Miles and I were left alone in the penthouse for hours, wondering when our parents and Graham would come home. I ate a whole carton of ice cream, crying between bites because I thought we’d be trapped in there forever. They didn’t get back until after midnight, but we were up buzzing on sugar. Graham’s expression was different, like he’d just grown ten years older. Miles asked him what was wrong, and he shoved Miles into the wall.
“What do you care, Skunk Face?” Graham yelled. “You will never have to care!” He stomped to his room, and nothing was ever the same again. Dad would come for him constantly, and each time Graham’s face got harder and his actions crueler. I didn’t understand at first, not until it was my turn to join the family business.
When I was seven, Dad took me to one of the glitzy hotels, up to the third floor, where we could get a good view of the vast, busy lobby.
“Let’s play a game,” he said. “You like games, right?”
“Yeah!” He never gave me so much attention, and I wanted to soak up every second.
“Great.” He kneeled down, almost looking me in the eye. “You are such a sneaky little girl. I love how sneaky you are.”
I smiled. “I’m the best at hide-and-go-seek!”
He laughed. “I bet you are, but this is a really hard game. Do you think you can do it?”
“Yeah!”
“Okay.” He pointed down at the lobby. “There are lots of people wearing watches and jewelry down there. For every piece you can sneak away with, I’ll get you a new toy.”
My eyes widened. That could be a ton of toys. “Really?”
“Really. But you can’t get caught. If you do, you don’t get any toys. You lose.”
“I won’t lose.” I started to pull off my shirt, but then stopped. “Is this called stealing?”
“No.” He put his hand on my cheek, warm and fatherly. “This is just a game. Everyone’s playing.”
That was all it took to convince me. I snuck down the stairs naked, pulled a loose bracelet from a lady’s wrist, and put it in my mouth so it would disappear. She thought it had fallen off and immediately dropped to the floor to look for it. Then I tiptoed back up to Dad and showed him.
“You are brilliant, Fiona.” He dried it off and slipped it into his pocket. “Do it again.”
And with that I was part of the syndicate, just like Graham. It took a long time to realize Dad was training me, so long that I was already trapped when the guilt and sadness flooded in. I’d always been a tool to him—all he had to do was wait until I was old enough to use. First pickpocketing, then simple jobs like grabbing a neglected bag or flash drive with top secret info. After that I graduated to bigger crimes, working with Mom. Banks, law firms, jewelry stores, art galleries, government agencies—nothing was safe from us. We brought in millions for him, which he used to get his hands on Radiasure, the true valuable.
I shake my head, trying to erase the memories. When my dad told me to steal, it made perfect sense. My conscience only hit after, when he abandoned me for another of his tools. Even though I did it against my will, the guilt is still there.
I try to find something real about myself, something not marred by Dad’s influence.
Blank.
I don’t know who I am or what I should be. Besides Miles and Mom, there’s no one I care about, and no one who cares about me. I’m as hollow as I look. Tears escape my eyes, but I can’t see those, either. I let them roll down my face, soak in the tickling sensation. Then my skin prickles as I realize there’s one thing I do know:
It’s not worth it anymore.
I won’t be this.
Must get out.
I slip on a pair of shorts, some running shoes, and stuff the cell phone in my pocket. There’s plenty of desert around here; maybe I’ll disappear for a few hours and see how I feel then.
“Where are you going?” Mom asks when I enter the kitchen.
I grab a Gatorade from the fridge and gulp it down. Then I take the car keys, in hopes that she won’t run out and get another phone. She asks again, but I don’t answer. I don’t even look at her as I drive away.
I stop the car at a park on the edge of town. After a few stretches, I’m off.
My feet pound the dusty ground, and though it’s still blistering hot I don’t feel it. I never think much when I run. My heart thumps and my lungs burn. Every nerve sparks with life, and it reminds me I have a real body, seen or not.
There isn’t much out here, save some strange potholes and red mesas in the distance. A few cacti make for decent landmarks. I try to remember their shapes, so I know which way I came. I squint through the wavy heat. There’s something else: a run-down set of buildings. Maybe it’s a ghost town. It’s too far to check out today, but it could be a good place to hide when Graham comes calling.
I stop when my legs begin to shake. A boulder casts just enough shade for me to huddle in, and the cooler ground feels heavenly against my skin. My stomach grumbles. I should have thought to eat something with the Gatorade I drank. I’m not ready to go back, so I’ll just have to put up with it.
As the shadow lengthens, I lie down and watch the cloudless sky. Every bird makes me flinch. Graham often looks like one from the ground, and he’s swooped down and grabbed me enough for me to be extremely afraid of heights. When I was younger, a little sparrow could make me scream. Graham thought it was hilarious. He’d make paper airplanes when I wasn’t looking, shoot them right over my head, and watch me cry.
If Mom lied to me, he could be here as early as tonight. I wish I had more time to come up with a plan. It’s not that I particularly want to stay here—I just don’t want to go back. I have to find a way out of that life.
I gasp. That’s it! Maybe the phone wasn’t the worst idea. I pull it out of my pocket and flip it open.
Dang: one bar. I guess I should be grateful there’s service at all.
I type in the number, hoping Miles hasn’t changed it recently. He usually gets a hold of me when he does. We’ve always been close. Dad likes to periodically abandon his women, make them go through the withdrawal so they remember how bad it is, how guilty and terrible they feel without him around. When he did that to us, Graham would take Mom, since she’d be completely dysfunctional for days. Miles would make sure I was happy and distracted. He’d take me to girly movies, though he hated them. He’s even missed a Giants game for me, and that’s a huge deal.
If it weren’t for Miles, I wouldn’t have an ounce of sanity left. It’s been hard since he went off to Arizona State last year to study graphic design, but I’m glad at least one person in our family can have some semblance of a normal life. I’m proud that he wants to be as far away from Dad as he can get.
The phone rings. And rings. Just when I think he won’t pick up, I hear, “If you’re trying to sell me crap, hang up now.”
“Miles!”
“Fiona! Thank God! Are you all right?”
His voice calms me. “Yeah, so far.”
He sighs. “Dad already called. I was hoping you’d find a way to contact me before I changed my number again. This your phone?”
“Not technically. I took it from Mom. She called Graham.”
“Damn. I was starting to hope you guys had made it out of the worst.”
“Me too.” I tell him how Mom conned me.
“I’m sorry, Fi. That’s really low.”
“And now Graham’s gonna find us and take us back.”
“Calm down. You don’t know that for sure. You could have interrupted.”
My eyes sting as I fight back tears. “Miles, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t go back again. I don’t want him to control me forever.” There’s a pause, and I worry I’ve lost him. “Miles?”
“Still here, just thinking.” There’s another pause. “Do you really mean that? What you said?”
My brow furrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t get all defensive. Just answer.”
“Yes. I’m dead s
erious. I’m out in the freaking hot desert trying to figure out how to escape. Would you like more proof?”
He laughs. “No. But don’t go killing yourself in the middle of nowhere, okay? Do you need me to come? I will if you want.”
My heart warms. He’d do anything for me, but I’d rather not get him mixed up in stuff if I don’t have to. Besides, I’m afraid to give him our location. “I have to destroy this cell. Can I email you?”
“Sure, I’ll leave my old one open for a few more days.”
“Okay.”
“Fiona?” Miles’s voice breaks up.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have to—” The phone crackles with static, and I lose him.
Chapter 5
The apple-green sundress I put on the next morning doesn’t define my figure like I prefer, but I need a quick escape outfit in case Graham shows up. I probably shouldn’t wear glasses, but I feel invisible enough as it is. Scanning the dozen pairs I brought, I settle on the square purple frames, which are one of my favorites. It’s lucky I packed them before the late-night escape; I miss my massive closet.
When I enter the kitchen, Mom almost spits out her coffee at the sight of me. “I thought you said you weren’t going to school.”
I shrug. If she can lie to me, then I can lie, too. School might suck, but the library has computers, and I need to email Miles. Perfect cover. “Maybe you were right. When am I going to have another chance at a normal life? May as well enjoy it before it’s gone, right?”
She purses her lips, and for a second I wonder if she doesn’t buy it. “What makes you think it’ll go away?”
Oh, please. I grab the Pop-Tarts and sit at the table, not facing her. As long as I can keep my voice even, no one ever knows I’m lying. “Just being cautious.”
She goes back to her coffee. Every few seconds she takes a deep breath, and I worry she’ll ask about where I was last night or if I’m mad about Graham. But she doesn’t. All she says is, “I was worried about you.”
The words surprise me, but at the same time I bristle. “Where was your worry for the last nine years?”
She shrinks. “That’s not fair, Fiona, and you know it.”
“Whatever. I’m taking the car,” I say on my way out. The door slams before I hear her reply, which is good because I already feel guilty enough.
The second I park, I feel eyes on me. I thought I was used to staring, but this is different. Around my dad’s people, it feels like admiration. People fear me, but they also secretly want to be me. At Madison High School? It’s more like they’re trying to bore into my skin with their hatred. I’m not sure if I blame them or not. If I were some normal girl with freckles and pointed ears, maybe I would act the same way. Not that it’s right, but I get that I’m a freak.
The second I get to home ec, I’m sure it was a bad idea for an elective. We’re not sewing until winter. There’s no way I’ll be here that long, so I’m stuck cooking. The banana-bread mush in the mixing bowl makes me sick. I can’t help thinking it looks like barf, which makes me want to barf.
English, the only other class I haven’t been to yet, has the same familiar faces, including Bea and Brady. Bea smiles as she motions for me to come over. I wish I could sit in the front row so I don’t have to witness the glares, but the only open seats are by her.
In math, Ms. Sorenson passes the tests back … except mine. “Please go over the problems you missed. Miss McClean, may I see you for a moment?”
Forcing myself from my desk, I make my way to the front of class. “Is there something wrong?”
“Have a look.” She slides my test over.
I peek under the cover sheet, and a big green F stares back at me. “Oh.”
“I’m assuming you haven’t covered these concepts yet.”
“Not exactly.”
“I’m willing to let this slide, but you need to catch up, and fast.” She grabs a slip of paper to write on. “I have a student who runs a tutoring class after school. You’ll probably need to go for at least a month to make sure you can keep up.”
The last thing I need in my life is more math, but I take the slip and my test so I can get back to my desk.
“Let me guess,” Bea says. “Tutoring?”
I wish my hand would actually cover the piece of paper. I turn it over. “It’s not really any of your business.”
“It’s no big deal.” She smiles. “I’m in it, too. The tutor, Seth, is really helpful. You should come with me today.”
“I’m not going. My tu …” I pause, suddenly unsure if I should tell the truth. “We weren’t this far at my other school. I can catch up on my own.”
She pauses, looks at Brady with a little frown. “Oh, well if you go tomorrow or any other day, I guess I’ll see you there.”
“Yeah.” I stare at her, trying to understand why she’s being so nice. Even with her tank and shorts, I can’t see a jaguar tattoo. Maybe she’s not with Juan, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some ulterior motive. Other students seem to avoid her and Brady, so there has to be something up with them.
At lunch, they invite me to sit at their table, but the last thing I want to do is eat in the cafeteria with all those eyes on me.
“No thanks, I need to use the computer,” I say as they follow me.
“Ugh!” Bea stomps her foot. “You know what, Fi—?”
Brady wraps his arm around her shoulder. “Chill, Bea.” He looks at me, so close to catching my eyes I can’t seem to breathe. “It’s hard, huh, having people act like you’re a monster. I bet it was different in Vegas, where more people have significant abilities. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a monster.”
I choke down the rock in my throat. “Oh.”
“You don’t have to hang out with us if you don’t want to, but you’re always welcome, okay?”
I bite my lip. “Okay.”
“Have fun at the library.” Brady waves, and Bea follows him down the hall. I watch them and wonder again if they’re actually being genuine. It’d be so much easier if they were frauds.
The library isn’t in any better shape than the orange-and-brown front office of yesterday, but at least it’s free of wood paneling. It’s nice, cozy cinder block instead. Rows of books fill the long room, as well as tables and orange chairs. It’s busy, too—more with adults than teens, since it serves as the community library as well. I have to wait twenty minutes for a turn, so I spend it trying to decode my math book.
When I sit at the computer, I don’t bother accessing my old account. There’s no way Dad’s not watching it. Luckily, Miles and I have ways to get around that. They might not be foolproof, but at least they make me feel safer. I pick a different email service and fill out false information. When it asks me to put in an email address, I think of the most awkward name possible. BrittneyBunnyGurl33 is the winner, only because BrittneyBunny33 is taken, which is kind of disturbing. Oh well; I know it’ll make Miles smile.
Hey, Sweet Cheeks, had a great time talking with you in class. I’m home visiting family and can’t stop thinking about you. Found your email in the campus directory. Hope that’s not too stalkerish. ;) Brittney
I hit send, grinning despite myself. I’ve sent way too many vague, slightly disturbing emails to my brother, but at least I can be sure no one will think it’s me. Browsing the internet to kill time, I hope he’ll reply so I don’t have to wait until tomorrow to check. There’s only three minutes before lunch ends when something pops up in my inbox.
It’s not from his old account—he’s smarter than that. I nearly burst out laughing as I read HotMulletMan1.
You’re sick, Brittney. Love, HotMulletMan1
A small smile crosses my lips as I type.
Gotta go, but I’ll be here same time tomorrow. Hope we can talk more. Brittney
The bell rings, but I wait for his message anyway. It arrives just as the librarian comes over to make me leave. I click it, and for the first time in a long time I feel tr
uly hopeful.
I’ll be here. Miss you, HotMulletMan1
Chapter 6
The best part about my lunch dates with Miles is that they’ve saved me from the cafeteria. He spent last week “poking around,” otherwise known as milking old contacts for information. So far it seems like Graham and Dad don’t know where we are. Dad has a lot of people out there looking, but they don’t appear to be concentrating on any one area. That’s a good sign; it means they don’t have any decent leads.
It also seems like the other syndicates don’t know we’re missing.
There’s no talk, Miles writes. We’ve moved to instant messaging, so it’s almost like we’re in the same room.
How do you know?
Trust me. I know.
I laugh.
What, do you know Spud or something?
I plead the fifth.
I stifle a gasp. Dad never took Miles’s scent-imitation ability seriously, but he shouldn’t have overlooked Miles’s knack for making connections. He’s so easy-going even the toughest people seem to like him.
Are you serious? You know her?
The fifth. Anyway, seems like you’re okay. For now.
Okay. Gotta go to class.
But that doesn’t put me entirely at ease. If people at school get wind that I’m not here because of Dad, it’s over. They won’t hesitate to sell me out, whether it’s to Juan or my dad. I won’t give anyone the chance, though. I have no problem acting like a spoiled syndicate baby if it keeps me safe. Better if they think there will be hell to pay if they out me.
Miles said he’d take me away if I wanted, but I won’t give him our location. Not yet. He’s already risked enough. If Dad hears we’ve had contact, he’ll hunt Miles down and kill him if he doesn’t give up information.
Like I have for the past week, I bolt for my car at the last bell. As much as I want to talk with Miles again, I have to leave school before Bea finds me. She keeps asking me to come to tutoring so she’s not alone in there, and I can’t exactly tell her I have more serious things to worry about than math. I would have thought she’d take the hint by now, but she won’t give up.
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