Pucker by Melanie Gideon Page B

look at us, smiles, and slowly stands. As she pulls herself upright, the years pour down her body and land in a puddle at her feet. I’ve made a mistake: she’s young—younger than my mom.
    Michael’s called next. His Change takes longer. How many millions of calories did he consume over the years? How many Oreos, pancakes, and Cinnabons were in his past?
    I tap my fingers nervously on my thigh as I wait. What if I don’t fool the Maker?
    When the new and improved svelte Michael comes out of the room, he sits down beside me, biting the inside of his cheek with joy. “Never again,” he whispers triumphantly. “Those sons of bitches.”
    I know the ones he means: the same ones who christened me Pucker.
    Emma’s next. She’s in the room for a far longer time, I assume because she was ruined by genetics, not tragedy. The change isn’t obvious when she returns. She looks out the window, dismayed. It’s still raining.
    â€œI think it’ll clear by this afternoon,” Rose says.
    Emma runs to Rose and buries her face in her lap. Startled but pleased, Rose strokes the girl’s hair while gazing at her legs in wonder.
    Jerome and Jesse are called next. I’m frustrated; their chests are fused together—their Change could take hours. And why am I last?
    I can’t sit still any longer. I get up and begin to pace. Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice the way my newly issued boots rat-a-tat-tat like gunfire on the wooden floor. Suddenly the door at the end of the hallway bursts open and a man well over six feet tall strides out, blue robes billowing around him.
    As he stalks toward me I see how old he is, how lined his face is, and for a moment I’m relieved. Why, he’s just a geezer, I think, but every step he comes closer, I’m made aware of the fact that old does not mean weak. Then I realize this is Otak. The High Seer of Isaura. The man who killed my father and flayed my mother of her skin. And—according to my Barker’s—the man who sees all.
    I immediately lose all sense of objectivity and cool. I’m afraid he’ll recognize my burned face. I have to be Changed now! I run to the Maker’s door and pound on it.
    â€œHurry,” I cry.
    The door doesn’t budge. I lean my ear against the wood. I can’t hear anything. What’s taking so long?
    â€œThomas,” whispers Rose. “Sit down. It’ll be all right.”
    â€œIt won’t,” I say. It’s all over. The old man will take one look at me, remember Serena Gale’s child who was burned, and I’ll be discovered.
    â€œWho is your Host?” asks Otak, towering over us. “Didn’t they tell you how to conduct yourself in the Ministry?”
    The Obedient Child is quiet at all times in the Ministry. How could I have forgotten?
    He looks me over carefully. God, what if he touches me? What if he reads me? I know we’re distantly related and it should be impossible, but what if he can do it anyway?
    â€œHe’s scared,” says Emma, looking Otak straight in the eye. “You shouldn’t pick on people when they’re scared.”
    This is bad: I need an eleven-year-old girl to defend me. I don’t dare lift my head. I can feel his eyes boring into my skull.
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    â€œTom Quicksilver,” I tell him, thinking that if I do look familiar, the shortened version of my name might throw him off.
    There’s a long silence. Finally he speaks again.
    â€œHow were you burned?”
    â€œThere was a fire in my school,” I lie.
    â€œWhat, no fire alarms?” he asks.
    â€œThey forgot to change the batteries?” I offer up pathetically.
    Otak raps on the Maker’s door. “Finish up. There’s one in agony out here. And you . . .” He turns back to face me. “Stop hiding.”
    I look up, terrified, but there’s no glint of recognition. Only