I say nothing as we ride up to the third floor. My palms are sweaty and I wipe them on my jeans. I still have no idea what I’ve signed up for. As I tried to fall asleep last night, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was making a big mistake. But every time I thought about backing out, I remembered the money. No matter what the research project involves, it only lasts a few hours. I can survive anything for a few hours. It will all be over by the end of the night—and I’ll be a whole lot richer. No more worrying about where I’ll live or if I can get a job or whether or not I can afford to college. I’ll be set for life.
We get off the elevator, and I follow Lynne into an exam room, complete with a hospital bed and a tray full of medical equipment. “Please wait here,” she says. “A doctor will be with you shortly.”
She shuts the door behind her and I stare at the bed. It has one of those pink hospital gowns on it, the kind where your ass hangs out the back. No way am I putting that on.
Someone knocks on the door, but it opens before I can answer. A dark-skinned man in a lab coat enters the room and closes the door behind him. His hair is black with little tufts of gray above his ears. “Ms. Martinez? My name is Dr. Kapur. Please, sit down.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, the paper cover crinkling under me, and fight the panic building inside my chest. The door is right behind me. I can run if I need to. And just because he’s an older man and we’re alone doesn’t mean he’ll do anything to me. This is just a routine medical exam, nothing more.
He looks down at his clipboard. “I’m going to ask you a few questions before we start the tests. First, are you on any medication?” I shake my head. “Have you ever taken any drugs?”
“No.”
“What about alcohol?”
I stare at the linoleum floor and push back the memories that threaten to flood my mind. “No.”
“No, I suppose not, with your history.”
I glance up sharply. He knows. He probably has my entire life story there, written on his clipboard. I’ve never felt so naked before.
He eyes me like I’m a specimen he’s about to dissect. “Have you ever had any migraine headaches or blackouts?”
“No.”
“Have you ever had any suicidal thoughts or tendencies?”
“What? No!” What kind of questions are these? Do they really need to know this kind of stuff?
“I’m going to check your blood pressure now.” He opens the cuff with a loud Velcro rip and places it on my arm. I try not to flinch at his touch. He smells like the overpowering fake lemon of cleaning products, and every instinct tells me to get away from him. Logically, I know he isn’t going to hurt me. He’s a doctor and Aether Corp wants me for their “project.” I agreed to this exam. But that still doesn’t stop the familiar terror from rising up.
He removes the cuff and pauses, studying my face. “Do you need me to get a nurse?”
“I’m fine.” I realize my fists are clenched at my sides and force my hands to relax. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The physical exam is quick, but then I’m taken to other rooms for more testing. Blood work. X-rays. Brain scans. I’m not even sure what half of the tests are for. My suspicions grow with every minute that passes, but no one will tell me anything.
When the tests are finally over, a nurse dumps me in a freezing-cold conference room with chairs arranged in two rows and a long table covered with food and drinks. I lean against a wall and study the four people already inside, all about my age. Three of them bear the scars of a life in the system: a don’t-mess-with-me attitude combined with guarded eyes and clothes that have worn through or don’t quite fit.
But one guy stands out. Black hipster glasses, crisp blue jeans, and a plaid button-down shirt that fits perfectly—this is no foster kid. His dark hair is slightly tousled and he’s tall and lean, not exactly muscular yet not scrawny either. He gives the others a smile, his face friendly and without suspicion. I can tell he’s never gone hungry before, never flinched from an adult, never gotten in a car with no idea where he’d sleep next. The badge on his shirt reads Adam O’Neill.