Chapter Twenty Seven
A bus pulls up by the sidewalk at our designated meeting point in the neighboring town. After Rhys’ appearance last night, the only sleep I managed to catch was restless, filled with tossing and turning, wondering and worrying.
The moment I stepped out of the library door, I felt the urge to rush back and make sure they weren’t tearing each other limb from limb.
Then I reminded myself that I’m not their mothers, and I can’t always decide the narrative between them.
Sometimes removing the source of the issue is best for all involved.
Running on autopilot, I’d automatically gone to a lecture hall before remembering I was supposed to be heading to Grayson Laboratory today.
I’m underprepared, underfed and now standing at the back of a line where everyone has already partnered up.
The bags under my eyes have paid for extra luggage that not even my fourth coffee of the morning can shift.
Clay is up front with the red-headed boy talking to the side of his face.
He peers back, evidently looking for me.
Upon finding what he’s looking for, he attempts to shove past his companion.
I wave him off, seriously lacking the energy to smile and not in the mood for small talk.
There’s no sign of Rhys amongst the groups chattering excitedly, which I’m extremely thankful for.
I shuffle forward and find a quiet corner at the back of the bus, using my bag as a pillow and hoodie as a blanket. I’m asleep before we’ve even set off.
Amongst the rumbling, a disjointed dream filters to me.
Clay and Rhys are seated either side of me at a ridiculously long dining table, like something out of a medieval banquet.
Clay is slicing steak into perfect, uniform cubes and placing them neatly on my plate, while Rhys is pouring me an entire goblet of wine and smirking as if he plans on watching me down the whole thing.
Their insults fly across me like arrows, but every time one of them lands too close, the other bats it away.
At some point, Clay’s tie has loosened and Rhys’s shirt is missing altogether, though neither seem to notice as they bicker over who gets to peel the grapes for me.
My head jolts forward as the bus comes to a harsh stop, the pounding behind my eyes worsening into a full headache.
It’s confirmed. I need a hobby and a new set of friends.
Groaning, I stretch and sit upright to see what caused our driver to brake so hard.
Rhys’ Porsche is sprawled across the road, hazard lights blinking on repeat.
He strolls towards the Grayson Laboratory’s entrance as if the building belongs to him, tossing his keys to a confused lab assistant without breaking stride.
I toy with the idea of staying hidden at the back of the bus.
But this is the kind of place I hope to work one day, the kind of building whose glass walls promise to give me everything I keep telling myself I want.
This is about refocusing on my future. So I pull my hoodie over my ‘Deaf-inatley Too Good For You’ t-shirt and force myself out onto the sidewalk.
Regret crashes over me instantly. The sun burns far too bright, bouncing off the glass tower and causing me to squint.
The noise from the crowd of students swells like a hive, buzzing with excitement, and my stomach twists with nausea.
Or maybe that is just hunger gnawing through me.
Edging closer to the revolving chrome doors, I take in the reflection of a stranger in the glass.
Hollow eyes, hoodie slouched, shadows under my cheekbones.
I don’t linger long. Inside, the reception area stretches open and cold, the chemical tang clinging to every breath.
To the right, a metal scanner looms with a guard in black stationed beside it.
Straight ahead stands a woman in a fitted lab coat, clipboard tucked beneath manicured fingers, red glasses softening her sharp presence.
“Welcome everyone. I’m Vikki and I’ll be your guide today.”
Peterson sidles up beside her, looking strangely misplaced in a pressed suit.
When I note the way he smiles giddily and stares at Vikki a beat too long, I understand his need to dress up.
He hands out blue visitor lanyards and ushers us through the scanner.
Hanging back, I rummage for my ID and hold it out.
“I have cochlear implants, I’ll set off your metal detector.”
The guard studies my card, nods, and sweeps a handheld sensor across my front instead.
Satisfied, he waves me forward where Peterson is waiting with a hearing loop, no doubt connected to the mic already clipped to Vikki’s breast pocket.
Resigned, I tug it over my head and follow the group into the elevator.
Being the last one in means I am the first one out, stepping into a pristinely white hallway.
Vikki directs us into a lecture room lined with rows of seats before a large screen.
I slip into the back, hoping for anonymity, but of course Rhys claims the chair right next to me.
He drapes his arm around the back of my seat, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
I’m not going to let him distract me today, and I’m not going to give him the attention he’s so desperate for until he’s earned it. I have no idea how he might earn it, but that’s not a problem for me to solve. I’m more interested in the solutions he comes up with all by himself.
“I thought we could start with a quick introduction to the lab and its history before you find out what it is we really do here,” Vikki begins. Her cheerful voice hums clearly through my implants as the lights dim. The projector flickers to life and casts long shadows over the room.
The quick introduction drags for nearly forty minutes, recounting the empire of Thomas Grayson and his prophetic visions for data analysis long before the world was ready.
His grandchildren inherited not only his fortune but his ambition, polishing it into a future that pulses in the walls around us.
By the time the presentation ends, my body has sagged into the chair, head tipped back against Rhys’ arm.
Just before I get too comfortable and nod back off, we’re ushered back out of the room like cattle and ride up to the second floor.
“We offer two apprenticeships to Waversea graduates each year.” Vikki’s words ripple through the elevator as we step into a functioning laboratory.
Finally, the anticipation begins to ripple in my being.
This is where I envision myself one day, if I manage to survive Waversea that is.
The room spreads wide, every station manned with experiments I ache to get my hands on.
Glass beakers bubble with chemical reactions, flasks glinting under strips of clinical light.
Against the right wall, fume extraction hoods tower larger than anything I have seen, their windows glowing with shifting colors.
Behind one glass pane, two scientists tug hazmat suits over their shoulders before disappearing into a chamber labeled authorized access only.
I wander behind the group at a slower pace while they rush from table to table.
They move like tourists desperate to collect snapshots while I want to stand still and drink in the details.
Engineers move through the room with a quiet rhythm, their hands confident on equipment I can only dream of using.
For all their brilliance, they are ordinary people trying to change the world one calculation at a time.
Once, they would have been students like me.
I have never been someone who looks too far into the future.
Living in the present feels safer, knowing the ground can be pulled out from under me without warning.
Tragedy does that to a person. Yet here, I can almost see it.
A version of myself hidden away in this labyrinth of white walls, quietly shaping something that matters, not for recognition but for impact.
Vikki’s voice filters through my hearing loop even though she is already leading the class toward the back of the lab. “And over here, a group of our scientists are working on creating compounds to tackle antibiotic-resistant viruses such as pneumonia and bloodstream infections.”
Her voice keeps me tethered while I investigate on my own.
On the opposite side of the room, a cluster of men are hunched over a raised table, the edges of a blueprint spread wide between them.
Curiosity tugs me closer. One of them, with short brown hair and freckles scattered across his nose, notices me and waves me over. His lips shape words I can catch.
“Hey, want to take a look?” I nod and they part to let me in.
The blueprint is a design for a microscope, but it is stripped back, almost primitive compared to the sleek instruments I have seen.
Confused, I wonder why they are wasting their time.
“We’ve simplified the stereoscopic microscope so we can sell the parts and plans to local universities.
They can build it themselves for a fraction of the cost.”
He beams, his smile full of straight white teeth and I return it as if that didn’t worsen my headache to lipread. Beginning to gush about the brilliance of the idea, a harsh grip clamps around my arm and drags me backwards. My vision fills with Rhys’ pale blue eyes, fury swirling within.
“The entire class moved on without you. Don’t fall behind.”
Every scientist’s head turns at the sudden interruption, finding me being manhandled by a guy who thought wearing a Louis Vuitton tracksuit to a lab would impress anyone.
Heat floods my cheeks and embarrassment burns into anger.
My hand finds the collar of his shirt and I yank him down to whisper in Rhys’ ear.