William lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. He’d fallen asleep.
“Hey, Rip Van Stinkle.”
It was Victoria. Short, bobbed dark brown hair, big eyes, and spitting mean. She leaned away to make sure the teacher was still occupied, then turned back to William.
“Wake up, Little Willy. You drooled all over your desk.”
The boy at the desk behind her giggled—Isaac, the only black kid in the class. Isaac laughed no matter what Victoria said. “Little Willy,” he echoed.
William wiped his lip and used his sleeve to mop up the tiny, bubbly puddle on his desk. He’d been dreaming, something about his old school in Blackwater. A school that seemed so long ago and far away it could have been a dream. “Leave me alone,” he whispered.
Victoria crossed her eyes and stuck out her upper teeth. “Weave me awone. I’m sweepy.”
Isaac snorted and buried his face in his hands.
William wiped at the corners of his eyes. His head hurt. This class—Ms. Fortune’s—was the most boring, and he almost always fell asleep. It was all about some weird kind of geometry and mathematics that William couldn’t make sense of. Victoria picked right up on it, but to him it was just squiggles and nonsense numbers.
Victoria stared. “Do you think I’m mean to you, Little Willy?”
William glared. “I hate you.”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone. I actually love you. Because everyone loves…” She paused. “Little Willy.”
This time Isaac lost it.
“Class!”
Ms. Fortune had turned toward them. Fat Ms. Fortune, in her long black dress with flakes of dandruff on her shoulders. Her breasts were so enormous they sometimes smeared what she was writing on the whiteboard. “Time’s up. Pass up your papers, please.” Victoria smiled at the teacher and flipped her hair behind her ears. She held her paper proudly, showing William all her neatly inked answers—all of them right, of course—and passed it forward.
William stared at his paper. He’d drawn a battle scene before drifting off—giant robots shooting lasers at a tentacled monster. He hadn’t even bothered trying to do the equations. What the heck was non-Euclidean sigil geometry anyway? It wasn’t just hard, it was impossible. But pretty much everything had gotten harder since he’d been brought to this place—how long ago was it? Three months? Five?
At first he’d simply refused to participate in anything—classes, playtime, computer games, even talking to the other kids. But after two days of self-imposed isolation he realized he couldn’t keep it up. The teachers were all weird, but the kids were pretty normal. Well, normal like he was normal—all of them super-smart in different ways, kids who would have been in gifted classes in any normal school in the normal world. Most would have been picked on by the kids who weren’t so bright. They were overly polite and reserved, with one notable exception.
William passed his paper forward and pressed his fists against his forehead.
Dr. Regardie, who ran the school, told him he would be able to talk to his mom again. Soon, too, if he did the classwork and meditations, played the required computer games, and got with the program. When William first arrived, Dr. Regardie had let him talk to his mom on the phone. She had said she was okay, that everything was fine, that he should be a good boy and do what was asked of him. But he could tell she wasn’t okay. She was lying the best she could, but she was his mom, and he knew. But at least she was alive. That was something.
So he played along. He smiled at Dr. Regardie and agreed to get with the program. Fake it until you make it, like his mom used to say when they were on the run. He studied and did his homework, writing reports on the gods of Babylonia and Chaldea, tracing patterns in the air in his meditation exercises, and fighting to keep his eyes open when Ms. Fortune droned on about nonlocality and other planes of existence. He didn’t even complain when they had to give blood once a week. A skinny nurse with arms full of tattoos drew the blood into a series of small tubes. She was good at making it not hurt too much and said their blood was being checked to make sure they all stayed healthy. Everyone was used to it by now and looked forward to the two cookies they got as a reward for not crying.
Now, here he was, wherever here was—somewhere pretty far north because there was nothing around except snow and the trees were all Christmas trees—and he wasn’t a student; he was a prisoner, living in a jail. It was pretending to be a school, sure, but if you can’t leave a place, you’re in jail. Just like at El Varón’s, where he and his mom had been held by the drug lord in his enormous, gated mansion, where all the doors were locked, the guards outside had guns, and there were cameras watching everything.
Jail.
And behind it all was Lily, the woman the kids spoke about only in whispers. The red-haired woman who had pursued his family all the way from Blackwater before kidnapping him and his mom and bringing him to this strange, isolated school. William hated saying her name, and apparently all the others did, too, so they just said Her. When William told this roommate, Colin, about how he’d been held prisoner in Blackwater and then chased all the way to Guatemala, the boy hadn’t been surprised. All the kids had their own stories, Colin had explained. Their parents had been told they were going to a very special, exclusive school and then they were taken out of their normal lives and transported in airplanes and military trucks to this place.
“School of Suck,” Victoria called it. She was right about that.
So William played along as best he could. It was all part of the program.
But it was no longer possible to get with the program. He’d lost his ability to concentrate, then he couldn’t sleep for most of the night, and now all he wanted to do was sleep. And sleep was a crapshoot, anyway, because nightmares were always waiting to catch him at his most vulnerable moments. Terrible, dark dreams about being in El Varón’s subterranean sacrificial cavern, surrounded by a wall of severed heads, and screaming until he was as hoarse as the bat thing—Camazotz—crawled into his body and took him over. His memories of that experience, of being possessed by the ancient Mayan god, were murky, and what he remembered made him shaky and sick to his stomach. A feeling of being squished into a small place in his body while something else took over. Tasting someone else’s blood in his mouth while holding a long, nasty black knife. And, worst of all, his mother staring at him, her eyes wide and face splattered with gore, as if he were a monster. Which was exactly what he had become for those few horrifying moments.
Just last night he’d woken up hanging upside down off the side of his mattress, soaked in sweat, with Colin eyeing him warily from his bed across the room.
He kept trying not to think about that.
And everything was hard now, even talking to the other kids. Most just left him alone. So he plodded through the day, ignored the abuse from Victoria and the frustrated demands of the teachers, sat silent and alone at meals, and slept every chance he could. The darkness, the unconsciousness—when it wasn’t interrupted by nightmares—was so much better than being awake.
He had learned one thing since being ripped from his normal life in Blackwater: The more you ignore what’s out there, and the more you just go inside yourself, the quieter it is. It’s empty and dark and lonely, but when the nightmares stay away it’s peaceful. Then, if you’re lucky, the silence takes over and it’s like being in the deepest, dreamless sleep.
Recess was the worst.
They didn’t go outside anymore, now that the snow drifts were up to the windows, so they played in a large multipurpose room connected to the cafeteria. A few kids kicked around a rubber ball, but most sat in groups, talking, playing chess and a lame collectible card game about Egyptian deities. William, as usual, sat alone, slumped half-asleep next to a potted tree.
He woke up to Victoria’s foot prodding him in the ribs.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Victoria coyly checked to see if anyone was watching. “Sit up and listen to me.”
William straightened up. “What, so you can say mean stuff to me? I’d rather sleep.”
She knelt next to him. “I don’t like you, but I’m not going to be mean right now. I have something serious to tell you. You need to listen.”
William stared. It was probably a setup for one of her practical jokes. But he was too tired to protest. “What?”
“Here’s the thing. When I first got here, there was a kid named Simon. He was nice and everything, but one day he just started crying in class. And then he stopped working. He just cried all the time. They said he was depressed and made him take pills but that just made him weirder. And then he wouldn’t stop talking. Like, ever. Just blabbing even if no one was listening.”
William wished she would shut up. He slouched and stared at the floor.
“He got sent to Dr. Regardie all the time. Then the teachers just stopped paying attention to him. Like he was invisible. He’d just sit there, like you, falling asleep. Or talking to himself.” She lifted her head and looked around the room again. “Smile and pretend like we’re having a fun conversation. Come on, moron. Act happy for the cameras.” She poked him in his shoulder.
“Ouch,” he said. Then forced a smile. “Okay, moron.”
She lowered her head so that her hair fell in her face. Her voice got quieter. “Then one day She came in the classroom. Everyone got really quiet. She walked up to Simon, whispered something in his ear, then held his hand like he was in kindergarten and walked out with him.”
William shivered. “What happened?”
She looked up at him. Her eyes were big, like those of the girls in the anime movies he used to watch. She covered her mouth, lowering her voice further. “We never saw him again. And no trucks left all that week. No helicopters, either. You know that’s the only way people leave here.”
“So…”
“She killed him. I know she did. We all knew it. We were so scared no one wanted to talk about it. She killed him and who knows what they did with his body. Somebody said they saw her taking him out to the big black dome.”
That was scary. All the kids talked about the black dome in hushed voices. They could see it from the playground, but they knew better than to ask the teachers about it. No one understood why it seemed so much creepier than all the other buildings, but somehow, nonetheless, they all just knew it was a bad place. William had once found himself staring at it through the playground fence, unable to pull his eyes away, his body locked in fear.
Victoria coughed and looked up. Isaac stood next to them. “Hi, Isaac. Me and Little Willy are talking about the test.”
“Okay, cool,” he said. His eyes said, I know what you’re talking about. “I’ll see you later.” He walked away.
William was wide awake now. “So he didn’t get with the program and they killed him?”
“That’s what happens. If you don’t do what they ask. If you don’t do your work and act like a baby and sleep all the time. I don’t really like you but I don’t want to see you die, either.”
William shivered. “What are we doing here? Why are they teaching us all this weird stuff?”
She leaned a little closer. Her breath smelled like the garlicky bean soup they’d had for lunch. “Duh. I know you’re not that stupid. This is a magic school. But not like in the movies. We don’t get to fly broomsticks or learn fun spells. They’re not doing this for us. She needs us for something. It’s her plan. She’s the boss; Dr. Regardie does what she tells him to, and everyone else listens to Dr. Regardie. So you have to get with the program like Dr. Dogturdy says. Because if you act like Simon, and you don’t do what you’re supposed to do, she’ll come and take you away. To the black dome.”
William’s throat tightened. “I hate her. She killed my dad. And she has my mom locked up somewhere.”
“Well, you’re lucky. My parents just gave me away. She said I was going to an exclusive school, and they didn’t even have to pay anything. And that’s all they ever cared about—money and me getting good grades so they looked smart to their friends.”
“I’m sorry,” William said.
“You’ll be more sorry if you don’t start acting normal.”
William nodded. It still felt odd that she was being nice to him. “I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right. But you have to talk quietly about all this stuff and only where it’s noisy, because Dr. Regardie can listen in when you’re in your bedroom or in class.” She moved her mouth so close to his ear he could feel her breath. “Me and Isaac and a couple other kids are trying to figure out a way to get out of here.”
“Really? Seriously? How are—”
Victoria cut him off. “Hi, Ms. Fortune,” she said, standing up. “Is it time to go to class?”
William turned. Ms. Fortune towered above him, pendulous breasts like boulders dangling perilously from a cliff. “William,” she said, ignoring Victoria. “Dr. Regardie would like to see you in his office.”
Dr. Regardie stared from behind an enormous desk covered in piles of paper, old books, and stone statues. A sculpted black creature with wings like a bat’s reminded William too much of the bloody idol at El Varón’s. He couldn’t look at it.
Regardie spoke with a slight lisp. “How are you getting along, William? Your studies”—he flipped through some papers—“are not quite what we expected. And it seems to me you’re spending more time sleeping than doing your work.”
William stared at his hands. “I’ve been tired a lot.”
Regardie nodded. “Do you miss your mother, William?”
William sighed. “Yes. I wish I could talk to her.”
“Well, I can make that happen, you know. But first you need to show some initiative. I know you’re a smart boy, William. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t highly intelligent—and gifted in other important ways, too. But you need to apply those gifts. The work we do here is very special. There is no other school like it in the world.”
William straightened up. “Why is it so special, Dr. Regardie? What is this all for?”
Regardie smiled. “It will become clear in time. If I explained it to you now, I don’t think you would understand it. You don’t have the conceptual framework yet. But the program is very well constructed, with specific goalposts, each building upon the previous. When you graduate—and I hope you will—you’ll have a very bright future ahead of you. You will make your mother proud.”
William blinked. Like many of the adults here, Dr. Regardie was good at saying nothing with a lot of words.
“Do you need help with your work? I can arrange for tutoring, or have one of the other students work with you. And if you need help staying awake or staying focused—I can give you some medicine.”
William sat up straighter. “I can do it. I promise.” If it keeps me away from you and Her I’ll do anything. “And you promise you’ll let me talk to my mom? Because that would really help me feel better.”
“I promise, William. Let’s bring you back in two weeks. If your studies improve—and I know you can make that happen—I’ll arrange for a phone call to your mother.”
Colin had hair that always stuck up and he bounced on his toes when he walked. He talked nonstop, even when it was obvious William wasn’t listening. But William liked his British accent, so even when he wasn’t paying attention he didn’t mind the sound. It reminded him of the shows his aunt liked to watch on public television.
Their room was sparse. Kid-sized beds, two desks, two Apple computers with speakers and a pair of VR goggles, a bookshelf, and a tiny refrigerator stocked with bottles of water. No Internet, either—only a button marked MESSAGE DR REGARDIE and a link to the school intranet, where he could work on his lessons and save his documents.
Colin pulled off his headset. “This game is so annoying.” He was playing Merkaba, one of three crappy games loaded on the Macs.
William sat at his desk. “I’ll play. It’s less boring that way.”
Colin seemed surprised. William usually came back to the room and crawled into bed. “Okay.”
William put on the headset and wiggled his finger on the trackpad. His headgear vibrated to show it had connected.
MERKABA
V. 6.2
JOINING SESSION
A rainbow pinwheel spun for what felt like forever as it loaded.
Then the game world opened up. It was pretty lame, nowhere near as realistic as Gears of War or the other shooters he’d played on El Varón’s Xbox. There was no shooting in Merkaba. Just puzzle solving, drawing shapes in the air, and going from one boring level to the next through glowing gateways.
Colin’s avatar stood before him, waving. A generic boy in a black robe.
“You look like a dork,” William said.
“Takes one to know one,” Colin replied.
An hour later they were still playing.
“What’s the symbol here?” Colin asked. His robed avatar was standing over a black sphere, drawing patterns in the air. Stars, polygons, and connected lines. “I can’t remember the shape or the word.”
William held down the forward key and ran toward Colin. “Here,” he said. With his finger on the trackpad, he traced a glowing, seven-pointed star over the Venus sphere, then said the weird code words, “Hekas, hekas, este bebeloi.”
Even through his headphones he could hear Colin bouncing in his chair. The sphere burst into light, turning the screen momentarily white. And then they stood in front of a circular portal, thrumming with electric blue energy.
“Entering Sphere Number Seven. Sign of Venus.” Always the same lady’s voice, soft and robotic.
Colin’s avatar dimmed. “I have to pee,” he said. “And I should probably do my report.” His avatar blinked out in a cloud of sparkles. “I might go see if Isaac wants to work on it with me. He’s good at the Babylonian stuff. Can you wait for me?”
“No way,” William said, adjusting his headset. He was already through the gate to a new world. Sphere Seven was underwater, and he was swimming toward a ruined temple poking out of the sandy seafloor. Maybe this game wasn’t so bad. Each world was a little more complex and the graphics were getting better, too.
The temple walls loomed before him, wrapped in tendrils of swaying seaweed.
It was even getting a little scary.
All the ancient cosmology stuff was overloading his brain—gods with weird names and rituals and stories about what happens after you die and your soul goes to live forever someplace out among the stars. Sacrifices and chanting and gods that were partly animals. It reminded him too much of what he’d experienced in Guatemala, in El Varón’s subterranean chamber, and he had to fight to keep those memories locked away. But at least they weren’t studying Mayan gods, just Egyptian and Sumerian and Chaldean and Babylonian so far. If they got to Mayan gods he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to sit through class without having a panic attack.
Ms. Fortune was going on about ancient Sumeria. When she spoke about the ancient gods it was like she was talking about her best friends. The kids joked she was old enough to have known them personally.
“William,” she said.
William jumped. Victoria glared at him. Crap. Once again, he’d been lost in his own head. “Yes, Ms. Fortune?”
“Step up to my desk.”
William’s guts felt as if they’d been sucked out with a vacuum cleaner. Being called on when he hadn’t been paying attention was bad, but being called to the front of the room was what he dreaded the most. And now he needed to pee, too. He got up and walked to the cluttered desk.
Ms. Fortune pulled a cart from the side of the room and moved it next to William. On top of the cart was something the size of a football standing on end, covered with a black cloth. She pointed with a thick, knobby finger. “Take off the cover.”
William swallowed. He glanced out at the class. Victoria stared at him blankly.
“Go ahead,” Ms. Fortune said.
William pulled off the cloth.
Beneath it was a squat statue. A humanoid torso in grayish, pocked stone. The head was knobby and pointed, with two black, almond-shaped eyes sticking out of its otherwise featureless face.
“Put your hands on it,” Ms. Fortune said.
William shivered. The room felt colder. He didn’t want to touch this thing. He didn’t even want to be near it.
“Touch it, William,” she said. “It won’t bite.”
No one laughed. The class had gone silent. The heating unit kicked on and William jumped.
Ms. Fortune watched him, her eyes uncharacteristically bright.
William reached out and lowered both of his hands. At first he felt nothing. Just cold stone, weathered smooth by thousands of years. And then his vision went white.
His arms stiffened, as if frozen by a strong electric current. For a brief moment, he was certain he’d been permanently blinded. But then the images and sounds flashed in his head, in rapid, almost stroboscopic succession—people in strange costumes, speaking words he couldn’t quite understand. A queen in a feathered headdress, lifting a squirming, bloody newborn baby in front of a crowd of men in black robes. People dancing wildly to crazed, otherworldly flutes and drums.
And then it stopped. William stood up to his knees in a reed-lined river under a crescent moon and a sky full of stars. Alone. The smell of the murky water and pungent vegetation was almost overpowering, and in the distance he saw the dark outline of what looked like a flat-topped pyramid.
His hands were those of an older child, but the skin was much darker. When he caught his reflection in the water the face of someone else stared back at him—an older kid with deep brown skin and black hair. He was wearing a simple white robe, its hem floating on the brackish surface. In his palms he held a ceramic cup full of inky liquid. He drank from the cup. It tasted like pomegranate juice, but a metallic aftertaste made him think of blood. He poured the remainder into the water, where it spread in an oily slick. An offering.
A breeze ruffled the reeds, whispering.
The water beneath him bubbled, eddies swirling around his legs. He stretched his arms above his head, bringing them to the shape of a V as he tilted his head back, his eyes turning to the stars. He’d never seen stars so bright, so full of power. From each of them emerged a string of energy, shooting out toward him from across the black void. The strings of starlight pierced him and the ecstasy was overwhelming. He was hanging in the void now, strung up like an insect in a spider’s web, radiating strings of vibrating stellar energy to the ends of the universe.
A face appeared, blocking out all else. Nearly featureless except for the deep black enormous eyes. When it spoke, the buzzing and clicking turned into thoughts he could understand.
Boy thing, how do you travel so? Long sleep cold star space.
William couldn’t reply. He was freezing.
Warm blood feel taste. Touch mind to open. Let inside.
And then everything exploded.
“William?”
Ms. Fortune was holding him. It took his eyes a few seconds to focus. He was slumped in his teacher’s arms, his head pillowed on her breasts. She smiled, brushing the hair from his eyes. “You did it, William. My, my, my. That was quite extraordinary, wasn’t it?”
His head ached and his mouth was dry as sand. He looked around the room. Victoria’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open. Everyone was staring. And then he noticed the warm wetness between his legs. He’d peed his pants.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up,” Ms. Fortune whispered. “You just went straight to the top of the class, young man. Dr. Regardie will be quite pleased.”
Victoria sat next to William at dinner. Everyone else seemed to be studiously avoiding him, even Colin. Maybe they were scared of him now.
She took a bite of her mac and cheese. “Gross,” she said. “Everything tastes like it’s made of turds.”
William nodded. He was waiting for the inevitable insult. The joke about pissing his pants in front of the entire class. But she just kept poking at her tray of food.
“That was really weird today.”
“Tell me about it,” he said. His head still ached.
“When it happened—when your eyes got all wiggly—we all felt it, too.”
William turned to her. “Really?”
She nodded. “I saw things. In my head. People in weird clothes, ancient people. Like a movie. And the lights in the room flickered. It was totally creepy.”
William put down his fork. He didn’t have much of an appetite. “It was scary. It seemed like it went on forever. How long was I…”
“Like a minute, maybe. If that. It was like you were frozen. Ms. Fortune’s eyeballs were popping out of her ugly, fat face. I’ve never seen her smile like that. So it looks to me like you got an A on that test.”
William shivered. “I don’t want to do that anymore. Ever.” He shivered. At least she hadn’t mentioned his pee-soaked pants. Yet.
Victoria glanced furtively around the tables. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You were the first to do it. And I think that’s why we’re here. To do that.”
William swallowed. “I think so, too.”
“That’s why we’re learning about all the stupid old gods and doing all the meditation exercises, right? Because she wants us all to do what you did. To talk to those things.”
William lowered his voice even further. “I’ll tell you something if you promise to keep it a secret. I mean, really secret.”
She held out her pinky. “I swear.”
He wrapped his pinky around hers. “Swear on your mother’s grave.”
“Swear. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. I might not like you very much, but I keep a pinky-promise.”
He leaned closer. “I did that kind of…thing…before. In Guatemala. In a cave.”
“Tell me,” she whispered.
He figured he had nothing to lose. “Me and my mom were captured by this drug dealer named El Varón. He lived in a huge mansion with all kinds of guards and stuff. He wanted to marry my mom and I was scared he would and then I’d never be able to leave. He was hairy and gross.”
Victoria’s face wrinkled. “Eww.”
William nodded. “We tried to get away. He had this room in the basement full of all the heads he had cut off people. Like lots of them. And we got caught. El Varón was going to kill us.”
“Wow.”
“And there was this statue down there. Of a god, a Mayan god, but he was like a bat.” He shuddered. If Victoria noticed, she didn’t say anything. Her eyes were wide. “But somehow it was real. Not just a statue. It—” he struggled to find the words “—got inside me somehow. Like it was controlling me.”
Victoria stared at him in a way he’d never seen. Almost like she was impressed. “What did it do?”
He lied. “I can’t remember. But then there were lots of explosions and people shooting and my dad showed up with a bunch of soldier guys. They busted into the room and killed El Varón. And took us away.”
“Your dad brought you here?”
William rubbed his eyes. He was determined not to cry in front of her. “No.” His father had been shot. He hadn’t seen it, but he had heard it and would never forget his mother’s face as she witnessed it before shoving his head into her chest. No tears. Not now. “He died. Someone shot him. Then Lily brought us here.”
For the first time, Victoria seemed completely real. Not mean, not pretending to be nice so she could spring a carefully plotted prank. “That’s messed up,” she said. “That’s crazy.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“We’re all messed up and weird. All of us. That’s why we’re here.”
“Why are you here, then?” William asked. “What’s your mutant superpower, besides making people laugh?”
Victoria shrugged. “Both my parents are scientists. My mom is a molecular geneticist and my dad does robotics for the navy.”
William stared. “Robots? What kind of robots?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s boring stuff. He can’t really talk about it much or he’ll get in trouble.”
William sighed. It figured. He considered telling Victoria about the robot books he’d written, but then thought better of it. He wasn’t sure he completely trusted her yet.
“But they were into weird stuff, too,” Victoria continued. “I was like their little experiment. My dad always wanted to know about my invisible friend, Mr. Winston. He made me talk to him while he taped me, and asked me to draw pictures.”
“What did he look like?” William asked. “Mr. Winston?”
“He was like an angel, sorta, but he had a lion’s head and bird feet. My dad wrote a paper about it for some scientific magazine so I guess I was kind of famous. Mom and Dad had a special room in our house, and I wasn’t allowed inside. They kept the door locked, but I peeked in once. It had candles and statues and masks on the walls and they were always burning stinky incense. You could smell it all the way in my room.”
“That’s creepy.”
“I just thought it was stupid. They’re just my weirdo parents. But one night they had a bunch of people over, and they were all in that room for a long time, making noises and singing and stuff. And they left the door unlocked when they went to bed. So I snuck in.” She paused. Looked around the room. “In the middle of the room was a statue of Mr. Winston.”
William straightened. “What?”
“He was made out of papier-mâché. They painted him, and put candles all around him. He looked exactly like I always saw him.” She breathed deeply and shifted in her seat. “And then he moved.”
“No.” Now he was scared.
“Swear to God. I ran back to my room but forgot to close the door. The next morning they had one of their serious talks with me. Said the Mr. Winston statue was an experiment. They said his name was really Ipos, and that he was real, some kind of spirit, and that other people knew about him, blah blah blah. I was really mad. I hated them. They were never mean to me, but they weren’t like other people’s parents. I was like a pet or something, just something they could experiment on.” Her eyes had started to water.
William struggled to find something to say. “I’m sorry.”
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around. Isaac smiled. “Hey Little Willy, want to buy a diaper?”
“Shut up, Isaac,” Victoria said.
Isaac sat down. “Sorry.” He bit into a cookie. “Are we cool?”
Victoria turned to William, then back to Isaac. “Yeah. He’s one of us now.”