“You can touch me if you want to tell if I’m sincere.”

“Can’t. Focusing on Hunter.”

“After then.”

“No,” Amy said. She was pacified, calmer. “No need.”

She worked her way through Hunter’s brain. There were triggers and flags everywhere. Certain perceptions, certain emotions, attitudes.

Hunter’s power was involuntary.

“We’d give you candies to suck on so you couldn’t complain while sitting in the chair,” Mark said. “And on one particular visit, the last one with the candy, as you’ll recall…”

Amy groaned.

“A new hairdresser came up, and she hugged you from behind, looked over your shoulder in the mirror, and she said something to the effect of, ‘what would you like us to do, cutie?’ She surprised the hell out of you—”

“That wasn’t surprise.”

“No?” Mark asked. And she could hear the change of tone. He rallied, “But you choked.”

“I did choke.”

“And you gagged,” Mark said, his tone warm. “While you were trying to dislodge the candy. I was thumping your back. And then you threw up, onto the barber’s bib, and it wicked straight down onto your shoes.”

“I can’t believe the world ended and I’m still hearing about it.”

“You were inconsolable.”

Victoria was there, crying too—

That part of the story was left unsaid. The thought of Victoria and the young blonde girl’s presence in front of Amy almost derailed it all. Regret, flashbacks to moments she’d been doing work not so dissimilar to this, errors—

She forced her head back into the right place. Dismissed the thoughts.

The good humor and general calm Hunter felt as she visualized the scene served to let Amy button up her work, set everything firmly into place, make sure there were no loose ends, and then slowly pulled her hands away.

“I feel like a new person,” Hunter said, quiet.

“I want you to let that sit for a bit. Keep your thoughts on pleasant things, let your mind wander. If it helps, talk out loud so we can steer you or distract you. If this lasts sixty seconds it’ll probably last a week. If it lasts a week it’ll probably last a month.”

“Sure,” Hunter said. “I used to be into ballet. That’s where the posture Marquis was complimenting me on came from.”

“Yes,” Amy said. “I noticed. You’re still very fit.”

“My friends never knew. Sam—the boy who brought me here, he had no idea. I was ashamed, it was weird. I was so proud when it was certain people, but if you’d told Sam then, I would have wanted to die. My teacher knew and said something about me doing something for the talent show. I gave her a look and she seemed to clue in, didn’t say anything else.”

“That’s nice of her,” Mark commented. “Not all teachers would care.”