“YOU JOKERS COULD leave a note next time!”

Shelton strolled up the sand, hands in his pockets. Short and skinny with thick horn-rimmed glasses, he wore a blue Comic-Con T-shirt and oversized white gym shorts.

He also wore a lopsided grin. Shelton knew he’d startled us.

“Well, well, the caged bird sings,” Hi said. “When did you bust out?”

“Pardoned this morning.” Shelton wiped sweat from his dark chocolate brow, a gift from his African American father. The high cheekbones and hidden eyelids came straight from his Japanese mother. “I figured you’d be out here. And I can guess what you’re doing.”

“Tory’s trying to play mind-bender again,” Hi said. “She ended up face-planting on the beach.”

Shelton’s grin faded. “Can’t we just pretend that never happened? I can’t sleep as it is.” One finger nervously spun a key ring containing his prized lock-pick collection. A hobby of Shelton’s that often came in handy.

“Pretend it never happened?” I scanned their faces. “We need to understand the changes. We can’t just ignore them. What if we have more reactions?”

“I know, I know.” Shelton’s palms came up. “I’m just freaked out. I tried flaring a little, when my parents were gone. I still have no control. Then I caught a cold, and for two days I was sure the virus was killing me.”

Ben nodded. “Even when I can flare, the powers are never the same. Or stable.”

“We’ll get there.” I sounded more confident than I felt. “We just need practice.”

“Or lobotomies,” Hi muttered.

“But we experiment nowhere but here.” Ben’s gaze traveled from Viral to Viral. “Loggerhead is safe, but we have to be careful. It’s too dangerous to use our powers where someone might see. Agreed?”

Everyone nodded. Our fear of discovery was ever-present. The ramifications of being caught were too horrible to contemplate.

“We can only trust each other,” Ben finished. “Never forget that.”

“Enough doom and gloom.” Hi slapped Shelton’s back. “How’d you find us, anyway? Expert tracking skills?”

“I ran into Kit at LIRI.” Shelton turned to me. “Your dad’s looking for you. He told me to find ya’ll and bring everyone back ASAP. I think something’s up.”

“Great,” Ben said sarcastically. “What’d we do this time?”

“They probably heard about your assaults on me and the dog,” Hi said. “You’re looking at hard time, pal. Hope it was worth it.”

“It was.”

I whistled. A few beats, then Coop burst from the scrub, circled us twice, and shot down the beach.

“Well, no point guessing,” I said. “Let’s go find out.”

Ten minutes later we reached LIRI’s back gate.

Entering, we secured the barrier behind us. We’d forgotten once, and curious monkeys had spent a night testing doorknobs. Not good.

Around us, a dozen modern glass-and-steel buildings gleamed in the midday sun. Arranged in two rows, they faced each other across a central common. A concrete path bisected the grounds on its way to the main gate and, eventually, the dock. An eight-foot fence encircled the whole complex.

We paused outside Building One, at four floors the largest structure on the island. In addition to LIRI’s administrative offices, Building One also housed the marine biology laboratory, my father’s little fiefdom.

A tiny alarm piped in my brain. Something felt off. The facility seemed hushed, and strangely empty for a weekday.

Coop barked once, shattering the stillness. I placed a hand on his head.

“Easy, boy.” Ear scratch.

Kit emerged from the building. Fast. Too fast. He must’ve been standing in the lobby, watching for me. He eyed his watch, impatient.

“That’s my cue. Later guys.”

Nods and grunts in response.

Spotting me, Kit strode forward. We met at center court.

“Hey kiddo! Ready to head home?”

Uh oh. False bravado, laid on thick. My BS sensors triggered. Why was Kit trying so hard to be cheerful?

“Sure,” I said. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Kit pulled a face. “No! Pssh. Relax.”

Nonsense answer. My anxiety skyrocketed.

Kit was avoiding something, but I held my tongue.

The crossing was weird. Cooper sat beside me on Mr. Blue’s shuttle boat, his large head resting in my lap. Kit kept the conversation light, focused on trivial subjects.

So why the parental summons? By the time we reached Morris Island, I was on high alert.

A note about Christopher “Kit” Howard. He’s my biological father, but I call him by his nickname. Not Daddy, or Pappy, or Father, or Sir. We’ve known each other less than a year. For now, it feels like a good fit.

I came to reside with Kit nine months ago, after a drunk driver killed my mother. The shock of losing Mom had been doubled by meeting “Dad.” I’d barely had time to grieve before being shipped hundreds of miles to my new home.

Hello Carolina, good-bye Massachusetts. Whatever. I’d only lived there my whole life.

Kit and I are still figuring each other out. We’ve made progress, but there’s a long way to go.

“Home sweet home!” Kit stepped onto the dock and made a beeline for our front door. I followed, baffled. Home sweet home? Seriously?

Most of LIRI’s senior staff lives on Morris Island, in a row of townhomes owned by Charleston University. Constructed on the remains of Fort Wagner, an old Civil War fortification, our tiny community is the only modern structure for miles. The rest of the island is a nature preserve held in trust by CU for the state of South Carolina.

Morris Island is pretty far off the beaten track, even for Charleston. An outpost on the ass-edge of nowhere. I live in almost total isolation. Tough at first, but I’ve grown to love it.

“Come on, Coop.” I slapped my side. “Let’s get the news. Whatever it is.”

When I arrived, Kit was seated in the kitchen, toying with a napkin. His eyes met mine, darted away. Shooing Coop to his doggie bed, I took a chair at the table.

“You’re clearly uncomfortable,” I said. “Spill it.”

Kit opened his mouth. Closed it. Crumpled the napkin. Tossed it. Put his face in his hands. Rubbed his eyes. Looked up. Smiled.

“First of all, we’re going to be fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” One hand made a chopping gesture. “At all.”

“Okay.” Now I was worried.

“There’s a chance, that maybe, possibly, I might …” Kit searched for words, “… lose my job.”

“What!?! Why?”

“Budget cuts.” Kit sounded miserable. “Charleston University may have to shut down the whole LIRI facility. Obviously, that would eliminate my position.”

Bad. Very bad.

“Close LIRI? Why would they do that?”

Kit sighed. “Where do I start? The institute is in turmoil. We’ve had no director since Dr. Karsten …” awkward pause, “… left. The press has been brutal. Rumors are flying about Karsten running unauthorized experiments, maybe taking corporate bribes.”

I sat bolt upright. That hit way too close to home.

“Unauthorized experiments?”

“They found a new lab in Building Six,” Kit continued, oblivious. “Secure. Unregistered. It had a ton of expensive equipment, but no records. Very strange. We have no idea what Karsten was doing.”

My heart went hummingbird. Parvovirus. Cooper. Our illness.

If anyone ever found out …

I clasped my hands below the table to hide the trembling.

Coop sensed my unease. He popped from his bed and padded to my side. I stroked his head absentmindedly.

Wrapped in his own private gloom, Kit didn’t notice my agitation.

“The recent publicity caught the eye of some environmental groups. Now they’re protesting the ‘monkey abuse’ on Loggerhead Island.”

“But that’s stupid!” For a moment, I forgot my own distress. “The monkeys aren’t abused; they aren’t even disturbed. It’s observational research.”

“Try telling them,” Kit said. “We offered a tour of LIRI to ease their concerns. No dice. They don’t seem worried about facts, or that these animals have no place else to go. They just want to scream, ‘monkeys in captivity!’ and shut us down.”

Kit leaned back and crossed his arms. “But that’s all secondary. Bottom line: CU lacks the funding to keep LIRI operating. The bad economy has gutted the budget.”

“How big is the shortfall?”

“Huge. The trustees have been told to make deep cuts, and LIRI is extremely expensive to run and to staff.”

“Tell them to close something else!” Sharp. I didn’t care. Dominoes were falling in my head. The inevitable conclusions terrified me.

Again, Kit avoided my eyes. “That’s not all.”

I waited.

“With LIRI closed, the university won’t keep these town-houses.” He waved an arm wearily. “We won’t be able to stay here.”

Ice traveled my spine. I didn’t want to hear what was coming next.

“We’ll have to move.” His shoulders tensed. “I’m sorry, but there’s no other way. There aren’t any jobs for me in the Charleston area. I’ve looked.”

“Move?” Barely whispered. It didn’t seem real.

Kit rose, crossed to the living room, and gazed out the bay window. Beyond the palm-tree-speckled common, waves lapped softly at the docks below. The tide was slowly rolling out.

“I can’t afford Bolton on my own, Tory. Not without the LIRI subsidy.”

The other Virals and I attended Bolton Preparatory Academy, Charleston’s oldest and most prestigious private school. Hoity-toity. Very expensive.

As an incentive to live and work so far from the city, CU picked up most of the tuition for parents working out on Loggerhead.

“Don’t worry.” Kit turned and locked eyes with me. “I saw some listings online that might work. I’ve already contacted a lab in Nova Scotia that needs a marine biologist.”

“Nova Scotia?” I stared, dumbfounded by the turn of events. “Canada? We’re moving to freaking Canada?”

“Nothing’s decided, I just thought—”

“Stop!” My hands flew to my ears. “Just stop.”

Too much.

Too fast.

I stormed past Kit, up the stairs, and into my bedroom.

Slammed the door.

My face hit my pillows seconds before the tears began to flow.