Mind Games

Chapter 2

Wynn

"Whoa, what?" I exclaimed over the phone, rubbing the protective case with my nails out of habit. "You mean Des is going to stay at my house?" I repeated. "I trust you, but do you really think that's a good idea, Mr. Kabadi?"

My headmaster on the other end sighed. "We're not completely sure. August Whiston is being taken care of by Stanley and will be safe there. But we think it would be safer if you and the other kids that went to save August at Facility 01 would stay at your house in Virginia."

"Isn't that a little extreme?" I asked nervously, looking out the window and saw that my corgi, Pepsi, was scratching at the back porch door. "I mean, having Orion, Johnnay, and Des over at my house would be pretty crazy, wouldn't it? And, plus, hiding from my dad in his own house?" I added as I opened up the door to let my small dog in. He scurried across the tiled floor and hopped onto the couch, waiting for me to start snuggling with him and petting him.

"It does sound a little stupid at first glance, but it would be better than having all of you at Facility 26." Mr. Kabadi was quiet for a few stretching moments. "We have no idea where Radcliffe will strike next, Wynn. So having them here would be an awful idea. And also, with his mental condition --"

"I know," I interrupted. "It'll be easier this way. But what if he shows up unexpectedly?"

"It'll be fine, Wynn," Mr. Kabadi assured me. "Besides, if you guys were able to go up to Facility 01 and be willing to lay your life on the line for a little girl, I'm sure you can hide from your dad."

I chuckled, stroking Pepsi's back rhythmically. "It's not as easy as you think living with a mentally unstable parent, Mr. Kabadi."

"I know," he said. "Look, I'll be sending them over in about two days. Are you ready?"

"I'll be ready," I said. "I've been living on my own for about two years by now. I can handle guests."

"Good. It was great talking to you, Wynn."

"You, too."

"Goodbye."

"Bye, Mr. Kabadi," I said, ending the call. I sighed, letting my head fall back onto the cushion, still petting my dog. "What do you think, buddy?" I asked Pepsi, sitting up and stroking him behind the ears. "Do you think we'll be alright? Do you? Do you?" Pepsi moaned and flopped onto his back, wanting me to pet him on his stomach. "Yeah, me, too."