Prologue
The first time I kissed someone, it wasn't at all like I had imagined—and trust me when I say that I had spent hours imagining it. It was a summer night just after my seventeenth birthday. We were sitting side by side in the empty football stadium. I can still feel the bleachers, cold and hard beneath my legs. My elbow was touching the side of his body. I could feel how warm he was. He didn't move, but just let me touch him. The air between us was thick with anticipation. And then, just like that, his lips were on mine. In a few seconds, a wall that had once seemed impenetrable was crossed. I was no longer unkissed.
The first time I killed someone, it wasn't at all like I had imagined. It was as quick and as effortless as snipping a string. I squeezed the trigger, and the man fell back. It was so dark that I could barely see the outline of his face. I watched him for a long time, waiting for something. What was I waiting for? The man didn't move, except for a brief shudder. It seemed for a moment as if I too had stopped breathing. But in the cold I could see my breath visible in small white puffs. I waited for the world to open up and swallow me, but nothing came. In the corner where I hid, I saw a small brown bird hopping. He reached the edge of my vision and took flight. It was only me who had changed.
Chapter One: The Crossing
When I last saw my mother, we were standing on the Golden Gate Bridge. It was deserted. People were no longer allowed to travel into the city. It was too dangerous. On that morning, the fog was heavy—its wet, white fingers lacing themselves through the burnt red cables. My mother and I walked across the bridge, neither of us speaking. We had to move quickly since there were regular patrols. When we neared the now-vacant tollbooths, my mother handed me a backpack. I finally looked at her. Her expression was stone, but her eyes were heavy with worry. I tried to mirror her strength, but I fought back tears.
"Can't you come with me?" I asked, already knowing the answer. We had planned this for months. I knew there were no other options.
"Lex," she said my name sympathetically as if I were a small child asking for something impossible, "when you find them, give them this." She pressed a small computer flash drive into my hand and took me into her arms. "I'm so proud of you, my girl. No matter what happens, remember that."
I tried to control my breathing, but I felt as if I was drowning. For as long as I could remember, I saw my mother as the tether that grounded me to my world. Without her, I was a feather blown by the wind. I wanted to tell her that, but it would have felt too much like saying good-bye.
I whispered, "I know."
My mother let go first and began walking away. Ahead of me, I saw only fog. I walked toward the tollbooths, then past them. My legs felt like heavy bags of sand. I imagined that, after a few steps, my mother turned and watched me until I disappeared behind layers of whiteness. But I'm not sure because I couldn't look back.