When I get back to the apartment, it’s dark except for the strobing light of the television in the living room. I lean up against the door frame, watching Mom on the sofa. She doesn’t even lift her head to greet me. Petal slowly flies around her head, circling like a halo. Something is wrong, but I don’t know what it is. It’s a problem I can’t solve, and I hate it.

Instinctively I reach down and place my hand over Slick, the little robot trapped inside the zipped pocket of my sweater. I’m still wary of him. It’s not just his strange behavior in my locker that has me worried. It’s something more bone-deep than that. A primal fear response that I can’t explain.

I’ve seen the sci-fi movies. Read the books. I know robots can be scary. But I’ve never feared a baku (except the security ones). They aren’t metal humanoids with glowing eyes or black boxes with an eerie electronic voice. They’re cute companions. Friends. Helpers.

Or at least I thought so.

I turn my attention back to Mom.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, stepping out of the shadows. I walk over and kiss the top of her head.

She reaches up and strokes my hand. “There you are, Lacey. Did you have a good evening?”

A small frown flickers between my eyebrows. Any other school night and I’d be receiving a lecture about storming out of the apartment and disappearing instead of having dinner with her. At the very least I’d receive a stern look and a scowl. But her expression barely changes at all. I never thought I’d be desperate to see my mom get angry, but I yearn for a reaction.

“I don’t think I’m going to go to school tomorrow.” I test the waters, pushing our boundaries even further.

Those words do seem to have an effect on her, and my heart leaps. She turns her head around, her spine straightening. She opens her mouth, and I swear she’s about to tell me there is no way you’re skipping school, young lady. But then Petal buzzes gently, fluttering down to her shoulder and the leash. Mom’s shoulders sag back into the deep cushion of the sofa. “Well I’m at work at six a.m., so I won’t know. Just don’t fall behind, sweetheart.”

I can’t choke down my disappointment, but I don’t want to cry. She’s not acting like herself. Scratch that, she’s not behaving like a normal human being.

The terror of that thought grips me, and my feet feel frozen to the floor. What’s happening?

The fifteen minutes are almost up. Toby is going to be livestreaming, and I’m desperate to watch what he comes across.