“I’m alright, Cindy,” I said, smiling. “You may have dressed me in pink pajamas, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have any dignity left.”

  I retreated to my bedroom, closing the door on Cindy’s laughter.

  Alia looked like she was already asleep, though I couldn’t be sure because she wasn’t murmuring in my head yet. I noticed that she had left her giant unicorn doll at the side of her bed. Alia had been unicorn-free for two nights now, and I wondered what kind of dreams Mr. Koontz was feeding her on. I wished my own psionic power could be used for more peaceful purposes.

  As I quietly slipped under my blanket, I suddenly heard Alia’s telepathic voice say, “Did you have a nice fight with Cindy?”

  I looked over at her bed, saying, “Alia, you’re becoming as sarcastic as I am.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t shout at her, Addy.”

  “I said sorry later. She was laughing just now, didn’t you hear?”

  Alia sat up in her bed and looked at me. “You’re mad at me too, aren’t you?”

  “I am not.”

  “You are.”

  “Go to sleep, Alia.”

  Alia looked down at her bloodstone. “I won’t wear it if you don’t want me to.”

  “It’s not about your pendant. And I’m not mad at you.”

  Alia gave me a hesitant smile and asked, “Are you sure, Dr. Howell?”

  I turned away from her, saying, “Just go to sleep, P-46.”

  The last sound I heard before I drifted off was Alia giggling into her pillow.

  Chapter 3: A Question of Identity

  Just minutes before we were caught by the Wolves, I had promised Alia that I would stop fighting with Cindy, and less than a week after our escape, I had already broken that promise. Waking up with a guilty conscience, I promised myself that I would be extra nice to Alia from now on. As we changed into our day clothes, I reassured her that I really did think the bloodstone looked good on her, which it did.

  “When did you learn how to braid hair, Adrian?” Cindy asked after breakfast when she caught me setting Alia’s long hair into a pair of pigtails. I had already finished the left side and was quickly working through the right.

  I grinned up at Cindy. “You’ve never been trapped underground for four months, have you?”

  “That’s really good,” said Cindy, examining my work. “Who taught you?”

  “No one,” I said. “Just trial and error.”

  I tied the end off with a ribbon, patted Alia’s shoulders once, and stood up.

  “It didn’t take that much time to learn how,” I said as Alia got up and skipped out of the room, probably to go check herself in a mirror.

  “Speaking of learning things...” Cindy began slowly, and I braced myself. “We really need to get you set up with your tutor, Adrian. I hope you’re not too far behind in your academics.”

  There was no telling on that account. Cindy had started me on a seventh-grade home-study curriculum last year, but I had all but given up on it by the end of December. If I remembered correctly, I was nearly halfway through most of my books, but in all honesty, I couldn’t recall a single thing I had read.

  “Just out of curiosity, why can’t a mind-writer simply implant knowledge in my head?” I asked semi-seriously. “Then I wouldn’t have to study at all.”

  “Because mind-writers deal with memories, Adrian, not knowledge,” replied Cindy. “There’s a difference. You’ll remember studying, but not what you studied.”

  “Well, I remember studying last year, but not what I studied.”

  Cindy laughed and said, “There you go! You don’t need a mind-writer. Besides, mind-writing is even more dangerous than delving for someone your age. What you need is a tutor so that you can get all your schooling properly.”

  I frowned. “School is more tolerable when you have friends.”

  “As soon as you learn to balance your power, you can go back to a real school.”

  “Fat chance of that!”

  “Don’t give up, Adrian. You’ll get there someday,” Cindy said encouragingly.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I’m an optimist, remember?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I remember.”

  Then Cindy said, “Oh, and Adrian, I know you let Alia’s mouth-speaking slide while you two were trapped in that place, but I really want you to start working on that again too, okay?”

  I asked, “Well, now that Alia is living among other psionics, does she really need to learn how to mouth-speak?”

  Cindy looked appalled. “Adrian! How can you say that?!”

  Teaching Alia to mouth-speak was high on the list of impossible things to do. Though Alia could laugh and cry as loudly as anyone, her mouth just didn’t move in a way that produced coherent speech. Aloud, Alia spoke only in vowels.

  “Listen,” said Cindy, “I don’t care if she has an accent, but she has to be able to talk to more than one person at a time and actually be understood.”

  “Alright,” I said resignedly, “I’ll work with her.”

  “So,” said Cindy, mercifully changing the topic, “Alia was telling me yesterday that she really wanted to learn how to swim this year. Unless you have other plans, I thought today might be a good day to start.”

  “You mean we can go swimming?” I asked happily.

  “Sure. It’s warm enough. Just barely, but warm enough. There’s an outdoor pool just four blocks down the street.”

  “Sounds great!”

  “There’s one catch, though,” said Cindy.

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t let Alia out of your sight.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Alia?”

  Cindy laughed. “Yeah, you know, the dark-haired giggly girl who sleeps in your room?”

  “I know who she is!”

  “Good!” Cindy said crisply. “Then don’t forget that she’s one of only eight healers in New Haven at the moment, and a powerful one at that.”

  I had learned from Cindy last year that Alia’s power as a healer, despite her age, was already that of an experienced psionic. No doubt Alia’s time at the Psionic Research Center had further refined her talents.

  Cindy continued warningly, “Alia is also the only psionic here, aside from yourself, under the age of eighteen. New Haven’s littlest healer would make a prime target for anyone wanting to hurt the Guardians.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “But aren’t you coming too, Cindy?”

  Cindy shook her head. “I have a meeting to go to.”

  “Then who’s going to teach Alia how to swim?”

  “You are, of course!”

  In the spirit of being extra nice to Alia, I managed to keep myself from frowning.

  “Are we going to be hounded to the pool by those destroyers?” I asked.

  “No. They’re only for me. But you should be careful of anyone who approaches you. Don’t talk to strangers. There are Guardian Knights patrolling the streets night and day. If you get into any kind of trouble, just shout for help and they’ll come.”

  I looked at her uncomfortably. “Is it really that dangerous outside?”

  “No, and yes,” said Cindy. “It’s no secret that you’re living with me, so you will be a more likely target than other people. Stay in populated areas. No shortcuts through back alleys. Oh, and just remember that there are non-Guardians living in this neighborhood too, so don’t do anything impossible in public.”

  “I’ll be careful. Do we already have swimsuits as well?” I asked, dreading the answer. There was no telling what Cindy might have picked out for me.

  “No, you’ll have to buy your suits on your way over. There’s a shop diagonally across the street from the pool,” she answered, and I hid my sigh of relief.

  Handing me some cash, Cindy smiled and said, “Here’s your first salary, bodyguard. Try not to spend it all on junk food.”

  I grinned. “Does this mean I’m getting a regular allowance now?”

  “Not a lot, since you live here, but enough to have some fun, I hope. Make sure you share it with Alia when she needs it.”

  “Of course,” I promised.

  “Oh, and be sure to choose something dark for her, okay?” said Cindy.

  I gave her a disbelieving stare. Considering Cindy’s taste in clothing for Alia and me, “dark” was the one adjective I never expected to hear.

  “You know,” added Cindy, “to hide the scars on her back.”

  “Oh, right,” I laughed, finally understanding.

  Alia’s back was covered with scars upon scars crisscrossing every which way, some made by knives, others most likely from a leather whip. She was probably the child of a psionic family, but we may never know because when she was an infant, she had been abducted by a pair of religious fanatics who tortured her for years to “cure” her of her telepathic abnormality. Alia never spoke of that part of her life, and I was afraid to ask.

  “And don’t forget your Band-Aid,” said Cindy.

  “I won’t,” I said. “Who are you meeting with?”

  “Mr. Baker.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Is it about me again?”

  “Not entirely,” said Cindy, laughing. “Don’t be so paranoid.”

  After lunch, I took Alia down the elevator and through the entrance lobby of New Haven One. As we exited the building and stepped onto the sidewalk for the very first time without adult supervision, I looked around cautiously, still feeling a little uneasy about being outside.

  But as I took Alia’s hand and started walking down the sidewalk, I quickly got over my nervousness. I knew that there was nothing to be afraid of as long as we stayed out in the open.

  Arriving at the clothing store, I helped Alia pick out a deep red one-piece swimsuit that covered enough of her back to hide her scarred skin. I also bought a pair of dark blue swimming trunks for myself. Then we headed across the street to the pool.

  The large recreational pool was complete with a hotdog stand and tables along the side. Changing into my swimming trunks in the locker room, I slapped an extra-large waterproof Band-Aid over my P-47 tattoo, and met Alia at the poolside.

  “You made sure nobody saw your back when you were changing?” I asked.

  “Of course,” answered Alia, frowning. “I’m not dumb, you know.”

  The summer holidays had just started, and there were a few families and quite a few children here, some of them about my age. I watched them both longingly and apprehensively. On the one hand, I would have been delighted to make a few friends, but I was afraid that Alia, with her newfound bravery around strangers, might accidentally speak telepathically to someone. There was no way to know which of these children were residents of New Haven.

  Alia tugged on my arm. “Come on, Addy. Teach me how to swim already!”

  There was a round kiddie pool next to the main one, but we weren’t going to use that. We had borrowed a pair of arm floats for Alia, and once she had them on properly, I took her into the shallow end of the main pool. I could tell that the lifeguard was watching us closely as I taught Alia to paddle, but fortunately, he didn’t try to help. I didn’t want anyone approaching us and discovering that Alia could do anything “impossible.”

  Alia loved the water. She quickly learned how to stay afloat on her back as well as dog paddle, albeit very clumsily. Before we went home that day, I forced her to go to the kiddie pool by herself so I could swim a few laps around the big pool alone.

  Cindy asked over dinner, “So how was your day?”

  “Great!” I said. “I feel like I’m living a normal life again. You know, before any of this happened... before I turned psionic.”

  “That’s wonderful, Adrian,” said Cindy, and it took a moment before I realized what I had implied.

  “Cindy, I didn’t mean...”

  “I know.” Cindy smiled. “I’m happy for you.”

  Leaving our PRC-acquired habits behind us, Alia and I went out to the pool almost every day that week. Alia soon discarded the floats, and though I frequently had to telekinetically keep her from sinking, she was improving day by day. Before and after our swims, we also explored the neighborhood of New Haven on foot, discovering a large park only minutes from NH-1. We never got as far as the river, though. It turned out to be much farther than it looked from our window.

  July had only just begun, but the summer was well underway. The weather remained sunny all that week, and Alia and I continued to enjoy our newfound freedoms. Even with Cindy’s warning, I was happy that we didn’t merit a destroyer escort like she had. The days were much too bright and warm to be worrying about Angel spies anyway. My “salary” was mostly spent on pool admittance fees and lunches out. There wasn’t nearly enough money left to buy the kind of clothes I would have preferred over Cindy’s choices, so I settled for a pair of sunglasses instead.

  My first heavy sunburn really hurt, and Alia, who had spent the greater part of her life indoors, had it even worse than me. Alia could heal sunburn just like she could regular burns, but we were blackened from head to toe. New Haven’s littlest psionic was completely worn out by the time she finished running her healing hands over every scorched inch of our bodies. From then on, we practically bathed in sun-block lotion before going out.

  Pretty much incapable of holding a grudge, Alia had long since put her upsets with Cindy and me behind her. Nevertheless I made sure to continue giving her lots of attention, and Cindy was considerate enough not to harass me about restarting Alia’s mouth-speaking lessons.

  All in all, it was wonderful to be living a normal life again. As always, thoughts of Cat and how she might be suffering in the hands of the Angels gnawed on my conscience from time to time, but at least I felt some comfort in the belief that the Guardians would eventually lead me to her.

  And yet, despite the sharp upturn that my daily life had taken, I still had nightmares every single night: the berserker, Ralph, Dr. Denman, Nightmare, you name it. In fact, my nightmares since leaving the Psionic Research Center were even worse than when I had been living there. In a strange way, that made some sense. My life underground had been a continuous waking nightmare, so sleeping didn’t make things all that much worse. But now that I was safe and sound, dreams were the one place I was still vulnerable. Cindy often pestered me about getting Mr. Koontz’s help, but I stubbornly refused. I decided that, at least for myself, freedom had to include freedom from psionic and drug-induced control.

  Whenever I woke in a cold sweat (which happened at least once a night), I sat by the window in the bedroom, looking up at the stars until I was calm enough to lie down again. If I woke screaming and consequently woke Alia, she would always sit silently by my side. Alia was strange that way: When I was her age, I couldn’t sit silently if my life depended on it, but Alia could be silent for hours when she wanted to be. We would sit together quietly looking out the window until one of us yawned. Usually it was Alia, but by the time I tucked her back into her bed, I too was sleepy enough to brave another bad dream.

  And not even the worst of my nightmares could keep me in a foul mood once the sun rose. Despite my shaky nights, I was having the time of my life. Freedom was truly divine.

  The week passed quickly. Too quickly, in fact, as is often the case when you’re having fun. The following Monday and Tuesday were rainy, but by then I didn’t mind being stuck indoors for a little while. Cindy was out of the penthouse for most of both days. Alia and I spent our time chasing each other around the house, throwing darts in the game room, exploring the home library, and tending the plants in the greenhouse while listening to the soft pattering of raindrops against the wide windowpanes.

  “If it’s sunny tomorrow, I want to take Alia to the pool again,” I told Cindy over dinner Tuesday night.

  “Well, yes...” Cindy said slowly, “I suppose you could go tomorrow.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  Cindy gave me an apologetic look. “I know you’re enjoying a well-deserved vacation, Adrian, but Mr. Baker has already picked your combat instructor, and he insists that you start your training as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, right,” I said with a sigh. “Combat training.”

  “And, of course, I’ve already found you and Alia your tutors for your academics as well.”

  I groaned. “Oh, this gets better and better.”

  Cindy smiled. “Well, here’s some good news, Adrian. Your assigned combat instructor is only a year older than you. Well, a year and a bit.”

  “You’re kidding?!” I said, wide-eyed. “What’s his name?”

  “Terry Henderson.”

  “Terry, huh? And he’s fourteen years old?”

  “Fifteen, but just turned. You’ll catch up quickly.”

  “Is he any good?” I asked, remembering how Mr. Baker had said that my combat instructor would be about my age. I couldn’t believe anyone that young could make a passable instructor.

  “Pretty good, I think,” said Cindy. “It’s Terry’s first time as a combat instructor, but Mr. Baker says he has every confidence.”

  “Well, it’ll be my first time learning from a combat instructor.”

  Cindy grinned. “Maybe you’ll be good friends.”

  “Maybe,” I said brightly. Alia was as good a sidekick as they came, but it would be wonderful to have a friend closer to my own age for a change.

  I asked, “Have you met him already?”

  “Sure I have, months ago,” said Cindy. “Terry is a member of Mr. Baker’s Guardian group.”

  “I don’t remember anyone fifteen years old on the bus,” I said.

  “Well, Terry wasn’t part of the actual rescue mission.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Why spoil the surprise?” said Cindy. “The two of you will meet tomorrow over dinner.”

  “You invited him over?”

  Cindy nodded. “Best way to get you two acquainted.”

  “Fair enough,” I agreed. “And what about my, uh... other tutor?”

  “That starts from next Monday.”

 

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