THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

sense, except for being sued, whatever that was. So this school had a place that gathered records. I hoped they would find information on me, something that would fill me in on my history. Who my people were.
    Unless they found out I was a criminal. I didn’t feel like one, but would a criminal think of herself as such?
    Nicholas leaned forward in his chair. “Where do you hail from?” 
    This guy didn’t sound like any of the kids I’d met earlier. He had a stiff way of talking and sounded more like one of the adults. I asked, “Hail from?”
    “Your point of origin. Home.” 
    I couldn’t say ‘I don’t know’ one more time without losing my temper, so I summed it up all at once. “I know my name’s Rayen, but not where I’m from. I have no idea what I’m doing here or if I’ll stay. I hit my head in the desert and can’t remember anything.”  I’d heard the kids I’d been captured with talking in the van–about me. One had made a comment that I could have lost my memory from the fall.
    Sounded like an explanation for the empty spots in my mind.
    “Word to the wise, sweetheart.” Nicholas glanced at me sideways. “Don’t tell anyone you’ve suffered a head injury.” 
    I didn’t see how that could complicate my life any more than it already was since I had to work through everything minute by minute at this point. Besides, what other reason would I have for not knowing answers? But he was the first person since Ghost Man to offer advice without a sneer. I asked, “Why not?”
    He scratched his ear and took his time, as if thinking very hard or hesitant to share. At last he said, “If Dr. Maxwell thinks you’re damaged goods you’ll be withdrawn from here so fast you’ll get whiplash. Then you’ll end up in the detention center hospital. Those who go there experience mutatio .” 
    Hospital? I thought I might have heard that term before but not enough to track.
    I felt like I was being tested, but still asked, “What’s mutatio ?”
    Smiling with regal superiority, Nicholas explained, “It’s Latin. Means change.”
    Before I could ask what exactly he meant, one of the doors not connected to Dr. Maxwell’s room opened and a female entered...no, I should call her a girl or teenager . That’s what the uniforms had called me and another female close to my age when I was at the police station.
    This one looked a year or so younger than me. She came bouncing into the room. White wires ran from her ears to a tiny pink metal square on her hip. She wore an orange, green and purple dress with wide side pockets. The dress was draped over striped purple-and-white tights that disappeared into scuffed black boots with three-inch-thick heels. She’d twisted her yellow-and-lavender hair into eight or ten ponytails that stuck out in all directions.
    Every ponytail was tied with a different color ribbon that moved with the rhythmic shake of her hips.
    Nothing matched on her, including her eyes...one brown and one green.
    Two different color eyes?
    She paused, took one look at me with those unusual eyes, then her lips curled in a quirky half-moon curve full of curiosity. She removed a wire from one ear. Her gaze slid over to Nicholas who said, “Where’s your broom, Gabby? Wouldn’t want you caught with no transportation.”
    I couldn’t understand the connection, but read insult in her face just fine before she covered it with a wicked smile.
    “Nick, you’re such a flirt. Careful or I might turn you into a horny toad,” she replied in a singsong voice, then snapped her fingers. “Oh, wait, someone already did.”  She laughed, a fluttery sound that danced through the room.
    Nick gave her an indulgent smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, seeming more amused than insulted. “What would we do without eye candy in this place? I salute whomever scours the country to decorate our halls with sweet things to entertain the male student body.”
    I kept my face neutral, glad not to be the center of attention. Derision in his voice keyed a memory I couldn’t pin down beyond the distinct feeling of anger over being ridiculed for my differences at one time. I felt a fleeting camaraderie with this girl who smiled at him in spite of the demeaning insinuation beneath his words.
    Gabby continued swinging her hips back and forth as if to some secret musical beat. “What you doing up here, Nick? Waiting for an optimum snitch opportunity?”
    I tried to follow their conversation, but little