Chapter 11

Pressure.

My palms were sweaty the rest of the day. Gross. I’d always thought my curse wouldn’t affect anyone else as long as I didn’t touch them, but I couldn’t continue to hide from the fact one day I might zap someone again—by accident… or on purpose.

And that’d bring the Facility down on everyone.

All I knew about the Facility were the little tidbits dropped here and there. They existed somewhere in South Dakota. If gifted people acted up or did something that brought unwanted attention, they ended up there, and finally, they took the gifted who couldn’t control their abilities.

I did sound like a prime candidate when I thought about it, which put me in a fog the rest of the day. In bio, I got the seat next to Cory.

“How do you like it here?” Cory ran a hand over his cropped hair.

I stopped fidgeting with my pen and looked at him. He blinked and leaned back an inch or two. “It’s really nice,” I said.

“That’s good.” Cory looked to the front of the class and bit his lip.

“What’s the teacher’s name?” I asked, hoping that was a normal, appropriate question.

“Coach Ashford. He’s a nice guy. Coaches the football team,” he explained. “I’m the quarterback.”

Go figure. I tried not to yawn in the guy’s face. “Oh, that sounds interesting.”

Cory nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I’m hoping to get a full ride at the University. Coach says I have a good chance as long I don’t blow it.” He laughed as if he that would be funny. “Gotta keep this arm…”

I zoned out at that point and stared at the front of the class. Actually, I stared at Hayden’s back. His lab partner appeared to be just as talkative, but he did a better job at listening. And that kind of made me feel like a bitch, so I made myself focus on what Cory was saying.

Coach Ashford showed up late, immediately turned on the projector and sat behind the desk. Confused, I looked around and saw people hastily scribbling notes. All except Hayden. He looked like he was taking a nap. By the time I figured out we were supposed to write down the notes, Coach flipped to the next screen.

The rest of the class went like that. By the end, I was pretty sure Hayden had slept through most of it and that Cory suffered from some sort of hyperactivity disorder.

Hayden waited for me in the hallway after class. His eyes dropped to the load of books in my arms. “You’re not taking all your books home, are you?”

“No. I have to go to my locker.”

“Meet me outside?”

“Sure,” I headed off toward my locker, which seemed strategically placed on the other side of the school.

I fumbled with the lock until it popped open on the third try. One of the books I tossed in slid out and hit the floor by my feet. It was my math book, ridiculously huge and unnecessary. I hated trig.