“Just tell me how she’s feeling right now!”
“She’s—she was totally calm before you grabbed her. And now it’s like, I don’t know, like she’s laughing inside, but she’s also really scared.” Eden sounds scared, too, having to admit that she knows this.
Ms. Robertson stands up, and I roll over onto my back, tears streaming down my cheeks from the pain in my head, but Eden’s right—I’m laughing.
I laugh and laugh and laugh, and I think about stabbing Ms. Robertson with the knife I don’t have in my shoe. Lighting this whole room on fire with the matches I don’t have in my pocket. Hanging myself in my room with the rope I don’t have in my closet.
This place is wrong, I think at her, and I know.
“Very clever,” Ms. Robertson says, with that lie of a smile. “It would appear you’re ready for the advanced placement track.”
ANNIE
Monday Afternoon
SHE SHOULD BE BACK BY NOW. WHY ISN’T SHE BACK? I need to hear her, to figure out if she’s okay. She’ll lie to me, of course, but I still need to hear her.
It’s my fault. Again. Either I see things and I can’t stop them, or I cause them because I see them wrong. I will be the death of my entire family. I’ve already destroyed Fia by dragging her to this school with me. I can’t kill her, too.
I walk to the door and out into the hall. Someone stands up immediately—Darren, by the sounds of it. He has a particular way of exhaling whenever he has to actually do something.
“Can I help you, Miss Annabelle?”
“Why yes, Darren, you can! There’s a window at the end of the hallway, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you open it?”
“Are you too warm? I can have the AC adjusted.”
“Oh, no, the window isn’t for me. It’s for you. So you can throw yourself out of it.”
A pause and then, “You have such a sense of humor, Miss Annabelle.”
“Well, I only have the four senses, so I’ve got to compensate somehow. You are welcome to keep sitting in your chair, reading your romance novels. I’m going to see Eden.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“So you can disappoint me yet again by never listening? Please, Darren.” I continue down the hall, tracing a hand along the smooth wood paneling, counting the seams. Skip an empty door. Skip another. Knock.
The door opens and she reaches out immediately for my hand. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“They sent Fia on a hit.”
Eden swears. “Is she okay?”
“I need you to get a feel for her when she gets back. She’ll lie to me.”
She sighs and her grip changes as she shifts to lean farther away from me. “I’m sorry she had to do that. Really. I think it’s wrong. But I can’t handle being around her. You have no idea what it’s like since we came back, getting sucked into all that anger. It gives me a headache. My whole mouth tastes like I’m chugging battery acid. She’s poison.”
“My sister is not poison.” I yank my hand back.
She swears again, her voice softer. “Sorry. Just—I can already tell you how she’ll feel. She’ll feel angry. It’s the only way she’s felt since we left Europe. I wish I could help her, but I can’t, and neither can you.”
“Why are you even still here?” I’m so furious I want to shake her, and I know she can feel it. “Why did you come back? Why didn’t you go out into the world to be Keane’s little spy?”
I don’t have to be a Feeler to hear the hurt in Eden’s voice. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“How can you work for them?” I whisper. “They keep me here, prisoner, to control Fia.”
“Did you ever think that maybe they keep you here to keep you safe from Fia?”
“That’s a lie.”
“You can’t feel her like I can. She’s dangerous, Annie, and it scares me every time she’s alone with you. She’s—” I hear her inhale sharply. “Good news, she’s here. I can feel her from the first floor. Guess Art Institute is out. Come over after she’s gone and we’ll do manicures, okay?” Eden starts to close the door, but hesitates. “I’m sorry.” Then it clicks shut.
I turn expectantly toward the elevator end of the hall. I wish I could go straight down to meet her, but unlike Eden who can come and go as she pleases, without Darren’s key card I’m not allowed off the floor.
To keep me safe. Right. I am the safest prisoner in the entire world.
I strain, listening for the hum of the elevator, the muffled ding, the slide of its doors. The sound of Fia’s feet stomping down the hall. She always walks loud, just for me.