No ordinary hero (Keepers of justice # 1) by Dee J. Stone Page A

from home or are stuck in terrible families and foster homes. I want to make a difference.”
    I stare at her.
    “And you know, just this morning I heard on the news about a girl—she has powers—who got kicked out of her home. She was living on the streets for a few days. Then last night she killed ten people and herself.” She lowers her eyes to the table. “I wish she had someone to talk to. All that wouldn’t have happened.” She looks at me. “I want to make a difference in kids’ lives.”
    I continue to stare at her.
    “What?” she asks.
    “Nothing . That’s just...that’s really cool.”
    She cares about other people. She’s not th e pissed-off, negative girl I thought she was. Underneath her cold, hostile front, she’s sweet and kind. And she cares about people with powers. Most normies don’t mix with us because they’re scared we’re too dangerous. But Lindsay wants to help kids with powers. She’s willing to risk her life.
    “Thanks,” she says. “You never know, maybe the Keepers will hire me to help with all the troubled kids with powers who aren’t ready to trust them yet.”
    “Yeah,” I say. “Totally.”
    “Let me help you catch up with school, okay?” she asks.
    I nod.
    ***
    An hour later, we stroll toward the park a few blocks away from my “house.” Lindsay’s hand is inches away from mine, and I’m not sure if I should take it. I mean, girls like that, don’t they?
    She shoves her hand into her pocket. Never mind, I guess.
    “You never talk about your family,” she says as we enter the park. There’s a group of kids chasing each other, yelling so loud their vocal chords might burst. One of them is about to charge right into Lindsay. I grab her and hold her close to my chest. Maybe a little too close. She slowly looks up at me, her gray eyes so deep. They’re all I see—not her zits or red face. Heck, my eyes are finding their way to her lips. They’re smaller than I first thought. Tiny, really. And pink. I quickly let go.
    “Kids.” I force out a laugh. “Coulda killed us.”
    She doesn’t say anything, just keeps her head down. Tugs on her hood. I clear my throat and continue walking. Lindsay follows.
    “You didn’t answer my question,” she says.
    I stop. “Question?”
    “Yeah.” S he leads me toward a small lake where some little kids are feeding the ducks. Animal is one of the ducks. She quacks at me. “How many siblings do you have?” Lindsay asks.
    “None. Just me.”
    “Why won’t you tell me anything?”
    I sit down on one of the empty, bird-poop-covered benches. Lindsay stands in front of me. She doesn’t sit down when I motion for her to join me. “Got some bread? Maybe we can feed the duckies, too.”
    She crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot. “You keep dodging my questions.”
    Yeah ‘cuz I can’t remember what Dad and Dr. Evans told me about my fake life. It feels like so long ago and I didn’t think it was important. Crap, how can she trust me? I guess I can quickly make stuff up now, but what if I forget them? All my lies might make things worse.
    “I told you so much about me. About my first boyfriend, my aunt and uncle, my parents—”
    “You didn’t tell me about your parents. And I never asked you to tell me about your ex-boyfriend. And I didn’t know I owe you my whole family history, like you tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.” Now I fold my arms over my chest. “You gonna sit down?”
    “I have better things to do than sit here.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Name one.”
    She stares at me. Her hood’s sliding off her head, and she doesn’t stop it. “What?”
    “What else would you be doing right now?”
    She looks around, at the kids giggling as the ducks waddle closer to them, at the couple walking down the road, arms wrapped around each other, at the guy peddling his bike like he’s in a race. She turns back to me. Doesn’t open her mouth.
    “I thought so,” I say. “You like