There was a slight shuffling noise coming from the top of the stairs. “Yes, Nadia?”
“Thanks for letting me go. I love you!”
“Oh.” I think he was taken aback. “I love you too. Have a good trip.”
“I will. Good-bye.” Back at the car, Russ held the door open waiting for me to return. I slid into the seat and he got in next to me.
“To the airport,” he said to the driver. “As fast as you can.” The driver, a silver-haired man, nodded. As the taxi backed down the driveway, Russ reached for my hand and raised it in triumph. “Isn’t this great?” His eyes shone bright. “Can you believe I pulled it off?” He let go of my hand.
“How did you do it?” The taxi driver took him at his word; we were speeding through my neighborhood. “What did you say to him?”
“I just told him the truth.”
“What truth?’
“That I didn’t want to go without you. That I needed you there.”
“Really?” I gave him a sideways look, trying to assess if he was teasing me, but every cell in my body told he was telling the truth.
“Along with a few other things.”
“Like what?”
He leaned over and whispered so that the driver wouldn’t hear. “I told him that we needed you on our team if we were going to win the academic decathlon. That we were like the superheroes in comic books, that we each had our own super powers and without your talents we would be lost.” I didn’t say anything, so he continued. “I also said that I understood why they were so overprotective of you and that I would personally guarantee your safety and never leave your side in public. That I’d die before I’d let anything happen to you.”
“You really said that?” Even though I sensed it was all true, I wanted affirmation.
Russ said, “I told him that you felt like you’d been punished for four years for one bad decision. I said that most parents would love to have you as a daughter, that you were hardworking and smart and a good friend.”
“What did he say?” I felt a lump rising in my throat. If I didn’t watch it, I’d be crying soon.
“He wanted to know how I knew you, and I said through Mallory and Jameson. And then I told him what an honor it was to be chosen for the trip, and that we could potentially win money for college, and that seemed to interest him.”
I shook my head. “Incredible.”
“He was really calm the whole time. I could tell he was thinking about it. And then finally he said, ‘I see your point,’ and he told me to wait, that he was going to let you go, but that you’d have to pack and it would take a few minutes.”
“Really.” I couldn’t make sense of this, but I guessed it didn’t really matter. The important thing was that I was going on the trip. I glanced over at the front of the taxi. We were entering the on-ramp for the expressway now. The driver merged aggressively and Russ took a quick glance at his phone.
“Are we going to make it on time?” I asked.
“Looks like it.”
We drove in silence for a few minutes. Russ stared out the window while I ruminated on the wisdom of bringing up the matter of the scars on my face. In the back of a taxi is not where I’d imagined asking, but I sensed that once we were in the group, I might not have many chances to speak to Russ privately. Now seemed like a good time to ask if he would try to heal me. I lowered my hood down to my shoulders and shook out my hair. It was necessary to show him my face, but I immediately felt exposed and vulnerable, the way I imagined it would feel to walk around in my front yard wearing only my underwear. I cleared my throat, more to get myself ready than to get his attention, but the noise jarred Russ to attention. He turned from the window to face me and we both accidentally spoke at the same time.
“Can I ask you something—”
“Before I forget—”
We both laughed. Russ said, “You go first.”
“No,” I said, “I don’t want you to forget whatever it is.”
He nodded and pulled something out of his pocket. “It’s this.” Between his fingertips he held a blue booklet. He urged it into my hands and I took it. It was a passport. “It’s yours, the one the Praetorian Guard made up for you. Lucky thing Mr. Specter brought it along. He showed it to me at the airport and that was when I got the idea to come back for you. I hailed a taxi, and well, you know the rest.”
I opened it up to see my photo—a head and shoulder shot of me in all my scarred glory. I winced at the sight. I tried never to look at myself in bright light and here I was, completely exposed, with my crackled skin and messed-up eyelid prominently displayed. A monster. I knew I had never posed for this photo. How did they get it?
Russ anticipated my question. He leaned in close. “It was done by a team that specializes in forging documents. They took your student photo from when you lived in Illinois, and then aged you.” He hesitated for an instant before plunging ahead. “They apparently used your hospital records to find out how to show your injury.”
“Oh.” To take my mind off my hideousness, I looked at the rest of the passport. They kept my first name, but changed the rest. I was now Nadia Josephine Barlow. It sounded like a family name from the Wild West. The Barlow gang. The rest of the Barlow family would be bank robbers and cattle thieves. I’d be the sister who got burned when a kerosene lamp exploded. While my brothers and cousins were out causing mayhem, I’d stay hidden at home doing housework and slopping the hogs. Nadia Josephine Barlow. That was my new identity. At least I got to keep Nadia.
“What was the thing you were going to say?” Russ asked.
I sat up straight, suddenly cheered at the thought of finally getting to ask. “It’s about my face.” I’d practiced what I’d say to him so many times that it all tumbled out in hurried whispers—how the scars had improved the last time he’d touched my face and how I thought he could do it again if he tried. “So would you?” I asked. “Try it again, I mean?” I looked up at him, searching his face for a reaction. I sensed reluctance on his part that surprised me. Why wouldn’t he want to help? It couldn’t be that he was afraid to try. Anyone who came to my house to convince my parents to let me go on this trip couldn’t be afraid of much.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I’d like to, Nadia, I really would. It’s just—” he gestured to the passport in my hand. “If I heal your scars you won’t match the photo anymore.”
I hadn’t thought of that. How closely did people look at your passport anyway? “Would anyone even notice?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Best not to chance it. We don’t want to attract attention,” he said. “Keeping a low profile is essential, they say. A matter of life and death.”
Disappointment welled up inside me. “But couldn’t we explain it by saying I got my face fixed since the photo was taken? Lots of people change their appearance all the time. They color their hair, gain weight, lose weight…”
Russ shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to put you at risk.”
I blinked back tears and jerked the hood up over my head. My world view narrowed once again.
“It’s not for too much longer,” Russ said in a comforting way. “When the trip is over, I’ll try it then. First thing, once we get back. I promise.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nadia
When we’d arrived at the airport, Russ hurriedly paid the driver and grabbed my bags, and we ran to the terminal. Mr. Specter was outside of the security area, waiting for us with my boarding pass. Apparently while I’d been packing at home, Russ had called and told them I was coming on the trip, and using Praetorian Guard connections, Mr. Specter arranged for a last minute ticket. Someone, a stranger who would never know why, got bumped. A bad day for them, but a good day for me.
We were expedited through security and made it to the terminal just as the other passengers were lining up to board the plane. Mallory’s face lit up when she saw us approach and she broke from the line to give me a hug. “I’m so excited you’re here,” she exc
laimed. “When Russ called and said your Dad agreed to let you go I couldn’t believe it. Isn’t this awesome?” Her voice rose in volume until it was almost a squeal. Hard to fake that kind of enthusiasm.
“It’s pretty great,” I said, and in that instant I forgave her for toying with Russ’s affection, for being the girl the guys drooled over, for taking charge and talking for me when she got impatient with my shyness. She was my friend and she was genuinely thrilled that I was here.
When the plane took off, I knew there was no turning back. All of us had been paired up on the plane: Mr. Specter and Kevin Adams had adjacent seats, Mallory next to me, and Russ and Jameson in front of us. The guys shared an armrest, but not much else. Only Mrs. Whitehouse sat separately. She tried to switch with the man who sat directly across the aisle from Mallory, but he’d refused, so she reluctantly went back to her assigned seat about ten rows ahead of the rest of us.
When they gave us the okay to turn on electrical devices, Mallory turned her attention to her iPad while I leafed through the Sky Mall catalog. The vibe I picked up from Mallory was strangely subdued, and the rest of our group seemed quiet too.
After a few minutes she handed the iPad to me, and I realized she’d typed a message.
In Miami we’re switching to a private plane and we’ll get briefed on the flight. I nodded and she took the device back, deleted that sentence and wrote: I wish you could have seen Russ when Mr. Specter said he brought your passport along just in case.
I took the iPad out of her hands and typed: What did he do?
Mallory: He jumped up like a crazy person, said he was going to your house to try & convince your parents to let you come. I told him there was no way they’d say yes. Kevin said Russ shouldn’t go because he’d miss the flight, but Mr. Specter told him to go ahead and try.
Me: What did Jameson say?
Mallory: That Russ was a complete dumbass and that he was going to mess everything up.
Me: Typical.
Mallory: And when we found out Russ pulled it off, none of us could believe it. I tried mind control on your mom and it didn’t work. What did Russ say to your dad to get him to agree?
I held the iPad, hesitating. For some reason, I didn’t want her to know that Russ had told my dad he didn’t want to go without me and that he’d used a superheroes analogy. The memory of our conversation in the taxi was precious, just between us, and I didn’t want to cheapen it by sharing. Finally, I typed: He personally guaranteed my safety.
That seemed to satisfy her. She nodded and took the iPad back. After that, I occupied myself by looking out the window and thinking deep thoughts. From the ground, clouds looked as substantial as clumps of dryer lint or swirls of cotton candy. Flying through them though, it was obvious that clouds were nothing more than fog in the sky. As ethereal as mist. So many things looked completely different when you got up close.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nadia
We were briefed on the private jet that flew us from Miami to Lima, Peru, but it wasn’t as exciting as I’d anticipated. All of us were given folders with explanations about things like exchanging money and local customs. On this plane, the seats were wider and cushier, and arranged in a circle, like we were in group therapy. Everything smelled fresh, and the space looked new and spacious and clean, the opposite of our crowded commercial flight.
There were no flight attendants; everything was self-serve. In the back of the plane was a kitchen area, a counter with bowls of snack mix and salted peanuts, and a tray of assorted cookies. A small refrigerator held beverages and wrapped sandwiches. There were no assigned seats. We just sat wherever, and since there was no one to tell us to put our seatbelts on, no one did except for Mrs. Whitehouse. We had said hello to the pilot and co-pilot when we boarded, but now the compartment was closed and locked. I didn’t get the impression we’d see them again until the plane landed, although there was a phone right outside the door, so they could be reached in an emergency.
Once the plane was airborne, Mr. Specter got up to talk about Peru. “Who here speaks Spanish?” he asked. “Raise your hand.”
Jameson’s hand shot up and so did Mallory’s. Mrs. Whitehouse raised hers timidly. “I can get by,” she offered.
“How proficient are you?” Mr. Specter said, addressing Jameson.
“I’m fluent,” Jameson said. “And frankly, I find it hard to believe Russ and Nadia haven’t studied Spanish. It’s a valuable and useful language, and growing in use right here in the United States.”
Russ squirmed uncomfortably. Jameson really knew how to get to him. Russ said, “I took German. We have relatives in Stuttgart and we’re going to visit them after I graduate. I wanted to be ready.”
“I’m fluent in Spanish as well,” Mallory said, no hint of showing off, just stating it as fact.
“I speak French and Mandarin Chinese,” I offered. Knowing two foreign languages seemed impressive at home, but they’d be worthless in Peru unless we ran into some French or Chinese people.
“I don’t speak anything but English,” Kevin Adams said, slapping his thigh. “Unless you count Klingon or pig latin. But I make no apologies for my ignorance. English has done the trick for me so far.”
“I’m not asking to put anyone on the defensive,” Mr. Specter said. “I’m just trying to get a handle on our skills. We are going to be accompanied by a guide assigned to us by the Praetorian Guard, a Peruvian gentleman named Alejandro who speaks fluent English as well as Spanish and Quechua, so no one needs to worry about knowing the language since we’ll all be together all the time.”
“Quechua?” Jameson asked.
“The second most common language in Peru,” Russ said, leaning toward Jameson and speaking directly to him. “And the most widely spoken native language. It was the language of the Incas. Today, thirteen percent of the population speaks it, mostly in the Andean regions.”
“Someone’s done their homework,” Mr. Specter said, approvingly.
“Yeah, I can look things up on Wikipedia too,” said Jameson.
Mr. Specter said, “Keep your passports on your person at all times. I can’t stress this enough. Unless you’re sleeping, you should have your passport with you. Keep it somewhere safe. You don’t want to misplace it or have a pickpocket lift it. Got it?”
We all nodded in unison.
“Moving on,” Mr. Specter said. “You will find that the food in Peru is delicious. Potatoes are often served as is seafood, including ceviche, which is a dish typically made from fresh fish marinated in lemon or lime juice. We will also, I believe, have the opportunity to eat cuy, something you all know as guinea pig.”
Mallory wrinkled up her nose. I knew from previous conversations that she’d had a bunny as a kid. A guinea pig seemed like a shorter-eared version of a bunny.
Kevin Adams added, “They call it that because of the noise it makes. Kwee, kwee, kwee.” He chuckled.
“I’m not eating it,” Mrs. Whitehouse said. “I’m against eating pets.”
“Ah, but you won’t know,” Kevin said. “They very cleverly hide cuy in other things. Cuy stew. Cuy kabob. Cuy casserole. You’ll have polished off your plate before you realize little Fuzzy isn’t in his cage anymore.”
Mrs. Whitehouse’s mouth dropped open in horror.
“Kevin, please stop.” Mr. Specter peered over his glasses in disapproval, and then looked at us. “He’s been this way since high school. He can’t resist poking the monkey.”
“Hey!” said Mrs. Whitehouse, offended by the monkey reference.
Mr. Specter returned his gaze to the rest of us. “Moving on. Don’t drink anything unless it’s bottled. And that goes double for water. The locals have adapted to the pathogens in the water and can drink it with no problem, but it’s not the same for us. And don’t eat any fruits or vegetables unless they’ve been cooked or peeled. I don’t want anyone getting sick.”
Kevin Adams held up a hand. “Sam, do you mind if I jump in here?’
; “No, go ahead.”
“I just want to make sure I have the lowdown on everyone’s powers. As you probably know, when I was your age I had X-ray vision. Whitehouse here could heat things up just by touching them, and Mr. Specter could—”
“—Ancient history,” Mr. Specter said, sharply. “Not pertinent to this trip. Move it along, Kevin. And let’s keep the conversation in the present, shall we?”
Kevin raised his eyebrows. “Okay, then, someone’s a little touchy. Back to business.” He pulled a sheet out of his folder. “For Jameson, I have listed the ability to move objects with his mind, technically known as telekinesis. Correct?” He waited for Jameson to nod before continuing. “For Mallory, mind control. Nadia has empathic skills with the added bonus of being able to tell if people are lying. And for our star Russ, I have down, ‘can shoot electricity out of his hands and heal people.’ Did I get that right? Does anyone have anything to add to that?”
There were shared glances and shrugs, but no one mentioned my astral projecting or the fact that Russ could sense electricity anywhere—behind walls and coming out of outlets. Unspoken, we’d agreed to keep that information to ourselves. It was like the teenagers needed to have something on the adults. I also knew that Russ was starting to have success with mind control. But that was between us, and if he wasn’t going to bring it up, I wasn’t going to.
Finally Mallory said, “I think that covers it.”
Mr. Specter said, “Before I forget, this is very important—under no circumstances are you to use your powers in public, or even in private if there’s a chance it could be detected. This is just a fact-finding mission. We’re not looking for confrontations and we certainly don’t want to attract attention.”
“We know it will be hard for you guys to hold back, but it’s so, so important,” said Mrs. Whitehouse.
“And we need to stick together. Like a pack,” Kevin Adams said. “No mavericks allowed.”
Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 33