Lester turned off the sink’s faucet and began slowly washing his plate. He could feel his mother’s eyes on him, waiting for him to answer her question. Should he tell her the truth? After all, it wasn’t as if he’d done anything wrong. Okay, he’d accidentally witnessed his brother’s Drawing-In ceremony, eavesdropped on private conversations, stolen a secret journal, and followed his father and Mr. Poole to Elmwood City to spy on them. But maybe he could leave most of that out. Would she believe him if he told her what he’d seen?

“I don’t want you to go near her again,” his mother said from behind him. Her voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of her tone. “Is that clear?”

“You knew!” Lester spun around to face her. “All this time, you knew Amanda’s aunt lived down in the valley, and you never said anything.”

“It’s not my place,” his mother said. “If the Pooles wanted to tell her —”

“Her parents know too!”

Lester’s face grew hot. He was still gripping the wet plate, and it was dripping soapy water onto the floor, creating a widening puddle.

“I realize that keeping something like this from Amanda might seem unfair,” his mother said. “But you need to appreciate that there are things you are not yet old enough to understand.”

“Should I appreciate that Amanda and I are constantly being lied to?” Lester asked. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and he blinked his eyes as they rolled down his face. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing and fought to keep calm as the room around him began to take on a reddish hue. “It’s not enough that we obediently obey all of your stupid rules without question, but now you want us to be thankful?”

“Sweetie,” Mrs. North said, standing up from the table. “All I meant was that you can trust us to have your best interests at heart?”

“Us?” Lester said. “You mean, you and Dad?”

Lester’s brain was spinning, trying to put together pieces of information that refused to connect. How did his mother know where he was that morning, and why did she care? If it was only about keeping the Poole’s family secret, that ship had sailed when Amanda had seen the name on the grave. Was she afraid he’d learn about the kind of work The Council was doing? That was impossible. It would mean she already knew about his father. About what he could do, and — what he was.

Lester’s hands were balled into fists. In his frustration, he’d let go of the plate he’d been holding and was now realizing he’d never heard it hit the floor. Frowning, he looked down. Astonishment shot through him as he stared at the plate floating in mid-air. Water from the puddle at his feet was rising up and spinning around the dish’s edge, keeping it aloft as it revolved.

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Before his mother could notice what was happening, Lester quickly snatched the plate and flung it into the sink. An explosion of soap suds, dishwater, and pottery shards, peppered the kitchen.

“Lester!” his mother cried. “I know you’re upset, but honestly. Take a breath. Come sit down and let’s talk about this.”

“You want to talk?” said Lester. “Okay. How about you start by telling me if there are any long-lost North family members you’re hiding? Someone you and dad cast aside because they didn’t conform to your image of the perfect little family? I mean, other than the one we all already know about.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Lester wanted to take them back. He’d known it would hurt her, and that was why he’d said it. But the pained look on his mother’s face quickly wilted the anger growing unchecked inside him.

“Mom,” Lester said softly. “I didn’t mean —”

“Enough!” his mother shouted and thrust out her hand.

Lester heard a noise like a deep thump, and a wave of pressure made his ears pop. Suddenly dizzy, he gripped the sink to stay upright. He was still determined to apologize and opened his mouth to say he was sorry, but nothing came out. Swallowing hard, he tried again. It was as though the words were literally stuck in his throat. His larynx felt stiff and refused to cooperate, leaving him looking like a street mime or someone in the middle of a game of charades.

Panicking, Lester looked to his mother for help, but she remained standing calmly across from him. Couldn’t she see what was happening? He moved to signal that he might be choking, even though he could still feel air moving in and out of his lungs. Then he saw a flash of silver from between his mother’s fingers.

Lester’s eyes went wide, and he stumbled backward. Though he couldn’t see it clearly, somehow, he knew. Dangling at the end of the necklace she gripped so tightly hung a medallion identical to the one Bernard had received at his Drawing-In ceremony.

“You will stop!” his mother said, trembling. “And you will listen to me!”

Unable to argue, even if he wanted to, Lester had only one option.

“Don’t,” his mother said, following his gaze out of the kitchen.

They stood staring at one another for a brief moment, like two wild west gunslingers, each waiting for the other to make a move.

Lester’s mother broke the stalemate by reaching for him. Ducking beneath her outstretched arm, Lester spun and charged for the exit. His quick action gave him a sizable lead, but as he circled the breakfast table, his foot caught on his mother’s gym bag. The next thing he knew, he was sailing through the air and into the front hallway. He came down hard on a small antique wooden stand. It shattered beneath him, sending the crystal lamp atop it crashing to the floor.

“Lester!” his mother called. “Are you alright?”

Before she could reach him, Lester scrambled to his feet. Pain shot through his knee just below a large gash in his jeans, and something wet was running down his leg. Ignoring the burning sensation, he limped the last few steps to the front door and flung it open.

“Wait!” Mrs. North pleaded, rushing up from behind. “You don’t understand.” She let go of the necklace and grabbed for the back of Lester’s shirt, but he twisted away.

As he stumbled outside into the quiet of the warm afternoon, Lester felt a tingling sensation flow through his throat.

“Lester, please!” his mother cried from the doorway. “Come back. I’m sorry.”

Lester did not reply as he sprinted down the driveway and out of sight.