blueberry pies in the world.
Martin spun around as one impression seized him.
I can move things with my mind.
Trash! But Trash was dead. Martin searched through his memory for anything paired with the pride.
I can move things with my mind. I draw awesome spaceships. My parents don’t spend much time with me.
He scanned the crowd of people who’d just passed him. There were only three kids in the group—a little girl, a guy in his midteens, and the spiked-hair kid in a ripped Ramones shirt.
Martin didn’t recognize the punk kid. But the walk—the way he moved, slunk down like the world was pressing on him—that was familiar. Amazingly familiar. He remembered the way Trash had acted at Edgeview before he’d learned about his talent. He’d been beaten down by everything. Almost crushed out of existence.
It couldn’t be him. Trash was dead. It said so in the paper. But that guy at Trash’s house—he’d faked a kid’s death. Martin sped toward the kid, trying to reach him before he boarded a train. The closer he got, the surer he was. If he was right, this would erase all the sorrow he’d carried with him since that terrible day.
I have to be right,
Martin thought. He didn’t know if he could handle the pain of being wrong.
the power of two
AS I HEADED for the stairs, I sensed someone behind me. The footsteps matched my own. I sped up. So did the steps that followed me. I wanted to run. But that would be a mistake. Running would get me noticed. Notice would get me caught.
Someone whispered in my ear. Three words. “Be cool, Trash.”
I glanced back and gasped at the sight of the brown-haired, blue-eyed guy in the plain green t-shirt. Suddenly, everything seemed so much better. I slowed my pace and let Martin catch up with me. “Man, am I glad to see you.”
“Tell me about it,” Martin said. “You’re supposed to be dead.” He’d grown a bit since last year. But so had I, which meant I was still a head taller and twenty pounds heavier.
I kept my voice quiet and my eyes straight ahead. “It’s a long story. Most of which I don’t know. But we have to get out of here. There are people looking for me.”
“Yeah. Serious guys in blue suits,” Martin said. “Like the one we just passed. That’s why I didn’t shout. There’s one outside your house, too. They aren’t playing around.”
“I know. So I can’t go home. But I have to go somewhere. I was figuring maybe Trenton, and then New York.”
“We can’t leave. Cheater’s here, in the hospital. He’s been hurt.”
“How bad?” I wondered if Bowdler was involved.
“I don’t know. But I’m headed there to find out.”
I looked at the train car that was just a couple steps away. Philadelphia was swarming with people who were searching for me. They had disrupters, guns, and probably all sorts of high-tech stuff I didn’t even know existed. Trenton would be safe. But Cheater was one of my few real friends. He’d never run out on me if I was hurt. “Let’s go.”
I turned and headed up the stairs and out of the station, back past the men in suits with their shopping bags. I waited until we were across the street from the station before speaking again. “You don’t know anything else about Cheater?”
“His brother said he got beaten up. And his parents are on a trip. That’s all I know.” Martin stared at me as we walked. “So, when did you decide to make a fashion statement?”
“About half an hour ago. You like it?”
“Not really. I think you should shave it all off and start over.”
As we walked to the hospital, I filled him in on everything that had happened, keeping my voice low, afraid that any of the hundreds of people we passed might latch onto my words, see through my disguise, and shoot me with a dart before I could react. I skipped over the worst part until I’dtold him the rest. Finally, I described the moment when I’d killed that man.
Martin stopped walking and turned to me. “You can’t change
Martin spun around as one impression seized him.
I can move things with my mind.
Trash! But Trash was dead. Martin searched through his memory for anything paired with the pride.
I can move things with my mind. I draw awesome spaceships. My parents don’t spend much time with me.
He scanned the crowd of people who’d just passed him. There were only three kids in the group—a little girl, a guy in his midteens, and the spiked-hair kid in a ripped Ramones shirt.
Martin didn’t recognize the punk kid. But the walk—the way he moved, slunk down like the world was pressing on him—that was familiar. Amazingly familiar. He remembered the way Trash had acted at Edgeview before he’d learned about his talent. He’d been beaten down by everything. Almost crushed out of existence.
It couldn’t be him. Trash was dead. It said so in the paper. But that guy at Trash’s house—he’d faked a kid’s death. Martin sped toward the kid, trying to reach him before he boarded a train. The closer he got, the surer he was. If he was right, this would erase all the sorrow he’d carried with him since that terrible day.
I have to be right,
Martin thought. He didn’t know if he could handle the pain of being wrong.
the power of two
AS I HEADED for the stairs, I sensed someone behind me. The footsteps matched my own. I sped up. So did the steps that followed me. I wanted to run. But that would be a mistake. Running would get me noticed. Notice would get me caught.
Someone whispered in my ear. Three words. “Be cool, Trash.”
I glanced back and gasped at the sight of the brown-haired, blue-eyed guy in the plain green t-shirt. Suddenly, everything seemed so much better. I slowed my pace and let Martin catch up with me. “Man, am I glad to see you.”
“Tell me about it,” Martin said. “You’re supposed to be dead.” He’d grown a bit since last year. But so had I, which meant I was still a head taller and twenty pounds heavier.
I kept my voice quiet and my eyes straight ahead. “It’s a long story. Most of which I don’t know. But we have to get out of here. There are people looking for me.”
“Yeah. Serious guys in blue suits,” Martin said. “Like the one we just passed. That’s why I didn’t shout. There’s one outside your house, too. They aren’t playing around.”
“I know. So I can’t go home. But I have to go somewhere. I was figuring maybe Trenton, and then New York.”
“We can’t leave. Cheater’s here, in the hospital. He’s been hurt.”
“How bad?” I wondered if Bowdler was involved.
“I don’t know. But I’m headed there to find out.”
I looked at the train car that was just a couple steps away. Philadelphia was swarming with people who were searching for me. They had disrupters, guns, and probably all sorts of high-tech stuff I didn’t even know existed. Trenton would be safe. But Cheater was one of my few real friends. He’d never run out on me if I was hurt. “Let’s go.”
I turned and headed up the stairs and out of the station, back past the men in suits with their shopping bags. I waited until we were across the street from the station before speaking again. “You don’t know anything else about Cheater?”
“His brother said he got beaten up. And his parents are on a trip. That’s all I know.” Martin stared at me as we walked. “So, when did you decide to make a fashion statement?”
“About half an hour ago. You like it?”
“Not really. I think you should shave it all off and start over.”
As we walked to the hospital, I filled him in on everything that had happened, keeping my voice low, afraid that any of the hundreds of people we passed might latch onto my words, see through my disguise, and shoot me with a dart before I could react. I skipped over the worst part until I’dtold him the rest. Finally, I described the moment when I’d killed that man.
Martin stopped walking and turned to me. “You can’t change
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