Every time Rick wanted to talk to me, I’d end up with a head full of questions and an unsettling stomach ache. He had the vibe of you-better-listen-to-me-brat that made me zip my lips and obediently follow him.
I was wide awake when I sat on his bed, my eyes travelling from wall to wall and every object in his room. He retrieved a key from his cupboard and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. I had seen that file before, the same grey file he took out the first time I went to his room.
“I’m surprised you were able to get a blood sample of both test subjects,” Rick said, unlocking the file and flipping through it. “Dad told me you got a good amount of Caspian’s sample. We were impressed.”
Wait, dad didn’t tell Rick that he shot the MIST at Caspian? Rick took out a package of pale yellow
