Chapter Three: A Man and a Maid

"There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile... He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse, And they all lived together in a crooked little house."

"Okay, the rules are simple. No using your powers for anything other than strength and speed. Kelli." Ty says. We prepare for the most intense game of freeze tag ever conceived. It’s basically a war game the way normal fourteen year olds would play it. Except our way is a thousand times more cynical. If you get tagged, you’re taken to the other team’s base, which is hidden somewhere in the compound, and your partner has to rescue you. If both teammates end up as hostages, you lose. However, if one member of each team is taken hostage, you can trade at the cost of losing your hostage and your base’s secrecy. We also play in the darkness without any other soul in the building, excluding Mr. C. and The winners get some sort of prize, the losers pay the price. Ty and I won the first round, and Kelli and Cody had to drink a gallon of hot sauce mixed in with special ingredients Ty and I picked. The next time, Ty and I lost. You know what they made us do? We had to reenact the movie Grease. Except I was the boy, Ty was the girl. So embarrassing and awkward. We couldn’t even look each other in the eyes. It’s best out of three, whoever wins this wins all.

"Amber and A.J’s greatest strengths are their speed and strength. I should get to use my manipulation." Kelli protests.

"My intelligence doesn’t count as a power, correct?" Cody asks.

"New rules." A.J. says. He’s actually playing for once. "The only powers you can use have to be your specialty."

Ty groans, his eyes facing the roof and his head leaned back. "I don’t have a specialty. That’s not fair."

"Yes, it is. You don’t have a specialty, so we get A.J." I say. We’ve been arguing over whose team he’ll be on since last Saturday. For the past three weeks, we’ve been playing this game every Friday night.

"Oh, right!" Ty steps in front of A.J. "He’s on our team! Use your manipulation, use your nerdiness. We get A.J.!"
Kelli looks at Cody, who looks at her, and she shrugs. "Fair enough." Cody says. Andrew and Ty walk backwards toward me, visibly separating the two teams with a large gap.

"All right. You have exactly one minute to find and establish your base and come back here. Anyone not here in one minute is disqualified." Ty says. This way, your base stays hidden.

"Wait! We haven’t discussed punishments." Kelli says.

"Losers get an ‘I’m sorry’ hug." A.J. suggests.

"Sorry, dude. We’re going medieval. No mercy." Ty says, patting A.J.’s shoulder.

"Losers get a makeover by the winners." Kelli announces.

"Amber can neither give nor receive makeovers." Cody says. "Good idea, though."

"Losers have to go to Dr. D. and complain about a disease of the winner’s choice. And they can never admit that it’s fake." I put out there.

Ty starts laughing, and turns to A.J. "Good thing Cody likes blue, because he’s going to have a blue waffle to complain about." He whispers.

"That’s sick." A.J. laughs. "I’m in."

"I like that." Kelli says.

Cody nods. "Sounds fair."

"We all agree, then? That’s the punishment?" Ty asks. We all nod or reply with a simple "Yeah" or "Yep".  

"Let’s do this." I say.

"We begin when I reach one. Three," Ty begins counting and we all get in running stances. No chance to strategize. You have to wing it. "Two," I face the room I’ve been talking to Ty about since our tragic defeat last Friday. I’ve been visiting it every day, making sure it’s good for the game. "One!" I lead our sprint, dashing towards the staff bathroom. It’s on Andrew’s floor, because they need his flowers to stop the horrid smell from killing us all. I stuck my head in there once, on Tuesday, and I thought I was going to have a seizure.

A.J. follows Ty and me up the stairs and to the left, to the lowly little unisex lavatories. It’s one of those bathrooms without stalls, just a single toilet. It’s small, which keeps it under the radar. I made sure the door got oiled on Thursday so the hinges don’t creak. We slip in and close the door behind us. "This is perfect!" A.J. whispers when we’re in the room.

"We need a plan. Normally, one of us hides around to rescue and defend while one of us attacks." I explain to A.J.

"It starts out that way. We both end up on attack, and it either sinks or saves us." Ty says. The first time, I was supposed to defend/rescue. I got bored and hunted down Kelli, winning us the game. When Ty had to defend/rescue, he got bored after about twelve minutes and got tagged by Kelli. We lost that game, and it was the worst day of my life.

"How about one attacks, one rescues and one defends?" A.J. asks.

"Sounds good to me. A.J., Ty and I are too impatient to defend. Would you mind doing it?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Not at all."

"Until we catch someone, hang on a different floor so they think our base is somewhere else." Ty says.

"Got it." A.J. nods.

"Ty, you should attack." I say.

"Actually, you should." Ty tells me.

"What? Why? You’re too hyper to be a rescuer." I remind.

"They’ll expect me to be the attacker. You know Cody will." Ty points out.

I only need to think about it for a moment. "My Lord, he’s right." I say. "Come on, let’s get into the center before time runs out or they see where our base is."

We slip downstairs, emerging from the shadows to the middle, where moonlight pours in from overhead. Kelli and Cody are walking over, both emotionless. And ready to fight.

"The game begins on one." Ty announces. We all prepare for war, a fight more important than anything else happening in the whole entire world. "Three," He begins slowly. Kelli locks her gaze with me, and I wink. She rolls her eyes. "Two," She sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes, and I fight a giggle. I bare my teeth and scrunch up my nose, looking straight up. She tries to stop a laugh from escaping and fails. "One!"

The laughter and giggles disappear. We want to win. A.J. turns to dash up the stairs, I dive at Kelli. I don’t watch or notice Cody, Ty bails from the scene. Kelli takes a step to the right to avoid me and takes off after A.J.

I spin around and chase after her, using my superior speed to catch up to her. I’m about to tag her when she whips her head around and her dark eyes lock on mine. A dark fog starts to surround me, circling around and staying at a distance. I look at Kelli, staring at me with a very strong intensity. I think something’s supposed to happen.

I reach forward and tag her clothes, careful to avoid touching her skin and burn her. Wait, careful? As if. Only her face and hands are bare. "Caught you." I say.

"You were meant to get manipulated." She says, and the fog fades. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Off to base." I say.

A.J. comes down to stand guard of the bathroom while I hunt down Cody, who’s vanished.  There are only so many places he could have gone. He can’t jump very high or fly or anything cool like that. He has to stay hidden or go free Kelli, neither of which are the best of options. He has to come out, or I’ll find him and his team loses.

After searching Kelli’s floor thoroughly, I hear whoops from downstairs. I lean over the edge and see Cody and Kelli dragging A.J. to their base. I stay hidden and watch to see where it is. They go near the main entrance, did they go outside? No, they’re going into Mr. C.’s office! Of course they would. How could I not have guessed?

Now we’re two versus two, except Ty’s been M.I.A. this whole game. Wait, I can hear Cody and Kelli talking. "I’ll get Amber and guard. You find Ty." Kelli tells Cody.

Ha. You wish you could get me.

"All right." Cody says. They split up, Cody heading to the stairwell. Kelli looks up, and I duck down. Crap, crap, crap. We’re going to lose. I’d bet fifty buck she saw me. She had to. I was right there!

If she’s going to get me, I’m at least going to save A.J. If Ty isn’t going to rescue, I will. I’m about to jump over the edge when I see A.J. stroll out of their base and tap Kelli on the shoulder. "Gotcha." He says.

"What? How did you get out?" Kelli asks.

"Ty let me out." A.J. answers.

Then it’s up to me to get Cody. I spin around to face the stairwell. He’s probably coming up, and I need to surprise him. I inch forward, crouching down for stealth. I wait to the left of the stairwell, underneath the final flight so he won’t see me coming up.

I can hear something… a heartbeat, coming from a flight below me. It seems like any other human’s, not like the rapid and strong beating in mine. Do I hear Cody’s heartbeat? In my mind, I form a 3-D diagram in which he crouches at the bottom of the stairs. Aha. I’ve got him.

His heartbeat starts to fade, and I see him going down. He’s going to tag A.J. and get Kelli out! Not on my watch!

I sprint down the stairs, hearing Cody’s heartbeat increase. I hold my hand out to tag him when he slides out in front of me, a close enough range for me to feel the humidity. I instantly back away, withdrawing my arms.

"If I tagged you, we’d both be in catastrophic amounts of pain. We’re close enough that technically, I tagged you." He says.

I mumble every mean word I know under my breath. I still don’t like this kid, whether he’s in the library or playing games. His tone of voice and word choice makes me think that he thinks he’s better than everyone else.

He leads me to their stupid base, and I stand near the door with arms folded across my chest. Stupid water boy and his stupid stairs.

I don’t know how long I’m there until the door opens. I beam to life, and no one’s there. No one’s standing in the doorway. Not A.J., not Cody, not Kelli. Did Ty run up, open the door and run away?

"Ty?" I ask, emerging from the room. "Is that you?"

"Yeah." I hear him say. I whip my head around, and there’s nothing. I listen for a heartbeat, and I hear one right in front of me. In my mind, the diagram says the same thing. "I’m invisible."

"Seriously?" I ask, reaching forward to poke him. Despite him telling me, I don’t believe it. Until I feel his shoulder, and see nothing. "Wait, are you naked?"

"Why? You interested?" He asks.

I shove him and pretend to puke. "You’re a sick, sick little boy." I say.

"Cody’s about to let Kelli out. I told A.J. to let himself get tagged, and they’ll drop their guard. The second they come onto the first floor, we ambush them." Ty tells me.

"That’s a big risk. If we fail, we lose." I say.

"Then I’ll stand at the base of the stairs, and I’ll tag them." He says. He starts walking over, passing me by. I can hear his heartbeat and footsteps, and I start grinning.

"Being invisible could be more affective if you aren’t so loud." I whisper.

"I’m quieter than you." He says.

"No way in hell that’s true." I counter.

"Seriously? You think so? You want to bet?"

"Ten bucks."

"It’s on. I should make more bets. I’ll make more money."

"Please. Don’t put yourself in an even deeper hole."

"At least I’m not being Miss Arrogant Blonde."

I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest, hearing Kelli and Cody cheer when she’s released.

The plan works, and we win the game. Ty’s still trying to figure out how to stop being invisible, and had to pick between making Kelli have jock itch or herpes. I gave A.J. the choice, and he thinks jock itch it is. Ty made Cody say what he mentioned earlier, and I don’t want to know what it is based on how the guys reacted. Kelli can forgive me; Cody says he’ll never forgive Ty.

I don’t think he’ll hold a grudge. If he does, I don’t think it’ll last long. I don’t think Cody’s the unforgiving type. Then again, I know almost nothing about the dude. I could be, and thinking about it, probably am, totally wrong.

I could talk to the world about Ty and Andrew forever, speaking of their favorites, their weird hobbies, their most used sayings and a thousand "This one time" stories. I could say a lot about Kelli, enough to occupy a two hour T.V. special without commercials. My knowledge of Cody starts and ends with water. All I really know is that he dresses like it’s freezing, loves reading and wears these green shoes.

I take in so much air I feel my lungs might burst. My eyes bolt open; my heart is beating as fast as it was moments ago. What happened? I see the clear blue Californian sky above me and hear a blaring bass line, slamming guitars, someone bashing on the drums and a screaming vocalist. "Hell, yeah!" I hear a girl say. "Hold on, the best part’s coming up!"

Was I dreaming? Did I have a nightmare? The horrible visions I’ve heard the others talk about? Kelli says she can cause horrifying hallucinations to those she manipulates, and I listened, knowing I’d never experience one. I think I just went through a nightmare worse than any hallucination. It felt real. I felt like I was awake. I thought I was conscious.  

I hear the guitars and drums go all out, and the vocalist roars. I think the singer is female, yeah, she must be. I hear a different voice, another girl, shouting along. The volume increases, and I can’t hear anything else. Where am I? Who are these people? I don’t recognize their voices from anyone at the compound. What happened? Why do I feel weaker? It’s like my body’s been trapped in a smaller, tighter skin that lowers my strength and speed. That better not be the case. Humans walk way too slow for me to bear.

I start to open my eyes with a low moan escaping my lips. I’m lying on my back, a blue, cloudless sky overhead. I prop myself up on one elbow, looking around. I’m in the back of a pickup truck, two girls in the back with me. One stands, holding onto the back of truck, one sits in the corner with her arms sprawled against the edge. There are two dudes in the front, one at the wheel at the other in charge of the radio. "Turn it down!" The girl sitting shouts. "She’s waking up."

The girl standing turns to face the one sitting. "Don’t just turn the music down, hon. She turns back to the two dudes in front. "Stop the car! She’s alive!"

Am I being kidnapped?

I pride myself on solid observations and high intelligence. But you wouldn’t see that based on the thought that arises from my head is mind numbingly witless. This car has too many windows to be a kidnapper car.

The car screeches to a stop, causing a cloud of dirt to arise and pass over the car. We lurch forward, nearly causing me to lose my balance. I then go flying back, my head hitting the floor of the truck.

"Hey!" The girl standing smacks her hand on the glass. "Watch it!"

The girl sitting rises and jumps out the back of the truck. She pulls the back down, beckoning the girl standing all along to jump out. I have the energy to sit up, and I turn to allow myself a look at the two girls. The one who was sitting at first has light, feathery, straight brown hair with the tips died bright neon blue that barely pass her collar bone. She has a ring in her lip and a black beanie covering most of her face. She has skin lighter than mine yet nowhere near the likes of Kelli, she flaunts pounds of dark eye makeup and a ring through her thin nose. I think her eyes are dark blue, although I’m not sure. She wears a dark purple crop top and a paper thin black vest that goes unzipped on top. There’s a dragon tattoo going from her shoulders to her wrist on her left arm in bold red ink, some sort of emblem on the right arm in white. She wears torn jeans and little black sneakers, a small body that stands tall. She has one hand on her hip, another hanging down.

The other girl has skin that’s far darker than Ty’s, maybe even darker than Andrew’s and hair shaved close to her forehead in bright fire engine red. Her right ear is pierced up and down; her left ear flaunts only two piercings. She has a silver piercing in her eyebrow, almost the same color as her wide gray eyes. She has a wide nose and obvious cheekbones, a strong chin and broad shoulders she shows off in a dark red tank top that has large holes in the sides, showing the world her rib cage, stomach, armpits and what looks like a black tube top as a bra. She has floral tattoos inked in black along her bicep and a small flower in white ink on her outer right ribcage. She wears a thick, studded black belt and azure leggings. She wears black boots over her leggings, only laced up halfway. "Morning, sleeping beauty. Sleep well?" She asks, putting her hands on her incredibly wide hips. She’s tall and extremely curvy, that body shape can’t possibly be ideal for physical activity.

"Who are you people?" I ask.

"Told you she’d say that." The girl with the hat says to the other, who rolls her eyes.

"My name’s K.B. This is Dawson. The idiot behind the wheel is Ardo, and the dude who always slips into shotgun’s Mav. They’re both suckers for pretty girls, and we could use another girl in the clan as a tiebreaker." She says. Her voice is low and seems brutish, yet it has rhythm. She talks quickly, and her words are shallow.

Dawson faces K.B., dropping both hands down. "Not like I wanted to introduce myself or anything." She hisses. She has a hint of some European accent in her voice, like very distant German. Her voice is loud and spills out each emotion and thought passing through her brain. She seems deliberate. I bet she’s the one who’d skip the sugar coating.

K.B. throws her arm around Dawson’s shoulders, pulling her in. "And what would you have said?" She asks, then clears her throat. "‘My name’s Dawson. I’m short and pissy." K.B. makes her voice higher and tighter, trying to imitate Dawson.

"I wouldn’t call Ardo an idiot," Dawson says, pushing out of K.B.’s grip.

"What would you call him? Sexy?" K.B. asks.

"I’d call you annoying." Dawson snaps.

"You’d call me? Well, hon, I don’t remember giving you my number." Says K.B., leaning down to meet Dawson’s height.

"I didn’t ask."

"Excuse me," I intervene. The two turn to face me, K.B. grinning and Dawson frowning. "Where are we? What happened last night?"

"What do you remember, hon?" K.B. asks.

Lie. Lie. I need to lie. "Not much. Just passing out," I successfully lie. I think.

"You were in the middle of an old highway and weren’t waking up." Dawson says. She tilts her head down when she talks, casting shadows on every crevice of her face. "We’re going to take you to the nearest hospital." She doesn’t sound like she’s helping me. She sounds like she’s disposing of me.

"Well, we might not. You look fine, hon. Where do you want us to drop you off?" K.B. asks me.

"Wait. You picked me up?" I ask.

"It wasn’t my choice." Dawson complains.

"It wasn’t sexual or anything, if that’s what you’re wondering, hon." K.B. says.

"No, you made physical contact with my skin?" I ask, scanning their hands for burns. I don’t see any bandages or scars or redness or anything. What’s going on?

Dawson tilts her head towards her feet and holds her hand on the brim of her hat. "For the love of God, don’t be one of those people who’re scared of germs." Dawson says, shaking her head.

"I’m not. I’m just wondering." I say.

"Yeah, and I’m just wondering why the hell you need to know." Dawson attempts to mumble.

K.B. elbows Dawson in the ribs. "Hey, what’s with you?" She asks. "Did you and Ardo have a fight?"

"Just because I’m upset doesn’t mean it has to do with Ardo." Dawson snaps.

"Yeah, but it usually is." K.B. says.

"I actually have a place to be." I interrupt, jumping off the back of the car. These girls are taller than I thought. K.B.’s actually taller than me, and Dawson’s only a little shorter. Are they freaks of some sort? I mean, that would explain why they haven’t mentioned my eye color. And they were able to touch my skin; they’ve got to be freaks.

"And where’s that, hon?" K.B. asks.

I think back to the map Mr. C. showed me with the routes. "San Francisco." I say.

"Then you can come with us. We’re heading to Tijuana." K.B. tells me.

"Thank you for the offer, but I have to refuse." I say. Unless their truck can go at Mach two, I’ll only slow myself down.

"You sure? We’re going west around the Bay to see the coast." She says.

West? I think back to the map, where Redwood City was on the map. On the west side of the bay, south of San Mateo and north of Palo Alto. There was a route that let me go through Redwood City if I encountered an emergency.

I hear a car door behind me, on my left open and close. The boy they called Mav is approaching. "What are you doing, having a picnic?" He asks before entering my vision. His voice is too low for a man ten years my senior, but he sounds at least a year older than me. His tone is jovial; the words seem to bounce in the air. I bet he’s one of those people who either try to sound cool, like they don’t really care or he was born sounding disinterested. He strolls into my view, his right hand on the back of his neck. He’s taller than me, another freak, and he’s as muscular as Andrew. I seriously doubt he’s as strong. He wears a red t-shirt with black fonts advertising a band I’ve never heard of. I catch several tattoos on his arms all in thick, black ink. I notice large tribal patterns, linking together to cover the entirety of his tanned skin like a sleeve. His other arm, the left one and the hand on his neck, is mostly bare except for thin writing. A short quotation on his triceps that reads, "I’m alive, what else do I need?" He has a wide chin, a scar on the side of his cheek and a small nose. His eyes are a darker and less neon shade of chartreuse; he has several piercings in his left eyebrow. His ashy blonde hair is short and neatly kept in a faux hawk. I don’t look down to see what kind of shoes he wears, because I notice that his eyes are on mine. I bring my eyes down from his hair to his eyes. "Hey." Whoa. He has an amazing voice. He sounds lighthearted yet calm and cool, interesting and playful. His voice is masculine and low, but not too low. He has this slight smirk on, and I don’t know if it’s weird or nice. Either way, it’s lopsided. The ancient Greeks would be outraged.
Could I have been calm and cool? Yes. Was I? No. "You count as an emergency, right?" I ask. I hear K.B. chuckling at my words. I’m not trying to be flirty or cute. I want to go to Redwood City.

"Uh," He says, obviously expecting anything other than what I just said. "Sure…?"

I hold out my hand to shake his, the way I’ve seen the compound workers do it. "Nice to meet you. I’m Amber."

He shakes my hand. "Mav," He simply says, letting go. I never thought anyone other than Ty could touch my hand without burning. I don’t know if I like this. The temperature never failed to get me out of the hugs I hate with all my heart.

"Wow." I say, getting an eyebrow raise out of him. "You come across someone like me and all you say is your name?" I face K.B. "He’s trying to be ‘cool,’ isn’t he?"

K.B. starts laughing, a sound that is more like aspirated hyperventilating while having the hiccups. "Oh, yeah." She croaks out through laughs. "I’m going to like this chick."

Mav rolls his eyes and keeps smirking. "So," He says, dragging out the word. "Where’re you from?"

I like this question, because I have a plethora of choices. I can pick anywhere in America and Canada. Although with a world war coming up, I’m going to stick to the fifty states. I don’t know the lingo of the east coast, Midwest or south, so I shouldn’t stray from the states on the west. That’s still an abundance of cities.

In the back of my mind, I want to say Redwood City. I find some truth in that answer. I’m not sure why.

I’m sure that I’m not saying Redwood City. These seem like the kind of people who ran away from home. I don’t think we’ll be on the best page if I say I want to return home. I’ll tell them the truth. "Tahoe." I say.

"Where you headed?" He asks, stuffing both hands in his pockets. He’s wearing baggy navy jeans. If only they were black instead of blue.

This question poses higher stakes and more interest to me. Ultimately, I need to end up in the Los Angeles area. However, Mr. C. could have meant the county, southern California or the Greater Los Angeles Area. "To be honest, I’m not sure. Just south." I admit. Mr. C. said that I would get information of the terrorist’s location with each successful takedown. I’ve known from the beginning that the second group was in San Francisco. The only thing that bothers me is that the groups rise in power and strength. Am I going to beat the second of five? After Sacramento, a fight I barely won at all, I’m not sure…

"You all right, hon?" K.B. asks.

I snap back into the heat of a cloudless, sunny day in the middle of nowhere. I have to choose how I’m going to act around these people. Either introverted or extroverted, both come with risks. "Yeah." I say, nodding. "Fine." I guess I’ll keep myself closed and isolated, because I don’t know what’s going on with me. I don’t want to end up hurting them or telling them about our country’s secret weapons. Besides, I don’t like admitting to weaknesses or pain. It makes me feel small and helpless.

"You should meet Ardo." Mav says to me, then knocks his hand against the truck loudly. "Hey, Ardo!" He shouts over his head.

"What?" I hear the fourth member of this crew yell back from the driver’s seat.

"Get your a*s out here!" Mav calls out.

"In a minute!" Ardo barks back.

All of us are looking at Ardo, and I can’t see much behind the car seat. "Give him a second; he probably has to put his pants on." Mav tells me.

"Why were his pants off in the first place?" I ask.

"Formal to him is wearing pants." He explains.

"Meeting me is a formal occasion?" I ask. I remember when I first met Ty. Andrew paid him ten bucks to introduce himself shirtless. Andrew and Ty were red from laughing; I should have been frightened at the kind of place I was in. I would have, if I wasn’t born completely naked. It took them a while to create clothing for me. A great group of scientists saw me naked. Thank God Ty didn’t.

"Well, you’re wearing clothes, so he’s wearing clothes." He says.

"I’m not wearing shoes." I offer.

"He doesn’t either." He reassures me.

"I’m not sure I trust his logic." I say. If I was human, I don’t think I’d let him get behind the wheel.

The door swings open, and a bare foot is responsible for kicking it appears. A man about my age height comes out, long brown hair and skin lighter than K.B.’s, darker than Mav’s. He covers his eyes with a pair of black sunglasses and has some stubble around his angled chin. He wears a baggy red t-shirt with what could be oil or food stains. He doesn’t have tattoos or piercings like the others― that I can see. Maybe he has ear piercings or a belly ring. He has on a pair of loose jeans, barely being held up by a belt. He pulls a small pack of gum out of his pocket, takes a piece and stuffs it back. I smell some sort of berry flavor as he heads around the car and leans on the side. "Hey. I’m Ardo, short for Ricardo." He says. His voice is very relaxed and scratchy, making him seem seven years older than he probably is.

"Amber." I say.

He turns to the others. "We can make it to Vallejo by nighttime if we start driving now." He says.

"Vallejo? We’re supposed to be in Pinole by seven tonight." K.B. says.

"Well, it wasn’t my idea to stop for pizza last night. And it wasn’t my idea to pick the busiest place in town." Ardo says, holding his hands up at about the height of his cheeks.

"If you thought it was a dumb idea, you could have said so, hon." K.B. tells him.

"Let’s just get in the car." Dawson says.

"You coming with?" Mav asks, looking down at me. I left three tall guys knowing I would be the tallest around, but somehow, I stumble upon four freaks, three of which taller than me.

I’ve zoned out until now, staring at the distant horizon. After Mav speaks, I look around and notice everyone staring at me. Am I? It wouldn’t take me ten minutes to run to San Francisco, it’ll take them over a day. Then again, I don’t think I have the energy. If their truck isn’t melting at my touch and my hair is still short, I’m not ready to fight again. Driving is faster than walking, and I won’t draw any attention in a car. Unless we’re sitting in the back on a busy highway. In that case, we’ll get pulled over and I’ll have to bail on the scene.

Dawson throws her hands in the air. "I’ll take that as a no." She says.

K.B. elbows her in the ribs again, this time hard enough to get Dawson to react. "Let the girl think." She snaps at Dawson before turning to me. "You have an answer, hon?"

I’m not getting married; I can leave at any time. Perhaps I should hitch a ride, slip away to fight the terrorists and use the downtime to regain my strength before the next fight. I don’t see much of a downside to this. I doubt I’ll ever have such luck in finding fellow freaks again. These people can do what only Ty can do, I can’t imagine better strangers to go on a road trip with. I’ll have to ask about how they came to be.

"Am I welcome to come along?" I ask.

"We’re not rolling out a welcome banner for you." Dawson mumbles. She’s one of those people. They say something under their breath, and when you ask what they said, they tell you, "Nothing." At least Kelli had the balls to say it to your face.

"Of course you are, hon!" K.B. hollers. She’s easily the loudest one here.

"Thank you. It’s a lot of help." I say. More than they will ever realize.

"Then let’s get in the car and go." Ardo says, whipping his head around and going towards the car door.

"You should sit shotgun, Amber." K.B. says.

"Hold on. I don’t think she’s used to being in the truck when Ardo’s driving. Let me drive." Mav says.

"Done. I’m sitting in the back," Ardo says without taking a breath between words. He spins around and pulls himself in the back.

Mav heads to the driver’s side while Dawson and K.B. jump in the back. As I head to shotgun, K.B. leans over the edge to poke me in the shoulder. "Psst!" She attempts a whisper, I think, and she fails. "I told you he always slips into the front," She points at Mav with her thumb, cupping around her mouth with the other to make it more secretive, I guess. I end up chuckling at her honesty.

I pull the car door open cautiously, wary that I might rip it off. I take the step into the car, closing the door behind me in the same motion. I fasten my seatbelt as Mav turns the keys, sending the car awake in either a loud, affectionate purr or a threatening, warning growl. Either way, it’s running. Once the three are settled in the back, Mav slams on the gas, throwing me back in my seat. "Whoa!" I react, straightening up in my seat. I look over my shoulder to make sure no one got thrown out the back.

"Don’t worry; I’ve been driving for five years." He says.

"So you’re twenty-one?" I ask.

"I’m nineteen."

"Isn’t that illegal?"

"Women wrestling in Oregon is illegal."

I turn around when I hear knocking on the glass. K.B.’s leaning into view, shouting, "Turn up the music!"

I listen, turning the only knob. The music blares at earsplitting volume, and K.B. grins. This is another song with bashing drums, guitars and a screaming vocalist. "Are you guys punks?" I ask Mav.

"We love the music. We look like this to piss off our parents."  He explains.

"I have a few questions that could use answers. Do you mind me asking?" I ask.

"No, I don’t have a girlfriend, no, I don’t like one night stands, and yes, I have a six pack." He says without pausing.

"I meant questions about the four of you, Casanova."

"Oh. Boring questions. Shoot."

"Have you guys known each other long? Or did you meet on the road?"

"K.B. and Dawson have been friends pretty much since birth. I met K.B. in preschool, and Ardo met Dawson about a year ago."

"Did you drop out or run away or are you just on vacation?"

"We finished high school and left home."

"Does Dawson hate me?"

"She’s a pretty bitter person; it takes a long time for her to warm up if you’re not Ardo. Like, five years long."

"What can you do?"

He doesn’t answer immediately, like he had before. His blank expression turns to one of confusion. "What?" He asks.

"What can you do?" I repeat. "What are your abilities?" Do I have to clarify further? Can he jump stories into the air? Fly? Manipulate? Is he like me, and does he have fire powers? No, he wouldn’t be able to get tattoos and piercings. Or what if what was supposed to happen to me happened to him, and the fire merged with his body?

"Uh, I can lick my nose with my tongue." He says, and feels the need to demonstrate. Peculiar. I wonder if he has some sort of charm ability, because he’s very misleading and I don’t know if I should trust him. Yet I want to.

Maybe his ability is somehow embarrassing to him, and he’s trying to hide it. I won’t pry. Not at the moment, at least. I know it’s not dangerous like mine, or we’d have encountered problems by now. "Can you lick your elbow?" I ask, more for curiosity’s sake than anything else.

"Well, probably. If I got out the car." He says.

"Really? Is that an excuse? If you can do it, you can do it in a car." I say.

He starts snickering.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing." He says.

"I bet you ten bucks that if you can lick your elbow outside, you can lick it now." I say, grinning. I don’t have ten bucks, and by the looks of it, he doesn’t, either.

"Seriously? Ten bucks? Here, take the wheel." He leans back in his chair, and I hurry to snatch the steering wheel as he lets go to use his right arm to pull his left elbow close to his face. I lean across the middle of the car, stretched out sideways to keep the car from crashing and killing us all. I glance over at him, nowhere near his elbow.

"What’s the first thing I should do with my ten dollars?" I ask.

"I can do it!" He protests.

"Maybe I should buy ten packs of gum. Or a movie ticket. Maybe a gallon of ice cream." I talk slowly and rhythmically, making sure to loudly emphasize what I could buy.

"This is rigged! NO ONE IN THE UNIVERSE CAN DO THIS." He shouts, unleashing the rage. Maybe I’ll see what he can do.

I scoff. "Tons of people can. Thousands." I have no idea, I make up a fact, lie, and I somehow sound convincing.

"I’ll do it later!" He throws his arms down, and I give him control of the steering wheel. The second his skin touches it, he pulls them back. "Geez! Was it this hot when you held it?"

The orange eyes haven’t tipped him off that my ability is fire, and now this? Perhaps I should just lie until I know him better.  "Yeah." I know it was me. It’s about time I get my mojo back. Memo to body: took you forever to start functioning. Now I have a messed up mind and a sucky body.

"You done with the questions?" He asks.

"I’m not interested in what color you paint your nails, so I’m saving my time and energy." I say.

"Paint your― I don’t paint my nails!" He protests.

"Paint, color, make fabulous, same thing." I say, waving my hand at his worries.

"Well, I am fabulous." He says, tweaking his voice to sound lower, like he’s from one of those cheesy eighties movies.

"I’m not convinced until I see a pink feather boa."

"You women and your high expectations."

"I bet Ardo can lick his elbow." I wonder if Ty or Andrew can. I feel like Andrew’s the kind of person to have weird talents. As for Ty, I don’t think he can get any weirder.

"How did we get on this topic?" He asks after a moment’s break.

I remember it exactly. Doesn’t he? I guess memorizing is his lesser suit. Well, to be brutally and cruelly honest, I kind of assumed he wasn’t the smartest type. "I was asking you questions." I say. Specifically, questions about his abilities.

"Oh, right. Is it my turn to ask questions?" He asks.

"If you think I’m that interesting." I say. I’m going to have to lie, I’m going to have to lie my brains out. I’m secretly hoping that he won’t care enough to ask me questions. I guess I’m just too approachable and charismatic.

If Ty heard me think that, he’d laugh until he pissed himself.

"You’re from Tahoe, so do you swim or ski?" He asks.

I need to answer these questions logically. I shouldn’t say swimming, because they might ask me to swim or go out of their way for me to swim, and I can’t have that. There’s really no way for them to test my skiing abilities in west California. Agreeing to being a skier is too convenient. There are a ton of snow sports; it’s unlikely he’d guess my sport on the first try. "I used to snowboard." I say.

"How’d you end up unconscious and bald in Davis?" He asks.

"Bald?" I don’t mean to say it out loud, but it comes out due to a reflex of some sort. I know I heard it right, I always do; perhaps it’s a human reflex? To check if the ears are functioning?

"Yeah. Totally bald. Your hair grows really fast."

Bald? Did I work myself so hard that I lost all my hair? I guess I’m not surprised; I’ve never worked as hard as I did during that day. Is that why they could touch me? Did I use so many flames that I actually cooled to around one hundred degrees? Have I discovered another way to kill me? Can I be worked to death?

I can contemplate later. I need to say something to Mav, and I’ve already taken time. Perhaps I should delay it until I have a proper story set up. That way, I don’t have to worry about keeping the story straight or saying things that aren’t true. "I’d rather not talk about it." I say, tilting my head downward to feign the resurfacing of bad memories.

"You know, you’re pretty mysterious. I know, like, nothing about you." He says.

"Should we act like we’re at camp or something and say one quirky thing about ourselves?" I ask.

"Don’t we need nature names or something?"

"Sure, scrotum face."

"Nevermind." He fires back immediately. I find myself giggling. "Let’s get to the quirky facts."

"If I could have a pet, I would have an iguana."

"An iguana? Seriously?"

"They’re the reptilian version of dogs." I can’t help it. They’re adorable, and you can hold and pet them and train them. They know more commands than cats do, and they’re cold blooded. We’d be a perfect match.

"One time I was in Chicago, and I almost got arrested for fishing in my pajamas."

"You’re kidding me."

"Dead serious."

"What kind of person made that law?"

"Probably some rich old dude who got tired of looking out his expensive penthouse windows and seeing fishers in onesies."

"And they felt dealing with the issue should be a priority?" He nods. "Weird city."

"States have weird laws."

"What are some for California?"

"Uh," He pauses for a second, then spits the laws like rapid fire. "You need a lifeguard’s permission to throw a Frisbee in Los Angeles County, you can’t shoot at animals from a vehicle unless it’s a whale�" so if you’re hunting sharks, you’re on your own�" real estate agents have to warn people if a house is haunted, and ‘the masses are guaranteed sunshine.’"

"Then the masses are going to be sorely let down." I say. Spoiler alert: it isn’t always sunny. Scandalous!

"Look outside, it’s sunny." He protests.

"We have this thing called winter, and these things called clouds." I tell him, and I come to the conclusion that they’re from the eastern side of the country with their false notion of California.

"So can you rebel against the government if there’s no sunshine?"  He asks.

"We would, if we weren’t the tech and entertainment capital of the world and had better things to do." I tell him. I catch him looking at me, and not the road. I turn to glance at him, then the road. "You realize we’re going eighty miles on the highway and we’re merging ahead, right?" I down the road, where we’re on a crash course for several other vehicles. Perhaps they’re invulnerable or can generate force fields. Now that his eyes are off me, I kind of wish they were back. Why? I have no clue. I’m smiling, and I didn’t realize. What else is going on with me? For all I know, my nose could be growing snakes. Maybe that’s why he’s staring.

"Oh, right." He snaps to life, slowing down and throwing our passengers around in the back. I see a middle finger arise from the jumble of bodies. Mav looks in the mirror and chortles.

"Who was that?" I ask. I feel like Dawson would do that, as would K.B. and Ardo. I also feel I’m bad at inferring.

"That would be the expressive hand of a mistress K.B." He says elegantly. He holds up his middle finger right back and slows down to merge.

We join with dozens of other cars as the lanes go from four to three, joining with traffic from a busy highway. Within moments, we’re surrounded on all sides by humans. I look to Mav to see how he’s handling it. He stares ahead, in complete indifference. Is he used to spending all this time around humans? In a small space?

His eyes move to meet mine. His vision rapidly darts between the road and me. "What?" He asks. "Am I making a dumb face or something?"

I know how to react to a question like that. Ty’s asked me before. "No dumber than usual." I answer.

He makes this sort of snorting noise that should disgust me. It instead makes my mouth spread into a grin. "Every time the ladies call me dumb, I know they mean hot." He counters.

"Am I supposed to succumb to your man charm?" I ask.

"Give it a day. That’s normally how long it takes."

We drive for three hours, starting at about three o’clock in the afternoon. It shouldn’t have taken as long as it did, and we can blame that on the accident that clogged up two lanes and caused a huge traffic jam. Ardo, Dawson and K.B. had to squeeze into the space in the back, and weren’t happy about it at all. We stopped for gas at about four o’clock, and I could feel the seat melting around me, making me livid the whole time. The gas tank was on the right side, and I was terrified for the entire experience. We pull off the road south of highway twelve towards these large fields for dinner. Dawson, Ardo and K.B. flee the truck through the small window in the back, escaping like their lives depend on it. Mav digs around in the space between our two seats and pulls out a can of beans and a half-full bag of potatoes. I make sure he leaves the car first, because when I leave, the seat’s fabric is burnt black. We leave the car and hang around the back of the open truck as Dawson sets up a fire. "We’re already behind schedule, and now we’re an hour and a half later." K.B. says, looking at a map with Ardo.

"Highway six-eighty could get us to Tijuana faster." Ardo says, tracing a long line with his pointer finger.

"We’d miss the west coast. We already went out of our way; it’d be a huge waste." K.B. protests.

Mav’s working on getting the can open, and I notice he’s left handed. I know that can openers are made for righties, and can prove hazardous if used incorrectly. He must be using it to avoid damaging the inner content. "Hey, Amber." Mav calls, setting the can opener down. "Can you give me a hand with this?"

"No, I’m left handed, too." I say. I also don’t know if I would break the can opener, my strength may or may not be restored.

"Seriously?" He asks. I nod. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

I straighten up at the words. He liked me? Wait, why in past tense? No, stop, don’t act all shocked. Be cool. "My left handedness? That’s what you like? What, you have a hand fetish or something?" I taunt, putting my hands on my hips.

"Would you rather I have a foot fetish?" He asks.

"I’d rather you not have any weird fetishes."

"Weird fetishes are like weird laws. You don’t know about them, but they’re there. And there are a lot of them."

"Poetic. Although it sounds more like you’re describing hidden warts."

"Hidden warts and fetishes? It’s all sunshine with you."

I shrug. "I’m just really good at having meaningful conversations."

Hey, Dawson!" He calls, ending the talk. Did I screw up? What did I say for him to lose interest so quickly? When did I-- oh my gosh, why do I care?

"What?" She yells back.

"I need your right-handedness." Mav says.

"I’m making a fire!" She snaps.

"I could do that for you." I tell her.

She scowls at me, yet gets up and walks over to Mav. I walk over and crouch near the fire, making sure no one’s looking. I put my body between the wood and the others, and slip my left hand underneath the wood.

It doesn’t take very long for smoke to start coming from the pile. Even less time for flames to emerge. When I pull my hand out, flames are clinging onto my skin. I take no time to press my ignited hand against every piece of wood, each time, I feel fire restoring my damaged hands. Once the wood is ablaze, I withdraw my hand and will the flames back into my skin. My hands, which had previously exposed pores, veins and bones, are returned to their correct state. The skin looks airbrushed and color looks more alive. I watch as it spreads, almost dripping down my hand, reaching my elbow and travelling to my bicep. I put my right hand and feet in the flames, the pain in my heart becoming hard to imagine as it becomes distant. I feel the heat pulsating, fixing my bones. My legs are actually becoming longer, my thighs, knees and shins extending vertically. Does that mean the others aren’t freakishly tall?

My heart starts beating oddly as it’s met by the flames. Although reluctant to new fire, it’s not stupid enough to turn it down. I take a deep breath, and it’s different. My body isn’t dying. It’s healed, and I’m ready to storm San Francisco. I remember the thrill of the speeds I reached, and my legs crave to go faster. Energy returns to my system, giving me the desire to move and move quickly. My strength seems to be returning slower than my other traits, taking its time to define the muscles growing back in my arms, legs and core. My hair also remains short, which is actually beneficial. They’ll definitely notice if my hair goes from short to past my shoulder blades, and they’ll notice immediately. I back away from the fire before I end up looking like a completely different person.

I stand up and turn, facing the others. Whoa. They got short. I guess that if I work too hard, I become bald, short and cold. I never thought I would say those words about myself, or anyone, really.  

I decide to sit down, keep myself short. I sit far away from the fire to keep the temptation down and if the others are cooking, I won’t make the beans or potatoes explode. I curl into a ball and hug my knees to my chest. The less space I take up, the more heat I keep to myself. Besides, it doesn’t make me look approachable. I need my distance, or we’re going to have two people up in flames.

"You get the fire yet?" Dawson yells to me before turning around. When she does, her face drops. "Do you have a lighter or something?"

I chuckle a little and tell her, "I might dabble in arson."

She plops down near the fire and scowls at me again. "Great. Another criminal hitchhiker." She says. Did she take me seriously? She can’t tell I’m joking?

"Whoa!" K.B. says, dropping the map and dashing over. "How’d you do that?"

"She’s an arsonist." Dawson grumbles.

"Yes, I’m an arsonist, yet I lived in snowy Tahoe." I feel the need to defend myself, and snap that at Dawson.

"Maybe we should call you Ember." K.B. says as she, Ardo and Mav sit with Dawson and me; Mav prepping the bean can for incineration. Mav sits on my right, closer than I thought he would, and K.B. pins me in on my left. I try to focus on an excuse for why I’m not going to eat. I’m not going to waste food when they clearly lack an abundance.

I have some time. I keep the flames low.

"I dare you!" K.B. yells, jumping up and pointing at a laughing Mav. "I dare you to describe a hotdog without sounding perverted! It’s a long stick of meat you put between two buns!" Mav falls on his back, hands on his stomach. He kicks his feet with a red face, making a similar hyperventilating-hiccupping sound to the one K.B. makes. Ardo and I laugh, although nowhere near Mav’s hysterics. Seeing him like this makes it even more entertaining.

"Don’t forget you cover it with white stuff!" He chokes out through laughs, before dropping on the ground and laughing until he’s silent, only making a sound to inhale. K.B. groans and rolls her eyes, sitting back down. "Some people’ll swallow it, others’ll spit!"

"I give up. You’re hopeless, hon." She says, throwing her hands in the air.

"What about a hamburger?" Ardo asks.

We all respond with disagreement. "It’s a beef patty with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, bacon or whatever else you want to add between two buns with seeds. Done. Easy." K.B. says.

"Okay, fair enough, now try a corndog. Or a chilidog." Ardo says, and that’s all it takes for Mav to start his manic giggling.

"A corndog is a breaded wiener." K.B. says loudly and surely, and Mav falls back down again. "A chili dog is a tube of meat underneath what looks like entrails."  

"Let’s try something other than meat. How about potatoes?" Ardo asks.

"Perfection." K.B. says immediately.

"Okay, mushrooms." Ardo continues.

"More perfection." K.B. says.

"Food’s ready." Dawson says numbly.

The others eagerly grab their baked potatoes and paper plate of beans, and I hang back. I thought of an excuse that could help me in the future. I thought about saying I was fasting, which wouldn’t help, because I’d have to drink.

At first, they don’t even notice.

I think Dawson sees me, but she doesn’t say anything. K.B. actually speaks about it first. "We didn’t poison you, hon." Suddenly, all eight eyes are aimed at me.

I shake my head. "I have severe acid reflux. This kind of food will just come right back out." I say.

"You sure, hon? We don’t get food much."  K.B. says.

"Yeah. Don’t worry about me." I insist.

Whether or not they believe me or buy into my reason, they don’t pry. They eat their food, and the time passes. They finish and stomp out the flames. It’s time to get back in the truck, and I know I can’t sit shotgun. I negotiate my way into giving Ardo my seat, and Dawson says she wants to drive. I make sure I’m the last the stand up and get in the car quickly, hoping no one sees my new height.

K.B., Mav and I are in the back of the truck, finally free of traffic to break the law in peace. K.B. leans against the back right, Mav in the back left. I sit in the middle, where I shouldn’t melt the walls of the truck. I’m hoping Mav and K.B. have a high tolerance for heat.

"So, hon," K.B. says, one arm hanging out the back of the truck. "You like rhymes?" Mav groans and rolls his eyes. He slumps back, his Adam's apple exposed to the sky.

"Not this crap again." He complains.

Odd question. Every odd question warrants my odd answer. "That depends." I say.

"A nursery rhyme, hon." She says.

"Like Jack and Jill?" I ask.

"Those are the bad ones, hon. There are some really good, dark ones." She insists, winking at me. I'm slightly alarmed.

"Like yourself." Mav says. K.B. kicks his shin, and he flinches, retracting his legs close to his body. "Hey!"

"Oh, quiet, hon." K.B. snaps to him. "Let’s see who figures it out first."

There was a little man,

Who wooed a little maid,

And he said, "Little maid, will you wed, wed, wed?

I have little more to say,

So will you, yea or nay,

For least said is soonest mended-ded, ded, ded."

"What's the second verse?" She asks.

"Ardo’s butt is majestic." Mav blurts out without waiting a second, and K.B. starts laughing. If she laughs unexpectedly, I’m going to think she’s having a heart attack.

"Talking to the wrong girl about that." She says.

I know this rhyme. Our scholars read nursery rhymes to us to strengthen our memory with simple verses even human children could remember.

I clear my throat and announce, 

The little maid replied,

"Should I be your little bride,

Pray what must we have for to eat, eat, eat?

Will the flame that you're so rich in

Light a fire in the kitchen?

Or the little god of love turn the spit, spit, spit?"

"It's A Man and a Maid." I tell them. Ty always told me the dude was probably like eighty and the

maid was probably like twelve, and I always told him to stop his absurd and illegal fantasies.

K.B. pauses and gives me a completely blank look with dead eyes. "Hon, you’re good with fires, you’re barefoot, you have acid reflux and you were unconscious in the middle of the dirt. Now you know random my nursery rhymes. What else is there to you?" She asks.

"I can lick my elbow." I say.

"Stop rubbing it in!" Mav snaps.

"Not happening. Ever." I tease.

"You wicked woman and your wicked ways." He mumbles.

"Hey, hon. Weird question, are you… taller than you were earlier?" K.B. asks.

Of course she noticed. Of course, I planned she would. "Do you realize how ridiculous that question sounds?" I ask.

"I know, but you just look taller, hon." K.B. says. Her way of speaking involves a lot of build up, a lot of resolution and change in pitch. Her voice is like a crescendo.

I hadn’t anticipated that. How does anyone respond to that? "Well, I have been known to grow simultaneously in a matter of hours without food or anything." I say.

"Shut up, hon." She says in a joking tone. I glance over at Mav, who’s staring right at me. Why? Is he onto me? He looks away after a bit with a smile on his face, and I wonder what he’s thinking about. Probably odd state laws.

I let a smile grow on my face, and I keep staring. He glances up at me, and our eyes meet for a moment. He points at K.B. with his eyes, and jams his elbow into the side of the car. I expect the voice to send K.B. out of the car. Instead, it just causes a strident slapping noise. K.B., peacefully resting in the near silence, jolts with a loud, low, "Whup!" It’s such an unexpected sound that might have come from a barn animal inside K.B. Mav and I have to laugh. We have to. K.B. makes a growling sound and reaches across me to smack Mav’s arm. He tries to scoot out of range, eyes watering from laughter. "You startled me!" She slaps at him, and I try to get out of her way. "Stop doing that!" Mav presses against the side of the truck, his thighs still accessible to K.B.’s crazy hands. "You’re the worst person ever!"

She gets her sufficient revenge and sinks back down in her spot, grumbling about how she’s going to kill Mav later. His laughter dies down, and I turn to him. "You probably think we hate each other." He says.

I shake my head. "You kidding? My friends and I always prank each other."

He smiles. "You seem like the kind of chick to just screw up my life when I look away."

Is he psychic? Is that his ability? I’m going to run off on missions when they turn their backs, will I screw it all up for them? What if I drag them down with me? There’s truth in what he says-- undoubtedly. How much is true? What if my involvement with them gets them shot in the head?

No. That won’t happen. I won’t let that happen. I’m only with these people for transportation. I force a smile back. "Maybe because I am."

Hours pass, and they park the car off the side of the road. Ardo falls asleep first, then K.B. Mav follows, and Dawson lingers. I don’t know if I can wait much longer. It’s eleven o’clock, and I’m already late to stop the terrorists in San Francisco. This time, I’m going to anticipate wave after wave of ambush. I can’t blow off all my energy immediately.

I hear a heart rate sharply increase. I whip my head around at the driver’s door opening. Dawson steps out, looks around and walks towards us. I close my eyes and go limp like the others. When she starts walking away, I bolt to life. She heads north, jogging at about eight miles per hour. If I didn’t have prior arrangements, I’d follow her. I let her fade into the distance before I get out of the car.

I don’t waste time. I start sprinting southeast towards San Francisco.

Author's Note

The underlined parts are meant to be italicized, but when writing a manuscript, italics are not used.