“James Keane?”
I frown. “No. His dad.”
“His dad?”
“Yeah, his dad. James isn’t in charge.”
It’s Sarah’s turn to frown. “You mean James doesn’t run the school? He inherited it when his mother died, and we thought…”
Oh, perfect. They have no idea just how far and deep Keane’s reach goes. They’re still focused on the school. What about the stealing, the spying, the blowing people up? I don’t have time for this. “I want to know who you are and why you’re following James and look
ing for me.”
Sarah crosses her legs and clasps both her hands around her knee. She has pretty hands, safe hands. “As you already know, I’m a psychic, or a Seer. When I was fifteen, a woman named Dayna Keane found me and invited me to attend her school. That night I had a dream that horrible things would happen if I went, so I declined. But I kept seeing the school and the changes there in visions. I’ve made it my goal to disrupt their operations, to rescue girls from them, and to prevent new girls from being manipulated. I think Adam can help me with that. And I’d like you to, if you will.”
“How much good do you do?” They don’t know nearly enough, but I want her to be real and honest and right. I want this to be true. But it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel wrong, not the way the school always felt wrong wrong wrong, but it doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel sick, my heart isn’t racing, I’m not falling. But I’m not…sure. If this was right, wouldn’t I be sure? Wouldn’t I know in my core? Wouldn’t I feel that invisible something tugging me this direction?
“As much as we can,” Sarah answers. “We’re still trying to figure out exactly how far the school’s reach extends. We don’t know what their agenda is; we’ve never been able to track a girl once she leaves the school, though we suspect high-level placement through money and networking. We’re focusing on prevention now, mostly. Keeping girls out to begin with.”
“That’s nice.” I stand and walk to the window. It’s a beautiful day outside. Clear and blue, and the trees have almost finished budding with new green life. The street is wide and lined with other blank office buildings and the odd chain restaurant. “Can I leave?”
“What?”
“Right now. Can I leave? Can I walk out the door?”
Sarah’s voice is soft. “Do you want to?”
“I’d like a hot dog. Adam? Will you go for a walk with me?” I turn and look at him and hope. Hope that a boy like Adam will go for a walk with a girl like me.
“Oh, uh, sure.” He stands, sticks his gentle hands in his pockets.
“Would you like a jacket? And shoes?” Sarah asks. I smile and nod. She takes her own off and hands them to me. The jacket is black and warm. The shoes are too big but only just. She is really going to let me walk out. Free and clear. With her prize Adam, no less.
I think it’s all true. Everything she said.
Adam and I walk down the street; the breeze is cool but the sun is delicious. Adam tells me how he was so scared when Cole walked up behind him in the library that he tripped over his chair and fell in a huge heap and the librarian got mad at him.
I laugh. It doesn’t feel like a lie bubbling out of my throat.
We buy hot dogs and they are disgusting but it was our choice to buy them. Adam talks nervously and quickly about where they’re going. Sarah moves around a lot, but she said there’s a bigger, permanent house with lots of medical research equipment. I like the way he gestures, forgetting his hands are full and flinging relish from his hot dog onto the sidewalk. Other normal people doing normal things pass. I steal a phone out of someone’s pocket (I feel like I should have a phone), and we find a bench on the edge of the grassy area surrounding the arch. It’s huge and silver, dancing through the sky, and I cannot tell if it is taller than it is wide or wider than it is tall.
I tap tap tap on my leg because I am not sure what I am supposed to be doing.
I am not sure.
Nothing is right or wrong here. How am I supposed to make a decision when nothing is right or wrong?
“…and they’re getting funding for new MRIs in hospitals around the country so we can run tests. With real-world data, I could do so much.” His voice gets faraway and dreamy. I laugh. I am sitting next to a cute boy on a bench and he is dreaming of MRIs and research data.
He smiles, and then he reaches out and takes my hand. I look at our hands, together. He has seen some of what my hands can do. He is still touching me. “Fia, I…I think you should stay. You don’t have to go back. Ever. You never have to work for this Keane again. We’ll figure out a way to get your sister out, and you can both stay with us, with Sarah and the Lerner group. We could help so many people.”
I can see it. I can see a happy life with a happy boy. I can see the person he thinks I am when he looks at me—this wonder, this strong and brave and strange girl. He is half in love with his idea of me, and if I stayed…
Maybe I could heal. Maybe I could turn back into the sister Annie wants me to be. Maybe I could leave the last five years behind me and never have to think about them again. Never have to be that girl again. Maybe, maybe, maybe I could really be loved by someone like Adam.
That would be nice. And easy.
I can’t feel, though. There is no right or wrong. What am I supposed to do when there is no right or wrong?