“What do you mean?”
“Mental Arts mastery can only be achieved by faith, practice and dedication. Nicolaitan created Psychedone 10 to give the illusion of mastering the Arts. He is all about illusion. In the end, drugs kill. But you, young lady, are much more than illusion, aren’t you?”
“Well, sometimes in school I give the illusion that I’m paying attention.”
“I know. And I may have to give you detention if you don’t stay out of that boiler room.” A psionic yardstick burst from the Megadan’s hand.
My heart stopped. I looked at the Kilodan, then back to the Megadan. “Mrs. Ba—”
“In time, my dear, you will learn all our identities, as we feel the need to reveal ourselves. You and I have much to do. Our school is not yet safe.”
“I—”
“Naturally, I need not remind you that, while Kathryn is approved by the Whisperers…”
I shook my head, still in shock. “No, this is something even Kathryn can’t know. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea that I know.”
“Of course it is,” the Kilodan said. “Enough talk. It’s time for you to practice.”
I got the distinct impression that the Kilodan was laughing his butt off. “Umm, okay. I’ll get Andy.”
“No need.” The Kilodan bowed. “Today, you train with The Four.”
I blushed. Me, training with The Four. Everything had turned out so much better than I could have imagined. Life was good. Sometimes I just forgot.
My reflection stared at me from the mirror on the classroom wall. Tall and thin, I stood up straight. My feet were sort of big, and my knees were maybe a little knobby. My blond hair wasn’t luxurious like Kathryn’s, but it was kind of pretty. I still wasn’t allowed to wear jeans with holes in them, but holes just let cold air in, so who needed them? I pictured my house and my family. Then I thought of Mason, and I felt warm.
I searched the mirror, and saw an ordinary girl smiling back at me. She was a Psi Fighter, and ordinary was a requirement for hiding in the open. She wasn’t glamorous like a movie star. She looked as ordinary as any person walking down the street. Just ordinary…in a real butt-kicking sort of way.
I giggled a little, then laughed out loud.
Ordinary, I decided, was really pretty great. I dropped into my fighting stance, ready to take on The Four.
Chapter Thirty-five Here We Go Again
A softly flickering light and a voice I could barely hear woke me from a beautiful dreamless slumber. Ugh. I rolled over toward the glow. There on my nightstand stood a tiny Andy, bent over an R2D2-shaped garbage can. He wore a Princess Leia wig.
“Help me, Rinnie-wan, you’re my only hope.”
Andy’s hologram floated irritatingly over an MP3 player that he had given to me earlier that day. He told me to keep it beside my bed at night, because he was testing out some new technology he had just invented. I should have known it wasn’t a normal MP3 player. Nothing Andy did was normal.
“What!” I snapped, irked to be ripped from my much-needed beauty sleep.
The little Andy stepped away from the garbage can and looked up at me. “Somebody’s cranky.” He adjusted his wig. “Does this make me look fat?”
“No. It makes you look annoying. Like that stupid alarm clock you’re standing on.”
“Alarm clock? Do you think I would waste precious moments creating something that does nothing more than wake you up at inconvenient hours?”
“You’ve wasted precious moments on other useless things.”
“True, but I have redefined uselessness with this baby. HD video, play and record, oodles of music in any format you like, and holographic communication, anytime, anywhere. The Psi Fighter’s dream. Comes in blue, red, and metallic purple.”
“So this irritating little device is your version of the Bat Signal?”
“Close. I call it—are you ready for this?—the psiPhone.”
I pulled my pillow over my head and moaned. “I need sleep.”
“See, this is the downside to successfully completing a big mission. You get more missions.”
“I don’t want another mission,” I mumbled into the mattress. “I want another twelve hours of sleep.” Then I popped up. “What kind of mission?”
“Dalrymple called. Apparently, there’s about to be a murder.”
“Apparently? He’s not sure?”
“Well, there’s no body. Just an ominous note hinting that there will be one soon.”
“How ominous?”
“It’s a badly written limerick.”
“That’s ominous.” I lay back down under my pillow. “Does this thing have a snooze button?”
“Forgot to add that feature. Okay, let’s make a deal. I’ll show you the note. You tell me what it means, then if you think it’s not important, you can go back to sleepy time. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Take a gander at this.” Little Andy pulled a tiny piece of paper from his pocket and held it up.
“And how exactly am I supposed to read that itty bitty thing?”