Transparent (5 page)

One time we snuck into a luxury car dealership in Reno. I went first, knocked out the guard, and disabled all the cameras with a pocketknife small enough to fit in my mouth. Noelle, one of Dad’s women, taught me how. She’s what they call a Chameleon, able to change her pigment at will. Not shape or features, just color. It’s about the closest thing to invisibility.

Mom came in, smiling at a ridiculous, gold European car. “Jonas would love this one.”

“How long will this take?” I whispered.

She laughed as she raised her hands. All the cars beeped, their alarm systems disabled. Then she used a wide sweeping motion to unlock all the doors. To top it off, every engine roared to life. “How long did that take?”

I rolled my eyes, just wanting to get back to Dad, wanting to see his smile and hear his praise. “C’mon, then.”

She drove all the cars with her mind, in a straight line, back to Vegas. Dad kept the gold one, which set Mom on full Jonas glow for days.

At least this time the car kind of belongs to her.

I should have seen this coming a couple days ago when she asked if there was a bus I could take to school. I told her there wasn’t, except for those bussed in from neighboring towns, and she seemed satisfied. But she must be desperate to contact Graham if she walked all the way here just to take the car. She’s officially cracked. Graham’s probably already on his way to get us, which means there’s no way I’m going back to the house.

I back up and head for the library. I have to email Miles. He might not answer me immediately, but I at least have to tell him I’m in trouble.

“Fiona!” a familiar voice booms over the after-school noise.

Whirling around, I find Bea at the end of the hall. I almost consider continuing, but I turned too much. She had to have seen how my glasses moved to face her. I’ll just have to deal with it.

“Please come to tutoring with me,” she says when she catches up. “It won’t be so bad if we do it together, I swear, and then maybe after we can—”

“I have to go to the library.”

She lets out a long sigh. “Emailing your boyfriend back home or something?”

My jaw drops. What kind of guy would date an invisible girl? “No, I have … stuff to deal with. But speaking of boyfriends, where’s yours? Shouldn’t you be hanging out with him?”

One of her perfectly plucked eyebrows rises, and then her eyes go wide. “Oh, Brady? He’s not my boyfriend, just a friend. My best friend, actually.”

“Oh.” I look at my sandals, even more confused about how nice he’s been. I’d figured it was because his girlfriend wanted him to. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Ugh!” Bea grabs my arm. I’m too shocked by the sensation to react. People don’t touch me if they don’t have to. I have this theory they’re afraid their hands might go straight through. “What is your problem? I’m trying to be nice here, and I’m sick of you avoiding me!”

Her dark eyes search for mine. She seems genuinely hurt, but I’ve known a lot of great liars. Before I can think, one word escapes my lips: “Why?”

She tilts her head. “Huh?”

“Why are you being nice to me? Are you working for someone? Or do you want in with our syndicate? Either way, I’m not interested. Sorry.” I turn to walk away, but she gets in my face.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” She’s too close to me, so close I can smell her mint gum. “You didn’t even consider that maybe I thought you needed a friend—that maybe
I
need a friend?”

My throat tightens, and I don’t dare speak for fear I might sound more upset than I’d like.

She shakes her head. “You think you’re the only person on the planet who gets shit for their abilities? Have you been paying attention to how people treat Brady? Haven’t you noticed that all the open seats in class are around us? Why do you think that is?”

I hate admitting I’ve been more focused on how everyone treats me.

“We get it, too, Fiona. Maybe not like you, but people hate us, expect us to be bad, treat us like we’re with Juan Torres when we’re
not
.” She looks me up and down, her lip curled. “I thought you’d be different. I thought you were more than a judgmental rich girl, but you’re just like everyone else.”

She steps back, waits for me to say something. I have nothing to say. She’s right, and the truth of it hurts. She thought we’d have stuff in common. Maybe we actually do. That might have been my only chance to have a real friend, and I blew it.

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I get it. Have a nice life.”

I watch her round the corner, already regretting not trusting her. But it’s over now. She obviously doesn’t want to be my friend anymore, so I head to the library. Emailing Miles is my first priority. Hiding from Graham is all that matters right now.

There are so many people waiting for computers that the librarian gives me a ten-minute limit. I barely have enough time to log in and type up an email to HotMulletMan1. I tell him I’ll try to get another phone and call him if I’m in trouble. Then I get kicked off.

I can’t go to the house. SuperMart is the only place in town that sells phones, but it’s too far to walk in the Arizona afternoon inferno. I don’t have anywhere to go. Except …

My chest tightens at the thought of going to tutoring. Bea’s words come flooding back:
You’re just like everyone else.
Well, that’s a first. As much as I don’t want to go, maybe Bea will give me another chance if I do. Besides, if I’m not going back to Dad, then I’ll need any friends I can find.

I square my shoulders and head for the math room. But when I get to the door, a sudden wave of panic rushes in. What if Bea ignores me? I don’t exactly want to spend the next hour doing more schoolwork, even if it could help take my mind off Graham. Maybe I should brave the trek to SuperMart and try to find a phone instead.

No. I can’t let her think I’m that horrible, that judgmental. It’s only one tutoring session. If she ignores me, then I won’t come again. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step into the cool room.

I’m surprised how many people are here, but relieved to find Bea smiling. Only now do I notice how not a single person sits next to her, as if she’s cursed. I’m such a jerk. I wave, the gold bangle around my wrist the only indication I moved at all. She pats the desk next to her, but before I head over I notice a guy coming from the front.

He must be the tutor, though I’m surprised he’s not as old or geeky as I imagined a tutor to be. He’s tall and thin, with strawberry-blond hair and a light dusting of freckles to match. His ears stick out, but he’s actually pretty cute. Cute enough that I end up smiling a little as I wait for him.

Then his crystal-blue eyes meet mine directly, and I gasp.

A smirk crosses his lips. “You here for tutoring?”

“Uh.” My heart flips, and I look down, unable to hold his gaze. Sometimes people hit dead-on like that—Miles more than anyone. It’s unnerving, and yet comforting at the same time. I almost feel visible, just for the smallest moment.

He holds out his hand. “I’m Seth.”

I stare at his palm. How strange that he would extend it to me. I take it reluctantly. “Fiona McClean.”

His eyes go wide. “Oh! Right, yeah. Ms. Sorenson said you were supposed to be coming.”

I purse my lips. “You … don’t know who I am?”

“Not really.” He scratches the back of his head. “I’ve heard things, but hearing and knowing aren’t exactly the same thing, are they?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He shrugs. “You here for tutoring or not?”

I watch him, trying to figure out why he’s acting so … weird. Either he honestly doesn’t care what my dad does, or he never watches the news and has no clue what’s going on outside Madison, Arizona.

He waves his hand in front of my face. “Hello? Tutoring, yes or no?”

“Stop being a jerk, Seth,” Bea calls. “Obviously she’s here for tutoring.”

He sighs. “I’ll grab you some worksheets to do; that way I can gauge how far behind you are.”

As he walks back to the front, I head over to Bea. “I thought you said he was really nice.”

She chuckles. “No, I said he’s helped me a lot—I never said anything about him being super-nice about it. Not that he’s mean. He’s just … Seth.”

“Great. So no gold stars?” That gets a laugh.

“Unfortunately not. Seth’s always been a little antisocial, but he’s not so bad.” She erases one of her answers and scribbles in something new. “He’s like a math genius. He’s a senior, but he’s taken university-level courses for the last couple years. He tutors to pad his college applications.”

“So is that his ability? Numbers?” Most everyone has some kind of mutation, though the change usually isn’t more than a random hair color or other small alteration. It’s the normal-
looking
people who are potentially dangerous, because their power lies somewhere else.

She opens her mouth to speak, but a stack of papers appears between us.

“Quit gossiping and get back to your graphs, Bea,” Seth says.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, we both know I’m never gonna get this.”

“You will. I’ll make sure of that.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised by how cocky that sounded.

He turns to me. “Work through these. I’ll check back in twenty minutes.”

The worksheet starts out with basic algebra and geometry, but it quickly increases in complexity. By page three I can feel my brain seizing up. Before I know it, Seth pulls the paper out from under me. “Let’s have a look.”

I shrink in my chair, dreading his response.

As he flips the page, his brow furrows. It creases even more at the third page. He lowers the paper, staring at me for a moment. “Were you dropped on your head as a baby?”

I cram my lips together to stop them from quivering and push my tears into anger. “Actually, I was. I almost died, thank you very much.”

He opens his mouth, but Bea speaks first. “Wow, Seth, can you be ruder? I don’t think you’ve made her feel welcome enough yet.”

He looks back and forth between us. “I—”

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” Bea asks.

I can’t express how grateful I am that she’s defending me, because I can’t seem to find any words. I never thought I was smart, but I didn’t think I was stupid, either. Tons of people struggle with math. But Seth has probably tutored a lot of students. Am I really so dumb that he’d have to ask something like that?

Seth runs a hand over his face, letting out a long sigh. “Fiona, can I speak with you outside?”

“No,” I barely squeak out.

He kneels by my desk, but I refuse to look at him. “I need to talk with you about this worksheet, and I don’t think you’d want everyone hearing.”

I look around the classroom—everyone is listening, not even pretending to do something else. The last thing I need is more gossip fodder, so I reluctantly stand to face him. “Fine.”

I follow Seth outside, the hot air hitting me like a giant blow-dryer. My blue sundress flares up, but I don’t bother pushing it down. Not like he can see. Besides, I wore underwear today, which I kind of regret now that Graham could be here. Sometimes underwear is the difference between getting away and getting caught. I scan the sky, the halls, even the tree branches for him. It looks safe. For now.

Seth sits under a tree in the courtyard, and I take a spot in the shade, plenty of distance between us.

He looks at my worksheets again, then directly at my frames. It freaks me out, how he doesn’t search for my limbs or squint like that might help him see. He just picks a spot and stares. “I didn’t intend to make fun of you. I meant that question literally. It seemed plausible, considering your ability.”

I glare at him, the hairs on my neck prickling. Who does this guy think he is? “It doesn’t matter what you intended, only how it’s interpreted.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes.” I force my mouth shut before I really go off on him. I shouldn’t be this upset—I’ve been accused of far worse and it never hurt. A lump forms in my throat. The other accusations weren’t true, but this one is.

Seth is quiet, watching me. I’m not sure if I prefer that to him talking or not, but it’s easier to take in my surroundings, at least. Graham won’t be able to sneak up on me—I already have every decent hiding spot in this courtyard mapped out. Seth finally says, “Would it have sounded better if I said I think you have a learning disability?”

Words won’t form, and for a second all my other concerns disappear. When I said I want to figure out who I am, I wasn’t asking to discover I’m an idiot. I finally compose myself enough to talk. “Barely. What makes you think that?”

“You missed simple questions, Fiona, and not on the algebra, but on the basic addition and subtraction within the algebra. See here?” He holds out the papers, and I force myself to look while he explains. “I can’t believe no one has pointed this out to you before. Did your dad hire a bunch of fake tutors to give you a pretend education?”

I hate that I’m crying. Why am I crying over stupid math and this stupid boy who thinks he knows everything? Because he’s right. That’s exactly what Dad did—he put me in just enough school to keep me from noticing what I was missing. I didn’t need a real education—not when I was his invisible henchman. I wrap my arms around my legs, wishing I had somewhere to run. If there wasn’t a chance that Graham was at my house, I’d be gone.

“I need to recommend to Ms. Sorenson that you be moved to remedial courses ,” Seth says.

That snaps me out of it. “What?”

“Your math comprehension isn’t even at a seventh-grade level, which means there’s no way you can handle an eleventh-grade class. It would be better for you if you were moved. You aren’t capable of passing.”

“No.” I can’t seem to stop my head from shaking back and forth. I’m not doing that. Everyone will know. The teasing will never end. “No freaking way.”

He rolls his eyes. “Calm down. It’s not that bad. You’re acting like I’m calling you stupid or something.”

Finally I realize who he reminds me of—that attitude, playing down my feelings, belittling me constantly. He’s just like Graham. Except he has no power over me, so I’m not putting up with this. “You aren’t, genius boy? Maybe I’m too stupid to understand, but it sure sounds like you’re calling me an idiot.”