Chapter 34

I GRAB MY backpack and run. Or at least, I try to, but the ground teeters and the world turns into a long tunnel, and my knees bang hard on the ground.

Luckily for me, the two deep voices don’t seem to hear me. I scramble back, pressing against the wall, and pray pray pray they won’t come into the gym.

Their footsteps clip by the gym doors. A flashlight clicks on, and in the faint light, I can tell it’s two cops.

“...can’t believe we have to be here in the middle of the night,” Cop #1 grumbles.

“It’s probably just those kids smoking weed again, anyway,” Cop #2 says. The flashlight beam swings around. “Hey, come on out, you little punks!” he shouts, as if anyone would be dumb enough to answer.

They’re almost past the gym now. I brace my feet on the ground. The moment they’re gone, I’m making a dash for the door, and I hope the duct tape around my left shoe will hold.

But they stop walking. “What’s that smell?” Cop #2 says.

Cop #1 sniffs. “Firecrackers?”

And they come towards the gym’s side doors.

I haul myself to my feet, but I’m too late. The doors open, and the flashlight beam finds me.

“Hey!” Cop #1 shouts.

I bolt. I slam the gym doors open, sprinting full speed for the front doors, but my dizziness catches up to me, and I stumble. Cop #2 snatches my arm and spins me around. He has me by both shoulders, and anger is boiling in his eyes, but then his expression goes slack.

“Oh my god,” he says. “You’re—”

I stomp him in the shin. He hollers. I tear myself out of his grip and fall back against one of the lobby columns. I need to run. I need to warn Marisa. But my vision is turning black again, and I can’t catch my breath, and by the time I notice Cop #1 has caught up, he’s already reaching out to grab me.

I spin away, losing my balance for a second, but I push off the ground and race back into the gym.

Come on, sparks, I plead, reaching for the fire, the unbearable buzz up my arms, but it’s like I’m scraping the bottom of a well. Come on!

“Call it in!” Cop #1 shouts behind me. “I’ll chase!”

Oh, no. Don’t call it in. I turn, thinking to spark Cop #2’s walkie-talkie, but Cop #1 is catching up way too fast. I shove through the side doors, my lungs burning, and bolt down the hallway, the darkness cut through by Cop #1’s flashlight.

I need somewhere to hide. Somewhere to calm down and rest and wait for my sparks to recover.

And—and Marisa. I have to warn her.

I skid out into the cafeteria. My eyes land on a bright red box on the wall.

Fire alarm. Our signal.

I dive for it. The white handle snaps down.

Nothing happens.

I keep running, waiting for the deafening wail to come on. Maybe the system is just old. Maybe the system is just slow.

Or maybe the system was disconnected for the construction.

Across the cafeteria, I spy another alarm and pull it.

Still nothing.

“Hey!” Cop #1 shouts, huffing and puffing. “Kid, stop running!”

He’s slowing down from exhaustion, but so am I. I clutch the lockers for balance and call for my sparks again. The moment I feel a glimmer of something, I hurl it at Cop #1, but I might as well have thrown a speck of dust at him for how much he’s unfazed.

He slows to a walk, his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. This is my chance to shove him over and keep running, but I’m out of breath, my skull squeezing around my brain and my legs turning to jelly.

“Kid,” Cop #1 gasps, wiping his forehead. “I’m…not going…to hurt you. I want to help, okay?”

I back away. I don’t care if he sounds like he means it. He has no idea what me and Marisa are up against.

My back hits a door handle. I twist it and, quick as quicksilver, I dodge into the room and shove a chair against the handle.

The door rattles. Cop #1 is trying to get in.

“Kid,” he says again. “I promise. You’re safe now. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

I huddle against the wall and close my eyes. I hold my hands up, palms facing each other, and try to imagine sparks coming between them again, the feeling of a storm desperate to break free. But the little sliver I feel is too far away, and my shaking arms are too weak to pull it in.

Come on, Dany. Think fast. Cop #2 is already calling it in. If you don’t do something, They’re going to march right in.

So do something.

“I know this is scary,” Cop #1 says. “I know we seem scary. But we’re here to help you, okay? Where’s your mom? Is she here with you?”

I imagine Marisa, all alone in the cargo-box office. If she noticed something was wrong, she would have busted in already. Either she’s still sleeping, or…or the cops already found her and arrested her.

Or…

No. There’s no other or. I can’t think like that.

I need to get out of here. I need to find her. And then we need to run.

“Listen, I know you’ve been through a lot,” Cop #1 says. “But it’s all over now. You’re safe. You just have to open the door.”

Yeah, fat chance.

I tune out his voice. I picture the space between my hands and focus.

My fingertips go numb. The buzzing spreads to my wrists, my elbows, my shoulders.

“And we’ll take you back to the station,” Cop #1 says. “We’ll get you some warm clothes and hot chocolate. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Brody.” It’s Cop #2, calling from across the cafeteria. “There’s somebody here. They want to talk to the kid.”

I can hear the scowl in Cop #1’s voice when he says, “Who?”

“He says he’s the kid’s legal guardian. He says the kid’ll listen.”

Oh, no.

I don’t have another legal guardian. It’s always been just me and Marisa.

But only one person would make that claim, and I know who it is before I hear his brisk footsteps echoing on the linoleum.

Doctor Jonathan Heed.