“Sorry. I really don’t have any. I spent my last five bucks on lunch today.”
He stares at her for a long time, probably trying to verify that her thoughts are saying the same thing as her mouth. Laila’s thoughts have most likely shifted to words like jerk-wad. Okay, maybe not the wad part—she probably thought of a more colorful expletive—but still. I can tell Laila feels uncomfortable and I search for a way to change the subject.
“Hi,” Duke says. “You must be Laila’s dad. Nice to meet you. I’m Duke—”
“Duke Rivers. Yeah, I know you. Best high school quarterback in or out of the Compound in over a decade.”
I roll my eyes. Like it’s fair to compare guys outside the Compound to Duke. He has an ability; they don’t.
“Thanks. So you go to the games, Mr. Stader?”
“Not usually, but I read the news feeds. Have you decided which college you’re going to next year?”
Duke rests a hand on my shoulder, and even though it’s wearing a rubber glove it still manages to set my heart racing. “Not yet. I’m working on it.”
“How many offers have you gotten outside the Compound?”
“Several.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “You’re going to college on the Outside?” Not many people do that.
“There aren’t exactly a lot of opportunities to play football after college in the Compound.”
“You mean to tell me that Norm colleges come here to scout? I thought outsiders weren’t allowed in the Compound. Do they bend that rule for sports?”
“No. They don’t. But I’ve been to a few open tryouts. And we play several schools outside the Compound. You really don’t follow football, do you?”
The doorbell rings, cutting off my attempt to answer—probably a good thing since the answer would’ve included the words my lowest priority.
“Laila, get the door,” her dad says. “Tell him I’m not here.”
“Dad, come on.”
He slips away without another word. Laila follows.
“What’s he on?” Duke whispers, nodding his head to where Laila’s dad had been standing. “Suppressors or enhancers?”
“He’s Telepathic” is all I have to say. Everyone knows that’s an ability that can slowly drive a person insane. I wouldn’t like other people’s thoughts inside my head all the time either, but still, I don’t think I would try to suppress my ability like that. Especially not at the expense of my family.
The doorbell rings again, followed by pounding. Laila comes back into the kitchen, looks out the window, and lets out a long sigh. She turns around and leans into the counter. “If he’s not going to man up, I will.”
“You’re going to man up?” I say.
“You know what I mean. We’re going to take care of that freak. Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” I ask, but she’s already heading for the door. I slide off the stool and follow after her.
“Just play along,” she says over her shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Duke asks, following close behind.
“I have no idea.”
Laila palms the wall monitor, and as the door slides open she places a hand high on the frame. A wiry man with an eyebrow ring and an attitude nods his head at her. “I need to talk to your dad.”
“He’s not here.”
He wipes his mouth, revealing a skull-and-crossbones tattoo on the back of his hand. “I know he’s here.”
“Look, loser.” Laila moves her hand to her curvy hip. “I thought I asked you to stop coming around here.”
“Just get him.”
“He’s not here. But you see my friend here?” She steps aside to reveal me in all my nonintimidating glory. He barely glances my way, but still I tense. “She’s Clairvoyant, and she told me something interesting about your future. Right?”
I wait to hear his response to her question when I realize it’s directed at me. She wants me to confirm her lie? Doesn’t she remember I am not a convincing liar? “Yes. Your future. It wasn’t good.”
Laila gives me the is-that-really-the-best-you-can-do? look and then turns toward him again. “This is your warning. Do your business away from my house.”
“Listen, little girl, get your dad and I’ll pretend like you didn’t just make a sad attempt at a threat.”
Duke steps in front of me, and I’m surprised at how relieved that makes me feel. I shift to the side so I can still see. “Is there a problem?” Duke asks the man.
“Yeah, kid, someone owes me money. Are you going to settle the debt?”
Duke smiles. “Do you really want to take care of this business in front of the ladies? Can’t this be done another time?”
The loser’s eyes shift between Laila and me, his anger deflating. “When will he be back?” His voice is sarcastic, like he’s decided to play our game for now.
“Probably not until tomorrow.”
“Fine,” he growls. “I expect my money tomorrow.”
“We’ll pass on the message.”
The man gets into a low-riding car complete with red-and-orange flames. Duke shuts the front door.
“He’s gone.”
Laila leans against it. “That didn’t solve the problem, Duke. It only postponed it. Poison will be back.”