"Your mom doesn't want you going because she's afraid for you," Nadia said.
Julia slurped her orange pop and grimaced. "Well, it's already been proven that I can't die, so she hasn't got much to worry about." She picked restlessly at the burn scar on her wrist.
Nadia sighed. "She loves you too much to lose you. There's so many things that could go wrong. You just survived a house fire. That's a big deal, Julia." She hugged her niece tightly. "I'm sure you'll do fine."
"I hope so. Aunt Nadia, so do you think Mom will be proud of me if I do well?"
"Julia, your mom is already so proud of you," Nadia replied. "What makes you think she isn't?"
Julia shrugged. "I don't know. She just doesn't seem to care about me anymore."
"That's not true. She loves you. And maybe if this goes well, you'll think so, too."
Julia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. After the fire, they'd been relocated to an apartment. The house would be as good as new in a few weeks, but until then, they remained in the small, cluttered apartment.
She lay there, the room quiet with Glenn Miller playing in the background. Headlights flashed outside her window, then went dark.
Her mother was asleep already; a creature of habit, she had retired around 10:30, after the local news.
Julia rubbed her scarred arm and thought about the upcoming day's work. They system was like nothing she'd ever seen, but she could hack it. She could do it in four minutes flat, using 271 keystrokes. Marshall had timed her.
At last a worried sleep took her.
Outside her window, the man in black lowered his binoculars and jotted a note on his paper.