Watch Me (Shatter Me: The New Republic #1)

by Tahereh Mafi

Shut up,” he said, when I tried to point out that he smiled all the time these days.

“So,” I say, bending to better meet its gaze. “If you’re watching this program right now, I’d encourage you to ask yourself this: What would Aaron Warner Anderson do? Because that’s the question I’m about to answer. And he taught me everything I know.”

“Look, are you okay? Like, I get that you’ve had a bad day, so it’s cool if you haven’t noticed the ten pounds of blood all over my body, but I’m kind of having a bad day, too, and I’ve got two new bullet wounds to deal with—”

“I can help you,” I say, ignoring this. “I can get the chopper to work. I can get you home. But you have to take me with you.” “No.” “Why not?” He throws up his hands. “Are you joking? You’re clearly some kind of psycho mercenary servant of the fascists. Why would I take you with me? So you could kill everyone I care about? Imagine being invited to a potluck and bringing the plague.” He points at me. “You’re the plague.”

Quietly, I say, “Are you going to hold that over my head forever?” He raises his eyebrows. “The fact that you killed me? The fact that you watched me die without remorse, then sent me off to have my organs harvested? Yes, yes, I am.”

“You weren’t here,” says Kenji. “You don’t know what it was like. Even when we got the call to come get you yesterday, people had a hard time. People were really overwhelmed. People cried.” “You cried,” says Winston. “I didn’t cry.” “I said people cried—”

“Hey, I didn’t know you liked jelly beans,” Kenji says, peering over his shoulder. “You’ve been holding out on us. You should join us for snack time—” “They’re for my wife,” Warner says sharply. “What? You have a wife?” Kenji throws his arm around Warner and squeezes. “You’re married? Congrats, man. I had no idea. You literally never mention it.” “Shut up.” Warner shoves away from Kenji, who only looks delighted to have pissed him off.

“Humanity?” I say with a smile. “You sound like Juliette right now.” He stops to look through the window. “I know you meant that as an insult, so consider yourself lucky I like you enough not to murder you for disrespecting my wife.”

“I wouldn’t use the word excited,” he says, shooting me a warning look. “Or proud. Or big deal. Or all the time.” Still, I feel a little like I’ve been shot with sunshine. “Wow,” I say to him, fighting a smile. “Look at you. You can’t even help it. You love me so much it disgusts you. You’re disgusted with yourself.”

In fact, we’ve decided to make ugly collages and use them to decorate our place. He’s going to gather up anything with Brendan’s handwriting on it and use it to papier-mâché a bunch of toilet rolls. I’m going to bang my head against the wall until it leaves an impression. We figure it’s finally time to put up some art in the living room.” He crunches some more. “Winston calls it depressing chic.” “Is this a joke?” Warner looks at Juliette, then Kenji. “I put up that drywall myself. We repainted those walls just last month—”

“You don’t have to worry so much.” “That’s like telling water not to be wet,” Kenji mutters, crunching popcorn again. “This man lives to worry about you. It’s his favorite thing to do. Between worrying about you and talking about you and frolicking through fields aggressively shouting your name at wildlife, I’m surprised the man has any time left

“Did you just, like, zap me with your killing power?” She laughs. “Only a little bit.” “Only a little bit?” His eyes go wider. “J, you can literally murder people with only a little bit—” “She can murder whoever she wants,” Warner says flatly. “Don’t stifle her.” Kenji’s jaw drops open. “You two are disgusting. This whole situation is disgusting. I hate everyone in this room.”

He says, “A cold-blooded mercenary—loyal to The Reestablishment—is essentially imprisoned in a rehabilitation facility, where she’s forced against her will to participate in excruciating group therapy sessions followed by hours of invasive questioning, and you’re hoping I’m going to tell you that her silent, unyielding stare is an indication that she’s in love with you?” I slump backward, letting my head hang off the edge. The world flips upside down and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Well,” I say, “when you put it like that.”