My face flushed at the compliments. My friends at Rent-A-Kid were used to my art. So were my teachers, for that matter. Being around new friends who found my talent impressive made me long for the life I had planned before I discovered the truth about Rent-A-Kid. Had the Sarah Lawrence College art program really accepted me? What would they say if I called to check on my application? Any chance my tuition was actually paid?
I mentally kicked myself in the head. Of course not, dummy. They never intended for me to leave the medical clinic. Why would they shell out money for an education I'd never use?
My old dreams were gone, and I needed a new plan, one that included Drake and our baby and, apparently, Brad. They loved it here, but did I? Would I want to stay in this area? The constant sun and Barbie Doll girls walking around didn't bother me... much. Maybe that would change. My pale skin and brown hair didn't exactly scream local, either, but whatever. If I couldn't handle being different from everyone else, I had bigger problems than hair color and lack of pigmentation.
I could get used to it here. The perfect weather, scent of salt-water and ever-present sound of crashing waves soothed me, even if I didn't love everything about Southern California. Like the sagging palm trees with their bloated hula skirts that lined the streets. Why did people like them so much? Palms had to be the ugliest trees ever.
Drake nudged me from the backseat. "What are you thinking about?"
"Can't you just slip in and find out for yourself?" I countered, more harshly than I'd intended.
He softened his voice. "Sometimes I like to have actual conversations."
"Thank you," said Brad. "Someone is finally considering my feelings in all this."
"Yeah, dude, because it's all about you," said Drake.
"Palm trees," I blurted out.
"Palm trees?" They both spoke in unison.
"Yes. Horrible, ugly, abomination of nature palm trees! That's what I was thinking about."
Drake laughed. "Here I thought it was something serious."
"This is very serious. Have you seen those things?" I gestured to the outside, where they all lived, hundreds of eyesores littering California's coastline.
At Rent-A-Kid, we had real trees: pines and aspens and Douglas firs, trees that stood tall and proud and filled the air with the heady scent of woods.
I missed my life there at times, as strange as that may have seemed. Life had been good, at least the parts that passed as normal for my friends and me.
I glanced down at the sketch in my hands. The scary man's eyes stared at me as if trying to read my mind.
Nothing felt normal anymore.
"Drake, I think it's time we tried to link to Luke and Lucy. We need to tell them what's going on."
"Are you sure you're strong enough? Last time it took you days to recover, and you've been sick for weeks."
"I know, but I have a bad feeling about all this. We need more information."
Chapter 7 – Lucy
The large man in the dark suit glared at Lucy. "Tell me about her friends. Who did she hang out with? Who would she contact on the outside for help?"
Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her worst evil eye. Such a stereotype, as if he'd just walked off the set of Men in Black. He just needed the sunglasses to complete the look. "I've told you everything. Sam didn't know anyone on the outside. None of us do. How would we? As for her friends—we were it, and really only out of pity. She was a total loner. We felt sorry for her."
Mr. Black—Could that seriously be his real name?—was the new "Head Grunt" at Rent-A-Kid. His brown, high-and-tight crew cut screamed ex-military, as did the way he stood at attention and wore his suit as if it were a uniform. He towered over her, probably going for the intimidating look, his beady brown eyes staring at her over his crooked nose.
He slammed his meaty fist on the table. "Look, smartass, I've got a guy questioning your brother. I may not have super powers like you freaks, but I will find out if you're lying."
Lucy didn't flinch. "Luke will tell you the same thing. We hung out with her once in a while, to make her feel better. Yeah, she was our friend, but we didn't know she was planning to escape. I thought she was in New York. Why isn't she in New York, by the way? Why did she need to escape at all?"
The man reached for the gun in his holster, then moved his hand away when he saw Lucy watching him. Lucy waited for him to answer, to say anything.
His voice hovered on the brink of a scream. "I'm asking the questions here, not you. Who is her outside contact? She must have one. Tell me now!"
Lucy grumbled in frustration. He had to actually answer a question for her lie-detecting para-power to work. Either he knew that and avoided giving her what she needed, or he was just a pain in the ass naturally. She suspected both. "You can yell at me all you want, Mr. Black. I can't tell you what I don't know. Would you rather I make something up just to get you off my back?"
Behind her, a door opened and closed. Lucy turned.
The man who'd been sent to interrogate Luke stood with a creased brow, sweaty pits, and a frown that made Lucy fight back a laugh. It looked as though he'd had as much luck with her twin as Mr. Black had with her. Bummer.
The two men stormed out of the room, taking copious amounts of testosterone with them.
Lucy leaned back with a tight smile and twirled her long dark ponytail around her fingers. She stared at the blank wall in front of her, unsurprised when Luke walked through it.
"That was fun!" His grin, so boyish and sweet, reminded her of their childhood, when they still had hope for a better future. Luke switched to their made-up secret language. "Oh cheer up, Sis. I'm sure Sam is fine. She'll contact us when she can. She just needs to rest a bit."
"I know. I just miss her like crazy. I miss her pale little face haunting the halls!"
Luke's head perked up like a puppy. "They're coming. Catch you on the flip side, Sis." He faded back into the wall, leaving Lucy alone in the stale room.
Mr. Black and his sidekick came back in, looking even meaner than they had before.
He growled at her with the face of a bulldog. "You and your brother have been less than helpful, but we have to let you go. However, know this: if you are hiding anything, it won't end well for either of you. Got it?"
Lucy stood and gave a mock salute. "Yes, Sir. Permission to return to my dorm, Sir."
Mr. Black balled his fists and looked about ready to swing.
Lucy knew she should feel fear, but couldn't muster it. Her world seemed more like a dream than reality. How could she be scared of a dream?
Before it could get ugly, Sidekick not-too-roughly ushered her out of the room.
Luke waited in the hall. The tasteful Tudor-style furniture of the office building had been cleared out shortly after Sam and Drake had escaped a month ago, replaced by a tacky military-like set-up to house the new grunts: metal desks and filing cabinets that lacked any class, footlockers for supplies, and wire cages that held weapons under lock and key. It looked like an old G.I. Joe board game had thrown up on their campus—grown men turned into war-playing boys.
There had been guards at the entrance before, but nothing so overt as now. They'd infiltrated her school like swarms of annoying ants, crawling all over the once pristine grounds.
Lucy ran her hand over the chrome desks as they walked out, thinking back to the rich mahogany wood that had once sat there. Why take out all the nice furniture? The grunts could've at least pretended to fit in.
She had a theory that they needed this set-up to convince themselves they were real men doing a real job. Because holding guns on a school full of kids and teenagers is so brave.
A guard let them out of the building, and bright sunlight blinded her. Two hours of interrogations was two hours too long.
Luke slung his arm over her shoulders. "You hungry?"
"Starved!"
They walked the winding paths to The Hub, a place that had once, not so long ago, been festive and fun. Desp
ite the onslaught of ugly from their new "guests," the cobbled walking paths and perfectly manicured lawns, shrubs and trees refused to give up all of their Oxford-like charm. The cold season had sent its calling card early this year, in light dustings of snow, and the campus looked like a winter wonderland.
Lucy and Sam had loved this season. The campus came alive with lighted Christmas trees, choirs singing and festive decorations that lined walkways.
Lucy didn't think this year would be very jolly.
All the shops in The Hub remained open for business, but with armed guards lining the cobbled sidewalks, it didn't attract as many students as it once had. Still, they needed food, and the cafeteria had closed about halfway into their little chat with the Men in Black.
A bell jingled as they walked into Café Amour—an ironic name given the campus's very un-loving environment—and took a seat by the window. As busy as they'd been with classes and getting used to the change of regime, they hadn't been to the café since before the 'invasion.' It was nice to return to something semi-normal.
They sat at their usual table in the corner. The café boasted a French theme, with black and white photos of the Eiffel Tower lining the coffee colored walls.
"So, did you catch him in any lies?" Luke asked.
They'd been speaking in their made-up language more in the last week than in their entire lives combined, it seemed.
"No. He didn't offer any information, probably so he could avoid lying."
"Luce, you could've asked him a question and watched for signs. You should be a natural, like in that show Lie to Me."
"Ha! I'll work on it. Sucks that they canceled that show."
A skinny blond waitress came over to take their order.
Lucy closed the menu she'd been holding without looking in it. "Where's Amy, the girl who used to work here?" She noticed a new face behind the counter as well. A disturbing thought came to her. "And the rest of the staff?"
The waitress looked up from her pad and Lucy gasped at the vacant, deadened eyes that stared back at her. "They're gone. New management. What can I get you?"
Lucy found her voice and placed her order. "Hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and a Coke, please."
"And I'll have—"
The blond interrupted Luke. "Sorry, we don't have hot turkey sandwiches anymore—or Coke. Read the new menu."
Luke and Lucy both opened their menus, actually reading them for the first time in about a year.
The menu had been redone, and had only three choices:
Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich $7.99
Cold Turkey Sandwich $9.99
Bottled Water $3.99
Lucy glared at the girl. "What the hell kind of crap is this? You're overcharging us for this?"
The waitress backed away and raised her hands. "Don't blame me. Talk to the people in charge. We can only serve what they give us."
Lucy and Luke shared a glance, then got up and walked out, slamming the door behind them.
Lucy's deliberate steps quickened into an angry run. "I can't believe this crap, what the hell is going on here?"
Luke kept easy pace beside her. "I don't know, but things are going from bad to worse. Whatever trouble Sam and Drake caused by escaping, I think it's just the beginning."
The headmaster's offices sat in the center of campus in a converted mansion that might have graced an early twentieth-century English landscape. It retained its old world dignity despite the slew of guards hovering around the main entrance like bored flies.
The head fly stepped forward as they approached.
"State your business."
Lucy slowed her breathing enough to scowl at the man. "You've got to be kidding me. We need to speak to the headmaster. Duh." She gestured at the building.
"He's not available."
Luke flexed his muscles—trying to look badass, Lucy assumed—and stepped forward. "He has an open door policy. He can't be unavailable."
"What is the nature of your request?" asked the drone in black.
Why so much black? Lucy wondered. Like guards gone Goth around here. Ugh. "I'm hungry." Lucy pushed her petite frame into his personal space. "And the food here has turned to shit. Overpriced shit at that. We need to talk to the Headmaster. Now."
"All administrative and campus-related questions must go through the new headquarters."
Lucy frowned. "You mean that sorry excuse for a bunker with all the Men in Black wannabes? No way." Had Headmaster Higgins become someone's puppet?
Speak of the devil. The headmaster himself walked by, catching Lucy's eye as he did.
She shoved the guard aside, who stumbled in surprise. "What's going on, Headmaster? Why can't we talk to you? Why the food change and all the guards?"
The headmaster fidgeted with his briefcase. His normally impeccably tailored suit was wrinkled and frumpy. Deep lines marred the dark skin of his face, and dark bags hung under his eyes.
"I can't talk about it, Lucy, I'm sorry." He wasn't lying. Whatever he meant by "can't" was truth to him. "Just do what they say." He walked away, leaving them surrounded by angry guards.
Luke dragged her out and steered her towards their dorm room, located in another mansion on campus, built in similar style to the headmaster's offices but on a smaller scale. "Well?"
"He's not lying. And he's in trouble. Something really bad is happe—"
A voice erupted from the loudspeaker. "ATTENTION STUDENTS. CURFEW IS NOW 9 P.M. BE IN YOUR DORMS BY 9 P.M."
Luke stared at the sky as though the man behind the voice would magically appear there. "That was succinct."
"Yeah. Let's get out of here. We need to start thinking of a plan."
***
The twins shared a suite on the floor lovingly referred to as the Creepy Crawly Ward. They'd just made it to their door when two of the younger students, a freshman and a sophomore, approached them.
Lucy couldn't remember their names or para-powers, but like all the Rent-A-Kids, she did recognize them from around campus.
"Luke, Lucy, I'm glad we caught you. Can we talk in your room?"
Luke raised an eyebrow. Lucy shrugged. They opened their door and let the boys into their spacious common room.
Luke flopped into a recliner and gestured to the overstuffed couch. "You guys can sit. What's up?"
The freshman shook his head once and stood in the middle of the modest room, twitching as though a bug had crawled up his pants. His friend stood next to him with his eyes shut and lips pressed into a tight line.
Lucy leaned against the couch and cleared Luke's dirty clothes off it, but didn't sit down. Her stomach grumbled loud enough for the whole room to hear.
The freshman spoke to the floor. "I'm Gary. This is Greg. Umm... well, a few of us were wondering... since, like, you were, like, best friends with Sam—you know, the girl who escaped—that maybe you'd like to join us in a Freedom Fighter meeting tonight." Only after he'd gotten all those painful words out did he finally attempt eye contact, albeit briefly.
Luke's face hardened and he shot Lucy a warning look.
She nodded. Best play it safe. "You know our rooms, everyone's rooms, are under surveillance."
The boy smiled and nodded to his friend. "Greg disrupts electrical waves and can manipulate surveillance equipment. Right now, anyone listening will hear a loop of silence until we're done. They'll also see an empty room."
Lucy was impressed despite herself. "What are the Freedom Fighters?"
Gary's voice dropped to a barely perceptible whisper. "A group of students are coming together to, you know, fight back, and... escape."
The last word floated on the air so gently, Lucy wasn't sure whether she'd really heard it or only imagined it. How could they possibly escape with the campus under heightened security? If it was impossible before Sam and Drake got away, it was even less likely now. No, they weren't stupid enough to get involved in something that crazy. It would be suicide.
The boy's brown eyes turned int
o saucers, pleading with Lucy. "Will you at least come to the meeting and see what it's about?"
She looked at Luke, whose face had an odd expression of rage and mania. Did he want to do this? Not happening. No way, no how. She crossed her arms and held her ground.
Which was why she was so surprised when later that night she found herself sitting in the middle of a group of Freedom Fighters planning their great escape. Suicide mission indeed.
Chapter 8 – Sam
The police station did not match the image I'd conjured from my mind. Maybe too many Law & Order reruns had corrupted me. The attractive Spanish style structure with warm honey tones reminded me more of a country club.
Brad took the lead when we walked in, telling the clerk whom we were there to see. Drake and I sat on a bench against the wall and waited.
'Are you nervous?' he asked.
"Yes. What if they don't believe us? What if they lock us up?"
He squeezed my hand. 'Even if they don't believe us, we aren't committing any crimes. Don't worry, we'll be fine.'
Brad sat down on the other side of me, sandwiching me between the two of them. "My contact is on the phone right now. It'll be a few minutes."
I clutched at my purse. Despite the class of the building, the police station still teemed with some interesting characters.
A guy dressed as an attractive woman sat across from us, tapping his—her?—foot impatiently and holding a bag to his chest.
A woman wearing nothing but an elastic, red body suit, with so many holes it revealed more than it covered, walked by in handcuffs, escorted by a young officer in uniform. She stumbled on her stilettos, but I caught her arm and helped her back up.
She gave me a blank, glassy-eyed stare. 'Need some... gotta get some... body aches... hurts... burning... pain... need to get out of here....'
Her sunken cheeks and emaciated form made me shudder. Before, I might have passed judgment, but now I understood what it was like to come off something like that. Granted, my addiction had been forced on me, but detox would have been very hard if I'd had access to the drugs my body craved.
Forbidden Fire (Forbidden #2) Page 4
