he said, his voice steady and stern, “unless you’re ready to go through with it.”
I turned around and looked him in the eye. “Oh, I’m ready. More ready than I’ve ever been in my life.” And I was. I’d never been more sure of anything.
I walked out, clicked his door closed, and, with measured steps, made my way down the long hallway to my bedroom. The usual scene greeted me when I walked in.
Mystic sat cross-legged on the floor studying some sort of Tarot cards.
On her bed, Bruiser and Parrot faced each other, engaged in a rip-roaring game of thumb wrestling.
Chomping her gum, Beaker lay stretched out on the carpet, scribbling in her chemistry notebook. I wondered, not for the first time, what mad-scientist formulas she had in there.
Cat, the newest addition to our team, and Wirenut reclined across Cat’s bed, sharing a set of earphones and a bag of cashews.
I experienced a quick pang of loss. Come tomorrow morning, I might never see any of them again.
I’d put it all—my whole new life—on the line.
Bruiser glanced up and grinned. “Yo! Where you been? I’ve barely seen you in the past two days.”
Giving her a small smile I really didn’t feel, I shuffled over to my bed and sat down. My tennis shoe bumped my suitcase underneath. The same dinged-up blue suitcase that had carted my belongings around the last ten years of my life.
I’d been so excited finally to unpack it, so thrilled to settle permanently into a place I could call home.
In a few hours I might be repacking the same suitcase I swore I’d never use again.
My gaze fell on the lollipop bouquet David had given me when I returned from my mission with Wirenut. With a sigh, I chose a coffee-flavored one and slipped it in my mouth.
Wirenut took his earphone out. “What’s going on? You don’t look right.”
With that question, everyone stopped what they were doing and focused on me.
I took a second to meet each of their curious gazes.
Calm, peaceful Mystic—the clairvoyant. With his thick neck, huge body, and short blond hair, he always made me think of a football player, not an in-touch-with-the-universe kind of guy.
Red-haired, freckled Bruiser. One hundred pounds of hyperactivity. Always sporting an innocent dimpled grin and tight, customized T-shirt. Today her shirt read, HEY! YOU GOT A PROBLEM? No one would ever guess she was one of the world’s best fighters.
Shy Parrot, with his dark, Native American features and sweet heart. For a guy so quiet, it amazed me he spoke sixteen languages.
Our electronics specialist, Wirenut. His trim goatee and bicep tattoo made him look like bad news. His silly humor said he was anything but.
Beside him lay his girlfriend, the beautiful, Mediterranean Katarina. Recently code-named Cat—our cat burglar.
And Beaker, the Goth chemist, always with different-colored hair—black-and-white-striped this week. She wore a perpetual smirk and never seemed to be in a good mood. And she always chewed gum ferociously, like if she didn’t, she’d explode or something.
“Well?” prompted Wirenut.
Screw keeping everything a secret. I was tired of secrets. I took the lollipop out of my mouth, took a deep breath, and told them everything. About my parents. About Eduardo Villanueva. And that I’d given TL an ultimatum—help me go after my parents’ killer or I’d leave the Specialists.
No one uttered a sound when I finished. Mystic, Parrot, and Beaker just stared at me while the others exchanged silent glances.
From their shell-shocked expressions, no one could really believe what I’d just told them.
More time went by, and still no one said anything. Only the faint sound of Wirenut and Cat’s iPod filtered through the air.
Finally, Bruiser cleared her throat.
I turned around and looked him in the eye. “Oh, I’m ready. More ready than I’ve ever been in my life.” And I was. I’d never been more sure of anything.
I walked out, clicked his door closed, and, with measured steps, made my way down the long hallway to my bedroom. The usual scene greeted me when I walked in.
Mystic sat cross-legged on the floor studying some sort of Tarot cards.
On her bed, Bruiser and Parrot faced each other, engaged in a rip-roaring game of thumb wrestling.
Chomping her gum, Beaker lay stretched out on the carpet, scribbling in her chemistry notebook. I wondered, not for the first time, what mad-scientist formulas she had in there.
Cat, the newest addition to our team, and Wirenut reclined across Cat’s bed, sharing a set of earphones and a bag of cashews.
I experienced a quick pang of loss. Come tomorrow morning, I might never see any of them again.
I’d put it all—my whole new life—on the line.
Bruiser glanced up and grinned. “Yo! Where you been? I’ve barely seen you in the past two days.”
Giving her a small smile I really didn’t feel, I shuffled over to my bed and sat down. My tennis shoe bumped my suitcase underneath. The same dinged-up blue suitcase that had carted my belongings around the last ten years of my life.
I’d been so excited finally to unpack it, so thrilled to settle permanently into a place I could call home.
In a few hours I might be repacking the same suitcase I swore I’d never use again.
My gaze fell on the lollipop bouquet David had given me when I returned from my mission with Wirenut. With a sigh, I chose a coffee-flavored one and slipped it in my mouth.
Wirenut took his earphone out. “What’s going on? You don’t look right.”
With that question, everyone stopped what they were doing and focused on me.
I took a second to meet each of their curious gazes.
Calm, peaceful Mystic—the clairvoyant. With his thick neck, huge body, and short blond hair, he always made me think of a football player, not an in-touch-with-the-universe kind of guy.
Red-haired, freckled Bruiser. One hundred pounds of hyperactivity. Always sporting an innocent dimpled grin and tight, customized T-shirt. Today her shirt read, HEY! YOU GOT A PROBLEM? No one would ever guess she was one of the world’s best fighters.
Shy Parrot, with his dark, Native American features and sweet heart. For a guy so quiet, it amazed me he spoke sixteen languages.
Our electronics specialist, Wirenut. His trim goatee and bicep tattoo made him look like bad news. His silly humor said he was anything but.
Beside him lay his girlfriend, the beautiful, Mediterranean Katarina. Recently code-named Cat—our cat burglar.
And Beaker, the Goth chemist, always with different-colored hair—black-and-white-striped this week. She wore a perpetual smirk and never seemed to be in a good mood. And she always chewed gum ferociously, like if she didn’t, she’d explode or something.
“Well?” prompted Wirenut.
Screw keeping everything a secret. I was tired of secrets. I took the lollipop out of my mouth, took a deep breath, and told them everything. About my parents. About Eduardo Villanueva. And that I’d given TL an ultimatum—help me go after my parents’ killer or I’d leave the Specialists.
No one uttered a sound when I finished. Mystic, Parrot, and Beaker just stared at me while the others exchanged silent glances.
From their shell-shocked expressions, no one could really believe what I’d just told them.
More time went by, and still no one said anything. Only the faint sound of Wirenut and Cat’s iPod filtered through the air.
Finally, Bruiser cleared her throat.
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