At my request they assign me a small bedroom of my own on the third floor instead of a shared dorm. Logan leaves to get me some basic toiletries as I empty the meager contents of my satchel onto the bed.
With a month already gone out of the school year some maneuvering was required to get me into classes. They had me take some academic tests in which I understood most of what was being asked of me. I told them I'm fourteen, and according to that affidavit and the test results I'm apparently a 'sophomore.'
Logan returns with a toothbrush and other essentials. "Hey, back there, I wasn't trying to turn you over to the psychics, alright? They aren't trying to get in your head all the time."
From my understanding, they don't always have a choice.
"So, what were they having such a riot about?"
"I didn't anticipate---" I grimace.
Logan raises one brow.
"You didn't tell me there were psychics here. I would never have come had I known."
"Will you leave now that you do know?"
Leave, leave, leave. "No. Not if you want me to stay."
"I do." He leans back against the dresser and crosses his arms. "We both know you need this place."
I observe his features and stance. "Is it your healing ability that's kept you from aging?"
"Sure." He's about to ask something, but apparently decides against it. "Dinner's starting. I'll walk you."
I tuck my hands between my knees. "May I decline?"
"You're not skipping dinner, you just got here."
"I'm just more tired than I am hungry right now."
He sighs through his nose, observing me in return. "I'll bring you a plate."
As soon as he's gone I shove all my old things into the bottom drawer of the dresser and collapse onto the bed. A whiff of detergent and dust floats upward. There's one window with a plain blue curtain, and a neat little desk with a lamp. The room is warm with sunlight, and my eyelids flutter until the ceiling becomes blurry. This place will do for now.
Ancient computers sit stolidly in their rows, staring intently at the chair placed in front of them.
"We need to put you in the system before you can start," says Mr. Summers as he leads me to an unassigned set of monitors. "Here, Kitty will help you."
He waves over a smiling brunette in a bright t-shirt before going to help another student. Kitty holds out her hand. "Hi. You new to the school, or just the class?"
"Um, both," I shake her hand. "I'm Ace."
"Nice to meet you." She sits down. "That's your second name, right?"
"Sure."
"Awesome. So, what can you do?" Then rather hastily, "If you don't mind my asking."
It's disconcerting to have this many people interested in me. "Several things," I answer politely. Thinking I sound arrogant, I add, "But I only copied them."
"You're kidding? That's crazy, I don't know anybody-well, other than Rogue I guess-that can copy. Oh, finally it's loaded," she says grudgingly to the computer.
"Is your ability related to computers?" I ask carefully. Is that even possible?
"No, no," she laughs, absentmindedly tossing a brown lock over her shoulder. "We just get along."
I sense I'm going to be asked quite often what I can 'do' and I don't like the response so far from telling people I copy. "So, what can you do?"
"Oh! I phase through things. See?" She dips her fingers into the wooden desk and they disappear as though she were a hologram. "Not too freaky is it?"
I choke back my excitement. "No, it's brilliant. Could you do that with your whole body? What about metal, or stone? Could you go through those?"
Kitty just laughs again, delighted. "Yep. You're going to like it here."
Three days pass and I haven't left yet. Logan keeps trying to draw me out with subtle questions posed to him by his colleagues. I know because his own questions are blunt.
"How old are you really?"
I sit straighter on the concrete bench. "I don't look fourteen to you?"
"You know what I mean." He raps my shoulder with one knuckle. "I've kept all that stuff quiet about you, you could at least clue me in."
When he speaks I think only about how much he doesn't like to and try to appreciate it. "I'm old, Logan."
He huffs. "You smell it."
"As old as you smell?"
"How old do I smell?"
Well-dressed kids shout as they play on the field. "Older than dirt."
The laugh he makes is like punching a bean bag, breathy and only half there. "Probably am."
I take a deep breath and enhance it with a yawn. Logan knows I don't sleep, and assumes it's the same reason I jump at sudden sounds and go tense when people enter a room.
"How old were you when I met you? Eight?"
I blink. "Nine?"
"Been at least twenty years."
"I don't know, okay? No one ever explained it to me, I just don't age right." This has never been a satisfying answer to anyone. I wish there was something wrong with me to explain it, but no doctor has ever told me so. "You want to talk about the facility too, but I barely remember any of that, it was too long ago."
"You remember me though."
"Yeah, I remember you. Logan." I pull my knees up to my chest. "I don't want to talk about anything that happened before now, alright?"
"Wait, did something bad happen to you last spring?"
"Well, I ran into you again."
"No, after that, bub."
"Why last spring?"
"Nothing happened?"
"Should something have happened?"
He glares harshly. "Last spring something happened to everybody. If it didn't happen to you it must've happened to the people around you."
"I was walking, like when I met you, so I didn't really see anybody."
"Ace, you've gotta be kidding me. You didn't feel it, and you didn't see it happen to anyone, you didn't even hear it on the news?"
"Haven't been anywhere near a media outlet since we went to that diner-"
"Jesus-" He smears his hand over his mouth. Then he just shakes his head. "Just don't mention it, alright? How's school?"
I shrug.
"Make any friends?"
"No."
"Good, kids stink." He's fiddling with a cigar he won't smoke because there are stinking kids around.
I get up. "I'm going in now."
Logan raises an eyebrow then waves his hand.
It's a pleasant day, causing most of the students to stray outdoors. As I walk I watch them out of the corner of my eye, watch them playing and joking and enjoying their lives, and making sure they don't watch me phase the tips of my fingers through the different objects I pass.