‘There are many advantages to your condition, Seraphine,’ said Dr Bloom’s distant voice. ‘You are unlikely to feel fear the way other people do and unlikely to panic in the face of danger. Which can make you brave and capable. But it can also make you reckless and unaware of possible dangers. There are people who will want to take advantage of you, manipulate you, or goad you into competition. But you should remember to keep your head. Logic and intellect are your strengths, so you must endeavour to use them wisely.’

Seraphine wanted to laugh. She knew that no one could manipulate her. They simply weren’t clever enough.

Dr Bloom continued, ‘You may hear it said that people like you cannot feel emotions, but you can feel happiness and sadness, pride and anger. What you may struggle with is feeling shame or guilt for the things you do, things that affect others negatively. But again, this does not mean you cannot understand, rationally, that such actions are wrong. Just because you can’t feel it doesn’t mean you don’t know it. And this is where you get to choose.’

Dr Bloom would probably think that what she’d done to Mr Potts was wrong. But was it? The man was a tyrant. He clearly didn’t like or understand teenagers. Is the means to an end ever justified?

And while she was contemplating her treatment of Mr Potts, Seraphine felt the strangest thing. She focused on it. She tried to turn up the volume. It felt warm and she struggled to put a word to it … safe, maybe? No, that wasn’t right. It felt … she felt … accepted. For the first time in her life, she was sitting in the company of another person who knew exactly how she differed but didn’t judge or fear her. Seraphine smiled.

34

‘Marcus? Marcus, can you hear me?’ The voice was distant, far away, as though he were hidden at the bottom of a well. ‘He’s been unconscious for the last four minutes,’ said the same voice. ‘His name’s Marcus.’

‘Marcus, I’m John,’ said a second voice from the top of the well. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘A cyclist hit him and he banged his head on the kerb.’

Sarah. The first voice belonged to Sarah.

‘He’s coming round,’ said John. ‘OK, Marcus, I’m just going to check your vitals, mate. Where’s the cyclist? Are they hurt?’

‘He left.’ Sarah’s voice was shaky but a little clearer now, as if she’d been lowered towards him.

Jameson felt John’s hands on his neck and tried to speak.

‘I’m putting a neck brace on you, Marcus. It’s just a precaution, because you hit the ground hard,’ said John.

Jameson opened his eyes. The bright light hurt and he felt a piercing pain at the back of his head.