“They've been there for a while.” Lucy bit her nail, staring at her parents through the window.

  “They're just talking to the doctors.” I reached over and took her wrist, gently winding the IV and monitor clip away from her arm. “Would you stop tangling these?”

  Inside my stomach was just as knotted as Lucy's wires. Was Mr. Murray telling the doctors about me? We didn't talk about it as we drove to the hospital. Every time they looked into our room, I was certain they were looking at me.

  Probably explaining the freak of nature to the doctors.

  I knew the other shoe was coming.

  “Hey,” Lucy grabbed my hand, squeezing. "It's okay."

  I yanked my hand away and shoved it in my jacket pocket. “I told you we should have just let it go.”

  Maybe I should have been more worried about Lucy, but the doctors had already given us a diagnosis. Diabetes. Everyone knows about diabetes, it wasn't like Lucy had cancer. She just had to lay off the cookies or something.

  But it had revealed my secret.

  Mrs Murray walked away from the doctors, sniffling as she paced, looking at something on her phone. Was she emailing my social worker? Maybe they let you file a police report online; you could do anything with the internet.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The doctor said something else, and the Murray's hugged, looking in the room again. They kept exchanging fervent glances. Something about the way they talked made me think they were whispering.

  “Do they seriously think we can hear them? " Lily snorted, shaking her head.

  “Maybe they do.” I started picking up the loose string on my hoodie. “Superman could.”

  “Oh, shut up, Molly.” Lucy glared, tossing her flimsy Hospital pillow at my head. “They don't know.”

  “Your dad saw me,” I didn't have the energy to yell. It was like their knowledge sat on my shoulders with a tangible weight. Was that the other shoe about to stomp on my neck?

  “Oh, whatever.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Do you know how many stories they've heard about moms lifting cars off their babies?”

  “Yeah, right.” I stood, pacing the little room. “They'll just assume it was some adrenaline rush.”

  “Why not?”

  I gave her a pointed look. “Their daughter didn’t.”

  “You’re their daugh–” A click from the door opening cut off our argument.

  “Well, they said we can come home today.” Mr. Murray tousled Lucy's hair slowly, his eyes shimmering. “But a few things will have to change, Lucy-Bug.”

  “For one thing.” Mrs. Murray coughed to clear the shake in her voice. It didn't work. “No more leaving your phones behind, okay, girls?”

  She looked at me as she said it, and I just stammered, “Um, yeah, no problem.”

  Could… could they really still be taking me home? Maybe the social worker would meet us there. Or the FBI. I didn’t know who picked up freaks.

  But then… why bother warning me about the phone?