The guard punches something into a computer and scans me slowly.
“You have your ID?”
I hand him my passport and wait as he swipes it and studies me and the screen some more. “Okay, they’re expecting you. Go ahead back.” He hands me my ID, and the nerves continue as he tracks my progress with a watchful stare. I stuff my passport in my pocket, trying to ignore the effect of his heavy gaze as I slink into the empty office he indicated. Once inside, I breathe a sigh of relief and settle into a massive chair in front of a desk that seems just as impractically large. What’s with this place and big, extraneous things? The vines, the wall hangings, the furnishings… security. It all seems geared toward intimidation.
Or.
That imagination again.
Yeah, I definitely made the right decision to come here. I’m tired of being afraid of vines and big chairs. If these people want me to believe I have a gift, then they have my permission to prove it.
I turn at a rustle in the doorway.
“Rebecca Carson. I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to join us.”
“I am too, Director.”
Director Clausen bustles inside, shorter than I remember. Older too. His thin-framed glasses barely balance on his beaked nose, and a flurry of silver-streaked hair bristles wildly around his head. He has a thoughtful face, though, and I let down my guard enough to reach for the hand he offers after only a slight hesitation. He knows, right? That’s why I’m here. I’m normal here and can do normal things like shake someone’s hand without trepidation. I touch his fingers and—
The vision slams into me before I can even regret not wearing gloves.
No! Just—
I withdraw in horror, unable to breathe. To think. The room spins dark and too bright all at the same time. Liars! All of them! I’m not normal. I can never be normal. I’m a freak. I’m— I shove my hands beneath my thighs and clamp them against hot, sticky leather.
“Are you okay? You look pale. Was it a vision?”
I pull in air while trying to twist my lips into something. I hope it’s a smile, but it’s hard to do anything when your lungs burn. I should tell him. Most people want to know things like that. They do, and then they hate you for it. Blame you for it.
This is your last chance, Rebecca. You can’t afford to be the freak here, too. They’re here to help you with this, remember? Just follow the script. You can do this. Same as every other time.
I force my lips apart. “I’m fine. It was nothing. Still a little carsick, I think.”
Director Clausen’s gaze narrows on me, and I force my smile brighter. It’s not like he doesn’t know why I’m here. It’s not like my file isn’t inches thick with all the reasons he should be alot suspicious and a little terrified right now. Just… Please have mercy. Please don’t pry. I’m not ready.
Air sieves back into my lungs when he finally averts his gaze to glance at his watch. “I’m so sorry, Rebecca, but I have another appointment. We were expecting you later tonight.”
“I know. I’m sorry. The traffic wasn’t as bad as we—”
He waves away my explanation. “No apologies necessary. We’re thrilled you’re here.” He leans over an intercom on his desk phone. “Maria, would you please come to my office?”
My heart pounds in the silence when he looks back up. I see the questions still swarming in his head. Me, carsick? Kind of ironic when I’m the walking car-wreck people study as if they expect to find a mangled arm or severed leg somewhere. Which is he hoping to see right now?
Our standoff comes to a quick end when a stern woman appears in the doorway.
“Ah! Maria, this is Rebecca. She’ll be moving into the Birchwood Suite.”
The woman’s eyes widen before she recovers with a quick nod. “Birchwood. I see.”
Is Director Clausen sending her a warning look?
But his smile is easy, genuine when he turns it on me. “Your belongings should already be in your room. Maria will guide you. Welcome to our family, Rebecca. We’re so glad you chose Madison.”
“Thanks, Director. I’m glad to be here.” I kind of mean it. I absolutely would have if I’d worn gloves.
With a fatherly pat on my shoulder, he leaves me alone with Maria.
“Shall we?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, and soon I’m scurrying after her tightly coiled silver bun.
