Chapter 7

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New York City
Skylar's Neighborhood



Skylar

    "You're sure you'll be okay without me?", Kit asks Skylar.

"I'm sure."

"Okay," Kit hugs her daughter, "no parties and absolutely NO BOYS."

"Yes, ma'am," Skylar says while saluting.

"I told the school to excuse your absence today. Go straight to school tomorrow, and when school is over, go straight to the Mutant Relations office. Then straight home. You are to stay in New York City," Kit hugs Skylar and kisses her on the forehead, "I love you. Stay safe."

"You too."

With that Kit leaves Skylar by herself for the next week. Skylar turns around.

"First things first, homework. Then, I can do whatever I want for the rest of the day."

Skylar skips to the back of the house to her room.

*****

Skylar put her books back in her bag and looks at her alarm clock. 6:30 p.m.

"Wow. I've been working for an hour and a half," she says while sliding off her bed. She heads to the front of the house and into the kitchen to get her something to eat. She starts to cut up an apple when she hears the neighbor's dog start to go crazy. Skylar raises an eyebrow and peeks out of the kitchen window which looks into her neighbor's yard. Their bulldog has his paws on the fence and is barking at something out towards the road. He's jumping around, howling, and just freaking out about just something on the road.

Jeez. What on Earth could be making him freak out this much? He never barks at people walking down the sidewalk.

He suddenly gets quiet and Skylar peeks out the window again. The bulldog is nowhere to be seen.

What? How?

Someone knocks on the door and Skylar practically jumps out of her skin. She puts her hand to her chest and turns towards the front door which stands between the living room and kitchen. Skylar walks cautiously over to the door. By now her mind is racing with all the murder scenes from all the different scary movies she's watched in her lifetime.
Skylar grabs a butter knife before continuing to the door. She unlocks the door and then opens it at a normal pace.

    The boy she encountered at the D.C. meeting is standing on her porch, right in front of her.   

   

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