Recapitulate

Two

“Hey, the coffee here is pretty awesome,” Jaysen says at a failed attempt to make conversation. Both of us haven’t even touched our coffee yet. We can’t swallow it, and even if I managed to down even a small mouthful, I think it would come back up again.
I smile though. Least I don’t have to be the one to make things less awkward. Something I’m not good at. I grab a small pink sugar packet and rip it open easily, dumping white powder into my cup and stirring it with a stir stick. What a waste of sweet sugar, since we both know our coffees are going to end up in the trash. I think Jaysen only bought them because we would be kicked out if we didn’t buy anything.
“I guess it is,” I reply, not in the mood to play along and talk about other things, “Just not today.” I stare out the window the whole time, realizing that we’ve been seated in the worse place. This café is right across the street from the hospital. I can see it from the window, tall and entirely white (of course). I keep catching myself peering into the windows of the twenty seventh floor, wondering what Valery and her family is doing. Her decision on the Restart operation could only be discussed with her family members, giving Dr. Carlson a good excuse to kick us out. So we came here.
Jaysen raises his eyes to mine. I manage to continue looking at my coffee for about two seconds before I force myself to gaze back. His eyes are the best part of him, contrary to his arrogant beliefs that everything about him is perfect. Brown and gold. It’s dazzling when they catch the sunlight and it’s not just a dark brown with gold flecks. It’s hazel and green and blue and gray mixed together to create the most beautiful, the most mystical color I have ever seen. Of course, I have absolutely no wish to tell him that. His head is already filled enough with thoughts of how good-looking he is. Conceited much.
He opens his mouth to say something, but shakes his head and turns his face away. I guess it’s my turn to make the conversation not awkward, a problem I never imagined I would have to deal with while talking to Jaysen. Jaysen Carter, of all people, the easiest person to talk to in the entire universe. But I guess seeing a close friend fall off the balcony with your very eyes and having to visit her in the hospital changes people, circumstances, whatever.
“If…If you were Val,” I begin slowly, watching a girl with spiky hair the color of a sunset perform some sort of acrobatics right outside to loud, pumping music, a hat filled with spare change sitting in front of her. I resist the urge to cover my ears. I recognize the song that’s playing so loudly. It’s one of the songs they played at the party. Oh, crap, now that I’m thinking of the party and my headache’s back again, stronger than ever. I quickly take a sip of the coffee, forcing it down my throat. Then I start over. “If you were Val…would you say yes or no?”
“Yes or no to what?” Jaysen says, now watching the funky orange-haired girl perform triple back flips in front of a gathering crowd. Their cheers are also loud enough to be heard by us.
I roll my eyes, spilling the contents of another pink sugar packet into my coffee. Still not enough to do with my hands. I grab one of the mini-pitchers of cream and pour enough in to turn it into a more appealing color. “You know what I mean.”
His eyes crinkle. “No, I don’t.”
“Fine, go ahead and be a dumbass. If you were Val, would you get a Restart or not?”
Jaysen shrugs, thinking about it. I would have to think about it too. If you only had half a second to mull over it, you would obviously say yes. Your face is damaged for good, getting a new face would be best. But here in this relatively peaceful café, you have as much time to ponder, especially since you’re actually not the patient. Normally, with Restarts, you can’t choose how you want to look, but I guess they decided to pull another exception with Val, the first exception being that she’s even allowed to have a Restart. I’ve heard once or twice about people too young to worry about dying getting Restarts, and it’s considered weird. If I could change how I look, if I had burns all over my face and a hideously ruined nose, would I really get that Restart? I think. Would I give up my appearance? I shudder at the thought of waking up and going into the bathroom to wash up and finding an unrecognizable face staring back at you in the mirror. But you’ll get used to a face that’s yours because of surgery…right?
“Hard decision,” he replies. The same conclusion as me, “Hey, no wonder Val has to have her family come and think it over with her.” We laugh. I love laughter. It releases something tight and edgy in your chest and leaves you with a smile.
But we fall back into silence as the door to the café opens with a loud dinging sound. I hear a bunch of laughing kids swish in, talking loudly. A few people shoot dirty looks at them. As they sit at the table next to us, I recognize their outfits. Black-and-blue plaid skirts and black slacks, tight-fitting black blazers over perfectly-pressed white shirts and cerulean ties. I even recognize a one or two faces from the party yesterday.
“Hey, nice of them to ditch school today too,” Jaysen comments, also noticing them, “How much people do you think found Valery as an excuse to not come today?”
“Half the school.” I stand up, too much memories of the party returning to me and I rub my eyes. I need to leave. I’m starting to feel a bit sick again. “Well, I think I should be getting home now. See you tomorrow at school, maybe?”
“You bet.”

I love walking home in this kind of weather. The sun’s shining brightly, but there’s no sweat beads forming on my neck. The wind blows gently, so I’m not freezing. It’s the kind of pleasant weather one expects for mid-March. It’s only early afternoon, but there’s many people promenading about, couples window-shopping together with their arms linked and hands entwined. I spot another group of students from my school walk past on the other side of the road, laughing, shopping bags swinging from their arms. Jaysen was right; half the school must have taken the day off from the incident. Checking into school just to drop off a note that they would be visiting Valery Kalha, then going out and shopping for designer clothing. Okay, I understand the value and importance of designer clothing, but a friend in the hospital kind of come first. Not that they even know who she is.
I jog to the next intersection and turn. To my relief, the hospital disappears out of view behind me. Out of sight, out of mind, as they used to say. I continue down the street, where mansion after mansion pass by. Then I see my home, at the end of the street.
The entrance is a tall wrought-iron gates, taller than the trees, nearly taller than the mansion that lies behind it. It’s not even a mansion, it’s a huge estate, passed down from generation to generation of Lewis’. The garden sprawls across acres of land, the home lying behind it, towering over everything. I take the thin bars and just stare in for a while. Everyone’s family is granted a mansion and a lot of land, but the families who contributed a lot to the community—and most importantly to the authorities—get these massive, monster estates. Inventing the Restarts counts, I guess.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle off to my left and I freeze, my shoulders stiffening. I turn, but I don’t see anything that could’ve caused the noise, not even a squirrel scurrying up one of the trees that lines the sidewalk. In fact, the whole place is deserted. Everyone’s either at school or working.
“Hello?” I call out, scanning the neighborhood again. Nothing. “We both know very well that I heard you just now, so you might as well show yourself,” I hesitate before adding, “I can call the Enforcers, you know?”
“Don’t!” a boy’s voice calls out from somewhere off to my right, and my head immediately whips in that direction. There’s another rustle, and a figure darts out from somewhere up in the branches of a tree, dangling off the lowest branch, and I scream in surprise, leaping back.
“No, don’t scream!” the same voice shouts, and then I see it’s coming from the person hanging from the tree, four feet off the ground. Upon closer examination, I see that it’s a boy about my age. He’s wearing a simple white shirt and purposely-ripped jeans. His skin is amazingly pale, like it’s never felt the sun before, and his hair is amazingly dark, contrasting with his skin. His eyes are blue, like Val’s, but a deeper shade. They study my own eyes with a cool interest. Then he lets go of the branch, landing flawlessly like a cat and starts walking over to me. I see his mouth open, and then he says, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there.”
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. “That’s cool. Who are you, anyways?’
Something conflicts in the boy’s eyes, as if he thinks that I shouldn’t be asking him the question. That he expects me to know the answer. But that look is only fleeting, lasting for not even a second. Had I imagined it?
No, I must not have. “Wait. You don’t…know me?” he replies, eyes widening. “Don’t play jokes, Mara. I know it’s long time no see, but at least you can remember my name, right?”
I tilt my head to the side in confusion. What is this kid talking about? “Um, no. And how do you know my name? Be honest, are you stalking me? Because I’ll tell you here and now that I don’t have any money on me right now.”
The boy’s eyes grow wider. “Why the hell would I want your money for?”
“Why the hell are you here?”
“Mara…” he takes a step towards me, but I take a step backwards, “You can’t not know me. We’ve known each other for years. I’m here because I’ve been looking for you for a while…and, well, I miss you lots.”
Okay, now this is getting weird. I pause for a moment, looking through my memories for something, for a memory about this guy standing right there. Nope. But as I try to remember, there’s a strange tugging in my mind and everything’s suddenly foggy. I shake the haze away.
“How do you miss someone who doesn’t even know you? Come on. Be realistic. I don’t even know your name,” I say. Or do I? Or maybe he’s just another Lewis stalker whose pretending to know me and befriend me, then get the money and run. It’s happened to some rich celebrity families before.
The boy looks at me for a long time, then sighs. When he comes closer this time, I let him. He holds out his hand. “I’m Landon.” Gingerly, I shake his hand. It’s just the right temperature, a bit cool. But something passes between us in that handshake, and I wonder if I do know him. Landon. Never heard of someone named him, but it’s familiar somehow…If only I can remember!
“Nice to meet you,” I say dryly, and he laughs. That’s when I first see his smile, warm, gentle and yeah, to be honest, a bit cute. “Well, what now? Are you just gonna stand there?”
Landon shakes his head, his brow furrowing and he frowns. I secretly find myself wishing I could see that smile again. “No. Mara, I’m here to warn ya. Kind of.”
“Well? Go on.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets, turning so he leans against my gate. His expression is completely serious now, no funny business. If only he could smile…Then I mentally beat myself up for thinking this thoughts. Sure he has a nice smile, but I shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. I’ve always kept myself at a distance with my love life.
“Mara, you know about your friend Valery, right?” he asks.
“Stalking her too, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t smile. Crap! “No, I just know things. Like how she fell off her balcony last night at the party.” How could he have known about what happened at the party? I don’t ask, I just let him continue. “I also know that she’s been offered a full Restart by the surgical committee.”
I take a quick intake of breath. Now, how the hell would he know that? Not even any of the people who went to the party knows that…besides Jaysen and I. Maybe he’s related to someone on the committee or something, though it’s pretty unlikely.
“Yeah, so?” I whisper, my body facing the gate but my face turned to his. I grip the bars tighter. His eyes flicker to my tensed muscles, my straightened posture. He sees my defensiveness, but he makes no comment.
“This is very important. This may change everything,” Landon breathes, “So please be honest with me. Did Valery give consent to undergo the Restart procedure or not?”
“Why do you want to know, Landon? I don’t know you. Valery doesn’t know you,” I hiss.
He shrugs. “I need to know. Please tell me. I won’t tell anyone. I don’t even go to your school or anything, so it won’t even harm anyone. I swear, I’ll keep the secret safe. I just need to know. Please. Tell me now.”
Fear shoots through me, even if it’s only a little. Who is he? Why does he want to know? Why is he so concerned with my best friend, who doesn’t even know him? What does he want with me?
I shut my eyes and press my fingertips gently against my eyelids. Maybe if I don’t see him, he’ll go away. Maybe when I open my eyes, he’ll be gone. Like that’ll happen. I can still feel him standing there, motionless, waiting for my answer.
Keeping my eyes closed, I repeat, in a slow and careful voice, “Why do you want to know? What does this have to do with you?”
Landon hesitates. “Will you tell me if I tell you?”
“Maybe.” I say, then quickly add, “And that’s all the hope you’re going to get.”
Landon gives me a long and hard look. There’s a strange quality about his eyes, as if they give off a strange, mysterious aura that I can’t fathom, like there’s something more to him, but you can barely see it at all. What could it be?
“Mara, I need to know because I want you to convince Valery…not to take the Restart,” he says eventually, “I need you to convince her to not choose it. It’s dangerous. There’s something the authorities aren’t telling you about this…”
What? How? It’s not possible. Everything here is safe. Okay, maybe once or twice a year there’s accidents with surgeries even after tests are performed. Some bodies are just too weak too handle it, some bodies may reject whatever the surgeries add. But dangerous? Restarts are hardly dangerous. And anyways, the authorities always tell us if something is dangerous.
“I don’t believe you,” I tell him, “Restarts are as safe as they can be these days. And I should know,” I cross my arms and say rather prissily, “My grandparents were two of the creators of the Restarts. It runs in our family’s blood.”
Landon’s eyes shift to the ground as he tugs at the hem of his white v-neck nervously. “But there’s something that’s meant to be said, but is not,” he insists, “The Restarts are dangerous, risky. I know danger is fun, but you got to take this seriously—”
“Hey! Mara!” a new voice cuts him short, and we both turn around to the sound of the voice. Someone’s running up the sidewalk towards us. It’s Jaysen. Landon sees him and he pales somewhat. I can see panic in his eyes.
“Please think about it, Mara,” he says quickly before beginning to sprint off in the opposite direction. “Later!” he yells over his shoulder, leaving me standing there stunned. It happened all so fast. He didn’t even leave any room for my questions.