I’m tempted to just sign the thing, but I’m not that stupid. I scan the first page—and freeze when I see the amount of money they’re offering. My God. No freaking way. That has to be a typo or something. There are way too many zeroes there. “Is this number correct?”

“It is.”

I stare at the number and my head spins with all the possibilities. It’s more money than I’ve ever dreamed of in my entire life. That much money means freedom. Safety. Independence. And a real home for the first time in years.

That much money means a future.

I quickly read through the rest of the document. There’s a confidentiality agreement, and a paragraph about medical exams and tests both before and after the research project, including, but not limited to, a physical exam, blood tests, and an MRI scan. The last page of the contract has a waiver for any injuries we might sustain. Definitely not videos and surveys then.

My head snaps up. “What’s this about medical exams? And injuries?”

“We’ll be conducting a routine medical exam to make sure it’s safe for you to participate in the project. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“But it says there are some risks involved.”

“Oh, the legal department always adds lines like that to our contract. It’s standard language for every project we do. The risks are minimal, I assure you.”

She hands me a pen and her smile never wavers. I roll it between my fingers, staring at the words not liable for any injuries, trauma, or permanent damage sustained during the duration of the research project. I want to sign, need to sign, but there’s so much she isn’t telling me.

“Elena, you’re going to be eighteen in two months. You’ll be on your own with no money, no home, and no job. You have the grades to go to college but no way to pay for it.” She taps the edge of the paper with a shiny fingernail. “We can find you a job. We can get you into college. And we’re offering enough money for you to do whatever you want with your life. All you have to do is help us with this project. A few hours of your time, that’s all we ask.”

My pen hovers over the blank line. Everything she said is true. I am desperate, and they’re offering a lot of money for one day of work. More money than I could ever expect to make on my own in a lifetime. Especially since no one is willing to hire a freak like me. If I turn this down, I’ll regret it forever.

There might be risks involved—but what other options do I have? No one else is going to help me. I’m on my own. And my time is running out.