Page 96 of Cerulean Truth
Or in the last few weeks, I thought. Not that I could tell Jackson about it but, she had been abducted and bled out by three strangers in the middle of the night. Maybe that’s what she was blocking out…
I nodded slowly. "You might be right about that... Okay... so how do I fix it?"
He laughed. "I don't know, man. Make her talk about it? Get her into therapy?"
Before I could respond, I noticed Matthew walking into the Cube, translating another cubicle with Justine and Nino. They transformed theirs into an outdoorsy setup with lean-back chairs, a fire pit in the middle, and each had their own smalltable. Noticing us, Matthew signaled to go join them, and I was relieved to finally push Emma out of my mind, looking forward to washing it all away with some good old Scotch.
Which is why I was less than enthusiastic when I spotted her coming in through the next cube. Without giving it much thought, I turned my back toward her. The darkness outside provided some cover, and there was a chance I was too far away for her to notice me. I hoped.
Jackson, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to my feeble attempts to ignore her.
"Hi, Em!" he called out to her enthusiastically.
"Hi, Jack!" she responded with equal enthusiasm, waving at him from afar. And ignoring me while doing so.
"Jack? Em?" I asked him disdainfully.
He frowned at me. "What? You have a problem with me befriending Emma, Walker?" he asked with a knowing smile.
"Of course, he does!" Matthew chimed in with a grin. "Obviously."
"I'm sorry; I fail to see how that is obvious," Jackson responded dryly.
Matthew snorted derisively. "Because she can't be trusted!"
Jackson looked at me, and I shrugged in obliviousness. I had no idea where Matthew was going with it.
"And why is that?" "Jack" asked.
"You know... because of her thing," Matthew answered impatiently, as if we were morons for not understanding.
"Her thing?" Jackson and I asked simultaneously.
"Yeah, her emotion thing."
"What emotion thing?"
"Dude… she was in the Human World for twenty-three years… twenty-three! She didn’t translate for twenty-three years! Do you know how few emotions she must have? She mustbe like… I don’t know, a psychopath or something." Matthew tapped his foot impatiently on the ground.
It would have been so much easier if I could’ve just told at least the guys I considered my brothers about Emma’s untraceable translation, but I couldn’t. Not without committing treason. Not without endangering her.
"A psychopath? Because she doesn’t have a lot of emotions?" Jackson asked, clearly stunned.
"Yes! If she doesn’t feel anything, she can’t be trusted," Matthew said, rather confidently, evidently not having consumed his first beer.
"Well, of course,youwould think so," I muttered.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Matthew asked sharply. I looked at Jackson for help—a foolish mistake, he was even less diplomatic about anything than I.
"Well, you know, because youoozeemotions," Jackson answered lightly.
"Ioozeemotions?" Matthew asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, you know, you always feel stuff, and we have to hear about it non-stop... You live for what you feel, so yeah... You ooze emotions."
"Well, it’s better than being a robot like you," Matthew retorted.
"Excuse me? How am I a robot?"
