As Lucy biked past the Gallery, her heart spiraled into a nosedive. The café was now off-limits. Claudia had effectively dodged Lucy in the exam hall yesterday after the physics retake, and Lucy was trying to respect her friend’s boundaries.
Even if staying away stretched every fiber of Lucy’s being like she was on a rack. Especially now. Claudia was the one person she could trust with Ravi’s suspicions about her parents, but she didn’t deserve her trust anymore.
All things considered, Lucy would prefer the medieval torture instrument.
Time to focus. Her gaze dropped to the package in her bicycle basket, concealed in a discreet brown paper bag, and pumped the pedals until her thighs burned. Who knew that peace of mind could be purchased for the low price of $39.99? Or so claimed the paternity-test kit she’d bought with her leftover birthday money.
The unassuming-looking contents of her basket had the potential to change everything. How dare Ravi accuse her parents of belonging to the Order of Sophia? Of not even being her parents?
Two geeky academics hardly fit the bill for America’s Most Wanted.
If Lucy couldn’t prove to the Archimedeans that Victor and Elaine Phelps were—without a shadow of a doubt—her parents, what would the Archimedeans do?
A light breeze stuck to the sheen of sweat covering her face. It did nothing to refresh her. In. Out. Lucy concentrated on her breathing to avoid any green flames sprouting from the handlebars. Her diaphragm tightened in response to her electromagnetic field supersizing itself with anticipation. If only she could shield herself from her own emotions.
Lucy swept the street with her eyes as her driveway came into view. No sign of the Initiates. Of course, they wouldn’t be very good spies if she could spot them. No sign of her parents, either. Both of their cars were gone.
She slammed on the brakes and walked Marie Curie toward the garage. Inside was cool and dark. Only a few birdcalls punctuated the quiet. She drew in a heavy breath and removed the paternity kit, paper bag rustling like autumn leaves underfoot. She read the instruction leaflet three times as the magnitude of what she was about to do hit her again.
Easy as X,Y, Z! the manual proclaimed. Yeah, not so much.
Okay. Time to prove Ravi wrong.
Lucy didn’t doubt her parents, she didn’t, but climbing the stairs two at a time toward their bedroom, a chill worked its way down her body. Despite being alone, she crept along the carpeted landing. Schrödinger gave her a wide berth as static crackled at her feet. Damn Ravi for turning Lucy into a spy in her own home.
Her fingers cramped around the plastic vials into which she would be collecting the samples. Buccal swabs provided the most complete DNA profile, but it wasn’t as if Lucy could ask her parents to sit still for a Q-tip to the cheek. She could venture a guess at how that conversation would go. Toothbrushes were the next best thing.
Tiptoeing toward her parents’ en-suite bathroom, Lucy took note of the knickknacks and framed photos that littered her father’s dresser and her mother’s vanity. A lopsided pottery dish Lucy had made for her mom years ago now contained spare buttons and safety pins. Next to it, between the cluster of perfume bottles, sat a photo of Lucy and her mom by a waterfall. Must have been from one of their camping trips. Her mother was hugging her, a protective look in her eyes.
Her dad had a photo of Lucy in a white lab coat and goggles as well as her junior class photo on his dresser. Everyone else at Eaton High had dreaded photo day, but Lucy couldn’t stop grinning, and it showed. She’d been elated to take part in a genuine high school class photo and had ordered enough copies to wallpaper the attic.
Beside the photo sat a crystal paperweight. Lucy tapped her lips as she glimpsed the inscription: Dr. Victor Phelps, 10 Years of Service, The Sapientia Group.
Lucy remembered the awards dinner had been right around the time she’d started at Eaton High. Which meant, if she was doing the math correctly, her dad would have started working at the Sapientia Group after the photo was taken of Lucy. But that wasn’t necessarily significant; it was circumstantial evidence at best.
If her parents were stone-cold kidnappers, would they have been so invested in her, taken such good care of her for eighteen years? No, they would not. Ravi was too blinded by losing his own family to see this issue clearly.
Entering the bathroom, Lucy snatched her father’s toothbrush, which had been casually strewn next to the tap. Her mother’s was neatly placed in a brass-colored holder on her side of the sink.
Lucy would prove Ravi wrong and she would protect her parents from the Orders, the Freelancers—even herself if need be.
She uncapped the first vial with a deliberate motion. Attached to the inside of the stopper was a thin piece of plastic that resembled an elongated cotton bud. Keeping her hand steady, she skimmed the tool over the bristles of her father’s toothbrush, then resealed it, ensuring it was airtight. She repeated the procedure on her mother’s with clinical exactness.
Only science had no hidden agenda.
Lucy unscrewed the third vial and opened her mouth. The swab tickled the inside of her cheek. All that was left to do now was mail the samples, create an online account with DNA-4-U, and wait to be vindicated.