Читать книгу Jek/Hyde - Amy Ross, Amy Ross - Страница 9

CHAPTER 3

I send a quick text to Jek on my way back to the lab bench, telling him I need to talk soon.

I’m not exactly surprised when the school day draws to a close with no reply.

Even at the best of times, Jek’s never been great about responding to texts, calls or any other method of communication. It’s frustrating, but it’s just part of his character. Even as I remind myself of this, I can’t help thinking back to what I told Maia in the supply room: We’re not exactly close these days. I surprised myself a little when I said it—I’ve never expressed that thought out loud before, though I have to admit that it’s not the first time I’ve thought it. Is it true? Or am I reading into things?

Like any well-trained scientist, I force myself to consider the evidence objectively. I don’t see Jek as much as I used to, but we’re both pretty busy with school and everything. Even though we’re both in the science track, our schedules are totally different because he does mostly chemistry, and my focus is on computing. He hardly responds to my texts and messages, but that’s not outside the realm of normal for him. I can’t remember us having any big fight recently. I worry all the time that my crush on him has made him uncomfortable, but I do try to be discreet, and if he’s put off by it, he’s never let on.

Results: inconclusive. Researcher is too close to the subject to remain objective in her analysis. As usual.

Maia’s story about Hyde has at least given me a good excuse to talk with Jek. If he’s not going to answer my urgent texts, I really have no choice but to go to his house and make him listen to me, face-to-face. If it’s true that Jek’s name was on that receipt, then this guy Hyde could be running some kind of scam: hacking, identity theft or maybe something even worse. Jek’s not great with that kind of computer stuff—if it wasn’t for me, he’d leave all his databases unprotected and vulnerable to attacks.

* * *

I pull up outside Jek’s house and notice that shadows are gathering on the columns and gables of the sprawling houses on this side of town. It’s around 5:00 p.m. and sunset is almost an hour off, but the sky is already low and threatening, and lights are coming on across the neighborhood to ward off the darkness of an encroaching storm—a reminder that London’s sunny, warm season has truly ended and we’ll be in the thick of winter soon.

When I was a kid, the winters in London were snowy and bright. I’d wake up to the whole countryside under a smooth white blanket, and Jek and I would go out and pelt each other with snowballs as the sun sparkled against the landscape. We haven’t had a winter like that in years, though. Instead, November to March brings nothing but a dark, gritty rain and heavy pea soup fogs that have an almost brownish cast to them. Some people say this is all part of some top secret London Chem experiment gone wrong, but others say it’s just a normal part of the same global warming that’s affecting everyone. Either way, it will be months before we see real sunshine again.

Up on the hill above Jek’s house, the curving structures of Donnelly and Lonsanto are barely visible, their reflective surfaces blending in with the roiling clouds. I step out of the car and pull my jacket tight against a sharp wind that rattles dead leaves still clinging to the once-lush trees. I’m still not entirely used to visiting Jek here. Up until last year, he lived with his mom, Puloma, off Main Street in a smallish condo cozily decorated in a hodgepodge of styles: posters for old rock shows mixed with tin-and-brass trinkets, colorful silk cushions tossed over rickety chairs and benches. Puloma hired my mom as her cleaning lady back when they first moved to town, and I used to play with Jek while our moms worked—that’s how we became friends. I still remember waking up there after sleepovers, his mom making us breakfast of masala dosa while we watched cartoons.

Then last year Puloma married Tom Barrow, one of the other London Chem scientists, after a whirlwind romance, and she and Jek moved to this house where Tom lives with his three interchangeable blond sons, all somewhere between seven and eleven years old. Their house is much bigger than the old condo, and looks about as bland as all the other houses on the cul-de-sac. The only difference between this house and its neighbors is the addition that extends out from the back and down the hill a bit—originally built for Tom’s former mother-in-law and where Jek lives now. This space, connected to the rest of the house by a short flight of stairs, was Puloma’s main bargaining chip in getting Jek to go along with her new marriage—she promised him that he could turn the apartment’s kitchen into his own personal laboratory. Tom doesn’t exactly approve of him having so much freedom and autonomy, but Puloma has always had a soft spot when it comes to Jek, and she doesn’t let Tom interfere.

I cross the lawn to the side door that opens directly into Jek’s apartment. The addition isn’t really visible from the street, so Tom and Puloma have let the upkeep slide a little: the paint is peeling, and you can see broken blinds through the windows, whereas the rest of the house has pretty lace curtains. The porch light was knocked out a few months ago by a stray baseball from the kids’ afternoon game of catch and no one has bothered to fix it, so the side door remains in heavy gloom even when the rest of the house is cheerfully lit.

I’m almost to the door when it opens and a figure steps out into the thickening darkness. I start to call out a greeting, but my voice dies in my throat when I realize it’s not Jek. The figure startles a little at my cutoff cry.

“Sorry,” I say, stepping into the light cast by the doorway. “I thought you were... I’m looking for Jek.”

The silhouetted figure regards me a long moment, a curious tilt to his head. “You’ve just missed him,” he says lightly. “I can give him a message, if you like.” His voice is husky and low, with a lingering softness on every S. He’s backlit by the open door behind him so I can’t see him well, but there’s something about him that nonetheless feels off—the way he talks, or holds himself, or the strange breathiness of his voice. Or maybe it’s the way he smells: a hint of citrus carried over by the wind, not unpleasant, but flat and artificial, like detergent or air freshener.

“You’re Hyde, aren’t you?” I say, though I can’t explain what makes me so sure. He goes very still.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he says after a pause.

“I’m Lulu,” I say. “Lulu Gutierrez.” I take a step toward him, my mind churning with curiosity. Those things Camila and Maia said about how odd he looked, beyond description, I have to see for myself. “Would you do me a favor?” I ask, stunned at my own daring. “Would you step into the light? I want to see your face.”

Hyde hesitates, and for a moment I think he’s going to laugh at my request, or get offended and tell me to get lost. I could hardly blame him if he did. But he surprises me.

“If you like,” he says, and he takes a step back over Jek’s threshold, letting the lamplight hit him directly.

I’m not quite surprised to discover it’s the boy who ran into me at the Halloween party, but I can’t help the gasp that escapes me now that I see him clearly. I can understand why Camila and Maia disagreed about his race—his features are hard to place. His eyes have a sleepy, heavy-lidded aspect that suggests an Asian background, and his skin has a sallow cast, though that could just be the light. His hair, though, falls in thick, dark curls and his nose has a slight bump to it that could be European or Middle Eastern, possibly.

None of that explains, though, why his face is so off-putting. There’s something unpleasant and alien about his looks, and I search him for what is producing this uncanny effect, like one eye set lower than the other or missing eyebrows, but I can’t put my finger on it. His features seem somehow out of proportion with each other—eyes too small, mouth too big, nose too prominent—but in the next moment the effect shifts, and it’s his chin that seems too sharp for a mouth too soft. Just like at the party, though, the most remarkable thing about him are his eyes—as black and unreflecting as the shadows settling around us.

I know it’s rude to stare, but Hyde doesn’t seem offended. He just stands calm and self-possessed before me, a smile twisting his lips as he waits for me to finish my examination. Then he steps outside again and tugs the door firmly shut, casting us both in darkness.

“Now,” he says, “return the favor and tell me how you knew me.”

I swallow against a mounting tremor in my voice before answering. “You were described to me,” I say. “We have friends in common.”

I can feel more than see Hyde’s sneer at this. “I’d be surprised,” he says softly, again teetering on the edge of a lisp. “What friends?”

“Well... Jek, for one,” I point out.

He stares at me coolly. “Jek never mentioned me to you.”

Even though I never quite claimed he had, I still feel called out by this statement. But it’s not like Hyde can know every conversation Jek and I have had. I shake off the creeping sensation Hyde is giving me and remind myself why I came here in the first place: to warn Jek about him.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask, my voice firmer now. “Alone at Jek’s place.”

“What’s it to you?” he replies, unperturbed. “If Jek doesn’t mind...”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “None of my business. But maybe I’ll make sure Jek actually knows you’re here.” I pull out my phone, but Hyde makes a sharp gesture before my thumb is even on the screen.

“No,” he says quickly. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

Even in the dark, I can sense the prickling alertness in Hyde’s body. It’s gone in a flash, and his tone becomes lazy and sneering again.

“Text him if you like,” he says, “but it won’t do any good. Jek forgot his phone when he went out earlier. I was just on my way to bring it to him.” He takes Jek’s phone out of his pocket. It’s instantly recognizable, thanks to its distinctive case decorated with colorfully trippy mandalas. I hesitate, still unsure. Jek forgets his phone at home all the time, which is one of the reasons he’s careless about returning texts, but who the hell is this guy to be hanging out in Jek’s room alone? Especially after what Maia told me about Hyde spending Jek’s money as if it was his own—even close friends don’t usually do that.

“All right, then,” I say carefully. “Bring him his phone, and I’ll talk to him later.” If Hyde has really broken into Jek’s house or something equally criminal, his cover story won’t hold up long.

“You do that,” Hyde replies coolly before stepping over to where Jek’s bike is leaning against the garage—it’s one of Jek’s little idiosyncrasies, that he prefers biking to driving. I guess Hyde must share it, because he mounts Jek’s bike and heads off toward the main road without another word.

Again, I’m weirded out that this stranger is so confidently helping himself to Jek’s possessions, but I have to admit that Jek’s pretty casual about his stuff, and generally shrugs it off when someone “borrows” his bike without telling him. Last year his stepdad made a point of getting him a seriously heavy-duty lock on a bright green chain so he’d stop using his missing bike as an excuse for coming home late, but Jek can’t be bothered to use it, so it just hangs uselessly off the frame. Still, it’s a bit weird that the bike’s here, if Jek’s not. The whole situation feels suspicious—maybe it’s nothing, but I don’t feel right just walking away.

I may not be able to contact Jek and ask him about Hyde, but I’m not completely powerless. I head up the hill, around to the pillared and porticoed front of the house and knock on the main door. Some little blond kid opens it after a minute. Jek’s new stepbrothers all have names that begin with C, but I can’t keep them straight. Conner, Cameron, Caden, Carter, Caleb? I have no idea.

“Hi,” I say. “Is Jek around?”

The kid shrugs. “Try his apartment.”

“I did. I was just wondering if he was in the main house.” Jek still joins the rest of the family for dinner some nights, if his mom is cooking, though she clearly isn’t right now—the house smells of cheap jarred tomato sauce, which means the au pair is making dinner. She cooks mostly pasta and grilled cheese and chicken fingers, since that’s all the Barrows will eat, anyway. Back when it was just Jek and Puloma, their house was always filled with the smells of spices Puloma’s parents sent her from the Indian markets where they live in New Jersey. London doesn’t have any Indian restaurants, let alone an international grocery, so I learned to associate those smells with Jek’s house.

“What about Puloma?” I try. “Is she around?”

“Yeah,” the kid says laconically before wandering off toward a room where I can hear his brothers are playing video games. I show myself in and walk around a bit, looking for Puloma. I’ve only been in the main part of the house a couple of times, but I know the layout well enough from others in the neighborhood.

Though Puloma and Jek have been living here for over a year, I can hardly tell that either of them are part of this household. Photos of Tom’s boys line the walls, and the rest has the blandly tasteful mark of a professional decorator: leather couches in neutral colors, faux-rustic coffee tables and way too many decorative throw pillows. Puloma clearly hasn’t added much, and the walls still have blank spots where Tom’s ex-wife reclaimed personal items.

Moving through the living room to a corridor along the back of the house, I find Jek’s mom hunched over a laptop in a room that must be her study. The door is ajar, and for a moment I just stand there, taking in the familiar smell of Puloma’s incense. The decor in this room feels different, like this is Puloma’s space. The furniture is plainer and more grown-up than back at the old house, but it’s accented by vividly colored textiles, shiny tin figurines and an intricately carved marble elephant that I remember playing with as a little girl.

I knock gently and clear my throat.

“Puloma?”

She startles a bit, then turns around.

“Lulu!”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t be silly. Come in. I haven’t seen you in ages. Will you have some tea with me?” Perched on an end table is an elegant brass tea set with a slender spout and jeweled cups, but Puloma ignores this in favor of an electric teakettle and a pair of chunky mugs shoved behind the papers on her desk. She flicks the kettle on and gestures me toward a comfy-looking couch under the window.

“Are you sure?” I say.

“Please. I needed a break anyway, and I never get to see you these days.” I enter and take a seat as she pours the tea. “I guess that’s the downside of giving Jayesh his own door,” she says, handing me one of the mugs. “You always go straight there.”

It’s true that since they moved, I’ve spent more time dealing directly with Jek, and have hardly spoken to Puloma at all. It didn’t occur to me that she might miss seeing me.

“Actually,” I admit, “I came here looking for Jek. Have you seen him?”

Puloma frowns. “Not since last night,” she says. “He must have gone out after school. Is he ignoring his phone again? I hate that.”

“No, I...I don’t know. Just...there’s this guy. I just saw him come out of Jek’s apartment. Is it... I mean, should he be in there when Jek isn’t?”

“Oh,” says Puloma. “That must be Hyde. You don’t know him?”

I hesitate. “Not really,” I say. “I just met him outside.”

“Jayesh told me they were working on a project together. Some experiment that needs to be checked at particular intervals. He gave Hyde a spare key to look in on it when he’s not around.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling a little embarrassed that I was so suspicious. Although based on what Maia said, I’m obviously not the only one he’s rubbed the wrong way. “What do you think of him?” I ask, trying to sound conversational.

Puloma shrugs. “I haven’t met him, really—I just saw him leaving one day while I was unloading groceries. I suppose I could have insisted on an introduction, but I don’t like to hassle Jayesh. Honestly, I’m just happy he has a black friend now—I know he’s always felt so isolated in this town.”

I blink at Puloma in confusion. “You think Hyde is black?”

She puts down her tea and gives a nervous laugh. “Isn’t he? I only saw him for a minute, but I thought he looked...” She trails off awkwardly. “Actually, could you tell me a bit about him? Or maybe whatever they’re working on in there? I know it’s not right to pry, but Jayesh’s life is a mystery to me these days.” She gives me a wry smile.

Puloma and Jek have always seemed to me more like partners in crime than mother and child. For bedtime stories, she used to read to him from biochemistry journals, and while other kids messed around with store-bought chemistry sets, Puloma snuck home the real thing from work. They did experiments together as he got older, and she even named him as a coauthor on two of her papers. She’s always encouraged Jek’s scientific curiosity, even when it led in directions other parents might have disapproved of, so he’s never had much reason to hide things from her.

But then, a lot has changed since Tom entered the picture.

“Um,” I say at last. “I don’t think I know much more than you do.”

Puloma laughs gently. “No, of course. I’m sorry, Lulu—I didn’t mean to make you a spy for me. I trust Jayesh to make good choices, and tell me anything I need to know.”

Puloma clearly thinks I’m being evasive to protect Jek, but I wish that was the case. I’m flattered that she thinks I’m privy to Jek’s secrets, even if it’s far from the truth lately.

“Did he tell you he just won the Gene-ius Award?” I offer. “You must be so proud of him, following in your footsteps.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Jayesh is nothing like me, really. But that’s a good thing. When I was younger, I wanted to live dangerously. To change the world. But I’ve always been afraid of the consequences. So instead I came here to London, where the work is steady and the pay is good. A compromise for the sake of stability.” I start to object but Puloma cuts me off. “No, don’t get me wrong—I don’t regret it. It’s just that I want Jayesh to know that he doesn’t have to make the same choices just to make me happy. I want him to feel free to be bold, take risks, make mistakes. And not always play things safe. He’s more brilliant than I am, anyway—I can see it already. And the last thing I’d ever want to do is cage or restrict that kind of mind. That’s the privilege of genius—never to ask permission.”

I nod and look down at my tea. I’m glad Puloma has such trust and confidence in Jek, and I want to believe that he’s deserving of it, but my mind turns inescapably to the strange story Maia told me about Hyde using Jek’s bank account. If it’s true that Jek is friends with Hyde, does that mean Jek gave Hyde the cover-up money willingly? But why would Jek want to protect this creepy sex predator he barely knows? That just doesn’t sound like him—Jek has never done anything like that before, or hung around with that kind of person. It’s easier for me to believe that Hyde tricked Jek somehow, like making him think the money was for something else, something innocent. Jek can sometimes be too trusting for his own good.

I’m tempted to tell Puloma about my fears, just to get an adult perspective on the situation. If Jek’s a victim of some kind of con game, she should know. She could help. But she’s right that I’m not eager to become her spy. Everyone has their secrets, and I know as well as anyone what kind of damage people can do by spreading them. If Jek is hiding his work and his friends from his mom now, maybe he has a good reason for it.

After I leave Puloma, I spend the rest of the night flipping my phone in my hand, my fingers swiping to Jek’s name in my address book. I feel like I need to either warn him or reassure myself, but the last person with Jek’s phone was Hyde. Sure, he said he was about to return it to Jek, but what if that was a lie? Not much point in texting my suspicions directly to the criminal. I could call—I’d recognize Jek’s voice, of course, which is nothing like Hyde’s—but Jek always lets calls go to voice mail, so...same problem, there.

Eventually, I put my phone down and go to bed. I can track down Jek at school tomorrow. What damage could Hyde really do between now and then?