“Excuse me if I don’t want my friends knowing my mother works with crazies!”

My mom slams her fork down flat on the table and glares at me.

“You know that’s not my job.” She mutters through narrowed teeth.

“Really? It isn’t?” I stand up, pushing my chair back loudly. “If that’s not your job, mom, then what is?! What do you do?!”

My mom works her jaw back and forth, clenching her fist. “Fine. If you’re so interested, you can come to work with me tomorrow.”

NEXT DAY

I close the door to my mom’s van and buckle my seatbelt. She does the same behind me, looking at the cars thermostat.

“It sure is getting cold outside,” she mutters, and I nod, pulling out my phone. 1 NEW MESSAGE, the screen reads. I open it:

Good morning Bu-Ji!

It’s from Daesung. Of course. I smile to myself. Not that I’d ever let him know it, but I adore that nickname. I texted him back quickly:

Morning Kang-sung! I’m not gonna be at school. I’m going to work with my mom.

My phone dings with a reply as mom pulls out of the driveway:

Your mom’s work? But I thought she did something top secret?

I type back, ignoring my mom grumbling to herself about the traffic:

She does. We were screaming at each other yesterday about it and she just up and decided she was gonna take me today. >_<

“Who you texting?” My mom asks lightly.

“Daesung.” I answer. Obviously.

She laughs. “I guess I shoulda known. You two are pretty much joined at the hip. What’s he up to?”

“He’s going to school, mom. Which is what I would be doing if-“

“Fine, fine, forget I asked.” She cuts me off, turning grumpily back to the wheel. My phone dings in my pocket:

What does she do?

I hesitate, not knowing how to answer.

“You know, Minji, you won’t be able to bring that in.” My mom tells me, and I sigh. Of course not.

Run a campaign against cellphones? I don’t know. But no phones allowed, apparently. v.v

You can’t bring your cell in? But how will I know about your mom’s secret assassin job??

“We’re here.” Mom states as we pull into an underground garage. “Leave your phone in the car.”

I’ll tell you as soon as I get released. We’re here, I gotta go. Bai!

I toss my phone onto the seat and shut the car door behind me, following my mom towards an elevator.

“What do you think I do, Minji?” She asks, obviously getting ready to tell me.

“Help mentally unstable people become normal.” I offer up, and she nods slowly.

“Kind of,” she presses a button in the elevator, and we descend. “Where I work, we watch over very special people with abilities that could cause them to do harm to others. We run tests and observations on them daily, and try and help them on the road to going back to a normal, human life.”

“So they aren’t human?” I ask as she quickly swipes a card on a pad in the elevator, and the doors whoosh open.

“Not exactly,” she says as we step out of the elevator. People in lab coats dash around everywhere, and the place is covered in computers and high-tech equipment. I gasp, looking around in every direction. My mom places a hand on my back and steers me lightly into a small room, cylindrically shaped. It consists of a chair with a large panel with every button imaginable on it. A large steel plate surrounds the room.

“Take a seat.” My mom suggests lightly, and I sit down. She reaches forward and presses a button on the panel. The steel plate slides down, and the floor moves up, the walls going from steel to glass. Our glass room is inside a white, large rectangular room.

“We are in the observation room,” my mom tells me. “Here we will watch as one of our…special subjects interacts with the room.” She presses another button, and a door at the end of the white room opens. In it stands a thin boy, not much older than me. His hair is white, in a perfect bowl around his narrow face. He walks closer to the glass room, and I can’t see his eyes, his hair covers them. He flips his head, just barely, and I get a glimpse of his eyes. They flash, a sharp yellow-red, and a wave of terror crawls down my back. I cower in the seat as his hair falls back over his eyes and he stands there, waiting.

Mom holds down a button and talks into a speaker, addressing the boy. “Subject 9A2-7331.”

The boy doesn’t move. Mom jots something down before pressing the button to speak again. “Please show your ID.”

Slowly, deliberately, the boy turns his arm and holds it out. 9A2-7331 is on his arm in bright green, clock-like print.

“Is that a tattoo?” I ask mom quietly.

“Hm?” The boy asks, and I turn towards him. He tilts his head.

“I-Is that…a tattoo?” I nod quickly towards his arm, eyes wide, watching him.

He reaches up and pushes his hair away, laughing and shaking his head. The knot in my stomach loosens slightly.

“No, it’s not a tattoo.” He replies, eyes soft.

“What is it, then?” I ask curiously, leaning forward.

He takes a step closer to the glass, standing over me. I gulp as his face twists in sudden rage, eyes flashing sharply. He glares hard at my mom and snarls.

“Ask her,” he mutters sharply, and my mom studies him through narrowed eyes. He emits a low growl and his hand shoots out, hitting the wall of the observatory room with a sickening crack.

I stare at him, terrified, and he pulls his hand back. To my horror, it wasn’t him that cracked, it was the wall that I thought was glass. It turns out it’s actually very thick.

The boy stares at the floor, face twisted in sadness. His gaze flashes back up to me and he stares at me with his alien-like eyes. I put my hand slowly up to the clear wall, and he stares at it sadly. He looks like he wants to say something, but he just looks over at my mom and lets out a terrifying growl before turning and walking back out the door he came through. I turn to my mom, who has turned her studying gaze onto me.

“Do you understand now?” She asks, and I stare at the door the boy disappeared behind.

“Yes.”