Authors: Natalie Whipple
I could lie. She knows how often I go running in the desert with Seth and Brady. I could easily say we were getting in one last run before the whole area was blocked off. But for the first time in my life, I actually
want
her advice. So I pull the formula out of my pocket and hold it out to her.
She snatches it from my hand, and when she realizes what it is her face goes slack with shock. “Where did you get this?”
“The Army was out there, and I went to get a closer look. They were talking about this element and…it sounded familiar. So I took it, to make sure.” I stare at my feet, fear finally washing over me. Now I get why Seth was so upset—I’m getting in way over my head. “I went on instinct, from all those years of training. I know it was wrong, but I’m afraid we’ll lose everything we have here.”
I brace for a lecture, for Mom to yell at me, ground me, something. She is silent, looking over the paper intently. She flips through more pages, and I can’t read her expression. When she looks back to me, there’s no sign of anger in her brown eyes. “You know where the secret element is?”
“What?” I say, taken back by her not yelling.
She holds up her hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to know the details—details are dangerous. But if you do, you know what that means, don’t you?”
I gulp. “It means if anyone finds out, I’m in big trouble.”
“Yes, but also something else.” She leans back, seeming unsure of whether she should go on. “You might be the only one who can stop Radiasure from being made again, which means you have a big decision to make.”
Mom’s right. Either I protect my friends and lie low until the fight for Radiasure is over, or I put everyone in harm’s way and make sure that horrible drug never gets made again. Maybe if I was only putting myself at risk, I could be okay with it. But I can’t make this decision for my friends and family. This is too much for one invisible girl to handle. “What do I do, Mom?”
She puts her hands on my shoulders. “Sit down. I’ll get the Pop Tarts.”
I do as she says, and she’s back with a big box of cheap pastry goodness. Digging in, I realize I’m starving after all that running last night. Mom watches me in silence, to the point where I have to ask, “What?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, I guess I’m not sure what to tell you, honestly.”
“Awesome.” I snort. “You have plenty of advice when I don’t want it!”
Mom smiles, and I’m so glad she’s not yelling because I need her support. It’s nice to know we’re a team now, with no abusive Dad to get in the way. “Well, what do you want me to say? I know just as well as you do that stopping them would be the right thing to do, but I can’t tell my baby girl to throw herself into harm’s way.”
Sighing, I can’t say I disagree. “When I heard about this quest for Radiasure, it made me mad, but I didn’t think I could do anything about it. I’ve been trying to tell myself it would lower the drug’s value. Everyone would be able to get it, which means everyone would have an equal footing. But deep down I know…”
“Whoever got it first would keep it for themselves? Use it to expand their territory? Do whatever the hell they please with no one to stop them?” Mom rattles off.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Because as horrible as syndicates are, in a weird way they also keep the country floating because they balance each other out. If one person were in charge people would suffer even more. “So would I be a terrible person if I turned a blind eye to what I might know?”
“Hmm.” Mom taps her chin, thinking. “Not necessarily. People ignore bad things all the time to keep themselves safe. Think about when we first came here—sure, someone could have told the cops or Juan but ultimately their fear protected us. They didn’t want to earn the wrath of your father.”
This doesn’t make me feel better. “I don’t like the Army or Juan thinking I’m scared of them.”
She smirks. “You’re not afraid? Because I am. Not being protected by a syndicate is so scary I even lied to The Phantom that we were still in one.”
“Well, I am scared…” I put my head in my hands, struggling to find the words. “But I don’t want them to
know
that. They should be afraid of me. I’m not weak anymore. If I wanted, I could stop them.”
Mom stares at me like she’s not sure who I am. “Well, it sounds like you’re a lot more courageous than I am.”
“No.”
More like crazy.
“Sometimes I worry I’m more like Dad than I should be.”
She holds out her hands, and I put mine in hers. “Fiona, being a leader doesn’t mean you have to be a
bad
one. Not that I’m saying you should do this, but don’t be afraid of becoming your father. That will never happen—you have too strong a moral compass.”
I tackle her into a hug. Maybe I still don’t know what to do, but it’s nice to sort it out a bit. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome.” She hugs me, and I savor it. There was a time when she wasn’t much of a mother because of what Dad did to us—it feels like we’ve been making up for lost time.
“Whoa, did someone die?” Miles’ voice sounds groggy, and when I look up he seems to have just rolled out of bed.
“No,” I say.
“Are you begging Mom not to ground you?” he asks next. “Because I purposely slept in to avoid that blowout. Should I go back to bed so you can finish?”
“Very funny. I’m much more supportive of my kids than you give me credit for, son.” Mom holds up the formula to me. “I wasn’t half bad at chemistry. I’ll see if I can figure some of this out for you, okay?”
My eyebrows pop up in surprise. “That would be amazing if you could.”
Miles shakes his head. “Am I still dreaming? Is our mother seriously not freaking out about this?”
“Yup.” Mom stands from the couch, heading for her beloved coffee pot.
Miles takes her seat, staring me down suspiciously. It doesn’t have nearly the effect he thinks, since his eyelids still sag with sleep. “Are you sure you’re invisible? Or are you so good at persuading people that we only
think
you’re invisible?”
I snort. “Unless I can also persuade myself into thinking I’m invisible, no.”
“I’m not convinced. Never thought Mom would be so calm about what you did.” He turns on the TV, flips it to a baseball game.
“This is how she is now, without Dad,” I say.
He nods. “It’s scary to think he had that much control over you.”
“It is.” And now that we’re on the topic, I can’t help thinking about how Miles now has the very same power Dad has if he wanted it. “Are you ever tempted? You know, to use his scent?”
Miles actually looks away from the game, and his eyes meet mine. “No. Never. Sometimes I’m disgusted that I even know the scent—how could I ever want to take away choices from the women I care about?”
I lean on his shoulder, knowing he’s absolutely sincere. “I thought so.”
“You better.” The slight citrus scent he was emitting turns to blueberries. I’ve always appreciated how he changes scents just for me. “Besides, I enjoy smelling like fruits too much.”
After about fifteen minutes of baseball—nearly my max attention span for it—I realize someone’s missing. “Where’s Graham?”
“Went back to see Allie.” He shudders. “Those two can get so mushy together. It’s weird seeing him like that after so many years of Violent Angry Graham.”
“I can’t even picture it.” All I can conjure is a scowling Graham with some overly happy girl, and it just doesn’t work. “Do they have anything in common?”
“They really like playing board games together. Especially chess.”
Words won’t come.
Miles laughs. “I know, right? It gets really gross when they start flirting with chess euphemisms.”
“Ew. No more.”
“You asked for it.” Miles looks at his phone, and the smile falls off his face. “It’s nice that they do things like that together, though. You should want to spend time with the person you care about.”
I can’t stand that pout. He has to be thinking about Spud. “Can you at least call her?”
He shakes his head. “She uses a different number every time, hacks them and drops them just as fast. I never know where or when I’ll run into her.”
“That’s gotta be hard.”
“I knew what I was getting into. Keeps things interesting.” Miles shrugs off the sadness like he can’t stand to talk about it anymore, but I can feel how much this bothers him. I watch him—there are circles under his eyes, creases in his brow, stubble on his chin—it seems like Miles has aged years since he first showed up to help me get free of Dad. Where did my happy, carefree brother go?
“How long are you staying?” I ask after I finish another Pop Tart. “The whole weekend?”
“Probably longer,” Miles says without looking away from the game.
“Longer?”
“Until my ankle is better at least. Like a week.”
I purse my lips, confused. He went out in the desert last night though I told him he shouldn’t walk on it—he said it wasn’t that bad. Now he’s using it as an excuse to stay here? “What about school and work? I thought your Spring Break wasn’t until the end of March.”
He gives me an epic pout. “What? You don’t want me around or something?”
“I do!” But he’s so avoiding something. I hope he’s not staying here because he’s worried about us. I’d hate to be more of a burden than I already am. “I just—”
The doorbell rings. So instead of confronting my brother I get up to answer it. I didn’t think The Pack would be here so soon, but maybe they’re more eager to know how I got the formula than I thought. When I open the door, I’m met with two men in uniform instead.
“Fiona McClean?” one of them says.
“Yes?” My blood pumps faster. Something is wrong about this.
The man holds up a paper. “You are under arrest for stealing Army property. If you do not comply, we have been ordered to take you by force.”
“What? You can’t do that! Where’s the proof?” Miles is up from the couch and already by my side, but my eyes are on Mom. Luckily, the open door blocks the soldiers’ view of her, and I’m not wearing glasses or hair things to show where I’m looking. Her face sets into surprising innocence while she folds the formula and slips it into her pants.
“There were footprints found,” one of the soldiers says. “We have to take her in for—”
“That’s it? How do you know they’re not old or someone else’s?” Miles has moved in front of me, as if he can stop this from happening.
“We’re following orders, sir.”
“Let me see the warrant,” Mom says from behind me. She takes it from the soldier, reading it intently.
All I can do is stand there in shock. My first impulse is to run, except that would make me look even guiltier, wouldn’t it? The idea of being dragged to the makeshift military base, thrown in a cell, and questioned about what I did last night isn’t exactly how I want to spend the rest of my weekend. And Major Norton…he’ll see right through any lie I tell.
“This looks pretty flimsy,” Mom says with a sigh. It’s definitely not the first time she’s seen an arrest warrant—Dad just usually gets his women out of them. She turns to me. “But we have to follow the law and clear up the misunderstanding, Fiona. Let’s go.”
I gulp, trying to quell my fear. Laws. How could I forget about those? “Okay.”
“We’ll figure this out,” Miles says as the soldiers come forward with handcuffs. “I promise.”
I don’t answer—all I can see are the cuffs. The soldier looks over me with a confused expression, probably because he isn’t sure where my hands are.
“Are those really necessary?” Mom asks.
“I’m afraid so, ma’am.” He finally decides to reach for my shoulder first, and my skin crawls as his fingers run down my arm. He latches the cuff and goes for my other shoulder, but I can’t take it.
“I’ll do it myself.” Snapping the other cuff around my wrist, I feel sick. Mostly because this is exactly what I deserve for what I did. I’ve become so used to getting away with things that I honestly believed this wouldn’t happen.
I really hate when Seth is right.
Mom stays by my side as the soldiers guide me to a big truck covered in a cammo pattern. The back is windowless and seems to be fortified just for prisoners with abilities. By now, my neighbors have come out to see what’s going on, and all of them stare at us with faces that say, “Not surprised.” This doesn’t bother me—I’m used to it—but what does bother me is The Phantom standing on the sidewalk, right by my house, smiling.
He clucks his tongue. “Looks like someone was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.”
“You did this?” I say. Of course he did. A simple warning note isn’t syndicate style. There’s always a scare tactic involved.
“You set her up!” Mom looks so angry I worry she’ll actually attack him. “That was way out of line.”
“Was it?” The Phantom pops a Radiasure pill in his mouth, and I can feel the soldiers tense behind me. If Graham is right about Radiasure making it so he can take other people through walls, too, I don’t want to know what he’s planning for my mom. “If I were you, Lauren, I wouldn’t step foot on that military base—I told you this was your warning. I’m sure you know all the things I could do with your daughter instead of putting her in an Army cell.”