The Misshapes by Alex Flynn

Author:Alex Flynn [Flynn, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781940610122
Publisher: Polis Books

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Halloween was days away, and Party Time was a wasteland. All the good costumes and decorations were already purchased and we left with an assortment of skanky costumes that were either too risqué or too random, like a sultry aardvark costume that Alice found on the ground. We made the best of it and headed to the craft store to get supplies for more homemade affairs.

Later that afternoon, while I was training with Sam, I built up the courage to ask him about what Dr. Mann had said.

“Thanks. By the way, did you know Dr. Mann was watching these?” I said, pointing around the room toward cameras I couldn’t see.

His face clouded over. It was the first time I’d seen him angry. “Are you serious? Why would you ask something like that?” He frowned. “No. I had no idea.”

I felt attacked. It wasn’t my fault Dr. Mann was spying. “He said you would have, you know, considering the Academy and their monitoring.”

“That’s bullshit. Him and his little police state always watching the students. Online, offline, with spies, with cameras. That’s the kind of thing that got to Johnny, and I don’t blame him. I thought once I left it would be over.” Sam smiled at me, a terse curve in his mouth. “But I guess it’s never over.”

He was on my side. And Dr. Mann was not all that he appeared to be. I shouldn’t even mention Dr. Mann in front of Sam. It changed his easygoing personality into something darker, something I couldn’t put my finger on. In a blatant effort to change the subject, I brought up Halloween.

“So, should I go?”

“Of course, you should go. That sounds awesome,” he said. It was settled.

**

Two days later, I was standing in Alice’s room in a silver unitard while she smeared greasepaint on my face. Her room was an utter mess. Clothes were spread everywhere, a bra hung off the snare of a small pink and black drum kit in one corner, and the walls were filled with posters of fierce-looking women from bands I had never heard of: Sleater-Kinney, Helium, PJ Harvey, and countless others. It was like her wallpaper. The whole room felt like it was a green room at a punk club. The unitard was from her ballet days. Dark days, she claimed. She had been kicked out when she had a bunch of squirrels join her for the “Nutcracker Suite.” Once she was booted from ballet, her parents let her play the drums.

“Let me see a demi-plie,” she teased.

“You’re mocking me with dance! How did you even dance in this?”

“It’s not dancing,” she said, giving me her best pirouette. “It’s ballet.” She stopped. “And dancers don’t have boobs.”

I looked down. Boobs. As a result, I looked more hooker-y in Alice’s childhood costume.

“I could take some scissors and make it look more like Dangerous Girl if you’re still hung up on Freedom Boy.”

“No, thank you!” I said. Change the subject, Alice, I thought. I bit my lip.

“I feel,” Alice said, “like it’s a good thing we’re meeting your brother.

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