The walk home from Claudia’s house was the longest of Lucy’s life. She had the distinct impression of walking toward a firing squad for the second time in twenty-four hours.
Staring at the Cave Felem! door mat, she swallowed hard. The Beware of the Cat welcome mat had been a present from Claudia a few Christmases ago. Oh, Clauds. Lucy dug around the pockets of Ravi’s sweatpants, feeling for her house keys. At least he’d kept her essentials safe while she was breaking into museums and dodging bullets.
The front door juddered just as her hand closed around the keys.
“Dad.”
“Lucinda.”
Her dad’s face was drawn and haggard, as if he’d aged twenty years since Lucy had last seen him. And he was still wearing his suit. Nevertheless, wrath knitted his brow and Lucy did her best not to cower beneath his blazing eyes.
Her throat burned, unable to put together a greeting much less a defense—because her name had indeed been an accusation.
Lucy’s father studied her like she was a stranger, examining her clothes, her bandaged hand, and settling on her bruised cheek.
Incredulity threaded through his voice as he said, “Were you in a fight?”
“Only with some A/V equipment.” Lucy forced out the lie.
Her dad stroked the tender skin around her eye, and Lucy gasped not only from the unexpected gesture but also from the depth of the sadness that washed over her. Dr. Victor Phelps scrutinized his daughter intently, almost as if he could see his own sorrow reflected in her eyes, then retreated into the foyer. Lucy followed him inside.
They stood in the exact same spot where—what seemed like a lifetime ago—he’d been a proud dad admiring his daughter in her prom dress.
What if he never looked at Lucy that way again?
“Your mother’s waiting in the living room,” he informed her. “We’ve been worried sick.”
Guilt clashed with anger. Lucy hated that she couldn’t tell her parents that she hadn’t broken curfew on purpose. But explaining that Claudia had been kidnapped and Lucy had to rescue her would only make matters worse. Maybe endanger her parents even more than they already were.
And yet, all of this had started with the photo in her father’s office. Ravi said it hadn’t been sent by the Archimedeans; the Freelancers had sent Jess to determine whether it was Lucy or Claudia who carried the lightning gene, so it couldn’t be them either; and if the Sophists had known about Lucy, they would have locked her up and thrown away the key. On that point, disturbingly, the Archimedeans and the Freelancers actually agreed.
Who did that leave?
“Lucy!”
Her mom sprang up from the sofa and rushed to hug her. Not what she’d expected. Her mother wasn’t much of a hugger under the best of circumstances. Lucy prepared for another wave of emotion, but none came.
“She’s safe, Elaine,” said her dad. Her mom pulled back, staring at Lucy as if she didn’t believe her own eyes. Her hair was loose, yesterday’s makeup cracked around her wrinkles. She’d already been burning the candles at both ends, and Lucy had only added to her stress.
“Prom ended hours ago, Lucy,” her father said in a steely tone. “Where have you been? I nearly called the cops.”
Lucy sucked in a sharp breath. That would have been bad. Very bad, indeed.
Watching her hesitate, her father’s expression hardened. Between her parents, Lucy’s mom had traditionally been the disciplinarian. She wasn’t used to her dad turning his Wall Street shark glare on her. She squirmed where she stood.
“I was with Claudia,” Lucy said to the carpet.
“We checked with the O’Rourkes,” came his reply.
“We weren’t at her house.”
“We know. Where were you? And why didn’t you answer your phone? And what are you wearing?” Her father’s volume increased a notch with each question and Lucy realized he wasn’t just angry—he seemed frightened.
The only other time he’d ever been this upset with Lucy was when she was six or seven. She’d deliberately disobeyed his instruction not to climb the monkey bars at the playground and proceeded to fall flat on her face. She still had a paper-thin scar on her forehead from the incident.
“I’m sorry.” Lucy’s voice grew very small. “We went to Jess’s dorm and—”
“The Jess who came over last night?” her dad interrupted, dark eyebrows pinched together.
“Yeah. I spilled punch on my dress so she lent me these.” Lucy tugged at the T-shirt. Her temples throbbed and she could sense her oscillations starting to go haywire. She touched the tourmaline to steady herself. “My phone was on silent. And we lost track of time. I’m really, really sorry.”
“I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you, Lucinda. What if you’d had a seizure? How are we supposed to trust you to take care of yourself at college? It’s not like you to be so irresponsible,” he fumed.
“Victor,” her mom said in a cautioning tone.
Fine. Better for her parents to think she’d stayed out all night in some age-appropriate act of rebellion than to learn the truth. Safer for them, safer for everyone.
Going on the offensive, Lucy charged, “Why are you so disappointed in me? Because I’m not perfect? Because I acted eighteen for once? Instead of like some retiree who loves early bird specials?”
Her father crossed his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous? Me?” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m being ridiculous because I wasn’t totally in your control for thirty seconds!” Lucy had thought she was pretending, but the frustration rising to the surface was real. “You never ask me what I want. You just give orders.”
She wheeled toward her mother. “Both of you! I don’t even want to go to Gilbert. That’s your dream. Not mine.”
“I don’t know who you are right now,” barked her father.
Neither do I.
He clasped her around the shoulders. “Have you been drinking?”
She released a smothered half-laugh as desperation clawed through her—his desperation. Lucy yanked herself away, not wanting him to get trapped in her electromagnetic field.
“I’m still your father, Lucinda. As long as you live under my roof, you live by my rules.”
“If you’re ever here,” she shot back.
Grief seized her father’s face so completely that it mystified her.
“Everything I do, I do for you.” He drew in another long breath. “One day, I hope you’ll appreciate how much both your mother and I have done to give you a good life. A normal life.”
His words pierced her like arrows.
“Because I’m not normal.”
I’m a freak. I’m a monster.
“Don’t turn this around, Lucinda. You’re the one in the wrong here. Except for school, you’re not to leave this house until you show some remorse for your actions.”
“Remorse?” she squeaked. Lucy felt nothing but remorse: she had lost the trust of all the people who mattered in her life in a single night.
She flew up the stairs and dove under the covers, muffling her sobs in her pillow.
A few minutes later, a knock came at the door. When Lucy didn’t answer, it creaked open.
The smell of peppermint prickled Lucy’s nostrils. Her mother held a mug in one hand and a prescription bottle in the other.
“Did something happen at prom?” Concern underscored her mom’s question. “Want to talk?”
Lucy tightened her arms around the pillow. She did, but she couldn’t.
“Nothing happened, Mom. Can’t I just be an irresponsible teenager for once?”
Her mother winced. Lucy had thought she couldn’t feel any worse, but she’d been wrong.
“The most important thing is that you’re safe, and you’re home,” her mom said, almost to herself. “Take your pills.” She set them next to the tea on Lucy’s desk. If only her mom knew how useless the medication actually was.
There was no cure for Lucy’s condition. She wouldn’t burden her mother with the knowledge that she’d birthed a mutant who could kill with a touch.
Instead, she said, “Go away,” and as the door shut behind her mother, Lucy’s heart begged, Stay.