Susan eyed us carefully, wary of letting strangers in her house. I gave her a warm smile and a friendly nod, then showed her my also-fake ID. “We do this once every couple years. It’s not meant to reflect poorly on you in any way, Mrs. Cranston. We’re simply making sure you’re all happy as a family, and we’re here to offer advice and counseling if you need it.”
She nodded slowly, then opened the door for us.
“Come in,” she said. “We just made lemonade.”
“Fantastic! I hope you have ice!” Raffe replied, delighted.
We followed her into the living room, and I took a moment to analyze the place. The house was clean and neatly decorated. There wasn’t a particular style present, but rather a mish-mash of designs and cultural infusions. The walnut furniture was loaded with secondhand books and fancy-looking first editions. The wall art had an Andy Warhol vibe, though the wallpaper itself was cream and simple. Vases of different shapes and sizes adorned the side tables, and the centerpiece rug reminded me of Peruvian weaving, rich in color, with geometric patterns. They’d done this place up piece by piece, as well as they could afford it at the time—but they did invest in quality.
I was becoming more and more convinced that Micah was in good hands here.
There were pictures of him all over the walls, along with some of his kindergarten drawings. Those actually kind of matched the decorative Warhol-esque paintings they’d been hung next to. It tore me apart to think we’d now have to take him away. It was cruel.
Pots clanged in the kitchen, followed by a round of boyish giggles and Larry Cranston’s muffled voice. By the sounds of it, they were having a lot of fun in there. Susan chuckled, then motioned for us to sit down. Wade took over one of the armchairs while Santana and Raffe settled on the couch. I preferred to stand, feeling far too nervous to sit still for more than a second.
I browsed the bookshelves that covered half of the eastern wall. There was an entire shelf dedicated to parenting books. The Cranstons had obviously done their homework on the topic. They were also huge fans of true crime and psychological thrillers, from what I could tell. One of them had a thing for soapy romance novels—my money was on Susan for that particular guilty pleasure. It made me smile.
“Larry! Micah! Come in here with that lemonade, and bring some glasses, too!” Susan shouted toward the kitchen at the end of the hallway. “We’ve got visitors!”
“How many glasses?” Larry called back.
“Seven, honey!”
“Whoa, lots of people!” little Micah exclaimed.
We all smiled at the sound of his voice as Susan sat in another armchair and cleared the coffee table, making room for the lemonade. Soon enough, Micah’s footsteps echoed through the hallway, along with the clinking of glasses. He was the first to enter the living room and stop and stare at us, a curious glimmer settling in his brown eyes.
Larry emerged second, carrying a large tray with glasses and a massive pitcher of ice-cold lemonade. I instinctively licked my lips. Micah seemed to be wondering why we were here, and there was a hint of concern hidden beneath his curiosity. I had a feeling he was aware that our presence was related to his Telekinetic abilities.
“Hi, Micah,” Wade said. “I’m Wade, and these are my friends. We’re just passing through.”
“Well, our door is always open!” Susan replied, smiling. Micah mirrored her expression, his tiny teeth making me melt on the inside. He was the sweetest little thing, with his blond hair cut short and fuzzy.
“How are you all doing?” Wade asked, looking at Susan and Larry.
Larry frowned, giving his wife a questioning glance. “They’re from Social Services, honey. Just a routine visit. Nothing to worry about,” she briefly explained.
“Oh! Um… we’re doing well, I guess,” Larry replied. “The neighborhood is quiet. We’ve got a lot of community activities. Barbecues on Sunday with some of our neighbors. The private school down the road is great for Micah. We’re adjusting.”
Wade nodded, then flipped open the file, giving Micah the occasional glance. “I understand you moved him to this kindergarten halfway through the year,” he replied. “Was he having trouble in Point Loma?”
Susan and Larry looked at each other again. This time, they were both nervous. Humans were slightly easier to read than magicals from what I’d noticed so far. Their emotions were a tad looser. Children, in particular, were quite intense. Micah was flaring with panic. He kept a pretty good poker face for someone so young, but his eyes betrayed him.
“It was too far from here,” Susan said, then took a deep breath to calm herself.
Oh, they were hiding something, for sure.
I’ll take “Our Child is a Telekinetic” for $1,000, Alex.
“You teach at Point Loma High School, don’t you? Wasn’t it more convenient to drop him off and pick him up from next door?” Wade asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not really. Kindergarten schedules differ from my high school, and Larry is the one who usually handles Micah’s school rides,” Susan explained, then proceeded to pour lemonade in all the glasses. Her hands were shaking, and Wade didn’t let that go unnoticed.
“Are you nervous, Mrs. Cranston?”
Susan laughed, the pitch uncomfortably higher than usual. “No! I mean, not really. I’m just sort of uneasy, I guess.”
“Why would you be uneasy?” I asked, prompting Wade to give me a stern sideways glance. He was slightly irritated, but I didn’t care. He was way too serious for this family, making what we were about to do much, much worse.
“I thought we were okay with Micah,” Susan replied, her voice shaky. “He’s healthy and growing well, he loves us, and we love him back—so much. We’re… We’re happy, and I’m worried whenever Social Services is in the room.”
“We haven’t heard from you since Micah was three,” Larry added, crossing his arms. “I figured something must’ve happened for Social Services to come around now. I don’t know, maybe his biological parents showed up or something.”
“Are you sure you want to discuss that with him present?” Wade asked, watching as Micah climbed into his mother’s lap and sipped from his plastic cup, which was also filled with lemonade.
“Oh yeah, Micah knows everything about our family,” Susan said, smiling at her little boy with so much love, I almost teared up.
“Well, I don’t want you to worry,” Wade replied. “We’re just making sure that everything is as you expected—that your family life is healthy and not impacted by any sudden changes. Like I said, the basics.”
From what I was feeling, however, that wasn’t enough to soothe the Cranstons. They still worried, and for good reason. We were about to take their child away from them, and Wade was leading them on with these pretty little lies, just so they wouldn’t be too distraught and their minds would be more malleable for the memory wiping. It pissed me off.
Something took over in that instant—a part of me that had lain dormant since my faceoff with Finch. Energy burst through me, bright and furious, making me stand straight and walk over to Micah, who watched me quietly as I approached him and his mom. Wade didn’t say anything, but he, too, watched me with intense eyes. Santana and Raffe were quiet and confused. This wasn’t part of the plan.
I crouched before Susan and Micah. “Micah, why don’t you tell us about the accidents that got your mom and dad to move you to this new kindergarten?”
As expected, both Susan and Larry were shocked and mortified, their jaws dropping. To my right, Wade was fuming, Santana was slightly amused, and Raffe was… well, I couldn’t always tell with him. I got both concern and glee, in a mixture that made my blood chill.
Micah, on the other hand, felt relieved.
“What are you talking about?!” Susan blurted, tightening her arms around her son.
I gave her a sympathetic smile. “I think you know, Mrs. Cranston,” I replied, then looked at Larry. “You’re both aware that your boy is… special, right?”
“Who are you people?” Larry gasped.
“We’re here to help,” I said, getting back up slowly so as not to startle anyone.
“You’re crazy!” Susan replied, getting aggravated.
I’d seen this coming, but I had a lot of faith in them, especially in Micah, who couldn’t take his eyes off me. Wade pinched the bridge of his nose, no longer hiding his frustration.
“All you had to do was shut up and let me do my job,” he muttered.
“Tough luck. Change of plans, Wade. We’re doing this my way,” I replied dryly.
“You don’t get to decide what—”
I cut him off. “No! You don’t get to decide what happens to Micah. Micah and his parents get to decide what happens to Micah, because that’s the humane thing to do!”
The Cranstons were petrified—understandably, since they didn’t have the full story as to why we were here. Heck, they didn’t even know what a magical was. It was too late to go back now, so I returned my focus to them, while Santana whispered something in Wade’s ear. Whatever she told him, it seemed to stop him from getting angrier. I could feel the blaze subsiding within me.
“Mrs. Cranston, your son is extraordinary, and I mean it in the best way possible,” I said to her. “Have you ever heard of Telekinesis?”
She blinked several times, then looked at Larry and Micah before nodding. “We figured it was something like that… The internet wasn’t too helpful, though,” she murmured.
“I would imagine so,” I replied. “Your son is what we call a ‘magical,’ Mrs. Cranston. And chances are that moving objects around with his mind isn’t the only thing he can do.”
“How do you know all this? Who the hell are you people?” she croaked, tearing up.
“We’re like him,” I said, then smiled at Micah. “We’re just like you, Micah. Look.”