*SAGE
“I think she understands what we’re trying to tell her,” Beckett said, arms raised. The boys corralled me toward the hotel door like a wild animal.
Of course I understand! I growled in his direction. I’m following you, aren’t I? We’re heading toward the door, aren’t we? Duh!
We were going to Kansas City.
No amount of attempted communication could get across what I tried to tell the boys about their father still working with my father and Dr. Adamson taking my eggs.
Jack attempted to throw a blanket over me to cover what I really was from the people we might encounter on our way to the parking garage. I flung the blanket off my back and then picked it up myself to wrap around me. I could do this on my own.
But my hands didn’t respond the way I ordered them to. I fumbled with the blanket, only getting it over my left shoulder before it fell off again. I kicked the blanket in exasperation. Ollie barked in agreement with me.
“Easy … easy,” Jack said to me.
Oh, please! I’m not some untamed beast!
The boys took a step back.
“Hmm,” Beckett said. “I’m going to make a guess and say she doesn’t sound happy.”
Beckett was responding to the stress of me as a modwrog in the same way he responded to stress back on the farm—by making jokes so he could cope. I wanted to feel bad for him right now; I knew how hard it was to see me this way.
Yet still, his comment infuriated me.
Why would I be happy? You guys are acting ridiculous!
No one moved after my mini-explosion of wails.
Beckett kept his hands raised; Jack kept his gun level at his side. Ollie stayed in place but quirked his head at me.
And I realized something.
If we were going to get anywhere—if we were really going to work together—I would have to get rudimentary with these boys. They were too thick-skulled to see that I was actually myself. They needed to know I could hear them and understand them.
I waved my arm to get Beckett’s attention and then tapped my chest with my hand, to signal the word I.
“What’s she doing?” Beckett said. “Why is she pounding on her chest?”
Jack shrugged. “Just keep moving.”
Jack’s voice sounded grim. Immediately after Beckett’s return, Jack had closed up again. He retreated to his dark and silent corner and turned cold—his predictable way for dealing with all of life.
I growled, then waved my hand at them again and tapped my chest. I. I’m saying “I.”
“Mods will sometimes hit themselves if they are not comfortable with their surroundings,” Jack said.
It took all my restraint not to scream.
“Maybe she’s choking?” Beckett raised his eyebrows at Jack. “She’s pounding on her chest pretty hard ….”
Okay, they weren’t getting the “I.” So forget that. Maybe if I cupped my hand behind my ear, signaling the word hear, they could put it all together.
With my clumsy, large hands, I did my best to stabilize my hand at my ear and lean in toward them like I was listening for something.
“Her ear!” Beckett cried. “She is talking to us, Jack! She’s telling us her ear hurts.”
I CAN HEAR YOU! I’m saying I can hear you! My hands flailed from my chest to my ears, back to my chest, back to my ears. Ollie barked again.
Jack shook his head. “She needs food. They always got more moody on the island when they needed food.”
I lunged for the breakfast table, scooped up the biscuits on the tea platter that room service had delivered, and threw them across the room with a howl of frustration.
I’M NOT HUNGRY!
The biscuits bounced off the wall and landed on the bed.
“Uh … Jack? I don’t think she’s hungry.”
“Let’s just get to the car,” Jack said warily.
“Hey, look at the bright side. She’s not attacking us.”
More jokes. Annoying.
I jerked the blanket off the floor and covered my head and body with it, sealing out the world, sealing out the boys, sealing off my anger, hiding my face from anyone else who might gawk at me or not understand.
I shoved a fist into my mouth to hold in my shrieking and waited for one of the boys to figure out I was ready for them to guide me out of here.
Dumbos.
*
“The Jag? Really, Beck? Where’s she gonna ride?”
“What? It’s not like we had a lot of options.”
I threw off the blanket to see what vehicle they referred to. The trip to the parking garage had been relatively uneventful, save for when my blanket got caught in the elevator door as it was closing, and I may or may not have been spotted by a little boy running down the hall. I think my eyes went as wide as his.
He’ll have nightmares forever. Poor thing.
“Well, at least the Jaguar doesn’t have the hump in the back seat like the Ferrari,” said Beckett.
“You’re planning to put her in the back seat?” Jack replied.
Standing at Beck’s heels, Ollie barked twice, as if asking the same question as Jack. My farm dog stared at me with equal parts trepidation and recognition shining in his eyes.
“Well, yes ….” Beckett said to Jack. “It’s meant for two people, it’ll be more space for her. What? You have a better option?”
“The Lexus has the biggest back seat.”
“Yeah, but it’s not a convertible,” Beckett said. “I got the convertible. What if she needs to stretch her legs or something?”
“I still think the passenger seat might be better.” Jack ducked his head to peer inside the window of the Jaguar. “Is there even going to be room for her in here?”
Stop arguing and get me in the car before someone sees me already!
I jerked open the door—or attempted to jerk it open—but my giant hand slipped from the slim handle, and then Beckett said, “Whoa, whoa, there girl,” like I was one of our horses from back on the farm, and I spun on him and was literally pulling out a chunk of my hair.
By the time I calmed down, Beckett had opened the passenger door and pushed the seat forward and down. He eyed Jack. “Are you sure about this?”
Jack only shrugged like he wasn’t sure, didn’t care, or was too angry to say anything at all.
Oh, for Pete’s sake, you two, this is ridiculous!
Before anyone could say anything else that would tick me off again, I dove into the back of the Jaguar.
“I think she’s ready to go,” said Beckett.
I growled from the back.