“Several.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “You’re going to college on the Outside?” Not many people do that.
“There aren’t exactly a lot of opportunities to play football after college in the Compound.”
“You mean to tell me that Norm colleges come here to scout? I thought outsiders weren’t allowed in the Compound. Do they bend that rule for sports?”
“No. They don’t. But I’ve been to a few open tryouts. And we play several schools outside the Compound. You really don’t follow football, do you?”
The doorbell rings, cutting off my attempt to answer—probably a good thing since the answer would’ve included the words my lowest priority.
“Laila, get the door,” her dad says. “Tell him I’m not here.”
“Dad, come on.”
He slips away without another word. Laila follows.
“What’s he on?” Duke whispers, nodding his head to where Laila’s dad had been standing. “Suppressors or enhancers?”
“He’s Telepathic” is all I have to say. Everyone knows that’s an ability that can slowly drive a person insane. I wouldn’t like other people’s thoughts inside my head all the time either, but still, I don’t think I would try to suppress my ability like that. Especially not at the expense of my family.
The doorbell rings again, followed by pounding. Laila comes back into the kitchen, looks out the window, and lets out a long sigh. She turns around and leans into the counter. “If he’s not going to man up, I will.”
“You’re going to man up?” I say.
“You know what I mean. We’re going to take care of that freak. Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” I ask, but she’s already heading for the door. I slide off the stool and follow after her.
“Just play along,” she says over her shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Duke asks, following close behind.
“I have no idea.”
Laila palms the wall monitor, and as the door slides open she places a hand high on the frame. A wiry man with an eyebrow ring and an attitude nods his head at her. “I need to talk to your dad.”
“He’s not here.”
He wipes his mouth, revealing a skull-and-crossbones tattoo on the back of his hand. “I know he’s here.”
“Look, loser.” Laila moves her hand to her curvy hip. “I thought I asked you to stop coming around here.”
“Just get him.”
“He’s not here. But you see my friend here?” She steps aside to reveal me in all my nonintimidating glory. He barely glances my way, but still I tense. “She’s Clairvoyant, and she told me something interesting about your future. Right?”
I wait to hear his response to her question when I realize it’s directed at me. She wants me to confirm her lie? Doesn’t she remember I am not a convincing liar? “Yes. Your future. It wasn’t good.”
Laila gives me the is-that-really-the-best-you-can-do? look and then turns toward him again. “This is your warning. Do your business away from my house.”
“Listen, little girl, get your dad and I’ll pretend like you didn’t just make a sad attempt at a threat.”
Duke steps in front of me, and I’m surprised at how relieved that makes me feel. I shift to the side so I can still see. “Is there a problem?” Duke asks the man.
“Yeah, kid, someone owes me money. Are you going to settle the debt?”
Duke smiles. “Do you really want to take care of this business in front of the ladies? Can’t this be done another time?”
The loser’s eyes shift between Laila and me, his anger deflating. “When will he be back?” His voice is sarcastic, like he’s decided to play our game for now.
“Probably not until tomorrow.”
“Fine,” he growls. “I expect my money tomorrow.”
“We’ll pass on the message.”
The man gets into a low-riding car complete with red-and-orange flames. Duke shuts the front door.
“He’s gone.”
Laila leans against it. “That didn’t solve the problem, Duke. It only postponed it. Poison will be back.”
“His name is Poison? Seriously? Remember Flash Davis,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, even though deep down I know Poison is no Flash. Poison looks like he actually earned his nickname.
Laila grabs two fistfuls of her hair by the roots, grunts, and then marches off to the kitchen.
Duke and I stare at each other, then I nod my head toward the front door. “Does it always work?”
“What?”
“Flashing your smile.”
“It tends to. You’ll have to let me know.”
I shake my head with a smirk. He is good.
CHAPTER 10
NORM-date: n. an outing with a Normal guy I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be here.…
My mind says these words over and over, and yet instead of turning around and walking back down the long, deserted hallway, my body seems to think pressing my ear against the door marked Athletic Trainer is a good idea.
“Okay.” It’s silent for a few moments.
“Addison? Can you hold on a minute?”
“Sure.”
“What’s up, little man?” I hear him ask. I’m not trying to listen in on his conversation, but he’s not attempting to hide it.
“Will you play catch with me?” the voice of a young boy says.