passed a door that was slightly cracked. Sophie slowed and slipped her hand through the slit, pushing the door wide enough for her to peek through. The room was dark, but light spilled in from the hallway and illuminated a bed with a figure sleeping on it. A girl. She looked to be Sophie’s own age, with a head of wild brown curls and a riot of freckles on her face. Sophie stared, her thoughts a jumble of questions and bewilderment.
Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm and yanked her away, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from squealing. Nicholas let go of her, then pressed a finger to his lips as he silently shut the door. “Do you want to get yourself shot?” he asked.
She turned her head to look him in the eye. “I want to see my mother. Now. Let go of me.”
“All right! All right!” He released her and stepped back.
“What’s your game?” she asked. “What are you after?”
“I’m trying to help you. Why won’t you let me?”
“What did they do to you? And that girl in there—are you test subjects or something?”
“Or something. Do you want to see your mom or not?”
Sophie tried to read him, to get some idea of what he was and what he wasn’t telling her. He made her head spin, with his constant verbal dodging, his hovering presence, his kinetic buzz. He reminded her of a racehorse at the gate, all nerves and energy and impatience, forced to walk when he wanted to burst into a run. His fingers constantly moved, tapping and twisting. Was he a druggie? Hyperactive? On some kind of medication? Maybe Skin Island was a rehab center, some kind of top-secret therapeutic retreat for disturbed kids. But then, why the secrecy?
She finally nodded, and he rolled his eyes and went on. But wherever he was leading her, she never found out, because as soon as she saw an alcove that opened to an upward staircase, she darted into it and raced up, two steps at a time. She didn’t pause to look back to see if he was following her. When she reached the top, she found a hallway identical to the one below, and cut right toward the center of the building.
There was still no sign of anyone. Maybe all these rooms were filled with sleeping people like the curly-haired girl. She ran as softly as she could, and when she reached the wide doorway opening to the atrium, she glanced back and saw Nicholas hurrying after her.
She raced around the wide balcony, which opened to a lobby below her, and above her stretched a dome of glass that gleamed silver-white in the moonlight. There were few lights in the atrium, and no people. Three hallways plus the one she’d just come down branched away, two on her left and one on her right. She dashed toward the right one, then at the last minute whirled and climbed over the balcony, balancing on the outer ledge and staring down at the floor one story below. She was hovering just above a long marble receptionist counter.
Sophie heard Nicholas’s footsteps above her, and she didn’t hesitate, but let go of the balcony railing and dropped onto the desk, bending her knees and landing with surprising silence. Hazarding a look up, she saw Nicholas turn into the upper hallway; he hadn’t noticed her go over the balcony. Good.
Sophie jumped to the floor and crouched behind the counter. Above her on the wall, a colorful mosaic depicted a mermaid on a beach. Across the lobby, double glass doors led outside, and a scattering of old wicker furniture occupied the floor space between.
The four lower hallways were all lit brightly. She ignored the one she and Nicholas had entered first, and instead made her way around the perimeter of the room until she reached the next one.
I just want to have a look on my own. The island wasn’t that big. She could find her mother on her own, and if Nicholas really was just trying to help, she could make amends for running off later. Right now, she had only one goal: to find Moira Crue. If she had to scour every room in every building to find her, she’d do it.
She
Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm and yanked her away, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from squealing. Nicholas let go of her, then pressed a finger to his lips as he silently shut the door. “Do you want to get yourself shot?” he asked.
She turned her head to look him in the eye. “I want to see my mother. Now. Let go of me.”
“All right! All right!” He released her and stepped back.
“What’s your game?” she asked. “What are you after?”
“I’m trying to help you. Why won’t you let me?”
“What did they do to you? And that girl in there—are you test subjects or something?”
“Or something. Do you want to see your mom or not?”
Sophie tried to read him, to get some idea of what he was and what he wasn’t telling her. He made her head spin, with his constant verbal dodging, his hovering presence, his kinetic buzz. He reminded her of a racehorse at the gate, all nerves and energy and impatience, forced to walk when he wanted to burst into a run. His fingers constantly moved, tapping and twisting. Was he a druggie? Hyperactive? On some kind of medication? Maybe Skin Island was a rehab center, some kind of top-secret therapeutic retreat for disturbed kids. But then, why the secrecy?
She finally nodded, and he rolled his eyes and went on. But wherever he was leading her, she never found out, because as soon as she saw an alcove that opened to an upward staircase, she darted into it and raced up, two steps at a time. She didn’t pause to look back to see if he was following her. When she reached the top, she found a hallway identical to the one below, and cut right toward the center of the building.
There was still no sign of anyone. Maybe all these rooms were filled with sleeping people like the curly-haired girl. She ran as softly as she could, and when she reached the wide doorway opening to the atrium, she glanced back and saw Nicholas hurrying after her.
She raced around the wide balcony, which opened to a lobby below her, and above her stretched a dome of glass that gleamed silver-white in the moonlight. There were few lights in the atrium, and no people. Three hallways plus the one she’d just come down branched away, two on her left and one on her right. She dashed toward the right one, then at the last minute whirled and climbed over the balcony, balancing on the outer ledge and staring down at the floor one story below. She was hovering just above a long marble receptionist counter.
Sophie heard Nicholas’s footsteps above her, and she didn’t hesitate, but let go of the balcony railing and dropped onto the desk, bending her knees and landing with surprising silence. Hazarding a look up, she saw Nicholas turn into the upper hallway; he hadn’t noticed her go over the balcony. Good.
Sophie jumped to the floor and crouched behind the counter. Above her on the wall, a colorful mosaic depicted a mermaid on a beach. Across the lobby, double glass doors led outside, and a scattering of old wicker furniture occupied the floor space between.
The four lower hallways were all lit brightly. She ignored the one she and Nicholas had entered first, and instead made her way around the perimeter of the room until she reached the next one.
I just want to have a look on my own. The island wasn’t that big. She could find her mother on her own, and if Nicholas really was just trying to help, she could make amends for running off later. Right now, she had only one goal: to find Moira Crue. If she had to scour every room in every building to find her, she’d do it.
She
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