Page 19 of Becoming Brandy

Brandy gave in and inched into the dark room. Wrek sealed it up and turned on the lights.

Gasping, Brandy brought her hands to her mouth.

She could hardly believe her eyes. The space they were standing in appeared exactly like the house she’d lived in for a good part of her childhood. The little ranch on Elm Street had been where all her best and most cherished memories were formed. It was the place where her mom and stepdad had been happy. Where’d they’d all been a family together before her stepdad died and her mother had gotten into pills. Seeing it now, she felt like crying and leaping for joy all at once.

There was the little kitchen with the almond-colored refrigerator and the kitchen island where her mother prepared meals. And to the right was the little living room with pink shag carpet where she’d played endless hours with her Barbies. The big boxy TV was in the center with her stepdad’s battered leather recliner angled toward it just waiting for him to plop inside.

She approached the chair, touching the worn armrests as tears sprang to her eyes. Her stepdad had been dead at least fifteen years, but seeing this chair made her feel like he could walk into the room at any minute. She scanned the area, half hoping he would. Her eyes landed on Wrek, who watched her.

“You did all this,” she asked, wiping away the tears, “for me?”

His smile broadened, his purple eyes twinkling. “Do you like it?”

“It’s amazing.” She couldn’t stop taking in every detail. There was her mother’s Reader’s Digest collection lined up by month along the shelves in the living room. And the stairs. If she walked up them, would she find her old bedroom?

“How did you do this?” she asked, lifting a mug from the coffee table and inspecting it. The burnt sienna color was something straight out of the eighties.

“I’ve invented a device that can scan people’s memories and replicate things found there. It only works on places we know well where the memory is strong.”

She started, feeling as if he’d peeped in her window. “You scanned my memories?”

A blush burned up his cheeks, letting her know he sensed he was in trouble. “When you first arrived, yes. Drake ordered me to, so he could find any weaknesses Han might have. But you didn’t know much about Han. Now I know why.”

“Well, I guess if Drake ordered you to.” She was still miffed he went into her mind without her knowledge, but it really wasn’t Wrek’s fault. He was Drake’s pawn.

“What else did you see?” she asked, worried about the answer. All those men from her previous profession were stored in her brain. Did Wrek see them? All the nights flat on her back, faking her enjoyment? What would he think of her?

“I didn’t see much else. It was a quick scan.”

“Please don’t do it again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, wringing his hands.

“I forgive you.” She put her hand on his shoulder gently. “It feels surreal standing here. It’s like I’m eight years old again. Like if I looked out that window, I’d see Fred Cutler riding his bike around the cul-de-sac.” She walked over to the front window, but there was nothing outside but grass and trees. Emotions were still swirling inside her, bittersweet memories mingled with the confusion of the day. What she wouldn’t give to go back to being small. To be able to crawl onto her mother’s lap and be wreathed in her arms. To smell her stepdad’s pipe smoke and hear the murmur of his TV shows as she went to sleep. She needed something like that right now.

Leaning in, she put her head on Wrek’s shoulder. Tentatively, he put his arms around her, holding her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled in. Sighing, she soaked in the feeling of being comforted. Wrek was steadfast. His arms were cords anchoring her down. It was exactly what she needed.

The ship rocked beneath their feet. They both stumbled, Wrek trying to stabilize her as he glanced up with concern on his face.

“What was that?” Brandy asked.

Wrek let her go, hurrying to the wall. He touched it, drawing out lights and symbols that he seemed to understand. “We’re under attack.”

“What?” Brandy asked, panic pumping through her veins.

Wrek nodded. “It’s Han. He’s here.”

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