Prologue

Time had run out hours ago. "Where are my pain meds!" the young woman screeched, momentarily overwhelming all the other noise in the room.

Lieutenant Gage inwardly winced from the screaming as she held her weapon and stood at attention next to the head of the head of the bed. She had been put in charge of guard detail for Amelie and her unborn child as a highly classified assignment, and the details of the mission were sketchy. "Please, it hurts so much."

A highly dangerous hostile was in pursuit of the pregnant woman and their lead had been 36 hours. They were to protect her through childbirth and get them to a safe house.

The Woman’s answered, her gentle tones filling and soothing every space in the room left raw by the screaming. "Medications don't make the pain go away, dear heart. They only hide it so your mind can't feel it."

It had been 40 hours.
"That would be better, yes, please," Amelie said, panting.
Lieutenant Gage held her weapon and stood at attention next to the head of the bed, but inwardly flinched.  Amelie had been in labor for almost ten hours and it looked incredibly painful, although Lt. Gage wasn't sure all the shrieking was necessary. Subconsciously the lieutenant covered her abdomen with one hand, and then resumed her grip on her gun. Even through the reinforced concrete walls, Lt. Gage was sure everyone else in the subterranean military medical facility could hear Amelie's cries.
            "Please continue with your duties.  We must now focus on the child." The green eyed woman's voice was instinctively obeyed, and the doctor checked Amelie's progress. The room's grey walls barely held The Woman and the six other people crammed inside it. It was claustrophobically small, the one hospital bed going almost the entire length of the room. Lt. Gage stood near the head of the bed and could've reached out and touched the back of the guard watching the door without extending her arm fully, while the guard at the foot of the bed had to cram himself into a corner to give the doctor and the nurse room. She didn't want to die in a box like this.
           "I don't think I can do this, I can't do this," the young woman begged, looking first down towards the aging doctor's masked face and then up at the ageless one. "I can't breathe, I've already been doing this forever..." Amelie's voice trailed off as she started to cry.  "What if my baby never comes?" The Woman stiffened.
            "Give her pain medications."  Her mild voice penetrated every object to the edges of the room.
            Amelie's eyes were wide when The Woman turned back to face her. "You said I couldn't have any pain meds because I need to be clear for the journey ahead. You said it would be too dangerous for the drugs to make my mind foggy."  The young woman's eyes started to droop as the large dose of medication the nurse injected into the IV flooded her system.  "Why is it not too dangerous now? What's happen...ning?" her mouth slurred around the words, but her slackening face did not lose its fear.
            "What now?" asked the doctor.  "She's too far under to push, and a C-Section at this point would be mortally dangerous to both mother and child."
            "I will assist them," The Woman began with her eyes closed, this time her quiet voice wrapping around her like a coat, or a shield, and Lt. Gage felt the powerful presence of The Woman dim. The green eyes snapped open and focused with alarming intensity on Lt. Gage. "This child is coming to us unprepared for this world.  I can complete the preparation, but only after the child is safely on the outside. You who will be a mother, please go and assist the doctor. He will need extra hands." 
"Yes, lady," Lt. Gage responded, too used to following orders to question or give in to the fear in the pit of her stomach. She set down her M16 rifle and went to the struggling doctor.  Then she stood there, helpless, with her hands half raised.
            The Woman whispered so softly that only Lt. Gage could hear her. "The baby is blue."
            "The baby is blue!" The doctor shouted.  "Nurse, I need a neonatal respiratory unit immediately!"
          "That is not our greatest concern." The nurse stopped mid-stride.  "The danger will be in removing the baby without damaging the mother. The baby's head will crown in a moment- rest your hand on his head to hold the ridges in place."
            "Ridges? Shredding holes!" the doctor exclaimed, staring at the hard triangular spines on the baby's head and then at Amelie's slack face.  "Is she a full dragon? I needed to know that hours ago." The doctor placed his gloved hands over the spikes and tried to guide the infant to freedom.  The line of spikes in the middle of the head continued down to the bottom of the neck. The infant's head came fully out, blue-tinged skin and slightly reptilian features tiny and well formed. 
            After the shoulders has passed, along with the initial shock, the birth went smoothly until the tail.  The ridges, which had faded along the back of the neck, re-emerged along the tail and the umbilical chord was wrapped around it.  Even with the  four hands of the doctor and the nurse, they were unable to get the baby out safely.  
            "Okay, lieutenant, here we go. Take the baby's head and torso," the doctor instructed, "he'll need to stay with his feet elevated above the head. Nurse, once your hands are free you hold the leg and tail apart and I will untangle the chord.  Do not compress the chord!" he snapped at Lt Gage, who was awkwardly trying to hold the babe around the tummy, "at the moment, that's the most important thing keeping the baby alive."
            The guard tried to keep her hands from shaking as she adjusted her hold on the slimy infant.  Although the sky color and faint pattern on the skin suggested scales, the skin was baby soft and slick.  She  knelt and adjusted her hold so that the infant's head was resting near the crook of her elbow, keeping the feet high.  The weight of his body was supported equally by her forearm and her abdomen as she drew the tiny body close, protected from his spikes by the long woolen sleeves of her uniform. He was warm. Being blue and scaly looking, she was surprised at how warm he was.
            "Good," noted the doctor, carefully trying to separate the tail and the chord, "your hand is free. You need to clean the fluid from the mouth and the nose. The baby can't breathe until you do." The nurse pulled a bulb syringe off of the instrument table with her one free hand and handed it to the lieutenant. The doctor continued. "Suction the mouth and nose and squirt it into the cloth. You're doing well."  Lt. Gage gave a quick nod but stayed focused on the task. 
Monitors began beeping wildly. "She's coding!" the doctor shouted. He jumped to his feet and rushed to her side. "Nurse, get a cart now. She's hemorrhaging internally. We have to stop the bleeding." The nurse and the doctor frantically worked over Amelie's prone body, and Lt. Gage and the dragon baby were momentarily forgotten.
            Three times she filled the syringe and emptied the baby's mouth. Three times she held her breath, waiting for the baby to inhale. There was no sound. The pulsing of the umbilical chord slowed. Time seemed to wrap itself around the barely pregnant soldier and the newly born child, starkly contrasting the activity and speed of the others around them.  
"Why isn't he breathing?" Lt. Gage demanded.
"The umbilical cord was damaged by the baby's tail spikes. I would guess he hasn't had enough oxygen during the entire delivery." The doctor was still furiously trying to stabilize Amelie. "They've both undergone significant trauma. I doubt he'll survive."
            "But he has to," Lt. Gage thought about the picture of her husband she kept in her pocket. They'd decided to wait to have children until the world settled down and they were more established in it, but apparently that wasn't going to happen. She hadn't even had the chance to tell him that she was pregnant. Their baby was still inside her, no larger than a grain of rice. This baby in her arms was dying without his mother. What if she were the one laying on the bed while a stranger held her child?
"No," she whispered. She bent her head low over the small blue reptilian baby.  "Breathe," she said, "please."  She covered the strange wedge shaped mouth with her own and forced air into the baby's lungs and then allowed the air to exhale. Again she breathed for the little life in her arms. Three, four, five, and then a little cough. A louder cough. A perfect human baby wail. The newborn screwed up his face and had a proper first cry, telling the world how cold, bright, and empty it was. 
            Military training and field experience kept Lt. Gage's expression calm, but tears leaked from her eyes. The nurse glanced up from her work over Amelie. "I wouldn't have been sure that CPR would work."
            "It had to work," the lieutenant whispered, "didn't it lady?"
            She looked up from the child to the empty space behind Amelie's head, but The Woman was gone.  The guards at the foot of the bed and door were also gone. Outside could be heard small popping and banging noises, like a fireworks display far in the distance. Her comm piece buzzed to life in her ear.
"Ruan de Argos is approaching from south southwest with a contingent of Shae. They have opened fire on our position. Lt. Gage, what is your status, over?" 
            "We've been found," she said, but inwardly she cursed. Ruan de Argos was the hostile? This would not end in a firefight. It would be a bloodbath. The doctor's face was grim as he stared intently down at Amelie and Lt. Gage continued to speak. "We have to hide them."
            "How?" exclaimed the nurse, "hide them where? She's still unconscious and bleeding, and if we move her now she'll die."
           A small circle of light flared to life behind Amelie, and grew brighter and larger. "Give me the child," The Woman's voice came out of the light, and as it faded she was standing back at the bedside. Lt. Gage rose slowly, cradling the infant she took to The Woman.
            "Little one, be well," The Woman instructed the squalling newborn. The wailing quieted, although the squirming did not. The Woman cradled the child close into her chest, snuggling with the baby while the sounds and screams of battle raged just outside the concrete walls. "This world is not the only one that will demand much from you, and yet it is vital that you do not as yet know who you are." She smoothed the tiny forehead with the same comforting motion her hands had used to caress the mother's.  "For that, you will need to be prepared in another way and your gifts secreted, to be saved for a different time."
            The Woman wrapped both arms around the tiny bundle, and bent her head down to kiss it. Her flowing golden hair surrounded them, and the child was completely hidden from view. When The Woman raised her head, a normal pink human baby lay in her arms. The Woman turned to Amelie and placed her hand on the sweat-soaked forehead.
            "This is a trial and a time you would also be best to forget," The Woman's voice was compassionate, but firm. Her hand rested gently over the closed eyelids of the prone woman. "Once I have taken Amelie and the child, there will be no reason to continue the assault, but Ruan will know that the child has been born."
            "What if he didn't know, my lady?" asked the nurse. "We could create the certificate of still birth and the one for the mother's death, and that should throw him off long enough for you to get a little further away."
            The Woman nodded. "Do so.  And a record of cremation. All this must be a secret. The knowledge of this child must not leave this room." The Woman, still holding the now peacefully sleeping infant, placed her free hand on the lieutenant's bowed head. Her hand felt like sunshine.
            "The child you carry inside will be well, born whole and healthy, and will live to be proud to call you mother." The lieutenant took a deep, shaky breath, and a tear slid down her cheek, but her eyes never wavered from the hallway and approaching danger. "You will survive this battle. But a darker day is coming, and for that, we are not prepared."
            There was an earsplitting crash, the floor bounced, and an orange-red light flashed brightly enough that no one could see for moments after.  When their eyes had readjusted, The Woman, Amelie, and the baby were gone.
"Did Amelie die?" the nurse asked.
"I don't know," Lt. Gage and the doctor responded together. Lt. Gage continued, "but we know the baby survived. That's enough."
            The comm unit in her ear buzzed again. "Lt. Gage? Alpha team has arrived on site. Ruan is redoubling his efforts but has informed us that he is open to negotiation as he has the right of parentage. Is that true? Lt. Gage, respond. Over."
"Right of parentage is no longer in effect. Child was stillborn dragon, mother was killed in childbirth. Internal hemorrhage and blood loss. Inform Ruan that hostilities are useless and negotiate cease fire. Over."
"Acknowledged. Over and out."

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

There was one constant and fundamental truth of his life; they couldn't hurt him if they never saw him. This principle was first thing scrawled on the belief window through which he viewed the world. It even predated walking. Don't draw attention to yourself, don't react, don't be seen. Everything else followed after.
Fifteen years had passed since the genesis of that rule, and now as a sophomore in high school it proved more important than ever. Thane surveyed the hallway in front of him with the same intensity a general would use to study the map of a critical battle. He knew the name of every student registered at Payson High, but he doubted that more than a handful knew him. That was fine, it gave him an edge in pinpointing their locations without them noticing. Jeran, his football team minions, and their underfed and overly angry cheerleader girlfriends were gathered in the Pit, a space halfway up the hall between Thane's position and the office where the floor recessed about four feet in large steps. They were completely engrossed in the drama of their own self importance. Thane could pass on the other side of the hall without attracting notice.
The intersection with L hallway, where the library had old books and older computers, was choked with the kids who worked on the school's literary magazine. They were busy being pretentious and would never see him. Other groups were randomized because there were no lockers here but everyone had to pass through this central hall, but they posed little threat to his goal. The only trouble spot was passing the office.
Passing the front office was risky because the walls were glass so the two secretaries, the administrative staff, and anyone who had office business could see you. The benefit was the student body gave the front office a wide berth. Walking by it without getting noticed by your peers was easy, and even if they did see you no one was going to start something in full view of the principal's office. Thane's path was set in milliseconds from entering the building. Left side down opposite the Pit, swerve to the middle to avoid L hallway, and then past the front office and weave through the remaining crowds to green hall where his locker waited. It was Monday, so the front office would be busy finishing preparations for the school week.
He slumped his shoulders instead of squaring them, chin down instead of up. Confidence got you noticed. Conversations drifted around his ears, and although he mentally commented on a few, he did not speak, wave, or make eye contact with anyone he passed. Too dangerous. He ducked his head slightly lower but was careful to maintain a steady pace past Jeran's crowd. Girls giggled and boys tried to sound tough, but no one acknowledged him. Pit cleared. Small swerve, steady pace. Coming up on L hall... and through. Only the office was left before he could disappear into the crowds beyond.
A group of boys were walking down the hall towards him. Thane made a slight course correction to bring him closer to the office and out of their path, but he could hear what Matt said. They were talking about some movie Roger had seen over the weekend, and Ben asked, "What superpower would you have?" Thane slowed, listening. It was a question with only one answer.  Peter would fly. Wrong. Every villain would see him coming, he's useless when indoors, and learning to control his flight would likely kill him. Roger wanted super strength. Moron. He'd crush everything until he learned control, or lost control.  And all a smart villain had to do was shoot him from far away.   

"Invisibility." Ben said. Thane paused, foot hovering on the way down.  That was the right answer, the one power where they would never see him coming and he would always be safe.  Maybe he'd underestimated Ben. "So I could sneak into the girls locker room!"  

Thane shook his head as he left them to high five and make jokes. Invisibility would be wasted on Ben.  To be able to truly disappear would be perfect. No one could find him. He could go anywhere. All he had to worry about was not stomping around, but Thane already knew how to walk without drawing notice. That would be the best part. Nobody's day would be ruined by seeing him when they didn't want to. Two more steps and he would be past the office and in the crowd.

"Thane!  Excellent!"  Mr. Quinn's heavy hand fell on Thane's shoulder, halting him so quickly it threw him off balance. So much for invisibility. The assistant principal's perpetual smile beamed down on Thane. Thane looked back at him, waiting. Sometimes if he was quiet and still people would get distracted and forget he was there. Mr. Quinn's other hand was guiding a girl towards Thane, her grimace just as strong as Mr. Quinn's smile. "This is Remy Gage and she's new in our school.  Remy, this is Thane Whitaker. He would be happy to show you where your locker and your homeroom are! I know Thane will do a great job making you feel welcome."
Thane thought it was unlikely he could make her feel more awkward. Mr. Quinn stood there, beaming at them both. Remy looked at Thane, waiting. "My locker is number 519," she said, reading off her paper. Thane nodded and pointed down the hallway in front of him and started to walk. Remy followed, Thane working to stay just in front of her.
"I know you two will be great friends!" Mr Quinn's voice boomed down the hall, causing the students around them to snicker or stare. Thane kept walking, face expressionless. This was a nightmare. Everyone was looking at the new girl- she was pretty and confident, with short black hair that stuck out like a fashion model or a rock star. Thane felt their eyes and heard their comments and walked faster. Trying to go unnoticed now was like trying to be quiet with a police escort. Only one more turn into green hall and he could rid himself of this attention beacon and get back into the safety of being nothing special and no one important. Remy walked behind him until they were out of sight of the office, then bounced in front of him.  
"I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me talk to you, random guy he picked out, but now I'm curious if you can talk at all." She smiled at him mischievously.
"I talk," Thane answered, startled. She took a step closer to him, lifting her chin to look him in the eye and waiting. Thane kept his mouth shut. He knew conversation was a bad idea. She obviously didn't.
"Not much, you don't. What do you think of this place?"
"The school?"
"The school, the town, your life, all of it." Her words got faster, her green eyes staring into his hazel ones until he looked away. "I'm new, I'm always new, I want to know what it's like here. What do you do when you're bored? Is there a mall? What gang colors shouldn't I wear? How," she said, emphasizing each word, "do I survive here?"
"We don't have any gangs here," Thane responded, and couldn't stop himself from adding, "Why are you always new?"
"My dad's in the Air Force. We move a lot. I've gotten used to it, and gotten used to making friends fast and leaving them faster. I am an excellent temporary friend." She smiled at him, but it was a painful smile. Thane felt a flash of empathy for how lonely she was, and how nervous. No matter where she went she could never hide. He tried to smile back at her with what he hoped was a reassuring manner.  
"You don't look so boring when you smile," she said, then flushed and grimaced.  "Sorry, that wasn't what I meant. I tend to say things without thinking much about them first. I meant your smile has a lot of personality. So where's my locker?" Remy spun around and resumed walking. Thane hurried to catch up.   
Her locker was two away from his, so he pointed to hers and then took a few steps more. She was still wrestling with the combination while he opened his, put away his extra books, and put on his backpack. "Here," he said. She handed him the small paper with the combination. He spun the lock with deft fingers left, right, then left again and pushed hard with one hand while lifting the handle with the other. The thin metal door swung open. The scent of stale sweat and mold came wafting out, encircling them like slow death. Remy gagged, covering her mouth and pointing to a small, dingy pile of cloth at the bottom.
"How long have those been in there?  Did something die in them?" she whispered, trying to use as little air as possible. Thane shut the locker and leaned against it. They both took a moment to breathe in non-toxic air, and Remy looked dejected.
"What do I do now?" she said, a little of her bravado crumbling. Thane didn't think about it, didn't pause to consider. Her face was so sad and he had to fix it. He took the little paper she'd given him, flipped it over, and pulled out a pen.
"This is my combination, my locker is 523. You can use mine and tell Mr. Quinn about the death smell in yours." He handed her the scribble and pointed to his locker.  She smiled at him, beaming just like the assistant principal.
"Thank you for doing a great job making me feel welcome," she said, doing her best Mr. Quinn impersonation. It was awful. Thane found himself smiling back, the expression strange and a little uncomfortable, like stretching a muscle that didn't get much use.
All through his next two classes he thought about Remy. That was the longest conversation he'd had with anyone in school for weeks. She should've been intimidated- new school, new people, new everything- but she was stubbornly determined to be as unintimidated as possible. He wondered if he would see Remy again, surrounded by new friends impressed by her outgoing personality and the feel of the world outside all around her. She may have even asked about him, and her classmates would've said, "Who?" even though they'd gone to school together for ten years. Thane sighed.  Invisibility wasn't great, but it was better than the alternative.
At lunch he got his tray of food and went to sit at the end of an empty table on the far side of the cafeteria. No one wanted to sit here because it was too close to the kitchen garbage. The smell was worth the protection.  He'd only taken a few bites when a tray thunked down next to his and Remy slid onto the seat next to him.
"So I think I hate AP History," she began, biting into her sandwich and continuing with food in her mouth.  "The teacher doesn't teach anything and assigns a ton of homework. Jenna says the tests are the worst because he doesn't go over anything on them and the study guides are useless. I wonder if I could transfer to AP English or something, but then they'd just make me get up and introduce myself again, and I'm so done with that. I hate getting up in every class to tell everyone what my name is and where I'm from and what my favorite hobby is and what?"
Thane was staring at her. "You're sitting with me."
"Very observant. Your powers of observation are superior. You should be a super hero."
"Invisibility is the only worthwhile super power," Thane responded.
"Who would want to be invisible all the time? My dad says that reading people is my super power. You are something of a mystery," she mused, emphasizing the "you" and staring at him so steadily it make him uncomfortable. "For most people, their personality and interests are plastered all over. They read a lot or spend a lot of time on the computer, so they squint a little bit and talk a lot. They're big into sports, so they have calloused hands and they just love flexing their big muscles in your face. They're skinny and self conscious so they wear big clothes or tall and they slouch or short and wear big shoes or too much makeup because they don't like their skin or spike their hair to look taller or tough or something, but not you. You are so completely normal it's almost creepy."
Thane's lip twitched.  "You think I'm creepy?"
"Not in a bad way," Remy amended, "it's just... there's no such thing as normal, you know? There are things that the majority of people have in common, so that's considered the norm, but no one person is supposed to have all the most common traits, and yet, here you are."
She was still staring at his face, and Thane fought to keep the heat from rising in his cheeks. "If I'm creepy, you can sit somewhere else."
"Nope, sorry, can't do that." Remy grinned. "You fascinate me, so you're stuck with me for however long the Air Force allows me to stay. I am a temporary friend, and now, I am your temporary friend." She grinned at him, trying to be nonchalant, but Thane could see the tightness in her eyes waiting for his reaction. She really was lonely, and afraid, and probably tired of feeling like that.
Thane could see the loneliness and fear in her because he was an expert in both. He'd become reconciled to being by himself a long time ago, or so he thought. Never having a friend had meant never needing a friend, and so he was content. That's what he tried to believe. But here in front of him was a person, a girl, a pretty girl, that wanted to know what he thought and listened when he spoke and asked questions. Part of him was reeling from all the emotional interchange and wanted flee, find a safe place to hide, and wait until she'd gone away. But it was also that part of him that knew he couldn't leave someone when they felt scared and alone. "I haven't had a permanent friend before, so I guess a temporary friend would be a good place to start."  
Remy's responding smile was so big and so genuine that it scared Thane. Wait, what had he just agreed to? The bell rang and he stood up quickly.  "I have to get to Chemistry." Her face fell a little, so he added, "Where are you going?"
She pulled a crumpled paper out of her pocket and scanned it. "Also Chemistry.  With Rasmussen. Room 304?"
"With me, then."
"All right, friend. Lead on."
Remy chatted at him all the way into the classroom and sat on the stool next to him, which was usually empty. Voices filled the room, echoing off the cinderblock walls and square tiled ceiling. Their chemistry teacher, Ms. Rasmussen, leaned against the front of her desk gossiping with some of her favorite students and posing so everyone could admire her. She favored the brainy and the beautiful, and if you were both, you were golden in her book. She allowed and even encouraged her favored few to call her by her first name. Thane was regretting his decision to befriend Remy- everyone kept looking back at them, interested in the new girl. Thane tried to surreptitiously move further away and so be out of their line of sight when she sighed and put her chin down in her cupped hands.
"What?" he asked. Had she noticed him edging away?
"I wish I had hair like that." Remy said, watching Ms. Rasmussen. Thane looked at the teacher's longer than shoulder length red hair, and back at Remy, waiting. She snorted. "Clearly you don't get it. Her hair is long, wavy, and a gorgeous deep red that most women can't pull off. Mine is short and dark and curls out everywhere."
"Your hair is nice. It fits you," Thane asserted, and Remy looked pleased. She was about to comment when the second bell rang, and Ms. Rasmussen clapped her hands.
"Everyone in their seats!" Her voice was deeper than most other women's voices Thane had heard. Everyone sat down, shuffling papers and pencils clicking loudly in the suddenly quiet room. Ms. Rasmussen was known for being fun-loving and jovial, but she was also infamous for her hot temper and short fuse. "Bi-polar" was one of the nicest things said about her by the students, and even her favorites were afraid of her.  She smiled, showing two rows of even white teeth as her eyes raked across the students and rested on Remy.
"What do we have here? A new student?" Remy smiled back and nodded.  "Stand up and introduce yourself! Do you have an add sheet from the office?" Remy pulled one from her bag and took it to Ms. Rasmussen in the front of the room. Ms. Rasmussen made a show of reading it, then smiled at Remy again. "Why don't you tell us your name, where you are from, and your favorite thing to do in your free time?"
Remy smiled winningly at Ms. Rasmussen, then rolled her eyes at the class. "My name is Remy Gage, I moved here from New Jersey but I only lived there for two years because my dad's in the Air Force and we move all the time so my favorite thing to do in my free time is anything that isn't packing or unpacking." She got a few smiles and giggles with that, and Ms. Rasmussen handed her a well used Chemistry textbook.  Remy returned to her seat. Ms. Rasmussen grimaced.
"Are you sure you want to sit there? There are some available seats up front," Ms Rasmussen suggested. "Maybe here by Jeran?" She indicated an empty stool. Thane wondered if Jeran remembered that they used to be friends. But that was a long time ago, second or third grade before popularity was winner take all and losers lose forever.
Remy was shaking her head. "I'm good here. Mr. Quinn assigned me to Thane to help me find all my classes. I don't want to get lost," and she blinked at Ms. Rasmussen with wide, innocent eyes.
The red-haired woman shrugged and began the lecture. Remy waited until she turned her back to write on the board, then leaned over to Thane. "What was that? I can go sit by Jeran, as if that was so great? What has she got against you?"
Thane had only known Remy for a few hours, but he was already sure that she wouldn't give up without an answer. "I'm not good looking and not smart, so she doesn't think I'm worth her time. It isn't a big deal," he said, seeing the look of indignation his new friend's face. "She's not my favorite person either, so we mostly just ignore each other. She must think your hair suits you too, or she wouldn't have offered you a seat up front." He meant it as an observation, but Remy gave him that genuinely pleased smile again before turning back to watch the lecture.
"Her facial expressions are creepy. She's happy, she's sad, she's annoyed, she's like a cartoon character. Is she always like this?"
"Mostly, yeah. My mom doesn't like her either, says she's fake."
Remy looked interested. "When did your mom meet her?"
"Parent night, back around when school started."
"Is your mom pretty?"
Thane was stumped. "She's my mom.  She looks like my mom."
Remy gestured towards the teacher. "Ms. Rasmussen is tall and leggy with dramatic curves and gorgeous long hair. Women love to hate women like that, especially if they're used to being the prettiest one.  That could be why your mom disliked her so much."
"No wonder you picked me for a friend," Thane whispered, Ms. Rasmussen directing a glare at him, which was probably the first time she'd ever looked at him durning class in the three months since school began.  "Girls must not like you much either."  Thane paused, realizing that could be taken as a bad thing. "Wait, that wasn't..." but he trailed off seeing Remy smirk at his discomfort.  
He fought off a blush again, and Remy patted his arm and turned back to face the front. Thane, relieved he hadn't offended her, did the same although he could still feel the warm pressure on his arm where she'd touched him.
After Chemistry Thane walked Remy to her last class, and was glad to go to AP Music. He loved music; it was the one thing he felt he was good at. The right song or phrase of music could make him feel almost free, and sometimes he daydreamed about becoming a bass guitarist. He loved the way the low bass notes would vibrate in his chest and the way the rhythm of the bass drove the song. Besides, no one had to see you to enjoy the music you made. The music spoke for you so you never had to be there at all, you could just fade away into the sound.
But that was a dream he would never admit, not out loud, not written down. This class was focused mainly on music theory, the whys and the hows of chords and scales and sound. It combined music and math and science. He loved it. Thane was relieved to sit at his desk at open his book so he could focus on something he understood. This was rapidly turning into the strangest day he'd had in a long time, and he needed space away from all the conflicting feelings this new girl brought.  
Thane packed his things slowly and talked briefly with Ms. Sorenson, the music teacher, after class. He was hoping that if he took long enough Remy would've gone home before he had to go to his locker. He did like her and there was a warm spot inside him that was new, but he was not used to all her questions or the way that people looked when she walked down the hall, and he was starting to feel a little interrogated and overwhelmed.  It was her first day, and she was probably in a hurry to get home and relax.  It would be better for both of them if she'd already gone, Thane thought.  
Remy was waiting at his locker.  She didn't look impatient or in a hurry at all. "I like this math class much better than my old one. Mr. Greenwalt actually seems to get what he's talking about.  I stopped by the office after class but Mr. Quinn is in a meeting so I'll tell him about my locker tomorrow so they can send in a SWAT team to kill whatever is gaining sentience in there."
"Doing what?" Thane interrupted, in spite of himself. Remy grinned.
"Gaining sentience. Becoming self aware. Waking up to take over the world. All will flee before its death smell." She started putting her books in her backpack. Thane felt a surge of responsibility for her.
"Do you know which bus you ride?"
"Senior Airman Calder is coming to pick me up in the car.  Do you ride a bus?"  Thane nodded.  "Do you live far from the school?"
"I don't think anything is far from the school.  The army base doubled the size of the town."
"Air Force," Remy corrected.  "It's an Air Force base, not army."
"What's the difference?"
Remy gave him a flat look, unimpressed by his lack of knowledge.  "The army is for foot soldiers.  No one joins the army unless you want to be a ranger.  The Air Force," Thane could here the capital letters in the way she pronounced it, "is for people who can see beyond the horizon to everything else in the sky."  She stuck out her tongue and pulled it back.  "At least, that's what my dad says.  I've heard more lectures about why the Air Force is different than any other branch of the military than  any of his other favorite lectures.  What's your family like?"
Thane was quiet.  "They're... fine, I guess," he finally said.
That was not what she was looking for.  "But what are they like?  Do you have brothers and sisters?" Thane began to walk away, and she followed, still talking. "What do your parents do?  Have you always lived here?"
The best way to get her off this seemed to be by answering her questions.  "My parents moved here when I was a baby. My dad is an accountant. My mom is wrapped up in her own life. I have two sisters. Is that your ride?" Thane had walked her all the way to the car rider pickup lot trying to be rid of her, and pointed to a man in a uniform standing at attention next to a black car.
"Yep. You want a ride home?"
"I'm supposed to take the bus and meet my sister."
"I think you missed the bus," Remy said, pointing to the last big yellow vehicle pulling out of the school.   
Thane jerked around, his face pale. "I need a ride to the middle school," he pleaded. Remy looked surprised at his vehemence and nodded. They ran together to the dark sedan and the man in uniform.
"Senior Airman Calder, we need to give my friend a ride to the middle school so he can pick up his little sister," Remy ordered.  
Calder, in his pressed uniform and fresh haircut, was unmoved. "My orders are to take you and only you immediately home after school, Miss Gage. Those orders are not open for interpretation."
"Look, Airman," Remy put a scornful emphasis on the rank, "Thane has been helping me all day and both I and my father are grateful. Would you like me to tell my father about your ingratitude?"
"I would like you to tell your father that I followed his orders exactly," Calder was unintimidated by her ire. Remy opened her mouth to argue, but Thane growled and thrust his backpack into her hands. He turned, breaking into a run after the rapidly disappearing bus. He could hear Remy calling after him, but didn't turn back. Instead he ran faster, knowing he couldn't catch the bus, but hoping that he wouldn't be too far behind.
He panted as he ran, ignoring the way his too small shoes rubbed against his toes. The bus was out of sight ahead of him, but he knew through experience the route it would take. And he knew some short cuts.
Thane tore through the driver's ed parking lot. The high school marching band was practicing their figures and marching over the lines. He went through the middle, nearly smashing into one of the tuba players. The rim of the tuba swung around as the tuba player yelled at him, and the brass edge clipped his ear. He didn't even pause. Angry exclamations and shouting behind him told him they were annoyed but not enough to chase him, so he didn't look back.  
He broke out past the side of the High School and squeezed through the broken chain link fence into the Polar Queen parking lot. Thane's shirt snagged on a wire and he pulled against it hard and fast. If he could hit the traffic light at the top of the hill, the second oldest of the four traffic lights in town, he might be able to catch the bus if it had to stop at a red. He rounded the corner of the Polar Queen and saw the bus pass him, go through the intersection, and start down the hill. Thane bowed his head a moment, taking a few deep breaths, then started running again.
Racing down the hill was more difficult as not all the sidewalks were finished here. Thane stumbled twice, trying to keep his footing as the bus pulled further away. If Hallie got on the bus at the middle school and he wasn't on it, she would tell their parents that she'd gotten picked on by the popular girls and that he hadn't been there to stop it. She'd make a big scene, crying and pouting, and his mom would throw up her arms in disgust and they would both tell dad all about it when he got home from work.  Thane's dad Robert Whitaker, called Bert by those who knew him, was a tired, middle aged accountant who would loudly complain that his life was going nowhere, and did not lecture his son. It was much worse than that. Thane shuddered, and tried to run harder.  
Halfway down the hill he switched directions and pelted across the parking lot for the church. The bus had to go down to the bottom of the hill and turn right, then drive for a mile or so. Thane hoped that by cutting across the middle he could make up some time. The other side of the parking lot was just houses, and Thane did not hesitate to cut through neat front yards and empty lots with high weeds. The weeds covered a small hole, and Thane's ankle rolled sideways as he jammed his foot into it. It throbbed. He hissed through his teeth and kept running. Burrs and thorns stuck to his pants and mud coated his shoes.
He crossed the last street and saw the middle school. Thane entered the parking lot just in time to see the yellow monstrosity pull out, with Hallie's face leering at him out the window. Some parents in the car rider line were pointing at him and talking, and the teacher on duty started coming towards him. Thane left the parking lot, beginning the rest of his two mile trudge home and favoring his ankle. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and texted his mom. "Missed the bus, couldn't catch it. Walking home. Hallie's fine." His mother did not bother to reply.
About 20 minutes later, Thane rounded the final corner onto his street. The tall oak trees in many of the yards gave the entire street a shadowed feel, made stronger by the clouds blowing in overhead. The houses were mostly old but well cared for, and Thane doubted that his block had seen any significant changes in the last 5 decades. His house was more than halfway down, with brown brick on the bottom third topped by greenish aluminum siding. The large window in the front showed two faces, both female with blond, bouncy curls. As he approached Hallie's face retreated into the house, undoubtedly to get mom, and the other disappeared and the front door opened with a bang.  
"Thanie!" his six-year old sister shouted, as she barreled down the steps and threw herself into his arms.  He caught her, barely, wincing and setting her down quickly. She pouted. "Carry me into the house, Thanie! I was good in school today and I got two stars! Miss Grady says I'm the best in the class at spelling, so I get a piggy back now!"
"You're always the best, Lanie," Thane said, trying to calm his breathing. "You're the smartest first-grader ever. But I can't carry you right now."
"You have an owie? Let me see!" she demanded, and ran to his side. He'd meant his ankle, but she'd gone to the side with the tear in his shirt. "Oh!" she cried, and Thane was surprised to see sympathetic tears in her big blue eyes. "You're hurt and it's got blood!"
"Wait, what?" Thane twisted his head around to look.  He'd thought the fence had only caught his shirt, but there was a jagged cut two or three inches long on his side and the shirt was torn all the way through and stained with blood. Inwardly Thane groaned. He didn't have that many shirts and the loss of one hurt.
Lanie started to cry.  Thane's mom, Gwen Whitaker, came to the door. "What did you do now, Thane? Why is Lanie crying?"
"Thane's hurt! There's blood!" Lanie wailed.
"Thane hurt you?" Gwen demanded, turning on Thane.  "Get away from her and get in this house now!"
"No, mommy, Thane has an owie, not me, and it's bleeding! We need to fix him!" Gwen seemed a little mollified, and continued.
"Well he wouldn't have gotten hurt if he hadn't missed the bus. Look at you! Your shirt is ruined, your shoes are probably ruined, what on earth were you thinking? But no, of course, you weren't thinking at all, just doing whatever you wanted. Pick up your sister and get in the house. Those awful girls picked on Hallie again because you weren't there to protect her. Families are supposed to take care of each other, and it's your fault that she's so upset. Just wait until dad hears what happened to your sister because you were too lazy to make the bus on time."
Thane flinched, and his mom went back inside. Lanie wrapped both her little hands in one of his, and said, "You don't have to carry me, Thanie. I can walk in with you, and I'll fix the owie and you'll be all better." Thane felt a tightness in his throat that had nothing to do with running, and squeezed her hands gently in thanks.  As they started into the house, Thane saw Hallie back at the window.
"Mom, he's making her walk instead of carrying her like you said to."
"Thane!" Gwen shouted. Lanie started to protest, but Thane picked her up and tickled her, making her giggle instead. He carried her into the house and put her down in her room, then walked downstairs into the unfinished basement. He took off his nondescript hoodie and revealed his bright yellow t-shirt underneath, and fingered the tear. The image of the bass guitar printed on the shirt was large and wrapped around his side so that the damage went through all four thick strings.
With a sigh, Thane pulled the t-shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor in a heap. He looked towards the rope nailed between two ceiling beams where he hung his clothes. It was a strange contrast- he had several bright colored t-shirts with logos or pictures on them that represented things he liked and was interested in, and then four solid colored hoodies in black, dark blue, grey, and a dark green. Every morning he'd get dressed in one of the t-shirts, then throw a hoodie on over it. He knew what he liked, but it was better to blend in. This had been one of his favorite shirts, one he'd bought himself with the money earned by doing yard work for his elderly neighbors. That was how he paid for his cell phone, too.
          He went into the unfinished bathroom and cleaned his cut as best he could and wondered if he could find a needle and thread to fix the shirt. Maybe he could even make it look like a part of the bass. He rinsed his socks and shoes in the sink of the bathroom and left them there to dry. He squeezed between the wall studs into the next room where a thick paisley rug and an old mattress lay on the concrete in the corner. The walls of the basement were all framed, but no drywall had been put up. That was another thing that Grandpa was supposed to do with Thane to help, since Thane's dad was always working. Thane pulled on an old shirt and lay with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, and heard the first rumble of thunder.
Rain had been pattering heavily and the window well was just beginning to pool with water when he heard his dad's car pull into the driveway. The beat-up Buick had been a gift from Grandpa Whitaker to their family when Thane was ten, with the understanding that it would be Thane's car when he turned sixteen. Thane had been excited about it and about Grandpa's promise that they would fix it up together.
Then Grandpa had a stroke. It hadn't been fatal, but the old man seemed like a completely different person and was incapable of living on his own. Thane's family went and saw him once after he'd been moved to a care facility, but he hadn't recognized them. Grandpa Whitaker had been Thane's best friend- he'd call Thane up to tell him a new knock knock joke he'd heard, take Thane out to lunch on his birthday, just the two of them, and he would defend Thane when Thane's dad was harsh. Thane had been devastated after Grandpa's stroke, but when his dad found Thane crying he'd snapped, "Man up. Just be glad he isn't dead," and cuffed Thane roughly on the ear.
After that, things between Thane and his father had gotten rapidly worse without Grandpa Whitaker to referee. No matter how hard he'd tried Thane could never seem to do anything well enough to make his father happy. Sometimes it felt like the harder he tried the angrier his dad became. Eventually they settled into an uncomfortable avoidance of each other, except when the women in their family made that impossible. Like today would. Thane listened carefully as his father opened the door and stomped inside. He could hear Lanie and Hallie run to meet him, and Lanie's enthusiastic welcome and Hallie's whine. Thane could hear the clicking of his mother's heels as she sauntered into the kitchen. There was a pause, and then the rustling of bags obscured the voices enough that Thane couldn't make out the words. But he knew when the storm hit.
"Thane!" Bert Whitaker's voice boomed loudly through the small house. Thunder crashed outside in the distance, pitiful and small next to his father's bellow. Thane knew from experience that making his dad wait would make things worse, and so he immediately responded.
"Coming, sir." He rose to his feet and began to climb the stairs, the cut in his side throbbing and his ankle stiff. He opened the door from the basement into the kitchen and saw his family; his mom, sitting at the table and inspecting her finger nails, Lanie getting silverware for the table and looking frightened, Hallie setting out plates and seeming smug, and all of them a frame around his dad standing in front of him, red faced and furious. Thane noted that his dad was still holding a briefcase. Hallie hadn't even waited long enough for it to be put down and away before tattling.
"Am I correct in hearing that you were too lazy to make the bus, ruined your shoes, your shirt, and abandoned your poor sister to bullies?" Bert Whitaker's voice was deceptively quiet, but Thane saw all the danger signs. The briefcase was wobbling in shaking hands, his jaw was clenched and tight, his eyes were narrow.  Thane knew that his dad's job was stressful and that he was constantly under-appreciated at work because Thane's mom told him about it at least once a week. Today must have been a particularly bad day. Instead of responding, which Thane knew was the wrong choice, he lowered his head and tried to look guilty instead of numb.  
"Do you know," his father continued, still quiet, "how hard it is on poor Hallie to have those girls constantly pick on her?"  Hallie had told Thane those girls had stopped bothering her years ago, but she enjoyed the attention from her father every time she brought it up so she never stopped talking about it.  
Thane had threatened to tell, but she'd laughed at him and said, "Who would they believe?"  He knew he'd lost then, and just tried to take it as best he could and never miss the bus.  
"It isn't like you weren't aware of the problem.  But clearly, you don't care. You don't care about any of us!  About how hard I work to support us, no, you feel like you can just ruin whatever we give you and we'll just buy more."  His dad's voice was rising with each sentence, and his hands were shaking harder.  Hallie looked less smug, and Lanie was terrified.  She was hiding behind her mom's chair trying not to cry.
Today Thane had completely failed in his one and only personal law. Don't be seen. Remy had seen him as a friend. The entire school had watched him show the pretty new girl around. Ms. Rasmussen had glared at him in Chemistry, Hallie had watched him miss the bus again with glee, and now his father glowered at him and saw the source of all that was wrong with their lives. Lanie's eyes were wide with tears and suddenly, Thane could not take any more.
"You are the only bully here," Thane said. His dad went momentarily speechless, his face turning purple with rage. "Hallie's lying. Those girls don't pick on her. They're afraid of her. She terrorizes them, using everything she learned from you."
Bert dropped the briefcase and put his face an inch from Thane's. "If you're going to start throwing around accusations, you had better be ready to pay." Thane was done being yelled at, done being threatened, and tried to walk around his father towards the door. "Where do you think you're going, you little prick!" Bert grabbed Thane by the lapels and tried to hold him in place. Thane jerked to the side as his dad pushed leaving his dad stumbling forward. The middle aged man lost his balance and fell to one knee, so angry he was nearly incoherent.
Thane strode through where his father had stood and paused at the door. "Don't cry, little Lanie," he said, looking down at his sister's tears. "If I'm not here, daddy won't yell anymore." Thane opened the door and walked barefoot out into the rain, shutting the door gently behind him.
For a moment, the only sound was rain on the oak leaves. Thane went to the side walk and started back towards the school. He hadn't gotten past the edge of their small yard before the door to his house banged open and his father came hurtling out after him. "You get back in that house now," Bert screamed, and grabbed Thane by the arm and forcibly twisted. Thane flinched and jerked his arm away, and tried to keep walking. He had all but killed himself trying to catch that bus, after a lifetime of trying to get his father to say something in approval of his only son. The years of pain and fear stood as a barrier against his sudden fierce anger. "Don't you dare ignore me!" his father's voice carried outside and faces appeared in lighted windows in other houses. So many of their neighbors watching him. Thane was embarrassed, in pain, and rage broke through the wall of distress and isolation.
"Ignore you?" Thane screamed back, turning and throwing himself into Bert Whitaker's face. "All you've done my whole life is try to forget that I exist, and now you don't want me to ignore you?" Behind his father, Thane saw Lanie leave the porch and come running. She would throw herself between them and beg them to stop, he knew from experience. Sometimes it worked. It wouldn't now. They had gone too far, and the anger and desperation Thane saw in his father's eyes were past reason. He saw his father pull back to take another swing. "He doesn't know she's coming," Thane realized, time seeming to slow, "he's going to hit her because he doesn't see her coming."  
Thane yelled "Get back, Lanie," and knocked the larger man out of Lanie's path.  Bert swung with the other arm too fast and too low for Thane to block and he felt the impact against his stomach. As he doubled over, a phrase of music burst through his mind.
Suddenly he and his father were engulfed in a flash of blue white light, and then there was nothing more to see.  Thane thought he heard his mother scream and Lanie sobbing in the distance. He tried to comfort her.  "Don't cry, Lanie, it'll be fine.  Do you want me to tell you a story?..." but his voice wouldn't come out. Slowly his mind sank into the blackness that already claimed his eyes.