by Trisha Leigh
I have no idea what to expect from these Normal kids. Will they suspect I’m not like them? Can they see that I can float, if I want to?
I manage to keep my head down all the way to my locker. All I want is to get there to ditch my sweatshirt, retreat to the girl’s room - if I can figure out where it is - lock myself in a stall for a few minutes, and take a deep breath for the first time since I got here.
And maybe eat my lunch in there. Just for today.
I wiggle the handle of my locker, but it won’t open. I bend down to take a look at it. No jerk’s poured superglue in there or anything.
Before I know it, I’m shaking the stupid locker handle so hard it’s making a racket, and a few people standing near me look over and cock their heads. When I almost whack my own face with my struggling hand, I give up, resting my head against the cool, solid metal for a second, breathing in through my nose.
I am seriously losing it. Over a locker.
Half a second later, a shoulder taller than my head pushes into the metal door, then a large hand with long, thin fingers jiggles the handle side-to-side a couple times and wrenches it up, letting the locker pop open.
I feel the warmth of his nearness against my cheek, countering the chill of the locker, like a shock on my skin. The guy clears his throat, then says quietly, “They’re tricky.”
I barely glance at him before I look down at the floor, but I do catch that he has blond hair and glasses.
“You new here?”
Before I can answer, some guy halfway down the hall hollers, “E! Coming?”
The guy at my locker – “E” - gives his head half a shake, smiles a little, then turns to walk away.
And now everyone’s staring at me. Great.
As soon as I find my way to the bathroom, I place both hands on the rim of one of the sinks, steadying myself there. After a few seconds, I splash my face with water, then reach over to the soap dispenser. Everything about this place feels dirty.
As I’m lathering my hands, I notice the logo on the soap dispenser. The Hub Technology logo appears on every product made at one of the Hubs. It’s five ovals, one for each Hub, intersecting in the shape of an atom with a key as the nucleus. Someone has crossed out the “Hub” in “Hub Technology” and written “Freak” next to it.
Suddenly, I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I duck into a stall, sit on the toilet, bury my face in my hands, and take one, two deep breaths.
I hope with everything in me that all the other kids actually eat in the cafeteria.
Contents
Title page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2.
Chapter 3.
Chapter 4.
Chapter 5.
Chapter 6.
Chapter 7.
Chapter 8.
Chapter 9.
Chapter 10.
Chapter 11.
Chapter 12.
Chapter 13.
Chapter 14.
Chapter 15.
Chapter 16.
Chapter 17.
Chapter 18.
Chapter 19.
Chapter 20.
Chapter 21.
Chapter 22.
Chapter 23.
Chapter 24.
Chapter 25.
Chapter 26.
Chapter 27.
Chapter 28.
Chapter 29.
Chapter 30.
Chapter 31.
Chapter 32.
Chapter 33.
Chapter 34.
Chapter 35.
Chapter 36.
Chapter 37.
Chapter 38.
Chapter 39.
Chapter 40.
Chapter 41.
Epilogue
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ONE
