“But?” Angie presses again.
Anger flashes in a fiery orange ball and I wish I could hurl it at something. “But sometimes I hate it, I hate all of it.” The word hate comes out hard and cold and vicious. I dig my fingernails into the woolen knots of the rug. “I don’t have any friends. I’ve never been out, just to have fun. I’m never, ever touched.” I push my fingers deeper into the rug, prying the fibers apart. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’m eighteen and I’ve never kissed anyone and I probably never will.” I look up. “All because of my gift.” My breaths come fast. “Sometimes I don’t care if not being a healer means that people will die,” I add, these words flying out of me.
Right then, Finn slinks around the corner.
Our eyes meet.
Then mine flee his.
How much did he hear? The last part surely. But the part about never having a boyfriend, never having been kissed or touched? I wait for Finn to tell me I’m a horrible person, who he’d never consider touching if I was the last girl on earth.
All Finn says is “Nice outfit.”
Angie gets up, a little awkwardly. Her eyes narrow at him.
But Finn’s eyes are on me. I am wearing one of my white dresses today.
“The girl-in-an-asylum look really suits you,” he says.
Angie looks like she wants to kill him. “Finn!”
I cover my mouth and start to laugh, and Finn grins.
“Ignore him, Marlena,” Angie says.
“No, he’s right.” I pull myself off the floor. “I’ve often thought I have that escaped-from-an-asylum thing going on.”
Finn’s grin settles into a smile and it’s hard not to smile back. “What, did your mother drive you here instead of your chauffeur today?” He makes finger quotes around the word chauffeur.
“He’s not a chauffeur, he’s José,” I say. “And no, my mother didn’t drive me. She’d never let me come here if she knew about it.”
“Marlena!” Now Angie turns her exasperation on me. “You have to tell your mother.”
I lift my chin. “I’m eighteen. I’m not a minor. I signed those release forms you gave me, so it’s none of her business whether I do this.”
Finn whistles, then eyes Angie.
Angie shakes her head. “That may be true, but you are not just a study subject. You are a person, a girl, and one who depends on her mother. I do not want to put your well-being at home in jeopardy. I’d be a bad researcher if I did.”
“More like she depends on me,” I say under my breath. Then I glance at the clock on the wall of the office. An hour has gone by already. “I should go, actually.”
“How do you feel about an MRI before you leave?” Angie searches my face for a reaction.
Angie has asked to scan my brain each time I’ve come. The thought of being inside that machine in her lab makes me shudder. I’m not ready for anyone to see inside my head, even though I’m also curious what Angie might find out. “Not today,” I say.
“What are you so afraid of, Marlena?” Finn’s tone is edged with something.
“Finn!” Angie scolds again. “Stop reminding me how young and difficult you are. If you weren’t so smart . . .” She trails off.
“I don’t know why I’m resisting it,” I answer. “I just know I’m not ready.”
Finn’s stare cuts through me. “Maybe you’re afraid we’ll find out you’re as normal as everyone else.”
“That’s enough from you, Finn.” Angie’s voice is firm, the topic closed. “That’s fine, Marlena. If and when you’re ready, please let me know.”
Finn sighs. I know he’s disappointed that Angie let me off the hook so easily. His gaze drifts to a pile of papers on Angie’s desk, then it returns to me.
Our eyes catch.
I take a step closer. “What?”
Finn shrugs. “We put out a public call for people you’ve supposedly healed to contact us for an interview. What it was like. How long it took before they were well again. Before-and-after reports from doctors. That sort of thing.” Finn stops there, but there is something else in his expression.
“What are you leaving out?”
Finn places a hand firmly on that stack, fingers wide and pressing down. “These are emails from people who think you’re a fake.”
Something in my chest tightens. “Really?” Finn nods. Angie’s eyes are on me. I guess I should have been prepared for something like this. There must be plenty of Mrs. Jacobses in the world. Maybe it is time I face them. “Um, what if I want to read them sometime?”
Angie’s eyebrows arch. “You don’t have to—”
“—maybe not,” I interrupt. “But at some point, I might want to.” My eyes seek the machines in the lab beyond Angie’s office door. “Kind of like the MRI, I guess. I’m not quite ready yet, but maybe I will be. Eventually.”
“Of course,” Angie says quietly.
“I really have to go. It’s getting late.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Finn offers.
I keep to the middle of the hallway, wanting to be close to him, but he stays all the way to the other side, his hand dragging against the wall.
“You’re a surprise, Marlena,” he says.
“Good. You could use a little excitement in your life, Finn.”
“I hear you could use a little yourself,” he shoots back.
I blush slightly. “Fair enough.” Then I announce, “I have an audience this Saturday.”
Finn stares straight ahead. “I know.”
I glance at him. “Aren’t you curious?”
“I’m skeptical,” he warns. “And maybe like the MRI, you’re not quite ready for me to be there yet.”
I slow my pace. “How can you work with Angie on this project and not come to see me?”
He grows quiet. We pass Lexi and get closer to the exit, closer to good-bye with every step. We reach the doors and I think I might leave without Finn saying another word. But just before I go he speaks.
“I am curious,” he admits.
I stare into the parking lot. José is standing next to the driver’s side of the car, arms crossed, looking anxious. Then I look at Finn, who’s leaning against the wall inside the vestibule of the entrance, arms crossed too. People are always crossing their arms around me. I think they’re afraid if they don’t, they’ll touch the sacred object that is me by accident. “Why don’t you come then? See for yourself what it’s like?” My heart pumps hard in my chest as I say this. It almost feels like I am asking Finn out. “You can be my special guest.”
Finn laughs. “You have special guests?”
“No.” I shake my head. “But I will make you one. I can do whatever I want. It’s my audience.”
“You sound spoiled,” Finn says.
“Probably,” I say, and look at him hard. “Or maybe it’s just that I am lonely and undersocialized and don’t know any better. I’ll see you on Saturday, Finn,” I add, before I hurry outside into the heat.
ELEVEN
The next morning when I go to the kitchen looking for breakfast, the best kind of surprise awaits me.
“Helen!” I yelp, and she looks up from the coffee she is drinking. Her hair has grown longer since the last time we saw each other. It is thick and lustrous, a cascade of brown butterscotch, and her skin is tan from the sun. From all that tennis she plays, I suppose.