Free Twist by Karen Akins Page A

even.”
    â€œLafferty?” There was a Dr. Lafferty who had written my Quantum Bio textbook from last year, but he was a man.
    â€œLafferty. I told you about my interview with her three days ago. The medical director at ICE? Bree, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
    â€œI … yes. Lafferty. I got her name mixed up in my mind with someone else … named … Dafferty.”
    â€œDafferty?”
    â€œSo she said that nerves are normal.” I tried to get us back on track.
    â€œYeah, and that there’s nothing to be nervous about. ‘It’s only Shifting,’ she said. ‘People have been doing it for millennia.’”
    â€œ Shifters have been doing it for millennia,” I said quietly, but Wyck didn’t hear me.
    â€œBesides, I told her I’d made you a promise.” He reached out and grasped both my hands in his. “You want a Shifter boyfriend. You’ve got one.”
    What? I fought the urge to yank my hands away as I quickly replayed the conversation we’d just had. From the way Wyck was talking, I was the one who had pressured him into Shifting. But that was the opposite of what I wanted. I mean, yeah. I wanted a Shifter boyfriend. I wanted Finn. My Shifter boyfriend. I wanted Wyck to have never heard of the possibility. I wanted ICE to have never invented the IcePick and even make it a possibility.
    No, a voice chimed in my head, that’s what Real Bree wants . I couldn’t act or think like Real Bree anymore. I had no idea what this Fake Bree wanted, what she needed, what she had been up to for the last six months. This was like waking up from a coma, only to find out that your comatose self had been not only living your life the whole time, but had been living it all wrong.
    My solution: keep Wyck talking.
    I maintained a steady stream of small talk all the way back to the Institute and managed to glean the following about the time I’d lost: I had still ended up Anchored, but for made-up health reasons, not for breaking the rules. Quigley wasn’t a teacher at the Institute anymore. She had left to pursue humanitarian efforts, taking care of Shifters who had succumbed to the Madness, at Resthaven. Granderson had joined her there full-time as well, just as he had on my timeline.
    When we reached the entrance to the Institute, where Wyck was still in the transporter program, I leaned forward to brush my hair against the scanner, but Wyck blocked it with his broad torso.
    â€œWhy the hurry?” He bent down, and at first I assumed he was picking something up but instead he whispered something into my ear that really made Real Bree want to slap him.
    I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that somehow it was Finn standing in front of me, that somehow I wasn’t betraying him or missing him or … I reached up, without opening my eyes and brushed my lips against Wyck’s. They reciprocated with enthusiasm.
    Okay, then.
    I tried to return his kiss with an approximation of anything but revulsion. I kept my brain busy by coming up with a mental to-do list: Research this Lafferty woman, Infiltrate ICE, Strangle my future self when I caught up with her.
    Wyck finally came up for air, and in the corner of my vision, I saw what looked like a photo flash from across the street. I glanced over, but I must have imagined it. There was nothing there.
    â€œYou seem distracted,” Wyck said.
    â€œI’m just tired.”
    He patted me on the shoulder. “You should go get some rest.”
    â€œI should.”
    Or.
    I should plant another peck on Wyck’s cheek, wait until he disappeared into his room, and run straight back out to catch a Pod to Resthaven.
    Option two it was.
    *   *   *
    â€œThis had better be important.” Quigley swept into her office and stared me down. Her furnishings and pictures—old-fashioned to the point of archaic—were much more suited to Resthaven