Chapter 2

TWO

Samantha

I feel like I've grown a second head. Before the earthquake, Dahlia was the only person on the bus who knew who I was and cared about who I was. I've always been a nobody, a typical American college student. Now, the entire bus is talking about me, and I can't decide if I should lift up my top and scream about being all that and a bag of chips, or melt into this seat and hope no one remembers me tomorrow.

We pull up outside the gates of the Phoenix Institute. The sounds of a thousand pings ring through the bus signaling the return of our connection and everyone receives the notifications they haven't been able to get for most of the bus ride. Already I know they'll be talking about the earthquake and the bus. I just hope they'll gloss over what I'd done.

"So, are we going to talk about it?" Dahlia whispers. "Or are you still pretending you weren't involved in rescuing all our asses?"

"Pretending? I'm not pretending. Pretending would be that time you flopped your boob out to get the attention of Brad after Ashley started grinding on him, and you weren't about to ‘have that bitch beat you even if you didn't care about Brad,'" I tell her like I think it's the best suggestion she's ever had.

She snorts, and then the gates open. "You've always done that."

"What? I've never done anything like that before," I tell her, giving her a funny look.

Her gaze locks onto mine. "No, you always know a minute before everyone else when something's going to happen. Like, I can't even count how many times you've caught a ball that was coming at us, without even facing that direction. You have the instincts of a damn ninja."

It's true, but Granger and Aydan are like that too, so it's not that weird. My mom always said some people just have better reflexes. That's just how life is. "It's just from all my time running around in the woods. It honed my instincts."

She doesn't seem convinced, but to my relief, she lets it go. How do I explain something like my reflexes? It'd be like explaining why I have green eyes. It's just part of me.

We travel down a long circular driveway crowded by trees before emerging into the campus and stopping outside of a huge building made out of white brick that's covered in ivy. When I start to stand to prepare to get off, everyone rushes out of the bus like it's on fire. I look at Dahlia. She shrugs, and I follow the last person out.

Outside, a woman is speaking to the bus driver, a pile of envelopes in her hands. Her dark brows seem to rise higher and higher with each word the bus driver says. Then he turns and points straight at me. My stomach flips, but she only stares at me for a second before going to stand in front of our little group.

Her blouse and pants are perfectly pressed, and her gray hair has been pulled back from her face. A pencil rests behind her ear, and she adjusts her glasses as she looks at all of us before speaking. "Welcome to the Phoenix Institute, I'm Ms. Gerald and I help run the administrative side of our program. I'm typically here to give you each your welcome packet, which includes your cabin numbers and cabin codes to get in. But we've been made aware of your experience on the road, so I want to address that first. We're relieved you arrived safely, and though we'd have preferred it happened after your arrival, we're excited that you've already experienced one of the interesting earthquakes that make Phoenix Peaks such a unique place. We're just hoping being caught off-guard with one on the road won't impact your view of the Institute."

"Unique, right!" someone mutters in the crowd.

Ms. Gerald ignores the comment, and her gaze suddenly finds mine, and I have to remind myself to breathe. "You. What's your name?"

Oh, hell. "Samantha Callaway," I answer, feeling nervous.

Her dark eyes hold mine, and she says, "I'm pleased to know you're good in an emergency."

"Are you planning on having a lot more?" I ask.

Everyone laughs, and she actually smiles. "I hope not, but one can never be too careful."

Right. That's not ominous at all.