that spectrum and it's kind of..."

"Scary?"

"Maybe. They say people like us can't get scared. Do you believe that?"

Cassandra popped a batch in the oven and flopped onto the kitchen stool. She tilted her head, thinking. "Mm. I don't know. I suppose that for me, it's more that I get concerned, but I think that's what it's supposed to be. Fear. But it's fainter, you know? It doesn't last long. Just enough to make me think."

"That's why you're so good at debate, I guess."

"Probably. What about you?"

"Dunno. I guess social anxiety is common in guys with it. I don't know if that's the same as fear, though. I just hate getting in front of a group of people I know hate me, and try to pretend they don't, you know? I don't worry about much else."

"Handy."

"Sometimes."

Cassandra swung her feet. She leaned on the counter and rested her hand on her chin, peering at him. "What about love?"

"What about it?"

"Have you been in love?"

Campbell stopped stirring for a moment. "I don't know. It's kind of a weird thing. I guess I do feel attracted to people, sometimes."

"Like Harry?"

"How do you figure?"

"I have eyes, and I know you."

"Whatever." He started scooping balls of dough onto a cookie sheet. Cassandra made a gesture for him to continue. "Yeah. Harry, but he's got Kelly now. And there's this girl in school I kinda like. Elle. Never seems to really hang out with anyone, kinda has a snooty vibe, but she's pretty."

Cassandra nodded. "She is. But attraction isn't love, really."

"It's not. I don't know, I guess it's... I think I love Sam. I mean, you love Allie, right?"

"I do." She shrugged. "She's fun. Smart. I wouldn't give up my dream of going to Yale to go to her college or anything, but we take care of each other. I want her to be safe and happy. I try not to hurt her on purpose, even if I do by accident, sometimes. I think that's love, or something like it. I loved our cat. I love my parents."

"Then sure. I've felt love. Too bad the last time I tried to get close to someone, it all got fucked up. Doesn't bode so well for the future, does it?"

The timer dinged, and Cassandra pulled a tray of cookies out. The kitchen filled up with the scent of butter and chocolate. She set the tray down and popped another in. "I think... I think that a lot of people, in general, judge a group of people by the worst among them. And I think some symptoms are just scary, and people don't get enough help or don't care enough to mind themselves, and it all just snowballs."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's not like professionals have studied every single person on the planet. They're going off reported cases and prison records. Maybe the people you're reading about are just the worst of us. In any case, it doesn't mean you have to be like them."

"You're not."

"No. Not quite." Cassandra tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm lucky. I'm a privileged white girl, so they just assume I'm a frigid, entitled bitch. Or an angry feminist. If I'm careful, and I try to be good, that's all I'll ever be to them. Annoying and self righteous and stuck up."

"Doesn't mean I've got a chance."

"Of course you do. Evil is a choice, Campbell. So we have low empathy. People don't need empathy to understand other people, or to be compassionate towards them. We can still understand and choose to do what is right. At the end of the day, all it comes down to are what choices we make. We can decide the type of person we're going to be."

It was a nice thought, if nothing else.

He didn't really want to change everything about himself. He kind of liked some of it, and since things went tits up with Sam, Campbell had come to appreciate and embrace even some of the messier, darker parts, too. But it was true enough. He could choose to not burn his house down, he could choose not to steal, he could choose not to kick dogs or pick on people more vulnerable than himself. Now that he had some idea of what was going on and had Cassandra there to help him, maybe it was worth it to try and follow her example a little. He didn't care about trying to be someone he wasn't, and his peers weren't going to forget his history at all, so there was no point there. But keeping out of legal trouble, and keeping himself from turning into some kind of animal that beat up his loved ones? That was something he was keen on avoiding. If he knew what his risk factors were for the future, maybe he could just be his natural asshole self without leaving too much destruction in his wake.

In a world of small blessings, he had other people's drama to keep himself entertained, without having to cause any of his own. Harry and Cassandra ran for student body president, and it was a vicious campaign on both sides. Naturally, Cassandra won. Harry was charming enough, but he didn't have the cutthroat attitude needed to secure a victory. Harry still had a party after, though considering the turnout was crap despite the fact that his parents were out of town, it could hardly be called a party.

"Nobody wants to be here," Harry groaned into his pillow after the last of the meager guests had left. "I've lost it, Cam. I had it and I lost it."

Campbell chewed on a slice of cold cheese pizza. "Pretty sure you never had it, buddy. I think it was the alcohol and pot, there."

Harry let out a strangled whine. He tried to hit Campbell with the pillow, but Campbell caught it with his free hand and tugged it from Harry's grasp with ease. "Fuck." Harry sat up and rubbed his face. "What am I supposed to do? I'm a loser. Everyone hates me."

"I don't hate you. Kelly doesn't hate you."

"I'm still a loser."

"Don't be boring." Campbell sighed. "Look, you've got parents who love you, a gorgeous girlfriend, an expensive car, and you're not a leper or anything. You've got it pretty good. Why worry about popularity? It's all a bunch of bullshit, anyways."

"Because you've never felt what it's like to have tons of friends and see it all slip away because you're not drugging them up anymore. It's humiliating."

"Nah, you're right. I definitely don't know what it's like to lose people I thought loved me."

Harry winced at the sharpness in Campbell's tone. "Shit, man. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just... You've always seemed so above it all. I'm not like that."

"You used to be. What changed?"

"It's not worth talking about."

Campbell gently whacked Harry with the pillow. "Tell me. C'mon, I never ask otherwise, and you never share. Is it a girl problem?"

"My dad's dying."

The words tumbled out of Harry's mouth in a rush. Campbell wanted to say something, but Harry began to cry. Fuck. Reaching out, Campbell lightly rested his hand on Harry's knee. Was that an acceptable level of comfort? He didn't know, but apparently it was, because Harry leaned over and burrowed against Campbell's side.

"I just wanted to do something important, so he could be proud of me," Harry sobbed into Campbell's shoulder. "He's not gonna be around to see me get to college, and I can't even manage this one fucking little thing."

"Hey. A lot of colleges have early decision programs. I heard Cassandra talking about it, with Yale. If you want, I can help you look into it."

Harry blinked up at him, and goddamn those doe eyes did it every time. "Really? You'd help me?"

"Sure. You want to go to Harvard, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, if I can pull it off."

"You can pull it off. Trust me."

Campbell managed to steer the conversation towards college, and what they planned to do after graduation. It was an easier subject for Campbell, and Harry seemed to welcome the distraction. Harvard did in fact have such a program, and he helped Harry gather together everything he needed. Maybe Harry couldn't be president of the school, but it would be more impressive to show his dad an admissions letter from one of the top three universities in the country.

"What are you gonna do?" Harry asked. "I know you hate this town."

"I don't know. I figured I'd run away to LA or something."

"Seriously?"

"I saved most of the money I got off of dealing. My parents never found it, so why not? Just buy a one way ticket and figure things out when I get there."

Harry gave him a rueful smile. "If anyone here could make it there, it'd be you."

But they both knew it was just a silly dream. Of course Harry got into Harvard; he'd gotten his letter late December, and Campbell knew he couldn't move across country from his best friend. Campbell applied to colleges in January, like most other students. He'd know his fate in six to eight weeks. In the meantime, he balanced his attention between Harry and Elle, the girl that had caught his attention before.

Elle Tomkins was one of those rare people who wasn't born and raised in West Ham, transplanted there in the 7th grade when her parents moved from New York. Too young to get that "new interesting freshman" mystique, but too old for the other kids to forget she hadn't always been there. Campbell had never seen her with anyone. And she was quirky, from what he knew. She didn't seem interested in hanging out with the other students much, and she rarely smiled. He heard from Harry, who heard from Kelly, that Elle was a dancer. It explained some things, like her almost fragile appearance, and the fact that he'd never seen her eat anything. Of course, not all dancers were tiny or thin or never ate, but she fit the stereotype.

He hadn't really considered dating before, but now that he had some grasp on what was happening in his head... Well, everyone else was pairing off, or flirting with some out-of-town hottie. Hell, even Cassandra had some guy she'd gone out and had coffee with when she went to scope out Yale. There were only five months of high school left, and he'd spent his entire school life just trying to survive and not get himself in trouble. Maybe it was possible he could find someone, too. And maybe, if he was right about her, Elle was a possibility. Even if it resulted in another friend, well, maybe having another friend was something that could benefit them both.

But then Harry's father died, one cold morning.

"All the money in the world," Harry seethed after the funeral, "and it still can't save you from stage four prostate cancer."

Campbell passed him a bit of weed that he'd gotten from one of his suppliers. "Shit luck. Most people survive prostate cancer."

"Yeah, well the dickbag never could be convenient."

He couldn't blame Harry for being pissed. Harry's mother was a wreck, diving into alcohol and pills herself in one of the most hypocritical displays Campbell had ever seen. She was on the verge of losing her job, the house was going to shit despite the fact that Harry tried to clean when he didn't have school. The only reason Campbell knew was because he started coming over to help Harry once a week. Which was, incidentally, how he found the cocaine.

Campbell held up the little bag of white powder as he cleaned underneath the bathroom sink. "Uh, Harry? What's this?"

"It's mine." Harry reached for it, but Campbell pulled back. "Fuck, Cam. Give it to me."

"You're snorting cocaine now? Harry, you're going to Harvard soon. You can't afford to get hooked on this shit."

"That's rich, coming from you."

"Yeah, I get it. But I also got my ass back in line, for the most part, and I'm not going to Harvard fucking Law School. Weed is one thing, alcohol is one thing. But this will fuck you up fast, man."

"Just give it back, okay? I just need a little bit right now."

Campbell stepped away again, as Harry tried to snag the drugs from Campbell's hand. Before he could blink, Harry had tackled him to the ground and was fighting for the bag. Campbell get punched across the jaw, but he barely felt it. He managed to flip Harry onto his back, pinning him down and holding him there while he struggled.

"Looks like you finally got me where you wanted me," Harry spat. "Asshole."

Campbell shrugged. "I actually prefer being on bottom."

"What, you actually turned fucking gay or something?"

"Bi, I think. Maybe. I haven't figured it out yet. Would explain a few things, though."

Harry stared up at him. At least he'd finally stopped wiggling. "Seriously?" When Campbell raised an eyebrow, Harry let his head thump back against the floor. "Huh. And I always thought you were joking."

"Were you?"

"I'm not gonna get my coke back, am I."

An evasion, but Campbell let it slide. "Nope. Not a chance in hell."

"I could get more."

"Sure, but then I'm not helping you clean up your mother's grief-riddled trauma hoard. Then you'll end up just like Lexie, trapped in your room by a wall of Cosmopolitan magazines and yogurt containers full of cat poop."

Harry let out a huff. "Whatever, fine. Get rid of it."

Campbell pocketed the cocaine and took it with him when he left. Of course he would get rid of it, in his own way. If he found the right buyer, he could get an easy $300 off it. He didn't sell much anymore, but it was an opportunity, and he wasn't going to pass that up. Especially since, after eight weeks of waiting, all his application letters had been rejected. No fancy school for him after graduation. Maybe he'd start a band and movie to New York City instead, or go flip burgers for some funky food truck in Boston, or buy a car with a rattling muffler and go on a cross country road trip with Harry when he was on break. Whatever. There was more to life than getting in debt for a slip of paper during a shitty economy with few job prospects.

In the meantime, he could still have a little fun. $300 was enough to get an ear piercing, and have plenty left over. The left ear, just because it was easier to get the damn thing in there; it wasn't any kind of statement. It was an impulsive purchase, but it made him feel good, and he needed the pick-me-up after all the college crap. Plus, it made his parents and other adults give him disapproving looks. Always a bonus.

Cassandra offered to help him apply to other schools. "You could still get into a decent one," she said as she made a poster for the pro-immigration rally coming up in March. "There are plenty of colleges near Yale that would take you. Or maybe you'd wanna go to Massachusetts with Harry?"

"And watch him drape all over his girlfriend every weekend? Gag me. No, I think I'm gonna run away to India and learn how to grow tea or something."

"Whatever suits your fancy. Are you coming to the rally with us? Gordie and some other friends are going."

Campbell sprawled across the sofa, peering at her upside down. Any reason to go past the West Ham town lines sounded like a good time. "Yeah, sure. Just in case I need to punch some fucking neo nazis for you."

"Perfect."

As things so often went, there were some little hiccups when it came time for the rally. No one had told Campbell that Sam was coming with. They all got piled into Gordie's truck, with Gordie, Becca, and Cassandra in front, and Campbell stuffed into the back with everyone else. Thankfully, Campbell managed to grab a window seat by saying he'd throw up like a dog otherwise. Sam was next to him, with Allie on the other side of Sam and Will at the driver side window. Less thankfully, Campbell could see Allie shooting him glares and whispering something to Will; he couldn't hear what was said, and he didn't really care, but it was an annoyance all the same.

"Do you have water?" Sam signed to him. It was the first time they'd really spoken in a while, and of course, it had to be to mother-hen him. "It's going to be warm out."

Campbell bit down his irritation long enough to reply with a curt 'yes'. Sam didn't speak to him for the rest of the car ride.

It was a bit less claustrophobic once they got to the rally. It wasn't huge, and they managed to stake out a spot in the shade. It was still too crowded for Campbell's liking, so he stuck to the little headquarters they established, guarding the snacks and drinks while the rest of them went out and got their protesting on. Becca came back sooner than the others, a vague pink stain on her tshirt and a smug smile on her face.

"What did you do?" Campbell asked as she flopped down and popped open a soda. "I usually only have that face when I've tripped Clark down the stairs."

Becca laughed. "Milkshakes are even better when you yeet them at an alt-right douchebag, as it turns out."

"Damn, I'm sorry I missed that."

"I'm kinda surprised you came at all. This isn't usually your scene, is it?"

"No. I'm more of a stay at home and binge watch Riverdale sort, but Cassandra wanted me to come with, and it's a few hours away from Stepford Central."

"For sure." Becca eyed him. He knew that look, that wary and curious sort of squint where someone was trying to figure him out. "Are you going to Harry's party tomorrow night? I think he finally got desperate enough to invite me, and my mom's got an appointment with Two-Buck Chuck, so I thought I'd check it out."

Campbell let out a small snort. "Yeah, I guess. He met some older folks when he went up to Harvard in September, so he's inviting them and their liquor."

"Ooh, anyone cute?"

"Like, guys?"

"Anyone," Becca grinned.

"Probably. Harry likes pretty people."

That was how they ended up going to the party together. Campbell had never really taken an interest in any of Cassandra's friends before, but he knew Becca was Sam's best friend, and she seemed like the right mix of sarcastic and broken that Campbell found relatable. Becca had never been to a proper party before, so they stuck together at first; Harry was off schmoozing with his new college buddies, Kelly smiling politely on his arm, and that wasn't anything Campbell wanted to interrupt. Not until Becca vanished.

"Hey, have you seen Becca?" Campbell wondered. "She went to get a drink about ten, fifteen minutes ago and I haven't seen her since."

Harry glanced up from his pack of drinking buddies. "Nope, I haven't. Maybe you got ditched?"

It was possible, Campbell reasoned. After all, he and Becca weren't exactly friends, and they hadn't made some sort of blood pact to stay together the whole night. Still, Campbell didn't know any of these people and something in his stomach didn't sit right. He prowled around the house, looking for some sign of her, but Becca wasn't downstairs at all and Campbell felt his suspicion deepen as he headed upstairs. When he finally found her, she was in one of the spare bedrooms, sitting on the bed and staring into space.

"Becca?"

She looked over at him. Her eyes were glassy, vacant. "Campbell, where..." Her speech was lightly slurred. "Where'm I?"

Fuck. Campbell moved slowly, coming over to her and kneeling down next to her. Her hair was messy, her clothes askew. Fuck, shit. "Hey. You're at Harry's party. What do you remember?"

"I don't... I don't feel good."

He grabbed her a wastebin and held her hair back as she threw up. At some point, she started to shake, and Campbell ran through the options. First, he had to check to make sure she was breathing okay, check her forehead with the back of his hand to see if she was clammy, check her pulse. She was sweaty and her pulse seemed a little slow, but maybe he could just drive her to the hospital himself.

"Do you think you can walk?" he asked. "I need to get you to a doctor."

Becca shook her head and moaned. "No, no, no. I don't wanna."

"Becca, if someone attacked you..."

"He didn't. He didn't, I wanted to. I really wanted to, but then everything got fuzzy and I don't... I don't even remember what he looked like." She began to cry, hard. "I just wanna go home."

Campbell frowned. If she had been raped, she needed to see someone. Didn't they test for DNA and shit? But he wasn't going to further traumatize her by trying to force her into an emergency room to get prodded at. Not when she was still drugged. "Alright. Do you want me to take you home?"

She nodded, leaning against him as he curled an arm around her and helped her to the stairs. Harry gave them a quizzical look as they made their way to the door, but Campbell just shook his head and Harry backed off. It was a longer walk to Becca's home, but they made it without too many stumbles. Becca's mother was passed out in the living room, so Campbell just steered Becca towards the room she pointed at.

Propping her up with pillow, Campbell tucked Becca into bed, but wasn't sure what to do after. Someone needed to stay with her for a few hours, make sure she didn't throw up and choke on it. "Do you want me to call Sam?"

"Don't." Becca huddled under her blankets, looking pale and miserable. Her voice was still weak and muffled. "Can you... can you stay for a bit?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Campbell sat on the floor next to Becca's bed, watching videos on his phone with the sound muted. Becca drifted in and out of sleep, and every so often she'd cry again, but she didn't throw up and she managed to keep down the glass of water Campbell brought her. Four hours later, and Becca seemed to be pulling out of it; her heart rate was better when Campbell rechecked, and her speech was clearer.

"Must not have been a big dose," Campbell muttered. Sick fucking assholes. "I think you're going to be alright from here, if you want me to go."

"I feel better. Thank you for helping me."

It would have been easy to just nod and walk out, but he knew she'd just been hurt. Badly. She was probably in shock. Even if she still didn't want to go to the hospital, he had to try a little before he just left here there. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Becca chewed her lip. For a moment, Campbell thought she'd reconsider, but she shook her head and forced a watery smile. "I just want to get some sleep." The smile faltered as her eyes filled with tears again. "I don't even know what happened."

"I'm pretty sure you got slipped GHB. That's not your fault, Becca."

She just stared down at her hands. "Can you not tell anyone about this? For now? Maybe... I need to think."

"Of course."

"Thank you."

Campbell picked up Becca's phone, adding his number into the contact list. "When you wake up tomorrow, if you need anything or want me to take you somewhere, or get you something, text me. Okay?"

"Okay."

And that was that. Campbell headed home, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to do next. He couldn't tell Sam, and he couldn't tell Harry. Not yet, not without Becca's permission. Was it someone they knew? One of those leering frat boys Harry invited in? What if they gave Becca HIV or something? There was nothing he could do, not without betraying whatever thin amount of trust or friendship there was between them. All he could do was go home and wait.

What the hell was wrong with their town? Sam, getting a weird infection that took his hearing. Cassandra, with her heart problem and them both having strange brain wiring, cancer that just suddenly appeared and killed a man, hoarding and drugs and alcohol and, and, and... It seemed like it was just a never ending bunch of bullshit. What, was the town built on some kind of goddamn burial ground or something? He used to find people's petty dramas amusing, but looking back, things had always been just one rotten thing after another.

Campbell stood outside his home, gazing towards the door. It was past one in the morning, and he could see the light on in the living room. Maybe he could just... not come home at all. Shaking his head, he walked up the steps and opened the door. His parents were there, waiting. He didn't even try to speak first, or explain.

"Where have you been?" his mother snapped. "It's almost two!"

"Sorry. A friend of mine got sick and I had to make sure they were okay."

His father crossed his arms. "You're supposed to called. Who was this friend? Where are their parents?"

"Are you gonna ground me, or what? Because it's been a really bad night and I kinda wanna just go to bed."

"Apologize properly, and we'll think about it."

Campbell closed his eyes a moment, taking a slow breath. "I'm sorry that I didn't call. It won't happen again." You fucking creeps. "May I go upstairs now?"

"Fine. Go."

No need to be told twice. Campbell headed to his room and took a long shower, rinsing the smell of booze and smoke off him; if his parents had noticed, they had chosen not to bring it up. Yet. A small miracle, maybe. By the time he crawled into bed, he could barely keep his eyes open. He'd figure out what to do in the morning. It was April. Three months until graduation. After that, the town poison wouldn't be his worry anymore.

With luck, until then, things wouldn't get worse.

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nikolina84 · 7 years

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Seize Today (Forget Tomorrow #3)

by Pintip Dunn

Publication Date: October 3, 2017

Publisher: Entangled Teen

Synopsis:

Seventeen-year-old Olivia Dresden is a precognitive. Since different versions of people’s futures flicker before her eyes, she doesn’t have to believe in human decency. She can see the way for everyone to be their best self-if only they would make the right decisions. No one is more conflicted than her mother, and Olivia can only watch as Chairwoman Dresden chooses the dark, destructive course every time. Yet Olivia remains fiercely loyal to the woman her mother could be.

But when the chairwoman captures Ryder Russell, the striking and strong-willed boy from the rebel Underground, Olivia sees a vision of her own imminent death…at Ryder’s hand. Despite her bleak fate, she rescues Ryder and flees with him, drawing her mother’s fury and sparking a romance as doomed as Olivia herself. As the full extent of Chairwoman Dresden’s gruesome plan is revealed, Olivia must find the courage to live in the present-and stop her mother before she destroys the world.

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Purchase Links:

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Excerpt

Eleven years earlier…

I pull the lever of the cage, switching the tunnel onto a different track, trying to confuse the mice.

I know exactly how the future will play out, of course. I know which mice will fall down the trap and which ones will smack into the see-through glass wall. I know which mice will get hopelessly lost. I even know which ones will run the maze correctly on the very first try.

I like watching them anyway. They wriggle over one another like worms, and their whiskers twitch when they’re at a corner between two paths. But what I like most is how they come to me when I call.

Picking up a mouse, I run my fingers over its soft fur and warm body. It looks at me with unblinking pink eyes, and I think it could be my friend.

Of course, I can see which mice will come, so I know which ones to call. Rodents are predictable like that. Humans, not so much. They have too many wants, too many feelings. I don’t see any one future for people. Rather, I see them all—every single pathway their futures might take, flickering before my eyes.

So I have to guess which of my human classmates will want to play with me. Most of the time, I guess wrong.

“Are you bothering my mice again?” a little boy’s voice says. “Fates, Livvy. How many times do I have to tell you? Leave them alone!”

Startled, I let go of the mouse and look up at Tanner Callahan, the other six-year-old who hangs around the scientists’ labs. I’m here because my mom’s the head of the Future Memory Agency, or FuMA, and he’s here…I guess ’cause he has nowhere else to be.

He’s got black hair that pokes up in the back, and his skin sticks too closely to his bones. I thought this meant he wasn’t eating enough, but MK, our child-minder, said that grief over his parents’ deaths had burrowed holes through his resources.

This makes me think of the mice digging through the straw, and my chest aches. I flash forward to his futures. He still has hundreds of branches remaining, but in most of them, one thing is the same: he will be sad and lonely until he kisses our classmate Jessa ten years in the future.

I don’t know why kissing should change anything. But I do know how it feels to be lonely and sad.

We don’t have to be like this. I could be his friend. I just have to figure out the right thing to say.

“Jessa and I are going to rule the world one day.” It can’t hurt to bring up the girl he smushes lips with. Maybe if he thinks she and I are friends, he’ll like me, too. “You know Jessa, right? The girl with the teardrop eyes? She’s my best friend.” Not true. I think Jessa only talks to me because she’s nice. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Oh yeah? Well someday, I’m going to be the inventor of future memory,” he shoots back. “And then we’ll see who’s more important.”

I bite my lip. That wasn’t what I meant. I wasn’t trying to brag or compare or compete. The futures containing our friendship begin to fall away, one by one. I guessed wrong once again.

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Guest post

Pintip Dunn Interviews Ryder Russell, the Hero of Her Latest Release, SEIZE TODAY Pintip: Hi everyone! I have a special treat for you today! I’ve pried Ryder from the figments of my imagination, and he’s sitting before me now for an interview. Say hi to everyone, Ryder!

Ryder: Hi to everyone, Ryder! Pintip: Cute. Very cute. But then, you’ve been giving me trouble since the moment you sprang into my consciousness. Now, I can see you, but our readers can’t, so could you start by describing your physical appearance?

Ryder: Uh… I have dark brown skin and eyes and closely shaven hair. I’m really tall — 6’3” — and I do a lot of manual labor living out in the woods, so I have a lot of muscles.

Pintip: Oooohhh, tell us more about those muscles.

Ryder: *narrows eyes* Are you hitting on me?

Pintip: *sputters* Fates no! Why would you say that? You’re, like, half my age! Less than half!

Ryder: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because when you wrote me, you were inspired by Lincoln from The 100, and you have a total crush on him.

Pintip: *blushing furiously* I do not! Don’t forget, I can see all of your thoughts, not the other way around!

Ryder: Yeah, but you kept rewinding that scene at the beginning of Season 3, when —

Pintip: Moving on! *lowers voice to whisper* I’m the author here. I can make your life a living limbo. So behave. *in normal tone* Where do you call home?

Ryder: Right now? The wilderness. I lived in Eden City, the capitol of North Amerie, until I was six. I came back when I was twelve, for about four years, before I was forced to go on the run with my family again. *pauses* Was that suitably on topic?

Pintip: Very. Do you have a special skill?

Ryder: Oh, sure. Lots. I’ve never met a machine I couldn’t take apart and put back together, and my skills on the hover board make pretty boys like Tanner Callahan weep.

Pintip: Hey, don’t make fun of Tanner!

Ryder: *jumps out of seat* I knew it! I knew Tanner was your favorite hero!

Pintip: *tugs him back down* Oh, relax. You’re all my favorite, and you know it. I tell you so all that time.

Ryder: Does that line actually work on your children?

Pintip: It totally does. Because it’s TRUE. What is your biggest dream/wish/desire?

Ryder: To make it to tomorrow and see the sun rise.

Pintip: Geez, Ryder, don’t be so morbid. You’re going to scare everyone away!

Ryder: I guess living in the wilderness has a way of boiling down your desires to the basics. There are so many things that could go wrong out here — we could run out of food or succumb to infection or get mauled by a wild animal.

Pintip: *softens* Tell them what you really want.

Ryder: You promised you wouldn’t ask me that question.

Pintip: *gives him hard stare* I’m the author. I make you do things you don’t want all the time.

Ryder: I . . . I’d like to be first in someone’s life. To have someone love me the most, to place me highest on their list of priorities. You see, I’ve never had that before. My biological parents…well, I don’t like to talk about them unless it’s absolutely necessary

You know, I’ve never admitted this to anyone but Olivia before. She feels the same way, too, and sometimes, when I catch that same yearning on her face, my heart gives this unsteady bump and I have this completely wild thought that maybe . . . just maybe . . . we could fulfill that role for each other.

Pintip: You could be right.

Ryder: *looks up with hope in his eyes* Really? You’re not just saying that?

Pintip: Maybe. Keep answering my questions, and I’ll see what I can do. Let’s talk about your parents.

Ryder: NO!

Pintip: *chants* Olivia! Olivia! Olivia!

Ryder: Okay, FINE. When I was six, I came to Harmony, the community in the wilderness where psychics and their families went to escape persecution. Everyone thought I was there because my parents had been arrested. They were wrong.

You see, my brother Damien has the ability to read minds with a single touch. Back then, ComA was locking up psychics like lab rats, in order to study them, and my parents were terrified they were going to find out about Damien.

So, they decided to change their identities and hide out in a small town, far away from the nation’s capitol. They knew ComA would be looking for a family with two boys, so the best way to throw them off track was to turn into a family of three. Two parents. One boy. The older, favored one in particular.

They abandoned me. Without a second thought, they left me, even though I begged and pleaded to go with them. That’s how I knew that they didn’t love me – and maybe they never did.

Pintip: *gently* It’s okay, Ryder. Other people love you now. Mikey, Angela. Jessa. In time, Olivia. And me. I love you.

Ryder: Ha! I knew you were hitting on me!

Pintip: Oh, for Fates’ sake. I think it’s time we bring this interview to a close. Say good-bye to our friends, Ryder!

Ryder: Good-bye to our friends, Ryder!

Pintip: *rolls eyes* There you have it, everyone. Ryder Russell, in the flesh. Never a dull moment with him, that’s for sure!

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OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES

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AUTHOR INFO:

Pintip Dunn is a New York Times bestselling author of YA fiction. She graduated from Harvard University, magna cum laude, with an A.B. in English Literature and Language. She received her J.D. at Yale Law School, where she was an editor of the YALE LAW JOURNAL. Pintip’s debut novel, FORGET TOMORROW, won the RWA RITA® for Best First Book. In addition, it is a finalist for the Grand Prix de l’Imaginaire, the Japanese Sakura Medal, and the MASL Truman Award. THE DARKEST LIE was nominated for a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award. Her other books include REMEMBER YESTERDAY, the novella BEFORE TOMORROW, and GIRL ON THE VERGE. She lives with her husband and children in Maryland. You can learn more about Pintip and her books at http://www.pintipdunn.com

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Book tour & giveaway – Seize Today by Pintip Dunn Seize Today (Forget Tomorrow #3) by Pintip Dunn Publication Date: October 3, 2017 Publisher: Entangled Teen…

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