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monster. I bet it was different in Vegas, where more people have significant abilities. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a monster.”
    I choke down the rock in my throat. “Oh.”
    “You don’t have to hang out with us if you don’t want to, but you’re always welcome, okay?”
    I bite my lip. “Okay.”
    “Have fun at the library.” Brady waves, and Bea follows him down the hall. I watch them and wonder again if they’re actually being genuine. It’d be so much easier if they were frauds.
    The library isn’t in any better shape than the orange-and-brown front office of yesterday, but at least it’s free of wood paneling. It’s nice, cozy cinder block instead. Rows of books fill the long room, as well as tables and orange chairs. It’s busy, too—more with adults than teens, since it serves as the community library as well. I have to wait twenty minutes for a turn, so I spend it trying to decode my math book.
    When I sit at the computer, I don’t bother accessing my old account. There’s no way Dad’s not watching it. Luckily, Miles and I have ways to get around that. They might not be foolproof, but at least they make me feel safer. I pick a different email service and fill out false information. When it asks me to put in an email address, I think of the most awkward name possible. BrittneyBunnyGurl33 is the winner, only because BrittneyBunny33 is taken, which is kind of disturbing. Oh well; I know it’ll make Miles smile.
    Hey, Sweet Cheeks, had a great time talking with you in class. I’m home visiting family and can’t stop thinking about you. Found your email in the campus directory. Hope that’s not too stalkerish. ;) Brittney
    I hit send, grinning despite myself. I’ve sent way too many vague, slightly disturbing emails to my brother, but at least I can be sure no one will think it’s me. Browsing the internet to kill time, I hope he’ll reply so I don’t have to wait until tomorrow to check. There’s only three minutes before lunch ends when something pops up in my inbox.
    It’s not from his old account—he’s smarter than that. I nearly burst out laughing as I read HotMulletMan1.
    You’re sick, Brittney. Love, HotMulletMan1
    A small smile crosses my lips as I type.
    Gotta go, but I’ll be here same time tomorrow. Hope we can talk more. Brittney
    The bell rings, but I wait for his message anyway. It arrives just as the librarian comes over to make me leave. I click it, and for the first time in a long time I feel truly hopeful.
    I’ll be here. Miss you, HotMulletMan1

Chapter 6
    The best part about my lunch dates with Miles is that they’ve saved me from the cafeteria. He spent last week “poking around,” otherwise known as milking old contacts for information. So far it seems like Graham and Dad don’t know where we are. Dad has a lot of people out there looking, but they don’t appear to be concentrating on any one area. That’s a good sign; it means they don’t have any decent leads.
    It also seems like the other syndicates don’t know we’re missing.
    There’s no talk, Miles writes. We’ve moved to instant messaging, so it’s almost like we’re in the same room.
    How do you know?
    Trust me. I know.
    I laugh.
    What, do you know Spud or something?
    I plead the fifth.
    I stifle a gasp. Dad never took Miles’s scent-imitation ability seriously, but he shouldn’t have overlooked Miles’s knack for making connections. He’s so easy-going even the toughest people seem to like him.
    Are you serious? You know her?
    The fifth. Anyway, seems like you’re okay. For now.
    Okay. Gotta go to class.
    But that doesn’t put me entirely at ease. If people at school get wind that I’m not here because of Dad, it’s over. They won’t hesitate to sell me out, whether it’s to Juan or my dad. I won’t give anyone the chance, though. I have no problem acting like a spoiled syndicate baby if it keeps me safe. Better if they think there will be hell to pay if they out