15
Felton folds his arms over his chest. “I’ll ask you one last time, and then I’m calling security. What are you doing here?” Based on the way his voice is warbling, Felton is really freaking out about me.
I set my fist on my hip. “What’s your name?” When sneaking around, it’s always important to act angry when you get caught.
“Senior Researcher Felton Weiner Junior.”
“Really?” That’s one bummer of a name, really.
“It’s a family name.” Felton slides his hand down the front of his white hazmat jumper, smoothing out the crinkly plastic. Like Albinia, Felton has a set of black binoculars around his neck and grips a dark ledger. My eyes widen. I wants me both of those things.
Binoculars and ledger, come to Momma.
“You still didn’t answer my question,” says Felton.
For once, the lie co
