Chapter 10

Kara is unusually silent as we play boules. She is not usually one for games, but she immediately suggested a match on the lawn when we left the solarium, insisting that Hari and his lessons could wait. Miesha followed us out, bringing along drinks, even though Kara growled that we didn't need any. Kara watches Miesha more carefully than the ball, which she flings carelessly across the lawn.

"Why did you even suggest playing if you aren't going to take it seriously?" I reach for a ball on the rack. Kara glares at me and then looks back at Miesha.

"We have to get out of here, Locke. Today." Her voice is low, and her lips barely move.

I take aim. "What are you talking about? We can't just leave. When Dr. Gatsbro thinks we're ready--"

She leans close, her voice a bitter hush. "For God's sake, wake up! He will never be ready for us to leave! Don't you get it?"

I look at her and frown. I am tired of the theatrics. "Get what?"

I begin to throw my ball, but she knocks it out of my hand. "We're floor models! That's why he brought Jafari here!"

"Floor models? For what? Give it a rest, Kara." I take another ball from the rack and throw it across the lawn. It bumps Kara's out of bounds.

She grabs my arm, digging her fingernails into my skin. Her voice turns flat and cool as she spits out her words. "You are so naive, sometimes you make me sick. You swallow every hook like a big, stupid fish. Why do you think Jafari wanted to know if it was painful? He wasn't concerned about you. He wanted to know what it would be like for him."

Essential. It is essential he see how truly exceptional you both are.

I flash back to the expectation in Mr. Jafari's eyes. I feel his hand searching for the bones in mine. My mouth opens, but I don't speak--I'm still trying to run back through clues. Is it possible?

"Sometimes you are such a child, Locke! I'm leaving. Do you get that? I'm leaving."

She turns and stomps away. I watch her walk back to the house.

"What's Her High and Mightiness in a snit about now?" Miesha asks.

I look at Miesha. Could it be true? We are nothing more than floor models? Trotted out on stage periodically to be shown off to potential customers of Gatsbro Technologies? Illegal lifelines for those who don't want to die?

"Locke?"

Exceptional. I'm four inches taller now than I was before. More muscular. No cowlicks. My teeth several shades whiter--and straighter. Green flecks in my eyes. Were they ever really there? I had assumed the differences were by accident, but Dr. Gatsbro leaves nothing to chance.

Miesha walks over to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. "I don't know what she said to you, but I want to warn you right now, Locke, she's trouble."

I try to focus on what she's saying. Does Miesha know? But that doesn't mean I always like what I see.

"Locke, listen to me. I've tried to treat you both the same, but something isn't right with her. She didn't come through this like you did. Are you listening to me? Something's not right with her."

I stare at Miesha, her words reaching me, it seems, seconds after her mouth has stopped moving. I grab both of her arms. "Of course something isn't right! She's been trapped in a box for over two hundred years, Miesha!" My hands thrash, Miesha's head bobs. "Our families are gone! Every person on the planet we ever knew is gone! And now we learn that the only reason we're even here is to help sell Gatsbro Technology! We're not people--we're floor models! You're right, Miesha! Something is very not right!"

"Locke, you're hurting me."

I look at my hands squeezing her arms. I am stronger than I ever remember being before. I pull my hands away and see the red marks I've left. I turn and run back to the house.

I hear Miesha calling after me, but I don't stop.