“So, I was told you wanted to see me, and I am very eager to lend a helping hand. Is it about Fathom? You’ve spent a week with the prince, is that correct? That must be very uncomfortable.”
“It is?” I say, then frown. I can’t stop thinking about the driver’s license. It looked official. It solves a thousand problems that have given everyone in my family ulcers. All I have to do is keep playing Mr. Doyle’s game, no matter how insane it seems. All I have to do is have a pleasant chat with the devil without looking like I’m on drugs.
“Ms. Walker, I hope we’re not wasting each other’s time,” Bachman says as she reaches over and stops her recorder.
“I’m sorry.”
“You zoned out there for a second.”
“I’m just tired,” I lie, just as mayhem erupts on every one of Doyle’s monitors. Cops are swarming into classrooms and pulling kids out of their seats. I see students forced into the halls, and every single one of them has on a red shirt. Svetlana fights a soldier all the way down the hall. Jorge is pushed to the floor and handcuffed. Bachman can’t see a thing, because she’s looking right at me, eager but impatient. “I’ve been under a lot of stress.”
Bachman sticks out her bottom lip to sell her faux sympathy. Then she pushes Record on her device once more.
“Lyric, you can tell me anything, just let it all out. Honesty is the purest form of bravery. It’s patriotic, so I don’t want you to think you’re betraying anyone. I’m sure a good person like you has a little sympathy for those things. It’s understandable, but they aren’t like us. They killed nine of our soldiers in cold blood. Sharing what you know about them can help us prevent that from ever happening again. I assure you that you aren’t alone. Proud Americans are coming forward every day. For instance, we’ve recently learned something very helpful and”—she leans in conspiratorially—“well, as you know, the Alpha sent some of their people here many years ago to spy on us. There were twenty of them.”
“Twenty.”
She nods. “Twenty spies. We’ve captured seventeen so far. One of them was killed in a car accident and his body was stolen from the city morgue. But there are two more of them still walking free, right here in this neighborhood. Their kids could go to this school! Did Fathom mention them to you?”
I shake my head.
She pouts. “What do you and the prince talk about? Has he ever mentioned why they are always fighting each other? Do they have any weapons or technology that might pose a threat? Any little detail could make a very big difference.”
“I read to him.”
“You what?”
“He wants to learn to read English.”
“Well, that’s very interesting,” she says, slightly irritated. “Does Fathom talk about his war plans or weapons?”
“No, never,” I say.
Bachman shakes her head and stands. She’s lost patience with me, but I can’t let her go. The halls are still full of soldiers and kids.
“He keeps talking about some island with monsters on it,” I blurt out.
“Lyric, I think he’s playing a game with you. There’s no island with monsters on it.”
“Three years ago I didn’t believe in mermaids. Now I go to school with them,” I say.
Bachman nods and sits back down. Her eyes are wide and eager. “Has he described these monsters?”
“A little. They’re like goat people, though some of them sound more like birds.”
“Bird people?”
“It’s someplace called Sendak Island. I have no idea where it is,” I continue while I watch the monitors. It looks like the show is wrapping up. The soldiers are dispersing and the halls are emptying. Not a moment too soon, either. I sound dumber and dumber by the second. I can’t believe this woman is buying my nonsense.
“Ms. Walker, this has been a very helpful meeting,” she says. She’s so excited, she almost forgets her recorder. “And again, this is just you and me. If you have anything else you want to share, please reach out to me.”
“I will,” I say. “We’re all in this together, right?”
She nods and beams that horrible smile. “We are indeed.”
Chapter Thirteen
I’m spinning like a top, slamming into everything around me, and banking in every direction. My best friend’s stepfather is beating her. The principal of my school is dangling a golden ticket over my head, and the governor of the state wants to gossip with me about the prince. These are not the problems of a seventeen-year-old.
Oddly enough, Fathom is the least of my worries. I’m suddenly seeing our time together as an escape, a break from the surreal nightmare I am stumbling through.