“So what are we doing now?” I ask.
“Surveillance.”
CHAPTER 22
phe-NO[R]M-e-non: n. someone who thinks his existence is an impressive occurrence
I’ve been staring out the window for the last two hours, even though Laila told me she probably wouldn’t get here until six, just enough time to freshen up and get to the football game. It’s been almost a month since I’ve been gone, but it feels like I haven’t seen her in an eternity.
When a truck pulls up in front of the house, I race out the door. She’s halfway up the walk by the time we reach each other. Neither one of us is a squealer, but we embrace and proceed to jump up and down screaming.
She pulls away.
I point. “You’re wearing sunglasses.”
“That’s because it’s insanely bright here. Crazy story. I stopped at a gas station, feeling mentally tired, and like an idiot I asked the guy behind the register if they had any Brain Food. He looked at me all weird, and I remembered that huge lecture we got before leaving the Compound about not letting things slip, so I Erased a minute of his memory.”
“You did not.”
She laughs. “Totally did. I thought I was going to have to zap the whole store, but there was only one other woman, and she was distracted putting this nasty-looking hot dog into a bun. There was a rack of sunglasses next to the register, so I grabbed a pair and bought them. Hopefully feeling them on my face will make me think more like a Norm.”
I smile. “Have I told you how much I miss you yet?”
“I miss you too. When are you coming home?”
“Come on, let’s get your stuff, and I’ll show you around.” I help her pull out a bag from the truck bed. “You rented a truck?”
“Yeah, sure, me and all my money. No. I borrowed this from that guy who rebuilds useless Norm crap.”
“Obviously not so useless after all.”
“Funny. That’s what he said when I was scanning over the rest of my monthly allowance if he let me use it. I mean, I know we can’t have Para-tech out here, but seriously?” She pounds the tailgate.
Inside my dad hugs Laila. “Good to see you again. How is life at home?” He grabs the duffel bag off her shoulder and slings it over his own. I smile, loving that my dad treats Laila like a daughter. I hope that in some small way it makes up for the fact that her father doesn’t.
“If I said fine, you’d know I was lying, so I’ll just say same as always.”
“Keep your chin up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go get ready,” I say.
“Where are you girls going?” my dad asks.
“Remember, I told you we’re going to the football game?”
“Oh, that’s right.” He leads the way down the hall, deposits the bag in my room, and leaves us to get ready.
“For an older guy, your dad is hot,” Laila says, staring at the door he just shut.
“Gross.” So much for thinking of him like a father.
“I’m just saying.” Laila moves her bag onto my bed, opens it, and pulls out several papers. “Tell me you love me,” she says, presenting them to me.
“What is …” I start to ask, but then realize it’s an alphabetical list of all the kids at school. Next to the names are their abilities. “You are awesome.”
“I’ve highlighted the football players,” she says.
I meet her eyes. “And?”
“There aren’t any Mass Manipulators on the team, if that’s who injured his muscle. And if someone was making him relaxed to catch him off guard for the injury, there’s only one Mood Controller.” She takes the papers back from me and flips through a few pages. “This guy … Andrew. But he’s not a starter. In fact, he’s a freshman. Didn’t you say Trevor got hurt last year?”
“Yeah. He did.” I glance over her arm to look at the page. “Maybe their Mood Controller from last year graduated. Maybe Andrew is the replacement. What’s a freshman doing on the varsity team anyway? He could easily soothe the opposing team’s emotions from the bench.”
“True.” She tosses the papers onto my bed. “We’ll have to keep an eye out. Come on, let’s beautify ourselves.”
We walk through the parking lot on our way to the stadium. Laila stops at a car, pulls out her lipstick, and bends over to use the side mirror. She growls. “I can’t see a thing.” She yanks on the mirror, and the car alarm screams at her.
“Come on, let’s go,” I say, glancing around to see if the owner is nearby.
“No, I got this.” She holds up her hands, clad in lacy fingerless gloves, and the car goes silent.
My mouth falls open. “What the crap was that?”
“Okay, so don’t get mad.”
“Why would I get mad?”
“I’ve been hanging out with Bobby, and he taught me how to extend my ability.”
“Extend your … what is that supposed to mean?”
“You know, kind of like advanced ability control.”
My mind flies through all the lectures my mom has ever given me about the dangers of untested mind experiments. “Are you crazy? Do you want brain damage? There’s a reason we’re not supposed to push our abilities until our minds are fully developed.” I know I sound a lot like my mother, but in this case my mother is right.