Chapter 4: Class Two

Dr. Edith Lowry read my file standing up, with her reading glasses on a cord against her chest.

It was my first morning at Northmere, and my calf still ached under the bandage.

Rafe had driven north through the night on Wednesday and carried my boxes into the dorm at dawn.

He had left before I found the right words to thank him.

The lab smelled of coffee and rubbing alcohol.

Dr. Lowry was my advisor.

She had invited me to the summer program three months ago, and I had never answered her.

"You didn't write back," she said, not looking up.

"I'm sorry. My family needed me."

"Your family is a Class Two," she said. "That's what's in this."

She tapped the folder.

It was the transfer file Garrick Clinic had sent with my scholarship papers.

On the cover sheet, in my own hand, was a record number I had typed myself a hundred times.

Under it, in typed letters, someone had written: CLASS TWO. LOW REGENERATIVE INDEX. NOT CLEARED FOR FIELD WORK.

"I've never seen that page," I said.

"It says you can't do the thing you came here to do."

Dr. Lowry put the folder down.

"Sit. Give me your arm."

She took a blood sample with quick, plain hands, and she did not ask me to hold still.

While the machine ran she asked me questions.

How fast did my cuts close?

How long had I gone without eating before I felt weak?

Keep reading free with an account. Start They Let Me Bleed Out for My Sister's Show from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.