It was harder than I anticipated catching up with Tiffany. She jogged fast and the throng of teenagers coming and going in the corridor made me all the more careful not to bump into someone.

"Tiff!" I called out.

Up ahead I saw her stop, and look around, and then she saw me. She clutched her chest in relief and walked briskly towards me.

"Are you alright?" she said, looking down at me and putting a hand on my shoulder once we had met up. We had to move off to the side to not get in everyone else's way.

"I'm fine," I said, "Just got a little lost. Where did you all go?"

"Mike showed us around," said Tiffany, "But he had to rush off because some teenagers were fighting."

"This place is a little rough," I said.

"Do you want to get something to eat?" She said, "I can take you to the cafeteria."

Now that she mentioned it I was feeling hungry. On the other hand, going to B-9 and taking some time to myself sounded pretty good too. But there was also the possibility that Tommy was going to be there and crossing paths with him again, so soon after the corridor slap, wasn't something I was eager to do.

I agreed to go with Tiffany to the cafeteria. She did a good job leading the way down one corridor after another until we finally reached the cafeteria. It reminded me a lot of a school cafeteria; lots of tables, and a large queue formed along one side with plenty of teenagers standing with plastic trays waiting to get their meals.

Tiffany and I joined the back of the queue. We were too far from the front of the queue to pick up trays just yet. The smell of different foods mingled in the air, the most potent of which was a curry smell. Boy could I go for a curry right now, I thought, my mouth watering a little. I just hoped there would be some left by the time we got our turn.

"You won't guess what happened," I said.

"What?" said Tiffany.

"I got slapped by some guy. I think his name's Tommy."

"What?!" said Tiffany, "Why?"

"I bumped into him and then when he said 'watch where you're walking' I said 'excuse me?' and then he got really pissed and slapped me across the face. Then he walked off."

"What a jerk," said Tiffany.

"And," I said, "Here's the kicker. He might be one of the people I'm sharing a room with in B-9."

"No!" said Tiffany, "How do you know that?"

"Well," I said, "I met these two boys…"

I told Tiffany all about meeting Jay and Amar, and what they had shown me. Tiffany listened with rapt attention, hanging on every word. We inched along the queue bit by bit as I explained everything. I neglected to mention however what I had seen happen between Sophie and the Pied Piper officer; that could wait until we were in a more private setting.

"So, what do you think?" I said, "Still think it was a good idea to come here?"

Tiffany winced.

"So long as the money gets into my bank account when this is all over I don't care," she said, "I did the math. Let's say they're offering every teenager here two grand a week. If there's five teenagers in a room, and there's twenty rooms, then that means there's, at most, one-hundred teenagers on this floor. That's two-hundred grand a week just to pay for us all to be here, before any food costs, bedding, you know?"

"Yeah," I said, "It does sound like a lot. But then again the government can just throw money at this problem so it hardly matters."

Our turn to get food arrived. I was surprised to see the "staff" behind the counter was made up of blue-overall-wearing teenagers, with a single head chef, a short, slightly pudgy young man no older than thirty with a goatee, telling them what to do. His accent sounded Canadian.

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There was a whole range of food to choose from; Indian curry with potatoes and chicken, and vegetables, and then there were large pizza slices, curly fries, and even hotdogs and burgers; and last of all spaghetti with meatballs. My heart leapt with joy at the sight of it all.

I decided to go with curry, with a heap of steamed rice, with a side of curly fries. There appeared to be a limit on how much food we could take at one time because we had to tap our keycards before we could take our food away.

"Do you charge for this?" said Tiffany to the girl who had held out the reader for us to tap our keycards.

"No, it's free," she said.

Tiffany thanked her and she and I headed over to one of the vacant tables. For a good ten minutes neither of us spoke; I ate every last bite of the food on my tray using the plastic utensils I had picked up whilst in the queue. Tiffany had chosen to go with a slice of pizza, curly fries, and a burger. She ate very quickly, absolutely devouring her food as if she hadn't eaten in days.

When we were both done we sat back feeling content. My bad mood had lifted a little but I could tell the dark, depressive clouds could spike up at any moment.

"We should try and see if we have any special powers," said Tiffany.

She mopped up the grease from around her mouth and then flicked the dirty tissue onto her tray.

"I've tried before," I said.

"You have?" said Tiffany.

"Of course," I said, "Every boy growing up tries to see if he can move a pencil with his mind, or if he can fly, or read minds. I spent my whole childhood alone pretending to have superpowers. If I had any I would know."

"Have you ever tried to change the colour of your eyes?" said Tiffany, she hunched forward, and seemed to be in a good mood.

"Maybe once or twice when I was little," I said, "You ever stare into a mirror and watch your eyes do weird things?"

"Oh yeah," said Tiffany, sarcastically, "All the time."

"But seriously," she said, "The sooner we find something special like what Jay and Amar showed you, the better chance we have of asking Abigail for more money."

"You want more money?" I said, "Are you in debt or something?"

"No," said Tiffany, "But I don't have any GCSE's or A-levels or anything good like that. So if the Pied Piper's are looking to throw their money away then I might as well snatch it up."

"You didn't finish school?" I said.

Tiffany's mood soured.

"Sorry, it's none of my business," I said.

"No, you're alright," said Tiffany, "I didn't finish school because…"

She struggled to say what was on her mind. She looked around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear our conversation. She leant forward a little.

"...I have a son," she said.

I tried to see if she was joking but it was clear she was telling the truth.

"He's four now," she said, "I quit school because I didn't take school seriously and I decided I might as well spend more time with him."

"What's his name?" I said.

"Ashton," she said.

She lent back rubbing her shoulder to comfort herself.

"So you want to make a ton of money here so you can give Ashton a better life?" I said.

"Exactly," said Tiffany, "My Mum's looking after him now but she's not reliable."

"You said she had depression, right?" I said.

"Yeah," said Tiffany, "My Uncle said he'd check in on her and Ashton but he's often busy with work. It's a messed up situation. I want to get back to my son but I can't pass up an opportunity like this to make some money. If I can figure out if I have a power too, then that might make me someone they want to keep here."

"Mind if I ask a question you probably won't like?" I said.

"Okay…" said Tiffany.

"Where's Ashton's Dad?"

Tiffany chewed her lip and squirmed in her seat.

"He's in prison," she said, "He got caught dealing drugs. Won't be about for another year at least."

Tiffany could see the stoic look I was trying to keep on my face.

"I know," she said, smirking without any genuine mirth, "My life is total crap."

"It sounds tough," I said, "But you love your son, right?"

Tiffany's eyes started to water with tears. She nodded, her bottom lip firming up and trembling.

"And you're going to do whatever you need to do to make sure he has a good life?" I said.

"Yes," she said, softly, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Then your life isn't crap," I said, "Because you have your son and he's got a mother that loves him. Everything else is…details."

"I was really afraid to tell you," she said, "I thought you might think I was some kind of…you know…"

"It sounds like a lot to deal with," I said, "I've never had to deal with anything remotely as tough as raising a son, as a teenager; is your Dad around?"

Tiffany shook her head.

"Never met him," she said, "He just pissed off one day when I was still little."

"What a bastard," I said, "But at least you're not going to do the same thing to your son."

"Never," said Tiffany.

"Okay," I said, feeling a strange surge of enthusiasm building up within me, "I guess we better find out if we have any powers then."