I walk straight to the bathroom after class.

I'm not about to do drugs or anything, so calm your horses. I just need a minute to myself.

Unfortunately, I'm tailed by Erin. Worst guy to hang with, I swear. Always on about achieving freedom from our government.

"Hey, Magno, where ya headed?"

I turn. "None of your business."

He frowns. "Jeez, I was just trying to see if you wanted to come to the party at Aurora's tonight."

I narrow my eyes. Aurora? But she was a person-hater. Why would she host a party?

"Fine, I'll come. But only because I wanna know what Aurora's up to," I say.

Erin grins. "Great, see you there."

The rest of the school day goes by quickly, but it's boring.

When I get home, I go to my room and slam the door. Lock it. I don't need Mom knowing I'm partying. I shower, then do some makeup, apply some eyeliner. I get a little crazy with the eyeliner and make a bunch of pretty swirly symbols. I put on some ripped jeans, a baggy shirt, and a flannel on.

I take one last look in the mirror, then flop on my bed and text Aurora.

[Hey, when's the party?]

She replies with, [Eight.]

I put my phone down and exhale. Then shake my hair out. It's still damp, even after blow-drying it.

What could be up with Aurora and Erin?

I think for a moment.

Then one name pops into my head. Jude Kirnan.

The guy that I can't face.

Last summer, I kind of, maybe, kissed him?

And he didn't take kindly to that.

To be fair, it was only on the cheek, but he slapped me.

I bury my face in my hands and groan. Please don't let that be what Aurora and Erin are doing.

My door opens and Mom is standing there, a letter in her hand.

She has her arms crossed. I sit up.

"What?"

Immediately, I can tell she's pissed.

"This letter is from a friend of yours, right?"

She tosses it at me. It smacks my shoulder.

I pick it up and freeze. Jude, that bastard.

Slowly, carefully, I read it. Shit.

"Mom, please, I can explain!"

"You'd better, young man."

I take a breath and comb my fingers through my hair. "So, Jude isn't my boyfriend. We've never dated. And I don't do drugs."

Mom narrows her eyes. "I find that hard to believe. Especially with that shirt and your freakish friends."

I wince. "They're not freakish. And I don't do drugs!"

"You'd better not be. . .you know," she says. "I will remove you from school and send you to a private one."

I look down. "I'm not."

We've talked about this before. If I don't like girls, she'll send me to a stupid school with nuns who think they can exorcise me. But I don't like girls. I just don't tell her that.

She leaves and I scream into my pillow.

How I hate this house.

It's seven-thirty, so I grab my bag and hoist myself out to window. Worst and best choice my parents ever made was letting me have a window.

I find my bike in the shed and bike to Aurora's. I find I'm a little early.

"Hey, Aurora," I say, setting my bag on the floor. "Need some help?"

Aurora looks up. "Yeah, I could use it."

We set up the party together and talk about Aurora's new friend who I suspect to be more.

Her name is Hera. Apparently, she's the same age as Aurora, and lives only two states over.

Guests trickle in slow at first, then steadily. Finally, the last of them are through the door.

The craziest of the partying has started, so I find a quieter corner.

I quickly find this to be a bad decision.

"Hey, there."

I look up and discover a brunet guy who smells strongly of alcohol.

"Hi," I say, and wave.

"You look awfully lonely over here. Care for some company?"

Usually, in parties, company either entails making out or something more intimate.

I shake my head. "Nah, I'm good."

His hand finds my hip. "You sure?"

I flinch away. "Yep. . ."

"'Cause I think you need a little loving," he says in my ear.

Suddenly, the guy is yanked off of me by the collar.

"I'm pretty sure he said he was good."

Jude fucking Kirnan.

He pushes the guy away.

The guy looks at him. Then me.

"Oh, I see. He's your little whore."

Jude turns to him. "No. He's not even my friend."

Somehow, the words sting.

The guy does leave me alone, though.

Jude sits next to me. "You alright?"

I scoot up against the wall and away from him. "Um, yeah. Thanks to you."

"I don't need your praise."

The way he says it is so cold. This guy pisses me off.

"Well, fine, don't take it then," I say, anger rising.

Jude looks to me, surprise etched into his features. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're okay. But I really didn't do much."

I roll my eyes. Of course, the golden boy would say that.

"What do you even want?" I ask, propping my chin on the heel of my palm.

Jude tilts his head. "To talk to you. I wanted to say I'm sorry for slapping you last summer."

"That was forever ago," I say. I'm eager to get off the subject.

"Well, you see, I didn't dislike it. It's just you surprised me."

I stare at him. Strawberry-blond hair in a shaggy cut. His undercut is darker, like brown. It's a little messy. Brown eyes focused intently on me. He's cute and it makes me mad. "Yeah, well, you surprised me with that slap."

His eyes are intense, like he's trying to figure out what I am.

"Please just kiss me," he says.

My gaze snaps so quickly to him, my head spins a little. "What?!"

His face is slightly flushed. "I want you to kiss me again."

I put my head in my hands. "Stop joking. It's not funny."

"I'm not joking. I've been meaning to ask you since, like, ten months ago."

I can't help looking up, letting my hands dangle. "No way. You're not. . .What about Madison?"

"I'm bi, Magno," Jude says, a small smile on his lips. "And she likes Erin."

I flush. "What the fuck. . ."

Jude brushes my hair out of my face, and I hate how much I like it.

"So, you really want me to kiss you?"

Jude nods. "Yeah."

I lean forward. Then yank back. "I'm too sober for this."

I get up and find a beer. I drink it, then another. Fifteen minutes later, I'm plastered.

Jude comes up next to me and I kiss him.

Wish granted, I think dimly.

I break away and inhale, but before I can kiss him again, someone hooks their arms under my shoulders and drags me away. I hear Jude yelling. The party is so chaotic, though, I highly doubt anyone hears him.

Something sticks into my neck and I slip into unconsciousness.

I wake to a masked figure standing over me. I jump hard and discover I'm bound to a chair. Wrists and ankles.

Also, I have a pounding headache.

It's very dark in here.

The figure steps back. "Good morning."

Instantly, I can tell they're using a voice-changer.

"Good morning," I reply. "Could you tell me where I am?"

"Underground."

I nod. Doesn't answer shit, but hey, gotta live the kidnapper life, right? "Why did you kidnap me?"

"I can't tell you that," the figure says. They sit on a chair in front of me.

"But I'm just your average high school student, why do you need me specifically?" I ask. I'm genuinely confused.

The figure tilts their head (creepy) and studies me. I think. I can't see their face. "You are far from average."

I consider this. If you count abusive households as something 'far from average', then sure. But otherwise, I'm as normal as normal gets.

I look up at the person. "Ooh, do I have, like, Obi-Wan Kenobi powers? The force? Maybe I can perform spells."

The figure pinches the bridge of their nose (I think) and sighs. "No. You have neither of those. I can't tell you much more."

Even through the voice-changer, I can hear exasperation. I grin.

"Got any ibuprofen? I got drunk at that party, and now my head hurts."

The figure gets up and digs through some hidden pocket. They come up with ibuprofen. "Here."

They stick three pills in my mouth and I swallow. It's weird, because I'm not used to dry-swallowing pills.

"So, do I have some special ability?" I ask. "Or is this just 'kidnap random ass highschoolers' day?"

"You do have an ability that you are clearly and frustratingly unaware of," the figure says.

"Okay, so I'm a wizard?"

"No." The figure turns away, hands on their hips. It's a very 'not in my twelve-thousand years of kidnapping' pose. Good.

I look up at the ceiling. It's made of dirt and moss. Personally, I think it's pretty. "Are the people who were at the party okay?"

The figure nods, turning back to me. "They weren't hurt. Our objective was you."

Wow, this guy sucks at their job.

"You said 'our'. Does that mean there are multiple people working with you?" I ask.

The figure seems to instinctively nod (again). Then holds up their hands. "No, it's just me."

I smile evilly. "Gotcha."

The person sags. "You. I hate you."

"Sounds about average for me," I say, looking around.

Mainly, the structure consists of dirt and moss. Dark green ferns pop up between cracks. The floor is stone, made in a circle. Faint light filters in from in front of me. Probably a door. Pink and purple flowers crop up in clusters. Yellow flowers here and there. Plenty of mushrooms. Mostly fly agarics, but also morels, honey fungus, amethyst deceivers, autumn chanterelles, and glistening inkcaps. There's also a circle of fairy ring champignons. Great, I'm in a fairy site.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the giant tree behind me that's supporting the ceiling. I think it's an ash.

"You can't use your ability here," the figure says. "You're in a fairy circle."

"Yeah, I guessed that. The fairy ring champignons are a dead giveaway. And circles are magic cancellers," I say. "I've done my research."

The figure stares (I think) at me. "You indeed have done your research."

I tilt my head back and forth. "Ah, well, you know, I try."

They sit back in their chair.

"Can I see your face?" I ask. "I think you're either really ugly or drop-dead gorgeous. No in between."

The figure contemplates for a moment. "Fine."

Then they take their mask off.

I was right. Drop-dead gorgeous, even though I like guys. Black hair hangs around her face in a not-so-ugly bob. Her skin is pale, like the moon. Her eyes are like charcoal and seem to hold the same heat. I think she hates me. Her face is slim and somewhat angular. Brows arched not too high, long eyelashes, mouth set in a grim line. Pretty lips. Definitely an oval face shape. I can see that her muscles are sculpted. She could absolutely kick my butt. There's also something familiar about her. Something that brings Jude to mind.

Pretty stark contrast from my darker skin, freckles, and thin, not muscular body.

"You're. . .very beautiful," I say. "Bet the guys and girls go crazy."

She doesn't make much acknowledgement to what I said, other than a slight shrug. That mannerism is so familiar.

"Madison," I say. Blurt, really.

She turns sharply.

"You're Madison, aren't you?" I ask. Everything points to it. The muscles, the way she was acting, the voice-changer, the mask and suit. All of it makes sense if this is Madison.

She pauses, then shakes her head. "I don't know a Madison."

"But you know an Erin, don't you?"

Madison freezes, then realizes she's screwed. "Yes, I know Erin."

"Great. Now we have a mutual buddy," I say. "Look, I'm just curious as to what I'm here for. The place is beautiful, by the way."

Madison does the little shrug again. "It's nice."

She puts her mask back on.

"What's that for?" I ask, tilting my head.

"I have to go find the. . .boss."

The voice-changer makes her sound so weird.

She leaves and I check out my binds. Sturdy rope. Yep, I'm fucked either way.

At least my headache's not as bad. And my friends are okay.

I sit here like this for a while before Madison and some other guy come along.

The new guy is. . .interesting. He's got a somewhat sturdy build and he's tall. Like really tall. Not alien kind of tall, but taller than your average person. In the dim light, it's hard to make it out, but I think he's got green eyes. And maybe black hair? Perhaps brown? He's tan. He's dressed more casually than I expected a kidnapper to be. He wears light brown pants, a white collared undershirt with a nice. . .blue, I think, shirt over it. It's long-sleeved, and I don't know how he stands all that considering it's summer.

What he does next absolutely astounds me.

He walks forward, crouches, and asks, "Are you okay? You're not hurt, right? I told Ray to be nice. . ."

I blink. Several times. "I'm fine."

Ray is also a familiar nickname, and suddenly I know who's crouching in front of me.

Bryce Hamilton. Fellow highschooler who, surprisingly, hangs around Ray a lot, even though Ray's very much not like him.

"Good." He stands and signals Madison. She cuts my binds away.

I just sit there, baffled. How did Bryce organize this?

"Magno? Are you sure you're alright?"

I look up. "Oh, I'm great, thanks."

Bryce helps me up and I stretch my arms over my head. More than a few areas in my spine pop. I sigh and let my arms hang by my sides.

"So, what's the agenda for today?" I ask.

Bryce appears surprised. ". . .Well, um, we need to activate your ability."

I nod. "Yeah, I heard about that. No one wants to tell me what it actually is, though."

Bryce chews one of his nails. Classic Bryce. "It's. . .uh, your ability is very mentally centered. I can't tell you the details, because I don't know them. But I can tell you, in the wrong hands, it's dangerous."

"Okay, great, thank you so much," I say. "We'd better get to work if we wanna figure this thing out."

It turns out fate hates me, or something, because right at that moment, I hear alarms blare faintly.

Madison and Byce share a look. Then turn to me.

"Magno," Bryce says.

"We have to get you out of here," Madison finishes.

I frown. "I thought that was the plan?"

Madison picks me up princess-style. "Let's go."

"Um. . .okay."

"I'll hold them off," Bryce says to Madison. "Get him as far away as possible. Take him to Base Three."

Madison nods and Bryce takes off in a different direction. I'm too busy trying to figure out what mess I've gotten into to pay attention to anything around me.

What the fuck is 'Base Three'? Why did they panic at the alarms? Who is here and why is it such a big deal?

Well, I swiftly learn that.

Someone grabs Madison's shoulders and we're yanked back.

I fall on rocks and scrape my palms. No biggie.

Madison is carefully restrained by someone I recognize instantly.

"Jude?!" I blurt. I'm shaken from the fall, but this is somehow worse.

He looks over at me and there's no denying it. That's Jude.

"Hey, Magno."

I stand and walk up to him. Put my hands on my hips. "Let her go."

"She's a threat," he replies.

I raise a brow. "She didn't hurt me, and I'm fairly certain we were running to safety."

"Magno, don't be a fool."

"Let her go," I say. "Last time I ask."

"She's a---"

"I said let her go!"

Something snaps in my chest. Some kind of rope, and something unravels behind it.

Jude's expression goes blank and he straightens, then moves a few steps away.

I pull Madison's binds off. "You alright?" I help her up.

She dusts herself off. "I'm okay."

"Go," I say. "I'll take care of Jude."

She hesitates. Then nods. "Fine."

I try to grasp at that unraveled thing in my chest. It's slippery, like silk. Finally, I manage to grab it.

"Go back to your crew," I say.

Jude doesn't question, just starts walking.

I go after Madison.

Mind control. That's my power.

Base Three is fun. That is, if you like short guys who yell at you in another language, half your high school friends, and a bunch of other grumpy old guys.

Also, cold coffee, some dude who knows what everyone smells like, despite not having sniffed them (maybe it's a magic power like mine?), and more dudes who play with swords.

So, yeah, Base Three is great.

"Hey, smells guy," I say. "What do I smell like?"

He looks at me. "Sweat. Also. . .Valentino Uomo Born In Roma, faintly."

I pick at my pocket chain. "Yep, sounds about right."

A girl with light brown hair sits next to me on the bench. "You're Magno, right?"

I shrug. "I've also been known as a number of slurs, the Italian transfer, and Magnet, so I'm Magno if you want me to be."

"I'm Hera," she says, and holds her hand out.

"Wait, Hera?" I turn to her. "Do you know Aurora?"

She nods. "Of course, I know Aurora. We agreed to be roommates when we get to college."

I shake her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Who knew your best friend's roommate-to-be could also be one of your captors?

That short guy walks over, hands on his hips. "Is your cup empty, gör?"

I look up. "Brat? My name's Magno. Also, yes, it is empty, thank you very much."

"Then go throw it away. The silicone band goes in recycle, the cup gets crushed and put in the compost bin."

He walks off and I nudge Hera. "What's his problem?"

"Messes stress him out, so he likes to keep places clean. Also, he's very hung up on keeping the earth habitable," she says.

"Oh." I get up and pry the silicone band from my cup, then throw them in their respective areas.

Hera comes over to me. "He's the boss of Base Three, so treat him nice, alright?"

I shrug one shoulder. "I'll try."

Someone bumps me from behind. I turn and find. . .

Erin.

"Erin?" I say. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here, dingus," he says. "How do you think our group got ahold of you?"

I punch his arm lightly. "You ass. You could've said something. Why did you guys go to such lengths? You should have just told me."

Erin stretches his arms. "I don't know. I got orders from the boss not to tell you. Anyway, I came to tell you Emmett wants to talk to you."

"That's Mr. Emmett to you, Erin."

Mister Clean from earlier smacks Erin's head with a book and he flinches.

"Mr. Emmett," Erin corrects himself, rubbing his head.

"Okay, take me to this Mr. Emmett," I say.

Erin leads me through a series of halls and to a door. He gestures to it. "He's in there."

I open the door and find a guy in his mid-to-late thirties. He looks like a dad.

I clear my throat. "You asked for me?"

He looks up from a stack of papers. "Ah, Magno. Please, sit."

I take a seat in the chair across from him. I can't help being fidgety. I pick at the hem of my shirt and shift my weight back and forth.

He studies me for a moment. "You're quite shifty."

"I get that a lot." I try to still myself.

Mr. Emmett sets his papers aside and laces his fingers. "I'm told you possess a powerful ability. One that could wreak havoc if used incorrectly."

I laugh nervously. "Yep, that's me. Havoc likes to stalk me, it seems."

Terrible response.

"Is that so? Well, I hope we can stop that, for the sake of you and everyone else in the world."

I really don't like that wording. I remain silent for fear of messing up.

"You hail from an abusive household," Mr. Emmett says. "Your father is an alcoholic, and your mother is a religious woman."

I cringe. "How do you know that?"

"We've been watching you for some time. There were doubts as to if you were the right one."

My curiosity burns brighter.

"Okay, I have to ask," I say, "you got something against Jude?"

Mr. Emmett frowns. "Of course not. He merely wants to get you back, and we cannot allow that until we've trained you properly."

I think for a moment. Either way I'm a tool.

"What would you do with me, once I've finished training?" I ask.

"Beneath us lies a great threat. One that is eager to be freed. You are the only one we've found that can stop this threat."

"So, basically, I'm your little soldier?"

Mr. Emmett, with no hesitation, nods. "Exactly."

Well, at least it's more interesting than history class.

"Fine," I say. "I'll do it."

Mr. Emmett looks briefly surprised, then reaches across the table and shakes my hand. "Thank you for understanding."

I shrug. "It sounded better than going home. But one thing. You said, 'you're the only one we've found'. Does that mean there are more like me?"

". . .We suspect there to be more, but nothing is solid," Mr. Emmett says. "We're doing everything we can."

He stands and shows me out of his office. He hands me a folded piece of paper.

"The map of Base Three is in there," he says. "Please, get to know the place."

I nod. "'Kay. When does training start?"

"Five 'o clock sharp, tomorrow."

I am not used to stretching.

Now I only say this because my trainer turns out to be Short Guy.

I discover his name is Lenin. Though most people seem to call him Leni or Len. Kind of cute, if you ask me.

Lenin, on the other hand, is not cute. He’s mean. And German? Maybe? He definitely knows German, because he’s been screaming in it at me. All morning.

I’m wearing ridiculous clothes that are ‘good for stretching’ and didn’t even get coffee.

I also found out I can do the splits. Crazy, I know. But Lenin forced me into it. I think I would’ve preferred never knowing.

“Arms out, gör!”

Never making friends with a German again. First Erin, now this twink. I just can’t escape them.

“I’m trying,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Further,” he says.

I stretch my arms. I feel the muscles all the way to my hips protest. Great, I probably pulled something.

“I can see why Italy went to war with Germany,” I say. Probably shouldn’t piss my trainer off, but I can’t help it. He’s like an angry chihuahua.

“Is that a threat, gör?”

I shrug, which causes more protesting in my muscles. “Take it how you want to.”

He sighs. “You’re done. Get on your feet.”

I relax and almost scream when my entire body reminds me that I’m an idiot.

Then I stand and do the stupid cult salute my captors came up with.

“Your hand’s facing the wrong direction.”

I switch my hand around. “Whatever. What’s next?”

Lenin stares hard at me. “Feel that worm in your chest?”

That surprises me. “You know about that?”

“Of course I know. There’s not much I *don’t* know about you.”

“That’s. . .really creepy,” I say.

“Yeah, it is. Anyway, grab that worm. Once you do that, give me a command. Don’t ask, demand.”

I focus hard on that thread. It’s just as evasive as last time. It takes me ten minutes and four attempts, but I manage to get ahold of it.

I open my eyes. “Drop and give me twenty.”

Lenin’s expression goes blank, just like Jude’s, and he does as I say.

For such a tiny man, he’s fierce with those push-ups. He’s probably more impressive than Vikus Kumar. It causes my focus to slip, and I lose hold of the worm.

Lenin’s expression returns to normal and he stands.

“Ew, gross,” he says, and wipes his hands on a cloth.

I frown. “You made me get down and stretch like a fucking ballerina, but you can’t take a little dirt?”

Lenin glares up at me. “Unless you want to do another two hours, I’d suggest you shut your mouth.”

That shuts me up, at least.

“Take a break, then we’ll do some more training. Your concentration is awful,” Lenin says.

I walk to the door. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Then I leave.

Hera hands me a towel and water. “Here.”

“Thanks,” I reply, and wipe my face. I don’t really sweat much, so it’s barely damp.

I take a long swallow of water.

“Watching you struggle was funny,” Hera says.

I choke on my water and start coughing violently. Hera pats my back.

“Jeez, don’t die.”

I slowly recover and catch my breath. “Why don’t you do the splits and then tell me it’s funny?”

Hera holds her hands up. “No, I’m good.”

I lean against the wall and prop my foot against it. “I don’t get this. I mean, I never even knew I *could* control minds. Even so, what does that entail? Sure, if the enemy’s human or sentient, it’ll work. But if it’s not? What do I do then?”

Hera leans beside me. “Don’t ask me. If you’ve got questions, Leni’s the one to ask.”

I look at her. “Hey, can I call him Leni? Or will he yell some mean curse words at me in German?”

Hera shrugs a shoulder. “Probably both.”

“Guess we’ll have to see.”

I jog back into the practice room. I find Lenin doing his own stretches.

It’s hard to describe, but watching short men stretch is hilarious.

I mean, it’s impressive that he can do standing splits, but it’s also genuinely a knee-slapper. Especially with his sour expression. And it hurts really bad to hold my laughter in. I wait for him to stand straight again.

“Hey, Leni, I got some questions.”

He looks at me and puts his hands on his hips (the sass). “What the **ficken do you want, you gör?”

Yep, mean cuss word in German.

The slightly raised brow, the hands, the down-turned mouth all takes me out. I collapse in laughter.

Lenin walks over and drags me up by the elbow. “Next is hip flexor.”

I stand and pat my hips. “Doesn’t sound hard.”

Remind me, bestie, to never tempt fate again.

Hip flexors are awful. Lenin has me do three, and every and all variations suck.

He makes me do a number of other stretches, nothing that seems to affect my focus, though.

Then we take another dig at the worm.

This time, I get forty push-ups out of Lenin. It gives me a petty satisfaction to order him around, considering he’s the boss of Base Three, and I’m just an average high schooler.

He calls the end of practice.

“Go hang out with Erin, or something.”

I salute again, purposefully messing it up. “Yessir!”

He waves his hand and I leave.

It’s not all that late, but I’m exhausted. First, I got kidnapped, then I got up at five and stretched for almost six hours straight.

I go to my room and collapse in bed. I’m still dressed in those ridiculous ballerina clothes.

At this point, I’m too tired to care. I drift to sleep thinking of my stupid chest worm.

Just a bit of advice here, don’t ever do the ice bucket challenge.

First, it’s cold. Second, it’s fucking cold.

I wake gasping for air and drenched. And freezing.

Erin stands over me, holding a bowl and one hand on his hip. “Awake yet?”

I wipe my face and strip my leotard off. “More than I’d prefer. Stronzo.”

He just grins. “See you in the common rooms, then.” And walks out of the room.

I take off the rest of my clothes and dry off, then get in some comfy casual ones.

Base Three’s got good sweatpants, and some overall nice T-shirts. They’re just really plain when it comes to color.

I make my way to the common rooms using the map Emmett gave me. Even with the map, though, I get lost twice.

Lenin and Erin are there, Hera too, and Mister Smells Guy.

I take a seat. “So, what’s the deal?”

Lenin crosses his legs and I almost burst out laughing, but manage to hold it in. “We have more training to do. Also, Mario here would like to do your training today. He said you’re both magic users, and also Italian.”

Mario. Not a bad name.

Mister Smells Guy—now known as Mario—reaches across the coffee table and shakes my hand. “I look forward to working with you.”

Yep, definitely Italian.

I incline my head. “Yeah, me too.”

“Leni’s mean to him,” Erin says.

Lenin smacks the back of his head. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

Erin rubs his head. “You’re still mean about it, though.”

“You kind of are, Leni,” Hera says. Lenin smacks her, too.

“Okay, okay,” I say. “I’m guessing we start now?”

Mario nods. “As soon as possible. First, I would suggest finding good clothes to stretch in. And also, something that helps you focus.”

I think of my soaked ballerina clothes. “Hey, Lenin, you got any—”

“Of course I do. Follow me.” He gets up and walks off toward the practice room. Mario and I stand and follow him.

“Good luck!” Erin calls.

“Vaffanculo!” I call back.

I can hear him laughing. The few words I taught him in Italian were ‘fuck you’ and ‘asshole’. And ‘egg’. He didn’t care to listen for more.

I catch up with Lenin, and he manages to wrangle my shifty ass into more ballerina clothes.

He pats my shoulder. “Have fun. Mario’s bound to be even worse than I am.”

Then he leaves. I don’t know that it’s possible for someone to be worse than Lenin is, but I hope it’s not.

Very quickly, I discover I was wrong.

Mario is worse. By a long shot. He keeps yelling things I smell like and telling me I need to wash my hair. He makes me do more stretches than Lenin and ones that cause my muscles to die. He also makes me do the worm thing four times in a row and I find out that magic has drawbacks.

I’m currently bent over, puking on the floor and struggling to breathe.

Mario pats my back. “Get it out.”

Another wave of acid-flavored vomit. Then peace. A brief moment of peace.

Now my throat and nose burn.

Mario hands me a cloth and I clean my face. “Did I make progress. . .at least?”

He nods. “Leaps and bounds, lad.”

I do a thumbs-up. “Great.”

Then I pass out.

It’s a long while before I come to. And when I do, it’s to Lenin’s face.

Quite a scary sight, considering he always looks ready for murder.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

His face moves from my sight. I sit up and find I’m not in the common rooms, nor my room, but a strange new one. It’s very orderly and nicely colored. It reminds me of chocolate and Valentine’s.

“Where am I?” I ask.

“My room. I’m the only one in Base Three with the equipment to treat magic poisoning.”

My chest is sore, right at the sternum. “Okay. What. . .happened?”

Lenin sighs. “Mario caused you to get magic poisoning from overuse. Then something strange happened. Your chest worm took physical form and attacked him. He’s still in the infirmary.”

I blink. “Will he be alright?!”

Lenin looks at me and for the first time I see something other than anger. Worry. Just the tiniest little bit.

“He’ll be fine. Your worm didn’t go crazy; it just broke his nose.”

“Just—Just broke his nose?!” I blurt. “That’s terrible! I have to go see him. Apologize.”

I go to get up, but Lenin holds me down. “Did I give you clearance to leave? Mario’s in great care, and you’re still hurt.”

My chest responds to his words by throbbing. I groan and rub the area with my index and middle fingers. “Ouch.”

Lenin gives me a stern look and I lay back down. “What exactly is my body doing?”

He sighs. “It’s. . .complicated. Your magic is refusing your body. In simple terms, your magic is a little gör and it hates you.”

“Is that why my chest is so sore?” I ask.

“Part of it,” Lenin says. “I also had to punch you.”

My eyes widen. “Oh, okay. That’s totally normal. You punch hard, dude.”

“I only did it to cancel out the control of your worm.”

I nod. “Alright. Why did I puke?”

Lenin looks up. “Your body was attempting to cleanse you of your magic. That’s why your chest hurts so bad. It managed to detach your worm.”

“Great. More fantastic news.” I sit up a little bit. “Is there a way to re-attach it?”

Lenin shrugs. “Maybe. Right now, I’m trying to fix the issue of the damage it did to your body.”

“What did it do?”

“Caused your legs to temporarily stop working. I’m trying to get them back online,” he says.

I’m speechless.

Another bit of advice, don’t obtain magic. It’s more hassle than it’s worth.

I flop back onto the bed. “Well, shit, man. This sucks.”

“It shouldn’t take more than a few days. Erin and Hera will visit,” Lenin says. “It won’t be too bad.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

A knock sounds and I perk up. Lenin gets the door and Erin’s there.

“Guess who?” he walks in and someone follows him.

“Madison!” I wave at her. “You’re okay.”

She waves back. “Yeah. Thanks to you, I managed to escape.”

Erin drags her over and we talk about Jude and other random ass topics until Lenin calls them for dinner and brings me a tray.

“Eat slowly and be sure to chew properly,” he says. “It’s essential to your healing process to get nutrition.”

I smile. “You sound like a mom.”

He gives me a flat look. “Real funny. Eat your food, gör.”

Then he leaves.

I do as he told me. The food, despite its lackluster appearance, is delicious. Probably because I haven’t eaten in a couple days. Also, because it’s beef stew.

When I finish, I lay there a while.

Hera helps me brush my teeth.

Then I stare at the ceiling in the dark, praying for sleep. It eventually comes.

Chest worms are tiring.