Jek/Hyde

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?

CHAPTER 4

Jek is harder to get a hold of than I anticipated. I see him at various points during the school day—across the lunch room, at the other end of the hall between classes—but every time I try to catch his eye, he ducks his head and disappears behind a corner. I know we haven’t been as close as we once were, but it’s not like him to avoid me. I wonder if he’s figured out that I want to talk about Hyde. He might be feeling guilty or embarrassed about what happened. Still, I have to know for sure. This stuff about Hyde is too important for me to just let it drop.

Over the next several days, I try Jek’s house a couple of more times before, on a wild hunch, I keep driving up the hill until I reach the London Chem grounds. I pass the main buildings with their handful of desultory protesters marching across broad green lawns, then continue along the twisting, shadowy wooded paths until I break out into the open farmland stretching brown and muddy on either side of Twin Creek Road. From there, it’s a careful half mile through a filmy gray fog until the hulking form of the old, disused grain elevator comes into view. My hunch about Jek’s whereabouts is confirmed when I make out the burnt-orange of his bike through the fog; it’s leaning up against the side of the building, the green lock and chain hanging uselessly from the frame.

The grain elevator is a relic from when London was a small farming community without Lonsanto’s state-of-the-art agricultural facilities. Modern grain elevators, like the one Lonsanto currently uses on the other side of town, are smooth steel cylinders, but this one is the old kind—a rickety wooden tower, fat at the bottom and narrow at the top, like the silhouette of a giant. It hasn’t been used in years, so it’s gradually falling into ruin, the slats in the wall pulling free to let daylight through, and the roof starting to cave in. Signs warn people from going near the place for safety reasons, but that just makes it all the more appealing as a meeting point for kids looking to make out or get high. The whole area is littered with beer cans, cigarette butts, shell casings and the occasional used condom.

Tonight it’s too grim and damp for most people to want to hang out here, but Jek’s not most people. I’ve known him to bike out here even in the middle of a storm, if he’s craving solitude. I feel a little bad, busting in on his alone time like this, but it’s his own fault for avoiding me all week.

I park my car down a gentle slope so it won’t be immediately obvious to passing vehicles, then follow a muddy path across the old, weed-choked railroad tracks toward the broad entrance where grain was once dropped off for storage. Once inside, I tread cautiously through the dim space, past the rusted, broken-down machinery, until Jek comes into view at the far end. He’s standing in front of a fallen away part of the wall, nothing more than a dark shape outlined against the dingy fog outside. His silhouette is all ridges and angles, like a bird with its wings folded, and only a sliver of his profile is visible past the edge of his raised hood.

As my eyes adjust to the light, I’m able to pick out more details of his expression: his lips pressed firmly together, his brow furrowed. It’s the way he always looks when he’s deep in thought, so fixated on some knotty problem that the rest of the world becomes invisible to him. Some people find it off-putting, but I’ve always loved that look on him—that reminder of the incredible things his mind is capable of. I feel like I know him better than anyone, but when he gets like this, I know his thoughts are taking him way beyond anything I can understand. Maybe beyond what anyone can.

It’s clear he hasn’t heard my footsteps, and for a moment I hesitate to break in on his solitude, but I came here for a reason, so I announce myself with a pointed cough.

Jek springs to life as he whirls, stumbles and catches himself against the rotted planks of the wall.

“Jesus, Lu.” He rubs a hand over his face, then stretches it out in front of him as if checking it for tremors.

“Hello, stranger,” I say. “Feeling a little jumpy?”

He snorts, then lowers himself to sitting on an overturned crate, still panting a little. I pick my way gingerly through the debris on the floor and sit down next to him.

“Sorry to spook you.”

He takes a deep, steadying breath. “No big deal,” he says, flashing a friendly smile. “How’ve you been?”

“Not too bad,” I tell him. “Except my best friend seems to be avoiding me.”

Jek has the decency to look a little guilty at that. “Sounds like a dick,” he says. “Want me to kick his ass?”

“Mmm,” I agree, and I feel an unexpected swell of relief that we can slip so easily into our old friendly banter. “I’d like to see that.”

We’re not touching, but we’re sitting close enough that I can feel the heat of his body through the damp chill of the air, and pick up his usual smell of smoke and chemicals, like a match that’s just gone out. It might be off-putting on anyone else, but on Jek it’s homey and familiar. Stretching my legs, I notice a syringe set among the usual beer cans and cigarette butts on the floor.

“Geez,” I say, nudging it with the edge of my sneaker. “Since when did people start using this place to shoot up? I remember when this town was strictly smoking and snorting territory.”

“Strange days,” Jek agrees, eyeing the object.

“I guess it was inevitable the London Chem brats would get there eventually,” I observe wryly.

Our high school is rated among the best in the country, and officially all the science-track students are serious, hardworking and committed to their studies. Unofficially, everyone knows that these same students take turns throwing extravagant keg parties every weekend where they indulge in the latest fashionable decadence. There’s always a house available, because someone’s parents are off presenting results at a conference or lobbying in Washington on behalf of the company. The parents kind of know what goes on, but by some unspoken agreement they all look the other way. As long as everything is cleaned up before they get back to town, no one ever has to acknowledge the masquerade.

“‘London Chem brats’?” Jek raises an eyebrow at me, and I can’t tell if he’s seriously offended or just kidding around.

“You know I don’t mean you,” I tell him. “You’re not like the rest of them. You’re always too busy geeking out in the lab.”

Jek laughs. “Was that supposed to be a compliment? Anyway, they’re just messing around. Since when do you judge people for having a little fun?”

I give him a sidelong look. “I don’t care what they get up to,” I insist. “I’d just rather not know about it.”

Jek nudges against me with his shoulder. “Afraid it will give you ideas?”

I feel my face heat up at the suggestion. “Nothing like that.”

“No? Maybe you don’t need the help. Maybe you’ve got enough depraved ideas of your own.”

I huff out a breath and turn away from him.

“Aw, come on, Lu,” he says. “I’m just kidding. I know you’re not like that.”

And that, of course, is even worse, as it sets me thinking of all the things I’ve dreamed of doing with Jek. I may not hang around with the party crowd anymore, but that doesn’t mean my mind is completely pure and innocent. There are things in my head that I’d never tell anyone.

Still, it’s tough to hide anything from someone who knows you so well, and I’m convinced Jek will draw the worst—and most accurate—conclusions from the way I’m squirming. But when I glance over at him, he’s looking out into the fog again and I can’t tell if he’s noticed.

We’re both quiet for a moment, listening to the soft patter of rain that just started.

“So what are you hiding from, out here?” I try after a bit.

Jek shakes his head. “Not hiding,” he says. “Just...getting away. Clearing my head before I do something stupid. Stupider,” he corrects himself.

I raise my eyebrows.

“My stepdad,” he explains. “There was an experiment. Everything was going just as I predicted. And then it...wasn’t.”

I hiss in sympathy. I’ve seen the results of some of Jek’s failed experiments.

“A very small explosion,” he says. “Hardly any damage. But Tom heard breaking glass and smelled smoke, and ran down to see what was going on. When he realized I had locked the door between my apartment and the main house, he hit the roof. Said it was a safety hazard. Then he went off about me being so secretive, and how they would all be burned alive in their beds one day on account of me. Things got heated, and I had to get out of there.”

“Sounds like quite a scene.”

He sighs. “I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

I nudge my knee against his. “Hang in there, kid. Another year and a half, and you’ll be off to college.”

Jek presses his lips together and stares off into space.

“Might take off a bit earlier,” he mumbles.

I freeze. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “Just... There’s always Emerson, right?”

“Your dad?” My chest tightens up at the thought that Jek might leave town, that I might never see him again. “You’d really think of moving in with him?”

“I don’t know. He mentioned it again the last time we talked. And it couldn’t be worse than this, right?”

I give a little snort. Most people would probably think life with Jek’s dad sounded like paradise. He made a bunch of money as a stockbroker a few years ago, and since then he’s “retired” to a Caribbean island. But he and Jek don’t exactly have a lot in common—Emerson believes a lot of odd stuff about how science and technology are instruments of state control and repression, and last time Jek visited him, they got into a big fight.

“I know, he’s kind of a crackpot,” Jek concedes. “But maybe it would be good for me to get to know him better. I love my mom, but between her and Tom... Do you have any idea what it’s like to be one of the only black people in this town? Hell, I’m the only black person in my own house. There’s this whole part of myself that’s completely cut off from anyone like me.”

I nod again in sympathy, but the truth is, I know I can’t begin to understand his situation. I deal with plenty of racism around this town, but at least there’s a big Latino population here, including a lot of people who care about me, who understand and support me. I can’t blame Jek for wanting that kind of community, even though it breaks my heart to think of him leaving.

“What about your lab?” I ask. “You wouldn’t have access to equipment and supplies with your dad.”

Jek is quiet for a while, considering that. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” he says at last.

“Jek, come on. You love science. It’s the only thing you’ve cared about for I don’t even know how long. You can’t seriously consider giving that up.”

“Why not?” he says sharply. “Who says I can’t try something new? Just because I’ve always been one way doesn’t mean I have to be like that forever.”

I stare at him. “You’re serious?”

He leans back and some of the tension leaves his body.

“No,” he says. “I don’t know. I’m just talking. What about you? You’ve been tailing me all week, so I figure you must have something big to report. Finally hack that coupon site so we can get free pizza for life?”

“Nothing like that,” I say with a snort. I glance up at him and find his gaze on me, warm and steady. For the first time in weeks, I have his complete attention, but for a moment, I can’t help being distracted by his warm brown eyes and long lashes. His intelligence is so clearly written on his features, but it’s not just that. There’s kindness and generosity, too. And, caught up with it, our whole history together: laughter and games, teasing and skinned knees. Jek looks the same as ever—same baggy, practical clothes, his wild hair tucked up under his usual knit cap—but it’s been a long time since I’ve interacted with him in nonelectronic form, and I’d forgotten how comfortably we fit together. How right it feels just to be with him.

I shake off these thoughts and focus on what I need to tell him. Now that I have him listening, I’m not sure where to begin.

“I met a friend of yours the other day, when I went looking for you,” I try. Jek’s gaze slides away from my face and he looks a little annoyed already. Not surprised, though. “Hyde,” I say, just to be clear. “He was coming out of your place.”

“And?”

“And, well...” I say, frustrated. “I’ve heard things about him. Not good things.”

Jek shrugs. “Hyde’s made some bad first impressions. Ruffled a few feathers. That’s all.”

“I don’t know, Jek. How well do you know this guy, anyway?”

“Better than you do,” he says sharply. “Come on, Lu. You of all people know better than to listen to gossip in this town.”

I can’t help wincing at the comment. Of course Jek knows how I once became the object of London’s rumor mill. Everyone knows about it. But he hasn’t made any reference to it in years—he knows how uncomfortable it makes me. For him to bring it up now means he’s either suddenly transformed into a complete asshole, or he’s desperate to change the subject and deflect attention from himself. But I won’t let him throw me off course so easily.

“This is different, Jek,” I press on. “I’m not just satisfying some prurient curiosity, I’m trying to look out for you. How do you know you can trust this guy? What if Hyde is...”

I’m not sure how to finish. I’m worried Hyde’s a con artist, but Jek is the smartest person I know, even in a town of some extremely brilliant people. How can I sit next to a certified genius and tell him that some stranger has outsmarted him and tricked his way into his finances? But the fact is, there are different kinds of smart, and Jek isn’t always so smart about people. Since Jek doesn’t care about money or possessions, he can’t imagine anyone else would. In the past, I’ve always been around to look out for him. Maybe the recent distance between us gave Hyde an opportunity to manipulate Jek.

I take a breath.

“Have you checked your bank account lately?”

“What?”

For the first time in this conversation, I seem to have surprised him.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you, Jek. I heard...” I’m not sure how much to say. I don’t want to break Maia’s or Natalie’s confidence. “Something happened at a kegger, with a girl. I don’t know what, exactly, but I heard Hyde paid her to drop the issue. Paid her a lot.”

Jek looks away. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“Because he transferred the money from your account.”

Jek looks up sharply. “Who told you that?” He sounds agitated, maybe even nervous. Not the disbelief and anger I was expecting.

I look steadily into his face, trying to read him.

“Is it true? Did you already know about this?”

He leans his head back against the wall. “It’s fine, Lu. It’s... Look, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry about it. I’ve got it under control.”

“Oh.” I’m baffled. I had expected Jek to be shocked by my revelation, or to offer some totally reasonable explanation for it at least. Not to brush me off. “Okay then.” I feel my temper rise along with my confusion. “I guess that’s cool. I just didn’t realize that your new hobby was bankrolling rapists.”

I stand to leave, fuming, but he stops me with a hand on my arm.

“Lu, I swear. That’s not what it is. You don’t have the whole story.”

“All right,” I say. “So tell me.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. But I... Look, just trust me, okay? It was a misunderstanding. A mix-up. It’s all taken care of.”

“Why can’t you explain it, then?”

“Because it’s none of your business!” he explodes, rising to his feet. I take a step back from him, surprised and hurt by his outburst. The pattering rain fills in the silence between us. Finally Jek lets out a slow breath and rubs his face. “Jesus, Lu,” he says more quietly. “Just stay out of it, all right? If I tell you it’s fine, it’s fine.”

“Fine,” I mutter, moving toward the exit. “Sorry to bother you.” He calls my name as I head out into the rain, but I am about 300 percent done with him right now. Why do I even bother? Let him clean up his own messes.

CHAPTER 5

I fume about Jek on the entire drive home, and it’s only when I pull into the driveway and I’m hit with the scent of my mom’s carnitas emanating from the house that my mood starts to improve. Whatever psychodrama Jek is involved in, it’s not my problem to deal with—especially now that he’s told me to stay out of it.

I park and go in through the back door, which leads directly into the kitchen. My house may not be big like the ones in Jek’s neighborhood, but it’s clean and comfortable—Mom always says, a small house means less to clean. I guess she would know, given how much of her life she has spent scrubbing the big houses on the hill. I used to dream of living in a house with a second story, but Jek pointed out that having a bedroom at ground level meant we could crawl in and out of my window without my mom knowing. Not that either of us have made use of that feature recently.