Alvita offered to walk me home, and as part of our agreement, I let her. About five minutes into the walk, Alvita cut off my rant about the newest DC movie news by holding up a hand.

  “You’re limping. Why is that?”

  I panicked and came up with a lie I barely remembered about ramming my leg into something. I could only hope that Alvita didn't question it again. I’d be screwed for sure.

  After Alvita had insisted on taking a look at the injury with me only convincing her otherwise by reminding her that I’d have to take off my pants for that, she listed off the best ways to take care of wounds.

  How she knew so much about injuries, I had no idea.

  We got back to my house, and I thanked her for keeping me company.

  “I will text you tomorrow,” she said as a farewell before walking away.

  “Bye!” I called. I found myself not being upset about the prospect of receiving a text, even if it came early in the morning and was threatening to call 911.

  I turned back to the gate and put in the code. Because of the gloves, I pushed the wrong button and had to reenter it, getting it right the second time. I approached the door and walked inside, taking off my Converse. No one was allowed to walk into the clean house with dirty shoes.

  The first thing I noticed was that voices were coming from the kitchen. My sensitive hearing picked up my mother saying, “With permission from the director, I left early. He understood.”

  “Isn’t it early still?” my dad asked, his voice tinted with worry.

  I walked closer, keeping my footsteps quiet. I walked past the dining room and stoped near the staircase that led to the second floor. From where I stood, neither of my parents could see me.

  “Wilson, you worry far too much. He’ll be fine.”

  That might be referring to me. Are they gossiping? What’s going on? Mom never left early for work. Was today a special occasion?

  “Knowing our son, he won’t decline an offer, no matter the consequences. What if he pushes himself too far?”

  Mom scoffed. “You didn’t concern yourself this much with Cory. What? Do you only have a problem when it’s me who’s making a decision? I’m sorry if I want to give my son an opportunity to do something in his life. I’m sorry that I want to set him up so he can be successful. What a terrible parent I am!”

  I cringed, shrinking back.

  She didn’t use it too often, but when she did, things usually ended in a screaming match and someone marching out of the house in a storm.

  I bit my lip and ran a hand through my hair. Did she really have to talk about me like that, though? Like I was a hopeless cause with no future, only having potential because of the transformation?

  “That is not what I am saying, Athena. I’m just saying to wait a bit longer until Cain has fully adjusted to everything. For goodness' sake, he was attacked and drained last week.”

  “Yeah, but how long should I wait? How long until he’s all better? Cory bounced back in only a couple of days. Should I wait for Cain to decide on his own? That boy has no ambition, and unless I guide him, he’ll keep living in this house until the day he dies.”

  That one stung…

  The volume of their voices also stung my ears, and I had an urge to cover them and leave the immediate vicinity.

  My fists curled, and I forced myself to step forward until I was facing the kitchen with the living room and fireplace behind me. Both of my parents were on separate sides of the island, my mother glaring and my dad’s jaw clenched.

  Both of them turned to me, their tense forms only easing a tad. They were still clearly pissed off.

  “Hello,” I said with a wave, not quite meeting their faces. “I just got back from coffee…”

  “Cain, I need to speak with you,” Mom said, straightening.

  Dad snorted in disbelief and raised both of his hands. “Fine. I’ll go get groceries while you two talk.” He went around the island and walked past me, his eyes full of frustration.

  “Wait, Dad,” I said. He paused and looked over his shoulder at me. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I bit my lip.

  Dad didn’t say anything for a moment. “Yes, Cain. I’ll be back in an hour.” Then he was going toward the door, his form rigid.

  Mom sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m sorry, Cain. I didn’t mean to get so upset.” She looked at me. “Did you hear our entire conversation?”

  “Some of it…”

  She nodded and gestured to a seat at the island. I came forward and sat on the one in the middle, feeling oddly nervous.

  “You probably know what I’m going to ask, but I want to do it properly.” Mom slid a plastic, clear folder that was sitting on the counter next to her to me. She flipped it open, revealing a piece of paper that was covered in many official and fancy-looking words. At the top, it read, “Warden Admission Contract”.

  I knew this was the direction of the conversation, but I didn’t expect her to pull out an admission contract already. I was left speechless.

  “I want to ask you to join the Wardens, like me and your brother. I know I have discouraged you from doing so in the past, but this is a new opportunity that you can take advantage of. If you are prepared to join the Wardens, this is what you’d sign. This contract means that you release your status as a citizen, that you're a soldier against the Walls and the Giants. Along with this you also need to fill out this-” She slid aside the contract, displaying another paper underneath. “You put your full name, your age, your education, your power– since you don’t know yours, you’d just put ‘unidentified’. Once you fill that all out, I will take it back to the Wardens, and in two to three days, a Manager will contact you.”

  “Okay,” I said, spiraling.

  “Now, once we accept you, there is a training period. This can last from only a few weeks to a few months, depending on how well you do. You will be part of the trainee team, go through the Wall with only the experienced Wardens, and take classes to help prepare you. Depending on what you excel at, you will be put into a group under a Manager. For example, Cory and Ron are paired up often because they both can fly, allowing them to do certain attacks and movements.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  I nodded, eyeing the contract. I tilted my head to the side so I could read the many, many words better. I found the paragraphs upon paragraphs overwhelming, so I glanced back at my mother.

  It was odd. She never spoke so much about her job to me, or perhaps in general. I didn’t know how to feel about it. One emotion, warm and bright, overpowered the cold ones, making my chest come alive.

  Mom continued to talk about the privileges of the job and the benefits: a retirement plan, health-care, pay, that sort of thing. I studied her face, she seemed– she seemed almost excited, and that warmth dropped away like a weight in water.

  “Mom,” I said, cutting her off. I stared into the counter, my gloved hands wringing together tightly. “I– I can’t accept.”

  “What?” The word was sharp, surprised.

  I chanced a look at her, and what I saw filled me with a suffocating feeling that made my fingers tremble.

  Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape. Her lips suddenly closed, and her jaw hardened. She stayed silent, watching with that look I hated, waiting for me to speak.

  “I don’t think it’s such a good idea. I mean, I have such a lame power.” I stretched the sleeve of my hoodie and rubbed the fabric between my fingers.

  “Cain, what-?”

  “I mean, all I can do is jump high and stuff.” My shoulders rose, and I hugged myself. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “You are not making any sense. This is the job of a lifetime. You can’t just throw that away.”

  Not without a power. Not when the Hospice exists.

  “I can’t!” I snapped.

  “Is this your father speaking? If you just tried, you’d see–”

  “Mom, stop!” I yelled, standing up, the chair getting pushed harshly back. “I won’t. Maybe if I was Cory I could, but–” I took a deep breath, swallowing. “I’m not. Sorry.”

  I spun around and beelined up the stairs, far faster than I could of before the demonization. I almost slid with my socks, but I used the railing to take the sharp turn at the top. I sped past the linen closet and an extra bedroom and made it to the other staircase to the third floor. I jumped up the steps, landing on the second-to-top one, and pushed open the broken door.

  I closed the door and immediately threw off the uncomfortable gloves. With my fingers free, I grabbed fistfuls of my hair and slid to the floor, breathing roughly. Emotions of all kinds swirled and fought in my lungs, finally settling as I sat there for several minutes. I let go of my strands and rested my head on the wall behind me. I stared at the vaulted ceiling above, every thought that could possibly be thought circling through my stupid head.

  One thought kept being repeated.

  ,

  I hadn’t talked to Mom much since that conversation, and with it now being two days since, I think we’re avoiding each other. Or perhaps, I’m avoiding her.

  Whenever she’s home, I stay in my room or go ‘on a walk’ (really, I’m searching for crime in sunglasses and a bicycle helmet.) At last night's dinner, after I cooked a pan of ground beef with seasoning and heated up the taco shells, I just took a plate, loaded it with six or seven tacos, and bolted up to my room. My parents probably ate the tacos separately once I left.

  My dad also started working at the cafe again the day after the conversation with Mom. He usually worked every single day, sometimes on the weekends too, but he spent many days off after my draining. I believe he was scared something would happen to me.

  After he got home that day, I asked Dad if I could start working at the cafe too, preferably as soon as possible.

  He agreed and so, today, at 7 a.m I woke up and left for the cafe. My dad had left earlier and was opening the resturant now.

  The cafe, being a block or so away, was a quick walk in the rain. During it, I received another text from Alvita that read,

  7:08 am

  7:09 am

  It was off-putting asking for something like that, basically ordering someone to do something, but I pushed away my discomfort. Alvita didn’t seem to mind at all and found it normal. Still, that voice in me kept chanting to me, saying, I shook my head. All I was doing was honoring the promise I made her that day at the coffee shop. I wasn’t taking advantage of her.

  Though there was no way in hell I was going to let her spend money on me. That was taking it a step too far.

  And I did a heat blanket. At night, I was always cold, despite the layers I wore. I’ve been having to cover myself with piles and piles of blankets just to stay warm. It was

  “Excuse me,” someone said, approaching me at a rapid pace. I lowered my phone, wiping the droplets on it onto my sleeve, and shifted my focus to them. They were a stranger, someone I didn’t recognize.

  “Yeah?” I said, confused. The stranger looked about my age, maybe a couple of years younger.

  “Are you Cain Rogue? The new Eternal in the Rogue family?” They were watching me with big eyes, their phone in one hand and an umbrella in the other. They seemed to be a teenage girl, maybe walking to school.

  I blinked. “I am, how did you know that?”

  “I noticed that you didn’t have an Entha mask,” she said, pointing to my mouth. “And I recognize you from the pictures.”

  “I was wondering if I could take a picture? I’m a fan of your brother.” She waved the phone.

  Gaping, I choked out a ‘sure!’. The girl grinned and got close to me, leaning her head near my shoulder as she raised her phone and snapped a picture. I tried for a natural smile, but I was never good at pictures.

  “Thank you! My name is Emily,” she said.

  “Oh, I– you already know my name. It’s nice to meet you, Emily.”

  Emily giggled. “Can you maybe mention me to Cory? I would die!” I nodded and she took off, waving enthusiastically. “Thank you!”

  I watched her, my confusion only growing.

  As I got to the cafe, I was looking up ‘Cain Rogue’ into the search bar of my phone. What came up was a picture of me and Cory that was taken at an event honoring all of the new Wardens. That event was where I met Ron Basin for the first time and also where he blatantly ignored me like a prick… not that I’m bitter.

  The picture was about seven or eight months old. Cory and I were standing next to each other, our arms around each other’s shoulders. My face was in a tight, overly big smile while Cory had a small, awkward one. It was obvious neither of us were great in photos, though, at least Cory could pretend to be comfortable– I looked like I was about to die on the spot.

  I scrolled past the photo and found more pictures of me. All of them had either Mom or Cory (one time Dad) in it as well, and most were taken at the event. Mom didn’t have much of a social media presence outside of work, so she didn’t end up posting many pictures of our family, I doubt Dad knew what social media was, and none of my social media included my name or pictures so I suppose those were all the pictures people had of me.

  I understood why I wasn’t recognized that often. In those pictures, my hair hadn’t been bleached white yet, and it was neater, a bit shorter. Also, my family took over any picture I was in. I was hardly noticeable next to the great Athena and Cory Rogue.

  I scrolled down as I made my way to the back of the cafe, passing my Dad. He was wiping down the counter.

  “Good morning,” I said, barely looking up.

  “Mornin’,” Dad said gruffly, grumpy with the earliness of the day.

  The first article that popped up caught my eye. Something like excitement fluttered in me. It read, “I pushed the link with such force, the screen bent beneath my finger, and it made a soft noise. I sucked air through my teeth and cringed. I studied the phone and released a breath when I found no crack.

  Focusing back on the article, I found a picture of Cory at the top. He was standing on a street corner in front of the Warden HQ with a microphone in his face. His mouth was open, indicating he was speaking.

  I clicked out of the article and went straight to Cory’s contact, pushing the call button.

  I humphed. What was this punk doing, saying I can’t come to an interview!? I wanted to do an interview for the longest time! He to know that, so what was the problem?

  I scoffed and went to get ready for my shift.