A/N: Yo.

Wow. Chapter 10 already. I guess I'm really getting caught up in this story, huh?

Hey, thank you so much for reviewing the story! (= That is called sarcasm.) Guys, there's like fifteen people who get alerted when I post a new chapter. It takes, like, twenty seconds to review the story. SO REVIEW. Thank you.

So no one could guess it, huh? Actually, one person got it…but I'm not saying who. You'll just have to read to find out!

It was so obvious. Here were the clues:

-He has dark hair.

-He has wings.

-He's my age. (Duh.)

-We were split up – he want to California while I went to the Institute.

-When I saw him, I recognized his…scent?

-When I looked in the mirror, I saw his face. (Except the eye and hair color, we looked exactly identical.)

I wondered why it had taken me so long. Maybe I just needed to know the dream from inside the womb to make sure of myself.

But now I knew.

I got up out of bed and swiftly changed into the clothes from U 'Do. I was getting out of here as soon as…ooouch. Just pulling my T-shirt over my head was painful. And then my cast got stuck in the armhole.

"What a predicament," I muttered, trying to shove my arm through. Tiny threads were getting stuck to the plaster. Finally I pushed it through and finished dressing, ready to run downstairs.

Mrs. White – well, Auntie Cindy – greeted me as I came down. "What are you wearing?" she asked.

"Clothes?" I said, thinking, What does it look like?

"Those are filthy," she said. "Let me wash them." She came towards me, looking like she wanted to rip the clothes off my back.

I backed away. "They're not that dirty," I said. "And I don't have anything else to wear."

"Oh, Skylar!" she nearly shouted. "We'll have to change that, now won't we?"

I'll pass, I thought.

"And please don't wear shoes in the house," she ordered me.

"Well, I'm going outside," I said, clomping down the hallway toward the door, my boots thudding on the floor. I looked at the toe and realized that there was blood all over them. My blood.

"Come back!" she yelled after me, but I was already gone.

I pushed open the screen door and stepped outside, blinking. There was a car in the driveway, and as I watched, a young man got out. He was probably around twenty.

"Hello!" he shouted at me, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "Who're you?"

"Sky," I shouted back.

"Oh." He was still confused. "I'm Rocky," he said.

Auntie Cindy pushed past me and ran out to the young man. "Oh, my boy!" she said. Then she stood at arm's length from him, her hand on his shoulder. She touched his clean-shaven cheek. "Where did your beard go?" she said.

"I shaved it off."

"That is evident," she clucked. "Well, your father will be disappointed." Rocky opened his mouth, but Auntie Cindy cut him off. "Oh! Your surprise is here!"

"Really?" he said sarcastically. I liked him already.

"Yes," she said. "You have a new little sister!"

His face lit up with recognition and surprise. "Sky?" he asked.

"Skylar." Auntie Cindy looked disapproving. "Come out of the sun, so she can see you. The sun is blinding."

Rocky came forward and stood in front of me. I looked up. He had auburn hair the same color as Nifty's, and a chiseled jaw. His brows deepened and his eyes squinted as he evaluated me.

Then, suddenly, shock passed over his face, and he whipped around to face Auntie Cindy.

"How could you do this?" he exploded, jerking a thumb at me. "Did you think about me at all when you took her under your wing?"

Auntie Cindy looked shocked. "Rocky!" she said. "You need to let go of your life before us!"

So he was also adopted, I thought. But what is he flipping out about?

"You can't let go of something like that!" he roared at her. She flinched. He flung his arms up in the air. "Are you intentionally trying to hurt me?"

"No," she said. "This is just a girl who needed help. This is not your little sister."

Rocky's arms flew down to his side, where he clenched his fists. The muscles in his neck tightened. Then he stormed past me and into the house, pushing my shoulder as he did so.

I looked at Auntie Cindy, shocked.

"I'm sorry," she said tiredly. "He has a hard time letting go of what happened. Maybe you could go talk to him."

I turned and walked inside, up the stairs and to Rocky's room, not bothering to take my shoes off.

I knocked on the door.

"Go away," came Rocky's voice, "unless you're Uncle Bill."

I opened the door. "Rocky?" I asked. "Can I talk to you?"

He was lying facedown on his bed like a teenager. His arms were crossed under his head, and his fists were clenched. He didn't make a noise.

"Look," I said. "Can you talk to me about…whatever happened?"

"I can't talk about it," Rocky said.

Struck by inspiration, I said, "Does the name…Cheyenne mean anything to you?"

Rocky bolted upright. His face was ashen. "How did you know?" he mouthed.

I closed the door to the room and sat down on his bed, pulling my hair over one shoulder. "I grew up with a girl named Nifty," I began. "Actually, you could say that we were next-door neighbors. Nifty and I, and our friend Rex…well, you could say that we're a little unusual."

Rocky listened to me with an expression that can only be described as being like a hungry dog looking at a steaming, raw steak. "How so?" he asked.

"Before I say," I said, "I need to tell you what happened before we met each other." For some reason, I felt like I could tell Rocky everything that had happened. "When our mothers were pregnant with us, there was a group of scientists who wanted to see what happened if you combined human DNA with the DNA of animals. They decided to test it on us, for whatever reason. That happened to me."

"Prove it," said Rocky.

"Fine," I said calmly, "but you have to promise never to tell your parents."

"They're not my parents," he said crossly. "But I won't tell."

"Okay," I said.

And then I pulled out my wings, wincing as the sore spot stretched out. Rocky's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

"I was given avian DNA," I said. "This was the result."

"And the others?" Rex asked breathlessly.

"Rex has the DNA of lizards," I said. "Also, I think, octopus. He has four arms and scales. And Nifty has the DNA of a cat, with the ears, and tail, and claws, and everything. There are a few other minor things, as well."

Rocky nodded, openmouthed.

"I was never told my birth name," I said, "and recent events have led me to believe that I never had one. But Rex was named Lee at his birth. And Nifty was named Cheyenne."

A tear spilled out of Rocky's eye. "You think –"

"She looks just like you," I said gently.

"But where is she?" Rocky asked.

"Well, we grew up in a lab. I'll spare you the gory details. But yesterday, some other human/avian experiments –" my voice broke "– from a different lab broke in and freed everyone. Rex, Nifty and I left, but Nifty was recaptured. And Rex is now somewhere in New York City. Your friend Leroy? Yeah, he's the reason my arm is broken, and he's the reason I can't fly right now."

"So…Nifty's back in the lab."

"Yeah," I said, trying to swallow the lump of clay in my throat.

"Where they do stuff to you that is too gory to tell a twenty-year-old man."

"Pretty much."

"Well, we have to go get her," Rocky said, standing.

"What?"

"We have to get her, Sky. Think about it. My sis –"

"My name is Holly. But Aunt Cindy doesn't know that."

"Yeah. Well, my sister is stuck in a lab where she – well, I don't know, but we gotta get her out of there! Come on!"

"Okay," I decided. "Let's go."

Rex: Review, y'all.

Me: You have a Southern accent?

Rex: I do now.