JACKIE:

  “Snakes?” I asked.

  Beatrice gestured at the surrounding party. “The press. Enemies disguised as allies. Everyone is vying for a chance at the top. You have a lot to learn.”

  I pulled at my dress again. “So teach me.”

  Beatrice whispered, “Only the elite know anything about the Institute. My little side project is classified. First, you need to prove you can keep secrets.”

  “Why are you investigating the Grid?”

  Beatrice waved at someone across the room, talking from the side of her mouth.

  “Think about it, Jackie. An intricate pattern of red lasers covers our sky. No one knows what the Grid is made of or why it’s there. This type of information could be incredibly valuable.”

  I shrugged. “That’s like asking why the grass is green. It just is.”

  Beatrice looked around to ensure no one was listening. “Grace expressed interest in the Grid at an early age, so Mark looked into it. There are accounts of people who remember a time before the Grid. I have reason to believe there’s more to the story, okay?”

  I snorted with laughter. “Wow, since when did you chase urban legends?”

  Beatrice leaned in closer, speaking in a hushed tone. “Since I came back from the dead.”

  I grabbed an appetizer from a passing tray and stuffed it in my mouth. It was bigger than expected, so I spoke louder to compensate. “Is the conspiracy true about the government using it to control weather patterns?”

  Our conversation caught the attention of a well-dressed man walking by.

  Beatrice plastered her smile back on and nodded at him. “Let’s talk about it later, Jackie.”

  I swallowed that delicious crab cake. “No, I want to talk about it now. You promised to be transparent with me.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Beatrice spoke through her teeth. “Keep your voice down or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” I stormed out of the party, every step a reminder I didn’t belong there. No one cared what I thought. They put up with me only because I was Beatrice’s fake daughter.

  I’m a Duster in disguise.

  Beatrice kept telling me I was family, but she was only using me for my blood.

  I couldn’t face Gabby either. She sought a salacious story for her ViewMe channel, and a rare Climber come-up like mine had to be ripe with scandal.

  I yanked off those terrible high-heels and walked down the hall to my Kiln Room. Grit stuck to my bare feet from the concrete Camp Claudi floors.

  Before entering my Kiln Room with a scan of my DNA Identifier, I looked around to make sure no one followed me.

  The coast was clear, so I went inside.

  My body relaxed as soon as I stepped into my safe haven, a posh room with a state-of-the-art fire starter that took me straight into the Slipstream, like a fireplace times a thousand.

  I sparked a blaze with the click of a button, my nerves calmer every second I got closer to getting a fix.

  Slumping onto the couch, I rubbed my sore feet. “Stupid stilettos. Who thought those were a good idea?”

  I pulled my notebook from its hiding place underneath a couch cushion.

  “Ah.” Finally relaxed, I stared into the fire. “I can’t believe Beatrice is gonna give Feraz more Life Rite.”

  Concentration alluded me. I couldn’t stop thinking about that jerk, Mr. Tal, and how he treated the server.

  “Beatrice let him get away with it, too.” My blood sizzled. “And his idiot son, Feraz, who jumped to rebirth into the Slipstream, screaming that he was a god…”

  I wiped the icky memory away by shaking my hands, trying to focus on the flames.

  “It’s no use. I don’t even know where to search next.”

  I opened my notebook and looked at the detailed map of the Slipstream I’d been working on.

  “Where are you, Firestorm?” I traced arrow after arrow, notes I made to remember where in the Slipstream I’d been and where to go next.

  If someone else saw my map, they’d think it was musings from a madwoman, and they would probably be right.

  I threw my notebook onto the couch with a huff.

  I refuse to give up, but is Firestorm off in some distant portal, torturing Beatrice in a cage for fun?

  That wasn’t a healthy choice for him, and I wanted my dad to find happiness like I had.

  Haven’t I?

  My lower lip quivered. I curled my knees into my chest and rocked myself. Regret sank its claws into me, dragging fresh tears I couldn't fight.

  “Where are you, Firestorm?” My voice trembled. “Are you gone forever?”