"What's wrong with her?"

"Does this sort of thing usually happen?"

"Never this bad! Come on Bri, open your eyes."

It takes me a minute to get my bearings. I recognize the feeling of the rough wood boxes at my back, little splinters making their way through the fabric of my shirt.  I wince at the cold tile floor on my legs, causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin.  I groan at the voices that are becoming clearer by the second. Gingerly I open my eyes, taking my time in getting used to my surroundings. I'm not in a field anymore, or a tech office.

"Bri?"

I look at my friend, and she instantly relaxes when she sees me awake and alert.

"Thank goodness," she says, sounding relieved, before pulling me in for a hug. Although, the position we're in makes it a bit awkward for me to get my arms around her. She's trembling, or is that me? I can't remember much of what happened. I was looking at the files one second, and the next I was dreaming about rolling hills and... the set of an FBI show? It's all a bit foggy.

"Girl, you gave me quite the scare. How are you feeling?"

Dizzy, nauseated, headache like a jackhammer going away at my brain. All in all, I don't feel great.

"Headache," I mumble.

I take the hand that is offered to pull me up, jumping a bit when I see Kalen attached to said hand. I quickly pull mine away, but not before marveling at the heat that seems to radiate from his skin. It's incredible, border lining on burning.

He looks puzzled, eyes raking over my body as if he were analyzing an interesting new species rather than plain old me.

"Is that normal?" he asks, a tinge of something in his voice that I can't quite put my finger on.

I nod. "Ever since I turned fifteen. But it's nothing, I just haven't had such a bad episode in a while. My body must have not been prepared or something."

I can't remember a time when it had gotten this bad though. Falling down, sure, that used to happen all the time. Especially when they first started happening, when I had just turned fifteen. But I never passed out, not once. And they have been going on for a while. The days were few and far apart when I didn't suffer from a migraine or a dizzy spell.

"You were mumbling something while you were out," says Mara, her voice soothing me somewhat.

There was just something about her, it made me feel more comfortable and relaxed than what I felt towards other people.

"Something about a second one?"

Simon's voice echoes in my head. The second one is back, and this time, he will not be so forgiving. It takes everyone's surprised faces for me to realize that I had actually spoken my thoughts out loud.

"Alright, I think it's about time we get you home." Cassie gently takes my hand and starts guiding me towards the door.

"Let us help," says Mara. She reaches for us, as if to make sure I really am okay.

"I've got her, you've done enough," snaps my friend.

"Yo, guys! What's taking you so long?"

Jayson appears in the doorway, and at first I'm alarmed when Simon Says isn't with him, until I remember that they probably have him locked up in one of the vans.

"Oh my god the other one," groans Cassie, and if she weren't using her hands to guide me she surely would have used one of them to face plant.

"What's going on in here?"

Cassie and Mara seem to have a silent conversation, before the latter relents and turns to her newly arrived team mate.

"OK, we'll leave you alone. It's nothing Jayson; it's about time we head back to HQ," she says slowly, face downcast as she motions both he and Kalen out of the room, who give us one last glance before stepping out into the alley.

"It wasn't their fault Cass and you know it," I say, watching the three teens disappear into the vans.

She's still staring after them, like she's afraid one of them will change their mind and come back, but once she sees them drive off she turns towards me.

"Maybe not, but I've had enough excitement for one day. Haven't you?"

I nod, and together we make our way back to the front of the smoothie shack.

I close up shop early, already trying to think of excuses to tell Marshall when he asks why I left sooner than what we had agreed on, and hop into the passenger's seat of Cassie's car. It's an old thing, with a hardly functioning motor and dire need of a new paint job, but Cassie bought it with her own money last year when she passed her driving test and got her license, so nothing will make her give it away. It's like a baby to her.

The ride home is quiet, both of us probably still trying to come to terms with what happened, and it feels like we get to my side of town faster than usual.

Misa is a pretty big city, found in the state of Mins, but the Elite make up the majority of the population that live there. We live right on the outskirts of Misa, in a little town called Postville. The houses are much smaller and there aren't nearly as many people as in the city, but there are practically no Elites, which is what people prefer around here.

My grandmother used to tell me stories when I was younger and eager to learn about the old world, and she said that this whole area including Misa and the neighboring town of Fallow, used to be one of the most famous cities in the world. New York I think she called it. I'm pretty sure that's what she said it was. But after the war, and the council, there are practically no old cities left in the world, except for a few in central Asia and Northern Europe. In fact, some countries have even disappeared. We may still be called the United States of America, but some smaller countries like Spain have merged with neighboring countries to form alliances. Now, the former Iberian Peninsula is a part of Tora, which is the country that was formed when Spain, Portugal, and France became one. The same thing happened to cities and towns. They grew or diminished depending on the Elite population. The more Elites, the bigger and more important the city.

We reach my apartment complex in record time, or at least what feels like record time, and I thank Cassie for the lift home before hopping out of her car.

"So you're sure you are alright?" she asks, peeking her head out the window.

She looks funny like this. Electric blue hair and black leather jacket all tucked neatly in a little banana yellow car that looks more like a cab than anything.

"I will be," I assure her.

I wave as she disappears down the road, her goodbye honk lifting my spirits. If only just a little bit.

I reach the main entrance and rummage around my bag for my ID card scanning it on the board to open the gate. It glows green, and I take my card out of the metal slot as I head inside.

"Welcome home miss Acero," says our security program. A digital monitor that all homes required to have installed in the late 2080s, created by the biggest technological company in the world, the system was called SYLVIA, and was programed to alert the home owners if they were ever in any sort of danger. The model we have installed is one of the newer ones, having replaced the traditional security alarm a long time ago.

"Thanks Sylvia."

It's a habit of mine to answer, even though she doesn't always answer back, like today for instance. I take the elevator up to the fifth floor and scan my fingerprint at my door.

"Password please," says the same mechanical voice, and I input my password before SYLVIA lets me go inside. Everyone has their own code depending on their fingerprint; it's an easier way to ensure someone doesn't try to get into your home.

S-T-R-A-N-G-E

It seemed like a fitting password when I chose it, now; I can't wait for my next birthday so I can change it.

"Mom! I'm home!" I call.

I close the door as I walk into our small apartment.

"I'm on the terrace sweetie!"

Of course she is, where else was I expecting her to be? The terrace is mom's sanctuary. Her happy place. Filled with all her favorite plants and flowers.

I take off my shoes, leave my bag on the floor, and remove my jacket. Crossing the miniature living space I make my way to the terrace. I find mom at her usual spot, sitting in one of the lounge chairs that we had dragged out here when we first bought the house, twirling her fingers as she makes the plants around her dance. The poppies seem to stretch, the roses open and close their petals rhythmically, and I can't help but smile, transfixed by the sight. It's like she's conducting an orchestra, choreographing her own dance that the flowers have to follow, her humming the only music needed to start the show.

My mothers' Gift is naturistic: she can make flowers bloom and plants grow, and always knows when something's wrong with them. Whether they need more water, less sunlight, or if the bugs are bothering them again. And even though she's a Norm, mom is as radiant as the flowers that she makes bloom. She is always happy, always ready to cheer others up. The only time I think I ever saw my mother cry was when dad passed away two years ago.

It was about a week after my twelfth birthday, but I still remember the moment as if it were yesterday. I had just gotten home from school, only to find mom crying at the kitchen table. When she saw me, she quickly tried to wipe away her tears and put on a brave smile, if only for my sake, and sat me down with her. She told me an Elite had been by our house to tell us that Dad had been on his daily patrol, when some crazy man that he had been tracking down got him in the chest with his Gift. Physical Gift, they told us, super strength. It crushed his rib cage and he died on his way to the hospital.

I had always had a complicated relationship with my dad. He would keep stuff from me and mom, like what his Gift was and why he couldn't tell me about it.

"One day pumpkin, one day you'll figure it out," he would say, as I sat on his lap and begged him to tell me.

I guess I can't blame him, the line of work he was in meant keeping secrets. Mom and I knew that. It just didn't make it easier when we heard the news. We might have had our moments, but he was still my dad. I loved him. And I remember not coming out of my room for a week.

I play with the little butterfly pendant hanging from the chain around my neck, the last gift I ever got from my father, and watch mom. Sitting in the sun, happily spending her day in the flower shop she runs across the road or in our tiny makeshift garden, I can pretend that everything is ok. That any second dad will walk through the front door and ask me how my day was, give mom a kiss and tell her how beautiful she is or how lucky he was to have such a perfect wife, like he always did.

Their relationship, a Norm and an Elite, was not unheard of. But it certainly wasn't the normal couple. Although, I guess dad wasn't your normal Elite either.

Dad reminded me a lot of Mr. Roscovic, who decided to dedicate his life in shaping the future generation of Gifteds. My dad was the same, except his line of work involved a bit more risk than getting spit-balled in a classroom. He became a mentor at the Elite training compound, where they train young Elites to harness and control their Gifts. That's probably where Kalen, Mara and Jay were off to now, back to their base I guess.

Dad would always come home with funny stories to tell, about a new arrival that almost set his hair on fire, or someone mistaking a zap gun for a stunner and shooting a guard in the foot. But those were the only things he was allowed to tell us, and sometimes I couldn't help but wonder if the things he was telling us were true. The Elites were sworn to secrecy when they joined the compound, their missions on a level of national security. It's natural that they would take precautions; I just wish my dad had been exempt from that rule. Even though I know it's unfair and a childish thing to wish for.

"How was your day?" Asks mom, looking up from a wilting lily to take in my haggard appearance. I guess I was a bit wilted today as well.

"Everything Okay?"

I shrug, grabbing the glass of water she had waiting for me on the table. Ice cold, just how I like it.

"It was fine."

I don't want to worry her with my problems; she has enough to deal with as it is. Between managing the shop and raising me on her own, mom barely has any time to think of herself and rest. I wasn't about to ruin what seemed like a pretty relaxing afternoon for her.

She doesn't seem completely convinced, but she doesn't push me, knowing fully well that if it's anything serious, I'll tell her in my own time.

"Well, I made some ginger cookies this morning if you would like to have one. They are on the counter," she says, pointing over her shoulder as she finishes giving the little flower all the attention it so desperately needed.

"Thanks mom." I give her a kiss on the cheek and head to our little kitchen, where I find the plate of delicious looking cookies just waiting to be eaten.

Now this is what I needed. But before I can take a bite out of the biggest cookie I picked out, our security system pipes up.

"Miss Acero, there is someone at the door."

Right as she says it the doorbell starts to ring.

"I'll get it mom!" I say, before she gets up and abandons the comfort of the terrace.

I put down my cookie, not before taking at least one bite, and check the camera we have outside to see who it could be. I nearly choke as I yank open the door, eyes widening as they land on Kalen, who is simply standing there, hands on his knees, looking as if he just ran the marathon of his life.

"You," he pants, raven hair falling into his silver eyes "need to come with me."