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****

After Cameron had dropped me off at home, I sat in my room and reveled in the silence. This was the only time in our house when it was purely quiet — when everyone was out. Now, because I'd gotten out of school early, I had an hour left to breathe.

Immediately I went for my harp. I played and played and played myself out, happy that I was never interrupted or told to shut up. I was able to play in peace.

Then, I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. A feeling of emptiness poured over me, which wasn't a strange feeling. I'd always felt this way, ever since I found out what the word “emptiness” meant. I'd been isolated my whole life, yet surrounded by people for even longer. Despite having people around me, I'd always been alone. No one understood me. No one ever will.

But what's there to understand? I'm a teenaged girl going to high school like everyone else. So, I was adopted even though my father was still alive. So, I was a Gray Eyes, forced to complete missions. So, I was the boss, constantly in danger and never, ever safe. So, I was always going to be alone with no one to love me.

Nobody picks his life. This life wasn't my choice, but I had to live with it. I wasn't going to whine about it.

I sighed and closed my eyes, stretching my limbs around me. At least my bed was big. That way I could feel a little less like I was trapped. With my eyes closed, I could let my imagination run wild. I could think about what my family would have been if my dad hadn't died in jail or my mother hadn't died on a mission.

I could picture all of us together — Dad with his curly blond hair and long legs, my mother with her long, red locks and high cheekbones. In the picture, that's how they'd looked. They were sitting around my mother's hospital bed, with me in hand. I was a newborn. They weren't even married. My father had stayed with us for two years. My mother had died on a mission a year later. I was orphaned at three years old. If Mila's story matched up correctly, then my father had left my mother to be with Mila. She'd said they'd stayed together for two years.

I was four when he'd been jailed.

Then he died ten years later when I was fourteen. That was the year I'd suddenly become “pretty” and had to be a boss of a people I had never even
heard
of. The king had told me not to ask any questions. He'd told me to just do it. He'd also said that he was devastated for my loss — he hated when fathers and daughters were split up. I guess that made sense because he and his daughter were constantly split up. I could tell he missed his daughter, Hudson.

But he'd given me powers, which was a plus.

My eyes shot open and I sat up in my bed. I had to practice; I kept forgetting to do that. Word on the block is that Pedro is out to kill one of us. My money's on me, but I'm not sure. It's just better to be safe.

I began to draw. First, I drew the bow and arrow. It was a crude drawing in the air — just a bunch of glowing lines. I'd gotten it wrong twice, forgetting to connect everything correctly. On the third try, it formed into a bow and fell onto my bed. I was done with the bow.

Next was the bat — the easiest object to draw. I drew a bat in the air with one stroke of my index finger. It fell onto my bed, forming into a full bat. Done.

I had tried drawing the guns for all my life but I just couldn't get it right. I drew a boxy shape in the air — an outline of a gun. Then I had to draw the barrel and the clicky thing. And let's not forget the trigger. I messed up eight times. By the ninth time, I was exhausted. All the energy in my body was gone. The instruments on my bed began to disappear shortly, leaving me slumped on my bed, breathing long and slow. I needed sleep. That's all. I just needed sleep.

****

I woke up to my phone ringing by the side of my bed. My eyes shot open into pure darkness, inky blackness filling my insides. What time was it?

I slapped my hand onto my dresser and pulled open my phone. I'd already missed the call but I could easily just call back. Looking at my phone, I saw that I had three missed calls and voicemails. Three? And I'd slept through all of them?

The first voicemail was from Ma. She'd reminded me that she and the family had gone to visit the grandparents in San Clemente — I'd completely forgotten. That explained why it was still so quiet at home. The next voicemail message was from Hudson. She told me to call her as soon as I got the message. I shrugged, wondering when Hudson and I had become friends. The third voicemail was from…
Cameron
? My heart stopped.

“
Yo, Anj
.” It wasn't Cameron. It was
Cam.
Disgust made me almost gag. I hoped he made this message quick. “
Got a note from Cameron today before he blacked out. He told me to check up on you. Said you looked like you were upset earlier. Frankly, I don't give a care if you were upset so don't come tell me about it. Tell
him
tomorrow morning. Got it? And oh, yeah, I'm going on my mission today so you don't have to nag me about it. And I'm taking Olive with me. Peace.
” The phone clicked off.

My mind was swimming in questions but the only one that stood out boldly was, Cameron wanted to check up on me? Then the next was, Olive's going on
another
mission? Did she want to die?

I slid out of bed and almost ran out the door to stop him but decided against it. I didn't want to be like that. Cam clearly hated my checking up on him, so why should I go on and keep doing it. If he wanted to put Olive in danger, it would be all on him. I would have no blood on my hands.

So I called Hudson.

“Hey, sweets,” she greeted.

“Hey,” I said hesitantly.

“We're going shopping tomorrow. Just thought you'd like to know.” I could hear the gum in her mouth as she chewed it nonchalantly.

I smiled, staring at myself in the mirror, disliking everything I saw. “What, are you going to make me over or something?” I snorted, tugging at my tangled hair.

“You are
way
too beautiful to be made over,” Hudson said loudly. “We're just going to get you something other than white and gray. You need color in your life.”

“I… I guess so,” I said, knowing what she said was true. I did need more color in my life. Five years of gray and white couldn't possibly be healthy.

“We'll pick you up at noon, babe,” Hudson said, and then hung up.

Cam

“So these idiots are the ones we're going to rob today, Liv,” I said, nodding towards the tall, isolated house. “Remember Pedro? The guy that was trying to shoot at me that day?” I asked her.

She squinted at the house and nodded her head. “Yeah, they were trying to
kill you
. How could I
not
remember?” she asked. Then she bit her lip, causing me to stare. “Weren't they in a creepy alleyway the last time we met them?”

“Yeah, but they moved. Turns out, they're up to no good, too.”

“Why do you keep robbing them?” Olive asked, zipping up her red sweatshirt and pulling her thick, black hair into an innocent ponytail.

“They have loads and loads of stolen goods in their possession,” I explained. “If we steal from them, they won't call the cops. Nobody wins if the cops take all of the crap. Questions will arise about how Pedro and his boys got all the stuff. Then Pedro and them will get canned.” I pulled on my trusty, black beanie, sliding it over my hair and ears. “So now it's just a volley back and forth. They steal crap and we steal it from them. It's actually pretty funny.” I grinned at her.

Olive finished getting herself together and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, alright, let's get this thing done.” She hopped out of the car and walked up to a muddy ditch. She then began rubbing dirt onto her arms and knees, onto her neck and face. Then she poured her blood red nail polish onto her knuckles, collarbone, and hairline. When she was done, she peered at me. “Do I look hurt enough?” she asked me, pressing her hands on her hips and posing.

I smiled and walked up to her. I scraped my hand along the dirt on the sidewalk and then rubbed it on her small chin. “You missed a spot,” I whispered, inches away from her face.

She stared up at me, grinned, and then pushed me away from her. “No time to flirt, Cam. We need to get down to business.” She tossed the empty bottle of nail polish into a dumpster and then splashed water from a water bottle onto her face, making her look like she was crying.

I took this opportunity to crash the car. We'd stolen the car before we'd gotten here, knowing we'd need it as a decoy. I pressed my hands on the hood, starting the car with my mind. When it revved to life, I stepped aside and forced it to drive forward and slam into Pedro's house's brick wall. The crash was cataclysmic as the car crushed into almost half its size. I forced the window to shatter and Olive ran up to the car to hop through. She positioned herself uncomfortably in the smashed car and rested her head on the wheel limply. She bent her leg at an odd angle and I gasped.

“How did you do that?” I asked, knowing the position looked painful.

“I'm double jointed,” she replied. Then she blushed, probably knowing that what she said could be unbelievably sexy.

I grinned. “Well, good for you,” I said and brushed her hair into her face. The “blood” on her forehead, collarbone, and knuckles looked so real; I thought she was actually hurt.

“Go! They're coming!” Olive whispered, shooing me away.

I leapt into the shadows, feeling uneasy for a second. Olive had never dealt with Pedro's boys before. What if she got hurt?

Pedro and three of his boys rushed to the car, speaking to each other in Spanish, wondering if they should call the police or not. Hey, at least they cared.

Pedro walked up to the driver's side and saw Olive lying on the wheel, her moans and screams making
me
believe she was in pain. As they examined her, I made my way to his front door as quietly as possible.

“
Yeesh
, you look
bad
,” Pedro said, reaching for the door handle. When he saw that he couldn't open it, he snapped for the boys to join him. “Are you okay, girl? What's your name?” Pedro asked.

“Marissa!” Olive choked out between sobs. “Please, help me, I'm in so much pain.” Her crumbling voice was loud.

I crouched down and crawled over to the doorway. Those idiots had left it open so it was easy for me to push my way inside. Then I began to search for the money.

“Call an
ambulance
!” Olive screeched loudly.

“I told you, we can't do that, Marissa,” Pedro said. “You see, we can't have the police come to our house for many reasons. But we're gonna help you, sweetheart.”

“Hurry!” Olive screamed. Immediately I knew that even though her
hurry
was said to them, it was geared towards me. I began to rush, running my hands over the drawers and doors, trying to see if I could fish out the money with my mind. When my hands fell over the sink, an image of stacks of money flashed in my mind and I tore my way into the cabinet underneath. Indeed there were three huge bags of money hidden under there. I quickly began transferring the money from those bags into my own bags.

“—think we can get you out, Marissa,” Pedro was saying. “Just wrap your arms around my shoulders and I'll pull okay? Hopefully this won't hurt you, honey.”

I finished stuffing all of the money into my bags and left the other empty bags underneath the sink. Then I crawled out the window on the other side of the house a second afterwards. I spotted the silver sports car in the distance.

“Can you walk?” Pedro asked, his voice faint on the other side of the house.

“Yeah, I think so,” Olive said. “I think I can walk to the hospital from here.”

“There ain't no hospital for miles, sweetheart. You sure you wanna walk?” Pedro asked with genuine concern.

“I can walk, thank you,” Olive said.

Then I bolted to the silver sports car, knowing Olive was getting out okay. When I got to the car, though, I still didn't see Olive. I could've sworn she was making her way over here by now.

I started the car, switching off the headlights immediately. Where was she?

My question was instantly answered when I saw her round the side of the house, sprinting like a mad woman. Pedro and his boys were running after her, screaming profanities at her. What was going on?

One of Pedro's boys caught up to her, catching her leg as they both hit the floor. I stepped on the accelerator, lurching the car forward and speeding my way up to the house.

I saw Olive take a swing at the man on top of her, knocking him over. Then she kicked the other goon in his groin and leapt out of the way of the third thug. Pedro grabbed her from behind, securing her arms at her sides as she struggled. I screeched to a stop and leapt out of the car only to have Pedro's boys leap at me.

“I knew you looked familiar, Marissa,” Pedro said, growling. “You were the chick that screamed when her beloved boyfriend was getting shot at by us. How could I have forgotten?” He clutched her tightly against him.

I slammed my fist into one of his boy's face and kicked him unconscious. The other guy just needed a punch to the side of his neck to be knocked out. I blasted the last guy away with my mind.

“Let her go!” I roared at Pedro and launched myself at him. He tried to shield himself with Olive, but Olive already knew what to do. She lunged forward, ducking low so that I could send a bone-crushing punch to his jaw. He screamed out and let her go, dropping Olive onto the dirty ground. She got up a second afterwards and jumped into the driver's seat.

“Get in!” she barked at me.

I flexed my aching fingers and ran around the side of the car, stopping only to kick off Pedro who had tried to trip me. Olive started driving before the passenger door was even closed.

After we were miles away, she let out her breath, slowing the car down to regular speed. Then she started laughing. “That was so
exhilarating
!” she cried, grinning at me. “Let's do that again!”

I laughed hesitantly, still recovering from the fact that she'd almost died today. “Let's get you checked out at the hospital first,” I said, nodding at her knuckles.

She glanced at them and waved me away. “It's just the nail polish,” she said.

I shook my head. “That's real blood, Olive, and it's a lot.”

She sighed and just rubbed the back of her hand on her jeans, smearing the blood over the dark blue fabric. “I'll be fine. What I
really
want is a burger. And a tall soda. Yum.” She licked her lips and grinned at me.

I stared at her, breathing heavily. I still couldn't believe she'd survived out there. She'd just finished beating the crap out of those guys, getting herself hurt, and then driving us out of there. She wasn't even scared.

“Pull over,” I said suddenly, pulling off my seatbelt.

She glanced at me. “Why? We're almost there,” she pointed out, nodding at the brightly lit fast food restaurant.

“Just, please, pull over.” I was getting impatient. I wanted to —
needed
to — get this out of my system. Now.

Olive groaned and pulled over, cutting the engine. She looked at me. “Why did you want me to—?”

I grabbed her arms and pulled her close to me, crushing my lips against hers. Her lips were hesitant at first, but then quickly she melted into my arms, digging her fingers into my hair and pulling me closer. I held onto her tightly, squeezing her to my body like a toddler did to his favorite blanket. My hands held onto her face, steadying her so I could taste every inch of her lips. Her fingers clutched at the skin underneath my shirt, causing me to groan deeply against her. When my hands traveled the length of her body, she pulled away.

I grabbed her again and pressed my lips against hers once more. I wasn't done yet. I wouldn't ever be done. I had to kiss her more. I couldn't stop.

She pulled away again, flinging herself out of my arms. The action was so swift; it felt as if someone had just pulled a blanket off of me as I slept.

“W-what—?” I was too dazed to formulate words in my jumbled mind.

Olive wiped her mouth and stared at me for a long time. Her eyes were confused but she didn't start yelling at me because I wasn't Cameron — I was Cam. She just stared.

“Olive,” I said, still unable to find coherent words.

But then she breathed out a laugh. “I can't kiss on an empty stomach,” she finally said, and restarted the engine with a mischievous grin.

I buckled up, grinning as well.