My mother is camped on the floor in the hall. She’s got her phone, her bottle of water, and her panicky eyes. When she sees us, she lets out a long exhale. I bet it’s her first of the day.
“What happened?” she begs, leaping to her feet and clasping my hands in hers.
“It’s fine,” I lie, and pull away. “They didn’t take me to jail.”
“It’s not fine,” my father growls as he stomps us down the hall to our apartment.
My mom flashes me a pained look. “What did you do?”
A door opens, and Mrs. Novakova’s head pops out. “What’s going on out there?” she croaks.
“Nothing,” my father snaps. “We just got home from school with Lyric, Mrs. Novakova.”
She glares at us for a moment, then disappears back into her cave.
My father turns to us and holds a finger up to his mouth, reminding us that there are ears everywhere. He leads us into our apartment, where he locks the door, slides the chain, and bolts the deadlock. Then he stuffs a towel under the door to keep our conversation from seeping into the hallway.
“Mr. Doyle called me at work,” he says.
“Who’s Mr. Doyle?” my mother asks.
“He’s the new principal,” I explain. “And a cop.”
My father shakes his head. “He’s not a cop. He’s military, maybe CIA. I don’t know yet.”
My mother sits down on the couch. “What did he want?”
“He wants our good Samaritan here—”
I frown. “I stopped a fight. One of the kids was a Nix and—”
“Oh no, Lyric,” my mother moans.
“I had to do something.”
“What exactly did you think you were going to do against a Nix?” my mother cries. “I’ve told you about them, Lyric!”
“I didn’t think—”
“That’s the problem, Lyric,” my father says. He falls into a chair like it reached up and yanked him down. “Now this Doyle is poking around our lives. He called me at work. He knew everything about my career. He knew how long I’ve been on the job, who I report to, and how many times I’ve been passed over for promotions. He knew your grandfather was a cop!”
“What does he want?” my mother cries.
“He wants Lyric to let the prince of the Alpha follow her around the school.”
My mother shakes her head. “No.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said, so he called Mike, and five minutes later I got dragged into his office and told in no uncertain terms that saying no was not an option. Then the mayor called to tell me the same thing, and then someone named Armstrong from the State Department.”
“All right, let’s not panic. It’s going to be okay,” my mother says, but it comes out sounding naive, less like a fact and more like wishing upon a star.
“Summer . . . it’s not going to be okay. Our lives are paper thin. If Doyle looks any closer, he’s going to see you’re an invention. We should—”
“I can’t go until I find my family,” she cries, throwing her hands up like she’s swatting at bees.
There’s a long silence while my parents have their silent showdown. Mom searches the Internet every night, sifting through the latest footage from the TV news and local bloggers. She’s spotted a couple of Alpha she knows, but nothing on her parents and sister. My father has done his best to be patient and supportive with her—he says we aren’t leaving without her—but right now he’s exasperated.
“We’ve survived this long without anyone finding out,” she continues defensively.
“And if this prince guesses she’s Sirena? She’s practically your twin.”
My mother shakes her head. “Leonard, we don’t all look alike! Besides, he couldn’t possibly know Lyric’s mine. He wasn’t even born when I left. He has no idea what I look like. Just calm down.”
He slams his hand down on the table, and a glass bounces off and shatters onto the floor. “I CAN’T CALM DOWN!”