“That’s different! You’re the one who’s been stuck in that one-and-a-half-mile radius, with the government taking over the farm, your life. You’ve dealt with enough. All we do is slow you down and mess up. We were talking . . . We wish the Powers That Be had taken Hazels from worlds like Alpha’s, all trained and badass. But we’re just us.”
“It’s not . . .,” I said helplessly, suddenly realizing what we were doing.
Sometimes, even though we looked alike and acted alike and were alike, I forgot Four’s name wasn’t actually Four.
Her name was Hazel Stanczak.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Look at us. We’re the same person. We like the same movies and candy bars and soda, and this is what we disagree on? Who’s the bigger failure? God! How long have you felt this way? Blamed yourself?” I ran my fingers through my hair and kept them there, my fingers tangled in the locks. I knew the answer. Four had blamed herself since the minute the Powers chucked her through the rift. Four had blamed herself since the minute she was born.
I’d just been too busy blaming myself to see it.
“You really don’t hold it against me?” I asked quietly.
“No,” Four said. “You’re really not disappointed in us?”
“No.”
“In me?”
“No.”
“It’s just, the way you look at me sometimes compared to how you look at the others . . .” A nervous laugh escaped her. “I don’t know. Maybe Red has a point about that anxiety thing.”
For the first time this conversation, though, I thought Four might be right. I did look at Four differently. I’d said the same to Rainbow in that SUV, hadn’t I? Rainbow had her—her everything, Red had her competence, and Alpha had her bravery. Four only had her awkwardness and zits and uncertainty that reminded me too much of myself. If the way I looked at Four made her think I was disappointed in her, that I didn’t like her . . .
Maybe that had nothing to do with Four and everything to do with me.
A voice rang out from the hallway: “Hazel!”
Four and I jumped from our seats. “Mom?” Four said, right as Mom burst into the room.
“Hazel!” She was seconds from grabbing Four into a hug when she saw me across the table. She skidded to a halt.
Four’s lips twitched; her head dipped slightly. Then she looked up again, brightly—falsely—smiling. She gestured at me. “She’s—”
“I think we’d both like to say hi,” I said. “If that’s OK.”
Mom looked between the two of us. She lingered on Four’s faltering smile. “Hi,” Mom said softly.
“Hi, Mom. Can I call you that? Never mind. I get that it’s weird.”
Footsteps caught our attention. Carolyn entered the room, Valk behind her. “Director Facet is on his way up,” Valk said coolly. “He would like—”
“He would like to wait.” Mom glared. “He’s a very understanding man who’ll happily give our family a minute of privacy after my house almost blew up, my husband was put in the hospital after nearly drowning, my oldest daughter was kidnapped by a dragon—incidentally, it must’ve slipped Facet’s mind to mention he was keeping a dragon on my property—and then that same daughter fell off a goddamn balcony right in front of him. I appreciate his respect for our difficult situation. Please make sure to convey the full depth of my appreciation. Should he want to keep busy while he waits, the contract we signed sixteen years ago is a real page-turner. My favorite is the part where we only agreed to cooperate with his department’s demands as long as they prioritized Hazel’s and our safety.”
Valk had braced herself throughout Mom’s speech. “I will pass on the message. Ah. I might paraphrase slightly.”
Once Valk exited, Mom turned back to us. “Sorry about that,” she said, all softness again. “Are you all right? Where have you all been? We were worried sick.”
I gaped.
“Mom’s been kinda upset.” Carolyn went to stand by my side. “I’m never getting in trouble again. Damn.”
“I believe you mean ‘darn,’” Mom said.
Carolyn nodded fervently. “Darn. Yes. I definitely meant to say that exact thing.”
“Have you been OK?” I asked Caro. “I’m sorry for running.”
She bit her lip. “You’re . . . you?”
I nodded.
“We were really scared,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. The MGA would’ve traced any text or email to our location.”
I stepped closer, hoping for a hug. She nearly crashed into me in response. “What did you all do? Were you really up north? Why? I saw some things online and—Can the dragon really talk?” Closer to my ear, she said, “Isn’t it weird, those copies running around?”
“Not copies,” I whispered back. “Versions. Just wait till you meet Rainbow.”
I swallowed anything else I wanted to say. Director Facet stood in the opening to the waiting room, the other Hazels and agents behind him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but we ought to talk.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The thing about Director Facet was this:
When he said, “I’m sorry to interrupt,” it sounded like he meant it.
When he said, “Hazel, I know this gets harder every day. If I could change only one thing, it would be for you to be able to step outside that perimeter,” it sounded like he meant it.
When he said, “You watch a lot of teen movies, right? Did you like that one about the love letters? I’ll get you a screener of the next one. Let me know what you think,” it sounded like he meant it.
And when he said, “Hazel, if one of your classmates gets curious and tries to sneak onto the grounds, I’m worried I can’t guarantee their safety,” it sounded like he meant it.
We didn’t talk often, but I’d always liked him. He’d given me his personal number. He seemed to pay attention; he seemed to care. After everything I’d done the past days,
