Page 39 of Regressive

I grab the machine and twist it in my direction, touching the screen with my fingers.

“That’s—”

“Her. Yes. I remember what she looked like.”

I squint trying to absorb everything. I push his hand off the mouse and frantically try to make it comply. It spins out of control. “I just want to make it bigger!”

“Shhhh!” the librarian shushes from across the room. Elon’s hand closes over mine, warm and heavy. He helps orient the mouse and clicks on her picture. It takes us to a page with limited information.

“Is that it?” I ask, speaking over the lump in my throat. “Is there nothing else?”

“It’s a private account, which, frankly, is smart.” He clicks around a little more but doesn’t make much progress. “If you want to speak to her directly, you’ll have to make an account and engage her.”

The suggestion hits my chest like a battering ram. “Everything you just said is a violation.”

He nods. “It is.”

My hands shake and I put them in my lap. Again, he clamps his over mine and a feeling of calm follows. “If you do this, Imogene, you can’t Correct this out of your system. You’ll be crossing a line that comes from being part of Anex’s inner circle. One you can’t come back from, and one,” he lowers his voice, “you can’t have Levi take out of your hide with a strap.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you make a decision. You’re either a sweet little lamb that follows The Way, or you’re one of us.”

I look up at his handsome, intimidating face. “Who are you?”

“The Chosen. We’re not exactlyabovethe rules and Corrections, but there’s a gray area. That’s where the four of us exist.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” Give up everything I know—the rules and belief system—The Way.

He squeezes my hand. “It’s okay if you can’t, but I need you to understand your limits. Because you can’t keep punishing yourself for our Lapses.”

“I don’t know if I can separate the two.”

He watches me closely, his dark eyes drinking me in, like he’s trying to see inside my mind, how it works. “How about this,” he says. “I’ll do the research. Take down the information. If you want it, I can tell you, but it’s my burden. My Lapse. Not yours.” His eyes flick down to my mouth and back up. “And if you need me to, I’ll go to Corrections to make it right.”

It’s a generous offer, and one that, like he said, wades into the gray water of our world. But at this point I don’t any other option. It’s a lifeline.

I take it.

“Okay, let’s try that.”

He takes the keyboard back and types quickly, faster than I would’ve thought possible. He enters in my mother’s name. “Grab that flyer,” he says, nodding to a stack on a nearby table. He pulls a pen out of his pocket. I watch as he jots down addresses and strings of phone numbers. He’s quiet, but thorough, sliding the paper over to me when he’s finished.

“I think she lives or works at one of these addresses. It’s hard to tell—she’s good at covering her tracks.”

I stare at the information, trying to reconcile it with the years of her absence.

“You okay?” he asks, knee nudging mine.

“My mom, Camille, has been gone so long. I guess I didn’t think it would exist.” I lift up the paper. “But here it is and I guess I just don’t know what to do with this?”

“Give it to Rex?”

“Do you think I should?”

“Wasn’t that the plan?” he asks.

“Yes, but… I guess I didn’t think it would be this easy or maybe even possible. Or…”

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