I start to panic as the penguins move faster, the noises and colors and smells suffocating me. I can’t figure out how to get out of this program. I close my eyes, but it doesn’t go away. And when I turn my head, the sound and the images follow, because they’re in my head. I can’t get them out and I can’t make it stop.

I rip the flexi off like a Band-Aid and feel something like a tiny electric shock in my brain. The images and sounds disappear immediately, but the feel of being in the snow takes longer to go away. Thank God it’s over. I lean back against the tire, breathing heavily. No way in hell am I using that thing ever again.

Adam moves to sit beside me. “You okay?” he asks, too softly for the others to hear. They’re all too involved in whatever they’re seeing and hearing anyway.

“Yeah.” I rub my face, trying to clear my vision. Cold sweat drips down my forehead. “Fine.”

“It’s a little overwhelming at first. But you’ll get used to it.”

I stay silent. Everyone else seems to have no problem using their flexis. Zoe has hers set to look like purple butterflies fluttering across her temple; Trent has a big, yellow lightning bolt on his; and Chris has a barbed-wire design that matches a tat on his arm. Adam’s kept his flexi clear, but it’s obvious he’s an expert with it already. I don’t want to admit that I’m the only one who can’t figure the stupid thing out.

I’ve never been good with computers. Growing up, we never had one—couldn’t afford one, I guess. Once I went into foster care I mostly used the computers at school or the library. If I was really lucky, my foster home would have one, but it was usually shared between all the kids, so I never got to use it for long. I didn’t even have a cell phone until a few months ago. Many foster parents don’t bother getting them for their temporary kids, but the Robertsons insisted we each have one, even if they’re ancient models. Katie had to show me how to use it.

“Just try it again,” Adam says. He’s really persistent, but he doesn’t seem to be judging me. “Take it slow this time so you can get used to it.”

I stretch the flexi between my fingers, seeing how long it can get. I want to throw it into the road and never use it again, but Adam’s watching me, and I don’t want him to think I can’t do it.