by Dianna Love
That made sense, except for being sued, whatever that was. So this school had a place that gathered records. I hoped they would find information on me, something that would fill me in on my history. Who my people were.
Unless they found out I was a criminal. I didn’t feel like one, but would a criminal think of herself as such?
Nicholas leaned forward in his chair. “Where do you hail from?”
This guy didn’t sound like any of the kids I’d met earlier. He had a stiff way of talking and sounded more like one of the adults. I asked, “Hail from?”
“Your point of origin. Home.”
I couldn’t say ‘I don’t know’ one more time without losing my temper, so I summed it up all at once. “I know my name’s Rayen, but not where I’m from. I have no idea what I’m doing here or if I’ll stay. I hit my head in the desert and can’t remember anything.” I’d heard the kids I’d been captured with talking in the van–about me. One had made a comment that I could have lost my memory from the fall.
Sounded like an explanation for the empty spots in my mind.
“Word to the wise, sweetheart.” Nicholas glanced at me sideways. “Don’t tell anyone you’ve suffered a head injury.”
I didn’t see how that could complicate my life any more than it already was since I had to work through everything minute by minute at this point. Besides, what other reason would I have for not knowing answers? But he was the first person since Ghost Man to offer advice without a sneer. I asked, “Why not?”
He scratched his ear and took his time, as if thinking very hard or hesitant to share. At last he said, “If Dr. Maxwell thinks you’re damaged goods you’ll be withdrawn from here so fast you’ll get whiplash. Then you’ll end up in the detention center hospital. Those who go there experience mutatio.”
Hospital? I thought I might have heard that term before but not enough to track.
I felt like I was being tested, but still asked, “What’s mutatio?”
Smiling with regal superiority, Nicholas explained, “It’s Latin. Means change.”
Before I could ask what exactly he meant, one of the doors not connected to Dr. Maxwell’s room opened and a female entered...no, I should call her a girl or teenager. That’s what the uniforms had called me and another female close to my age when I was at the police station.
This one looked a year or so younger than me. She came bouncing into the room. White wires ran from her ears to a tiny pink metal square on her hip. She wore an orange, green and purple dress with wide side pockets. The dress was draped over striped purple-and-white tights that disappeared into scuffed black boots with three-inch-thick heels. She’d twisted her yellow-and-lavender hair into eight or ten ponytails that stuck out in all directions.
Every ponytail was tied with a different color ribbon that moved with the rhythmic shake of her hips.
Nothing matched on her, including her eyes...one brown and one green.
Two different color eyes?
She paused, took one look at me with those unusual eyes, then her lips curled in a quirky half-moon curve full of curiosity. She removed a wire from one ear. Her gaze slid over to Nicholas who said, “Where’s your broom, Gabby? Wouldn’t want you caught with no transportation.”
I couldn’t understand the connection, but read insult in her face just fine before she covered it with a wicked smile.
“Nick, you’re such a flirt. Careful or I might turn you into a horny toad,” she replied in a singsong voice, then snapped her fingers. “Oh, wait, someone already did.” She laughed, a fluttery sound that danced through the room.
Nick gave her an indulgent smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, seeming more amused than insulted. “What would we do without eye candy in this place? I salute whomever scours the country to decorate our halls with sweet things to entertain the male student body.”
I kept my face neutral, glad not to be the center of attention. Derision in his voice keyed a memory I couldn’t pin down beyond the distinct feeling of anger over being ridiculed for my differences at one time. I felt a fleeting camaraderie with this girl who smiled at him in spite of the demeaning insinuation beneath his words.
Gabby continued swinging her hips back and forth as if to some secret musical beat. “What you doing up here, Nick? Waiting for an optimum snitch opportunity?”
I tried to follow their conversation, but little made any sense. Nicholas enjoyed taunting this Gabby in a way that sounded harmless. I had my doubts. On the other hand, Gabby acted as if this was all just funny when I had the strangest sense that she kept her guard up the whole time.
But what did I know? Nothing.
Nicholas chuckled. “What brings you here, Gabby? You lose your crystal ball and get stuck having to navigate your way around humans?”
Her laughter tinkled with a sly undertone. “Oh, to be a mere mortal.” She pranced past Nicholas and out the last door that opened into a hallway.
“She’s schizo,” Nicholas muttered. “Stay clear of that one.”
“What do you mean by schizo?”
“Crazy. Rumor is she hears voices.” He spun a finger around his ear.
I talk to ghosts. No way I was going to admit that, but I did catch the warning note about Gabby in what Nicholas said.
Just then the door from Dr. Maxwell’s office opened again and another girl came into the room, as different from Gabby as the sun from the moon. This one wore her auburn hair straight and chin length, vibrant pink on her lips, and had a round face with such perfect features I peered close to see if she was real. Where Gabby had been a lightning display this girl was regal with her ice-blue eyes and russet-red dress that stopped at the middle of her thighs and a white jacket with the sleeves shoved up.
She held a fistful of papers and a thick, dull-green book against her chest, and cast a surprised glance at me. “I’m Hannah. You must be Rayen.”
When I gave my usual nod, she said, “I’ve been asked to show you around the school and take you to class.”
“Class?”
Her eyes rolled with impatience before she said, “You’ve been assigned to Mr. Suarez’s computer science class in room 217.”
“Oh.” A learning program. But with a person instructing?
“Follow me.” She issued that directive as though ordering people around came naturally to her.
Nicholas spoke up and this time his voice had a smooth texture. “How’s it going, Hannah banana?”
I studied Nicholas to figure out what had caused him to change from speaking in a somewhat superior way to one of light-hearted teasing.
Hannah even sounded different when she addressed him in a soft tone. “Fi-ine. And you, Nick?”
“Never better.”
There were undercurrents here, but it was one more thing I couldn’t figure out.
I stood. Why am I being sent to a class? I just want to find out who I am. Where I came from. My family. The last being the most important.
As I started to move, Nicholas whispered behind me, “Remember, sweetheart. Tell no one.”
Lifting my hand to acknowledge I’d remembered his warning about my head injury, I murmured, “Thanks.” And I was thankful that he’d cautioned me before I made the mistake of adding to my problems.
The hospital sounded like a place to avoid no matter what.
Nicholas raised his voice just above a whisper, but I knew he spoke to me. “Any time. You need anything, you let me know.”
The only thing I needed was to fill the gaping hole in my memory and I doubted he could do that. I followed Hannah out into a hallway, but something Gabby had said nudged me to ask Hannah, “Do you know what snitch means?”
She gave me a strange look as though I’d asked her how many noses I had on my face. When she realized I was serious, she huffed out a noisy breath, answering as if she recited a definition. “A snitch is someone who takes you into their confidence and acts like a close friend, then shares that information with an adversary or enemy, q
uite often in trade for something they want. Got it?”
“Yeah.” Another name for a traitor. I had one more question. “What do you know about Nicholas?”
Her smile tilted with a sly angle. “He’s at the top of his class in computer science. He’s very popular with all the girls. And...” She swept a long look at me. “And he’s off limits to you, but you should be polite to him.”
“Why?” I ignored why he had limits and focused on her last words. “Are people mean to him?”
“Are you serious? No. He’s their only child.”
“Whose only child?”
“The Browns. They adopted him.”
My stomach dropped. I’d just spoken openly with Nicholas Brown, someone who could easily tell his parents that I was damaged goods.
Mrs. Brown had been my only advocate so far, but what would happen when she found out I was not suitable for this place?
I might not have wanted to be here to begin with, but I certainly didn’t want to go to that hospital and end up mutatio.
CHAPTER 4
I had Hannah to thank for my full stomach, even if she had seemed put out to sit with me in the dining hall, as if my presence detracted from her. While I ate something with no flavor, she’d scanned her nails, the ceiling, the other kids. Did everything to ignore me. Which was fine with me. Food helped revive me some, but now I had a new challenge to face.
More people to meet. Me, the strange one. I felt like I stood out even wearing their clothes.
We’d run into students during lunch, but Hannah had spared me more questions by keeping the conversations turned to her, as though she knew I didn’t want to answer questions.
Didn’t being a better option than couldn’t. But I doubted it was actually in Hannah’s nature to do anything kind for someone she deemed unworthy. And she’d clearly passed that judgment on me.
I matched her pace as she moved down the sterile walkways in the building. Everything smelled well-scrubbed, but confining. She still carried the papers and the book with the hard green cover. It had to be two inches thick. I wanted to hold that book and touch the papers, but I wouldn’t ask.
Every time I said more than yes or no, people looked at me as though I lacked brains. Same as Hannah’s perpetual expression when she addressed me.
My internal defenses continued to bellow for me to escape.
Not going to happen this time until I knew how to leave without getting zapped by an electric charge.
Or knew where I was going.
She walked me up to a sliding metal door she opened by pushing a button as she explained, “Computer Science is on level two. This is the closest elevator to the administrative offices. You’ll find another one at the south end of the building.”
When she stepped inside the small room that would hold maybe ten people pressed together, I took my place next to her, holding my breath. The elevator, as she called it, moved slowly upwards.
Another new sensation. Not dangerous, but uncomfortable.
Exiting the elevator, Hannah pointed out areas of the school, explaining things in a bored voice.
A tone dinged three times overhead from some hidden source.
She waved a hand at rooms we passed that were full of kids. “That’s the final bell to be in class on time, but it takes a moment for the instructor to get things rolling so we’re fine.”
She pointed out plaques on the wall touting someone’s accomplishments and droned on about what had inspired the creation of the school, but my mind drifted.
I cut my gaze left, then right, taking in each classroom as we passed open doors. Heads turned my way, curious expressions, but not a flicker of recognition on my part or theirs. I’d never been here before or surely someone would have recognized me by now.
What would my fingerprints reveal? And couldn’t those be altered? Why not search their records for my face or retina scan, which couldn’t be altered so easily?
I stopped midstride. How did I know fingerprints could be changed...or about retina identity scans? No one had mentioned that. Should I?
Only if I wanted to be treated like a moron again.
Hannah had been in the middle of describing something about the school. Her monotonous voice faded as she kept walking then paused, looked around and spoke in a snippy tone. “Rayen.”
“Sorry.” I caught up to her.
She drew a deep breath, expelling the air slowly with a brief shake of her head then continued on whatever she’d been talking about. “As I was saying, the Browns are richer than God. They bought this place four years ago for the Institute. If you make it through here, you’re pretty much guaranteed a spot in a top college. You’re fortunate the Browns aren’t just loaded, but nice people to be so generous.”
I zeroed in on the one word that didn’t track for me. “Nice? Then why’d they give me this leg bracelet?”
She glanced at my ankle where the metal cuff barely showed below the bottom of my jeans, then met my gaze with her dismissive one. “It’s a security measure that Dr. Maxwell requires...for some students. Just until the staff is sure the student is ready to stay here.”
Meaning, Dr. Maxwell expected a certain number of students to try to escape. If this place was so good, and the Browns were such nice people, why would anyone want to run away? More questions without answers. I didn’t ask Hannah since I hadn’t heard one note of understanding in her voice.
Not for someone like me who didn’t fit in with her kind.
Stopping in front of the last open door in the hallway, Hannah rapped on the doorframe with her knuckles. She broke out a bright smile for someone inside and said, “I have the new student the office sent you the text about.”
Text? I didn’t ask.
Hannah backed up, clearing the way for a thin man to step out into the hallway. He wore a white shirt with half sleeves and pants the color of the desert. Strange clothes to me, but from the way everyone had reacted to my simple buckskin sack dress, as one person called what I’d been wearing in the desert, I was the strange one here. I wished they’d given me back my boots, which were more comfortable than the shoes I now wore. Sneakers.
Did that mean they made it easy to sneak around? If so, that might be useful.
Altering her voice to a superior one that reminded me of Nicholas, Hannah addressed the skinny man. “This is Rayen. No last name.” She turned to me, stabbing me with a serious gaze. “This is Mr. Suarez, your beginning computer science instructor. The Institute will give you additional classes once they know your academic level and if you’ll be staying.” Her look said that wasn’t likely and she didn’t care anyway. She handed several sheets of paper to Mr. Suarez then edged a step closer to me and thrust the book she’d been carrying at me.
I held it carefully, my fingers moving with respect and awe over the texture of the cover.
She tapped the hard cover. “You probably won’t get time to read much by the end of the day, if you can read, but this book will help you familiarize yourself with the school guidelines and programs offered. If you stay around, finish it this week. Oh, I almost forgot. You’re to be at Dr. Maxwell’s office at five o’clock today to meet with them again.”
The way she kept emphasizing if was starting to wear on me.
She tossed her head and turned away, prancing toward the classroom.
I asked, “Why?”
Hannah jerked around as though spooked, then recovered to snap, “Why what?”
“Why do I meet them at five o’clock?”
“To speak with the. . .” She glanced at Mr. Suarez and said, “Need a minute.” When he nodded, she closed the distance between us and spoke in a low, tight voice. “Look, I agreed to bring you, but I didn’t take you on as an understudy. Did you forget you got picked up by the cops this morning?”
“No.” Cops must be another term for police, but how did she know they’d captured me?
“Then I’ll make this simple. From what I heard, the detectives investigating the
Piedra Lisa Park robberies are coming by to speak with Dr. Maxwell. You wouldn’t know anything about that now would you?”
I ignored her sarcastic tone. “No.” At least, I hoped not.
“Better hope not, because if they find anything tying you to the crime spree that’s been going on, they’ll take you with them.” A smug glow lit her eyes. “Just be sure to be in Dr. Maxwell’s office at five sharp or losing permanent placement here will be the least of your worries. You’ll be sent...somewhere else.”
She gave me another dismissive glare then walked calmly into the classroom.
Permanent placement? I didn’t want to stay here. But neither did I want to be shunted off to someplace worse.
Why had I left my home?
Did I have a home? My gut said yes.
“Let’s go, Rayen,” Mr. Suarez said with a cool politeness, lifting his chin toward the classroom. His voice was less hostile than Dr. Maxwell’s and not nearly as superior sounding as Nicholas’s had been.
I mentally marked Mr. Suarez as not a threat. Besides, like everything else today, I had no choice but to comply.
I hated having no say over my life.
A low murmur clouded the room until I walked in and everyone stopped talking to look. At me. I’d faced a sentient beast out in the desert. This shouldn’t be worse, but my stomach kinked at moving deeper into the room. Fifteen pairs of eyes took stock and judged me on the spot.
Not a friendly face among them.
Actually there were sixteen counting Hannah, but she ignored me. She’d taken her seat on the right side of the room and had her chin down, focused on setting up a slim rectangular unit on her desk. It was similar to the one with the apple-shaped emblem that Dr. Maxwell had used.
Based on the wide eyes and snorts of barely suppressed laughter, especially from the girls in the room, the general consensus was that I didn’t belong.
I couldn’t agree more.
“This is Rayen,” Mr. Suarez informed the room, then he told me, “Take one of the two seats in the back on the left, but don’t turn on the monitor.”
I passed small metal tables with light colored wood surfaces that each held two keyboards and two flat panels...I dug around in my mind and the word “screen” floated up then “monitor.” Each table had room for two students.