“Too weird in what way? You’ve got great arms.”

“Let me see yours,” I said.

She rolled up one sleeve, then the other. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” I said, and approached her. There it was: a tiny round scar like the one I had. “See, your arms are better.”

“Nonsense,” Mom said, though I could tell on some level she appreciated the flattery.

“Hey, there was a microchip in Nerf, wasn’t there?”

Mom gave me a puzzled look. “You are all over the place tonight.”

“Sorry. I’ve got a young, fertile mind.”

She laughed. “Yes, Nerf had a microchip, though it wasn’t that weird octopus-y thing we found after he was cremated.”

“Right. What was that?” I asked.

“No idea. I’ll let you find that out, genius.”

“But he also had a microchip? That would’ve gotten burned up?”

“That’s right,” Mom said.

“How did it work? Like a tracking device?”

Mom stepped up to me, took each of my hands in hers, and spoke to me as if she were passing down precious generational advice. “Honey. Since you’re so concerned all of a sudden. A pet microchip is not a tracking device. It does not have GPS. If it were a tracking device, it would require a separate power source, like a battery. These are radio-frequency identification implants, RFIDs for short, which provide permanent means of ID. It’s like the size of a grain of rice. Nerf gave his name, my name, and our address. That’s it. Anything else you’d like to know?”

Hmm. So the microchip was much smaller than what I saw in my arm—or whatever the hell that metal thing was that survived Nerf’s cremation.

“Could you implant a tracking device in someone? I mean, like a dog?” I asked.

“There’s probably a way to do it,” she said. “Why? You want to see where Jordan is going now that he’s your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “I need to know where he is at all times, because he just might be doing something crazy.”

CHAPTER 23

Jordan

AS I BIKED through the forest on hiking trails I’d walked a thousand times, I realized something incredible: I could see in the dark. My brain was doing that thing again where it was recognizing danger and reacting without thought. I was on autopilot, hopping over roots, avoiding stumps and rocks, and even jumping off little rises in the trail. Plus, I was going really fast and not getting winded. Even in daylight I’d never had a ride like this. I was zipping along under the dark leaves and stars.

I headed toward the power plant, where security would stop me but then could get my dad and bring him out to see me. I’d stand by the gate and wait—nothing illegal about that.

The forest blew past me in a blur. My adrenaline was pumping so hard that it coursed through my veins. I felt invincible.

I saw four deer standing on the trail ahead of me, and they saw, and heard, me as well, lifting their heads to the branches creaking as I whizzed through the trees. The deer scattered while I powered ahead and somehow took note of each tree’s age and condition.