Page 13 of The Imaginary Friend's Obsession

But it’s too late. Ezra noticed me. The real version of me, which I’ve been trying so hard to hide.

A shocked silence falls over both of us. Our eyes meet, and I see the realization in his.He knows. I open my mouth to say something, make some excuse, but I can’t seem to speak. It’s been so long since I lost control of my powers like that. I’ve worked so hard to keep them bottled up. For it to happen now, here, is unthinkable.

What have I done? Now he knows—the MRF’s mistake, seven years ago, was not locking me up in a cell just like Dorian. Because I’m a monster, too.

“That…must have been X-15,” Ezra says. “Maybe he cracked the glass. Or he’s getting too strong for the barriers. I’ll have to make the room hasn’t been compromised.”

I stare at him, still slack-jawed. I should just accept that explanation and the out it gives me, but…but I saw that look in his eyes. Heknows. So why is he covering for me?

Ezra crosses the room and picks up his notebook from the floor. He looks at the table, at the scattered papers.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Y-Yes. Sorry, that… I… I’m a bit shocked, I’m sorry.”

“Understandable. Are you okay?” Ezra scrawls in his notepad and holds it up.

Play along, it says. I glance at the words and then at his face, uncertain.

“I’m…fine,” I say. “Are you?”

“I’m all right.” He nods, and scribbles again:We can’t talk here. He inclines his head toward the camera in the corner, and I realize he’s intentionally placed his back toward it so the notebook isn’t visible.

“Um. Good. I guess we should probably call it a day.” I’m already stepping toward the door, trying not to stare at that camera. Even if Ezra is on my side for some reason, that doesn’t mean the MRF will be. I need to go. Now. Leave town and run again before it’s too late.

I hate the thought of leaving Dorian behind, but what am I supposed to do? If I stay, I’ll just be locked up alongside him.

Ezra lifts a hand as if to stop me but then lowers it. “Right. Of course. But, uh…listen, we’re both shaken up, I think. How about we go grab some coffee and talk?”

I pause, caged halfway between him and the door and not sure which is the safer option. Is this some kind of trick designed to keep me here while he calls in backup? What is he playing at?

While I’m still deciding my answer, Ezra writes in the notebook once more and holds it up. When I read the message, time seems to stop.

I am like you, it says.

Chapter Eight

Ezra and I stare at each across the diner table while I drum my fingers on my mug of hot cocoa. My mind is still reeling from the fact that I accidentally revealed myself to him. It’s been years since I lost control like that. Maybe being around Dorian has an effect on me…or maybe it’s Ezra.

I’m desperate to learn more. If he’s truly like me, as he said, how can he hide himself well enough that he can work at the MRF of all places? What do his powers look like? Can he teach me to control mine? I have so many questions, but I’m not sure where to begin.

“I can’t believe this place is still open,” I say to break the silence. The diner is exactly as I remember it, including the sticky menus.

Ezra smiles crookedly. “A friend once told me it’s ‘the okay-est restaurant in town.’”

I croak a laugh, and some of the tension evaporates. “Sounds about right,” I agree. Then I bite my lip, lower my voice. “It’s safe to talk here?”

“As safe as anywhere,” Ezra says. “I’m not certain if my house is bugged by the MRF.”

“And mine?”

He shrugs. “After all of this time? I doubt it.”

“But now that I’m back…”

He pauses, and then admits, “I’m the only one who knows you’re here.”

I blink. “What?”

“I…wasn’t sure they’d approve of bringing you in as an, er, consult. This arrangement is off the books.”

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