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PHOENIX, ARIZONA

TWENTY-THREE

AFTER AN HOUR AND A HALF OF SPEED AND AGILITY drills, we’re released It’s Independent Study, so this is our time to work on areas where we need particular io to the firing range and practice shooting I could work in the lab with Gil We all need above average prograe There’s also a room with musical instruet rusty Although that’s the area I’m least worried about

Or I could just work out That’s probably where I need theso weak

Releasing a great gust of breath, I drag a hand throughet up Only I must I don’t want to fall behind I can’t The threat of being sent to a detention ca over me like a dark cloud

With a moan, I pullpush-ups Even though , I lowersurethis into impress me, I’m sure, and it worked, every time I remember hoed I’d been that he could make it look easy even after he corunt, I push ain, untilBecause I won’t be a target I won’t be the puny one that needs Sean and Gil looking out for ram I’ll never be the person I’m meant to be

I’ll be the mindless ht I’m not that

I’m not

"Tell me about yourself, Davy"

My attention snaps to the therapist She sits several seats to my left, about halfway down in the ht and Sean to my immediate left His hand holds his ankle across his knee

I’d been staring at that broad hand ever since we sat down The light spattering of gold hairs on the back The veins beneath the tanned flesh It’s strong and capable, te in ood, but I can’t be weak, either

The counselor looks atshe’s addressed and this catches uess I thought I’d get to hear others talk first They call this Conditioning, but it’s just group therapy

The session is part of our training, and I don’t knohat to do I haven’t figured out what it is they want to hear I want to give theet their seal of approval and start leading a nor my lips, I study her carefully The serene expression The flawless skin It looks like she’s never stepped in the sun

I need to say the right thing I worry my bottom lip with my teeth She stares at me patiently

Worse than her stare are the eleven others, all watching, waiting I slide o to Conditioning together--and then feel annoyed atrelief doesn’t say much for my independence I know everyone thinks of us as friends--a clique Sabine, too My shadow Except right now She got stuck in another Conditioning session I’ve felt the eyes on us, ory they think it is we belong in Other cliques have started to form Only a random few keep to themselves

I say dumbly, "I’m from Texas"

The therapist looks at me with disappointment She expects more

Zoe yawns and stretches her arms above her head Her T-shirt stretches taut over s a sliver of flat belly

Several of the boys watch the redhead, varying expressions on their faces Hunger Contempt She drops her arles in her chair as if settling in and trying to get even more comfortable The action is inherently satisfied She curls a finger around a bright red strand, pleased at the attention she’s getting

It’s in her, too, I think The kill gene A part of her is capable of terrible things even though she looks like a regular girl I glance around the circle There’s nothing about any of us that screa A whisper slithers inside me Except the few of us with imprints on our necks Exceptin her notes, and s do you want to know?" I ask, vowing to be h the lenses of her glasses "Well For starters, what did you do to get imprinted?" She motions to my neck with her pen

I’ on her lap She just wants to hear et beneath her stare

"I ets h His expression doesn’t crack

"Tell us about that" The counselor angles her head, the tip of her pen coain, I’ what it is she truly wants to hear fro is to say

"How did you feel when you hit this boy?" she prods

Furious Hurt "Shockedthat I did that," I respond Not a lie It wasto lose control like that in front of the kids I’d known all my life

She scrawls on her pad "No fear for consequences then? Were you worried about that?"

"Yes," I lie because it seems like what she wants to hear

"But remorse? For the boy? That wasn’t present?"

I see Zac’s face Feel his hands roathe love I thought we shared

She asks again "Did you regret striking that boy?"

I snort I can’t help the sound escaping Or the words: "No He deserved it"

"And do you often feel like expressing yourself physically? With violence?"

I stare, thinking I’ve said too hs, her voice slightly louder as she asks, "Did it feel good? Hitting that boy?"

My es denial An ordinary person would never ad It would horrify people But I’m not here because I’ure out what it is they do want and respond, soood to ram your fist in some asshole’s face?" A boy with hair like straw--the color, the texture, that way it juts all around his head--interjects He stares at ht? Getting all up in your shit? Acting so superior Like they’re allowed to do whatever they want to us"