Wednesday morning meditation does not go well. Especially not at first. Without anything to distract me, the images, flashbacks I guess, come fast. The flash of light. My ruined side. Valeria’s expression. Ugh.

Fifteen minutes in I feel Harlan standing behind me. I hadn’t even heard him get up. The man is a ninja. Well, two ninjas fused together. The floor creaks again behind me. Right, he’s still standing there.

I look up at him. Four. Four ninjas fused together. He motions for me to follow him into the supply room.

“Tell me,” was all he says.

I do. He listens. He thinks.

“When you saw how bad it was, how high were you?”

Wait. What? What kind of question is that?

“How high?”

The image comes back. The burns, the ragged flesh. The ground below.

“Maybe thirty feet?”

“Maybe? You can do better than that.”

True. Just like I’d known how fast I could run. How much he weighed. I remember. I analyze.

Me. Hurtling through the air. Damaged. How to minimize the impact? How high?

“Thirty four feet, approximately.”

“How many people were around?”

The scene again. Five cops, two APD, three Capitol. Two randos with their phones pointed at me.

“Seven. Nearby. There were more far away. They didn’t matter.”

“How fast were you moving?”

“Fifty-five feet per second, more or less.”

“Where was your friend?”

“Eight feet up, one hundred fifty feet out. Moving my way.”

“The last monster?”

“A ball of metal, falling. Valeria must be more powerful than we thought.”

“A lot of us are, when someone we care about needs us. How about vehicles?”

“Five on the grounds. None moving or occupied.”

He goes on. I answer his questions. The whole scene is there in my mind. Burned in, in all the details. My damaged body is such a small part of it. Just another detail.

Somewhere in there I had closed my eyes. I open them.

“Thank you.”

Why do I want to go around hugging everyone these days? Well not this time.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I’m sure Meg did,” he says, “Just because you feel better now, doesn’t mean you’re cured. There is no ‘cured.’ There’s only getting better, and it’s a journey.”

Oh, what the hell. He tries to dodge, but I’m too fast for him. I hug him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

School is better. I go most of the day with no flashbacks to the damage. Well, the physical damage. I’m still seeing flashes of Valeria’s face. Those don’t leave me scared and empty, though. Just sad. Okay, and a little bit empty.

I’d missed breakfast, and the bus, due to my walk down memory lane. So I don’t even see any of the other kids from Promise until lunch. It isn’t until the knock at my door that I remembered that I had blown Cindy off the night before. I was supposed to meet her in her room. She must be so pissed at me. I open the door.

Cindy breezes in, folder in hand.

“So I had a couple ideas on how to improve the back,” she starts right in.

“I’m sorry about blowing you off last night,” I say.

“You mean the evening after you were all but killed and were dealing with massive emotional trauma? That last night?”

“That’s the one.”

“Just making sure. Anyway, about these changes.”

“Let’s see,” I say.

Cindy holds up the new sketches.

“Interesting. I think I like it.”

I really do. I concentrate on them for a few seconds, then close my eyes. I feel a breeze on my back. I step in front of my mirror and give a little twirl.

“I love it,” I said, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

I hug her. It feels really nice.

“So,” she says, drawing it out, “tell me about this girl.”

Ugh. She can let the whole burnt to a crisp thing go, but not this. This is awkward. Diving out the window would probably be a little obvious.

“Her name is Valeria.”

“Acceptable. What’s she like?”

I keep it simple. Just the facts. Hot. Smart. Nice. Hot. Previously unaware that I was born a boy. Hot.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad. How’d she take the big reveal?”

“Not well, I think.”

“You think?”

“My phone does not have supernatural healing abilities.”

“Oh. That sucks. You do know we have a landline in the rec room, right?”

“But caller ID.”

“You think secrecy is really the way to go right now?”

“Well . . .”

“If it works for you, great. But does it, really?”

Good question. I have no idea.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. The look on her face . . .”

“What about it? Did she look disgusted? Horrified?”

“Not really. Shocked, I guess.”

“Oh, please. You’ve got to admit it’s a pretty surprising thing to find out. I mean. there’s passing and there’s passing, but you pass with flying colors.”

“But . . .”

“Sure, you could go stealth—hide who you are, but I don’t think you’re going to do that, any more than I am. And there are going to be people who say because of the way we were born, we don’t count. Even though you currently have all the right---”

Wait, what? We? I barely register her picking up her phone. She’s trans? She hasn’t told me much about her past. I’d assumed she was a lesbian, or had some weird issues in her past that made her unplaceable. She practically radiates girl. Even in this body, dressed in frills, I feel butch next to her.

She’s saying something. Holding out her phone.

“What?”

“I said, is that the look?”

She’s showing me a picture of my face. Mouth hanging open. Dazed, shocked look. Yeah, that’s the look. I nod.

“So, do you still have a crush on me?”

“Wait, you know that? But Valeria . . .”

“The puppy dog eyes were a clue. And ‘But Valeria’ what? You can’t have two crushes at once? You’re a girl. You can multitask.”

Stupid face. Always giving me away. Of course I’m still into her.

“You know, if you ever get any money, I’m going to invite you to a poker game. But stop stalling, are you still crushing?”

“I was until you started making fun of me.”

“You know you love it.”

I sort of do. Teasing is fun, from the right person.

“Don’t press your luck.”

Then another fact finally sinks in.

“You aren’t, are you?” I asked, “Into me, that is.”

“Sorry.”

That seems sincere.

“I love you like a sister,” she finishes.

I have to ask.

“So, do you only like boys?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Parker, sweetie, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re just too pretty for me. Too femme.”

Oh, come on. I collapse onto the edge of my bed, face buried in my hands.

“Parker? Parker, honey? It’s okay. You’ll be fine.”

I can’t contain the laughter. It comes pouring out. I’m too femme for her. That’s perfect. I grab her and plant a kiss on her forehead. (I have to stand on tip toe).

“Cindy. That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

We talk. And talk. We go to the dining room just long enough to grab our food. (Yay for sandwich night) and bring it back and keep talking. A counselor knocks on the door at one point to check on us. Probably to make sure our clothes are on.

I grill her about her past. What it was like to grow up in a family that actually understood and accepted her for what she was. Still hard, as it turns out. But better than not having them.

She’s been on blockers since the first sign of puberty when she was ten. And she had somehow managed to get on estrogen at thirteen. She wouldn’t go into details on that. However she had gotten them, that explained her voice, her shape, the physical part of her femininity. Since she had prescriptions, she was able to stay on them even once she ended up in the system. That in itself was a complicated story that I didn’t press her on, but she does tell me that her parents are gone.

They aren’t completely out of the picture though. There was a settlement in a trust fund, but she can’t touch it until she turns eighteen. She isn’t going to be rich (until she becomes a famous fashion designer, of course), but she’ll be able to afford a decent college, and if she decides to go that way, surgery.

I don’t ask the question, but my face betrays me, yet again.

“Not everyone gets bottom surgery, even if they can afford it,” she says, “I’m pretty happy with who I am right now. Going under the knife is a pretty big step.”

I can understand that.

We talk a little more about Halloween, and our costumes. She gets me to promise to get Valeria’s number back and call her. It’s not hard. Maybe hiding is a kind of lying. Maybe not. But I’m pretty much done with it either way.

Then the warning bell for curfew rings. I walk her to the door.

This hug is different. Better. I’ve never had a sister, but I feel like I do now. As the hug breaks, she speaks softly into my ear.

“You know I’m never going to let you forget this.”

She shows me my shocked face on her phone again.

So this is what it’s like to have a sister.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I end up using a lot of the night to catch up on school work I’d missed the day before. My nights out practicing have also been cutting into my study time, so I’m barely ahead on reading. I catch up.

I spend the rest of my time thinking about hiding. Not as in planning to hide, but the idea of hiding. I’ve worried a lot lately about the government showing up and dragging me away. Not so much for my own sake. I could probably get away. But what would happen here at Promise if they showed up? How would they show up? Guns blazing? Tear gas? I didn’t want anyone here to get hurt.

There’s something I can do about that.

I do a little experimenting to make sure that all my abilities are back at peak. I open a door through a blank section of my wall. That works. I find all sorts of random junk in my pockets. Excellent. I even find my phone in my pocket. Completely undestroyed. It’s at only two percent battery though. I turn it off and plug it in.

Huh. That’s weird. I’d tried several times to produce a phone. Never with any luck. I got a toy phone once (pretty convincing looking), but never the real thing. I’d determined that I couldn’t produce any working electronics. A flashlight worked, but not a simple calculator, or digital watch. This time though, without even thinking about it, I’d reached for my phone to check the time, and there it was. Back, as good as new.

Someday I’m going to figure out how all this works. Not this morning though. There are things to do.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

My first class is scheduled for 9:00am today. That should give me an hour to take care of business. I drop a note by the office, explaining that I’m finding my own way to school. It isn’t against the rules, but it’s not especially encouraged. I’d left a different note in my room explaining what I was doing, in case I didn’t come back.

The doors to the U.S. Marshals’ office open at eight. I walk in dressed in a business suit, and carrying a briefcase. Even for this I’m not willing yet to try a different shape. I did use makeup though, to make myself look older (I hope).

“I have information on one of the teens who gained powers. Is there someone I could speak to?” I ask the receptionist.

He doesn’t seem that interested, but asks me to take a seat. Someone will be with me shortly. He places a call from his desk phone and explains what I’d said to him.

I twist Molly through my fingers as I wait. I know where the exits are. The glass front wall looks bulletproof, but not wrecking ball proof, so that will be my emergency exit if I need one. No sign of gas nozzles in the ceiling. There are multiple cameras, at least two of which cover every inch of the lobby.

After about two years, a man enters the lobby from the interior door. He’s wearing a black suit, that he doesn’t look particularly comfortable in. I can sympathize.

“If you could step this way, Ma’am.”

He leads me through the hallways. We stay on the ground floor, and end up somewhere near the back of the building. I estimate there are at least one hallway and one set of rooms between the room we end up in and the back wall of the building.

He leads me into a small conference room. It looks like he’s using it as a temporary office. There are a few chairs stacked against the wall, and one on either side of the small table he’s using as a desk. He walks around the desk and gestures at the chair on my side.

“Have a seat please, Ms. Parker.”

Damn it. Why did I even try? I do not panic this time. I do however, risk a glance around to see if there’s any place someone could be aiming a weapon at me. Yep.

I take a seat.

“I’m Assistant Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal Lawrence Miller. We really appreciate you coming in. You’re only the third to do so.”

“Who else?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, Ms. Parker.”

“You can call me Parker. So, I’m here. What now?”

“Like we said in the announcements, we just have some questions.”

“So you’re not going to try to ship me off to a lab or a prison somewhere?”

“No. We’d just like to know what you know.”

So, for the umpteenth time. I tell my story. Mostly. I don’t give every detail, but I do tell him who I used to be. He probably knows already anyway. He listens without interrupting or taking notes. I assume I’m being recorded.

“May I ask a few questions now?” I ask.

“Of course. I won’t promise to answer them all, though.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since the Tuesday after the first incident.”

“If you wanted to talk to me so badly, why didn’t you come get me?”

“You haven’t done anything wrong. The other two came in the first day we put out the announcement, so we already had the basic outline. We didn’t want to spook you, and you didn’t seem like a threat to anyone who wasn’t a threat to you. Or people around you.”

“Have you been spying on me?.”

“Monitoring. But you’re a little hard to keep track of.”

He pulls out a folder and drops it on the desk. I open it and flip through pictures of me at Promise. Me at school. A picture of Parker 1.0 from my file at Heart. I’m glad I always pull the blinds down at night. And when I shower.

“That’s creepy, you know.”

He doesn’t reply to that.

We talk some more. I probably give him more information than I get, but that’s okay. The more people who are trying to figure this whole thing out, the better. I’m still a little suspicious when he offers to get me a ride to school.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because school starts in fifteen minutes, and you’d probably rather not be late.”

Fair enough.

I’m surprised to see him driving the car that pulls around front. Shouldn’t he have minions for that? I don’t say anything, though. When I get out in front of the school, he hands me a business card.

“If you think of anything else, or learn anything you think we should know, please give me a call. Any time, day or night. I’ll call you if I have anything for you.”

He looks at me.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for school?”

I hold up the briefcase.

“I’ll change when I get inside.”

Not technically a lie.

I watch him drive away. He hadn’t asked for my number. Then again, why would he need to?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“You did what?”

Meg is not thrilled about my visit to the marshal’s office.

“I figured after the thing at the capitol, they were sure to track me down, and I didn't want to endanger anyone here.”

She reads me the riot act. I should have had a responsible adult with me. Maybe even an attorney. I am not responsible for all the kids here, she and the other staff are. It goes on for a while.

“I'm sorry I upset you.”

“Water under the bridge, but I do want you to tell me everything you told him, and anything he told you.”

She takes notes. A lot of notes. There is much sighing.

“Testing? You didn’t agree did you?”

Deputy Miller had asked me to agree to come back in for a series of tests. They are very interested to know exactly what I can do, and want to run some medical tests to see how different I am.

“Of course not, I said I’d have to get your permission for anything like that.”

“And do you want it?”

“Not right now. I am sort of curious, though. Maybe later.”

“Then permission is denied. For now. We wouldn’t want to interfere with your school work.”

“Thank you.”

I finish filling her in on the conversation.

“So you didn’t tell him about your instant wardrobe changes?”

I hadn’t, or about the doors. He seemed trustworthy enough, but I thought it was a good idea to hold something in reserve, just in case.

“No.”

“Good. From what you say, he seems trustworthy enough, but it’s a good idea to hold something in reserve, just in case.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.