Chapter 15

  Solomon blinked awake slowly. He was in a stark white room, surrounded by tall white curtains and lying in a comfortable white bed. He tried to remember how he got there – wherever there was – but came up with nothing. “Am I in Heaven?” he asked, his voice croakier than a thirsty frog’s.

  “Heaven? Oh, goodness gracious, no!” A cheery nurse pulled back one of the curtains. “It’s good to see you finally awake, Solomon,” she said warmly. “Your parents are just outside. Do you want me to bring them in?”

  Solomon nodded the affirmative to avoid using his husky voice again. After the nurse left, he began to ruminate on what she’d said. What did she mean by saying I’m “finally awake”? How long have I been out? Where’s Luna? Is she alive? And if we’re not dead, then what happened to us? Did the experiment work? These questions circled in his head with no answers, driving him a bit crazy.

  Luckily, the nurse soon came back with his parents, providing him a distraction from all his questions. His parents looked as if they’d slept in the hospital while waiting for him to wake up, dirty and disheveled as they were.

  “My poor baby!” Mrs. Peterson gasped when she saw Solomon. “You’re okay! We’ve been so worried about you!”

  She started to cover her beloved son with tons of hugs and kisses, which he playfully fought off. “Relax, Mom, I’m fine!” he said, and he meant it. Other than some soreness in his arms and legs and a small headache, he felt as healthy as if he’d just eaten an entire bowl of salad. “Seriously, I’m fine. I just want to know how long I was asleep. Did I get knocked unconscious? It felt like I was out for forever.”

  Solomon’s parents looked at each other. “Son, you’ve been in a coma for over a week now,” his father said gruffly, avoiding eye contact. “For the past few days, you’ve had a high fever and low brain activity. The doctors… they said it didn’t look good. Even though you’re awake now, the fever might turn out to be a symptom of a disease, or you could slip back into a coma. They still haven’t figured out what caused it in the first place, so they can’t prevent it from happening again.”

  Solomon’s heart tightened. I’ve been in a coma for a week? Seriously? I must be so behind on homework! Wait – what about Luna? They haven’t said anything about her yet! “Where’s Luna? Is she okay?” His voice had an edge of panic to it as he thought of what could’ve happened to her.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “Your sister–”

  Mr. Peterson was interrupted by a doctor pushing through the curtains. “Oh, sorry to bother you.” The doctor nervously pushed on his circular glasses. “I need to do Solomon’s hourly check-up, just to make sure his recovery is still going smoothly.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll gladly get out of your way.” Mr. Peterson took his wife’s hand and led her out of Solomon’s curtained room.

  The doctor picked up a thermometer and turned toward his patient, but Solomon interrupted before anything more could happen. “Look, I know who you are, Dr. Fischer. Wearing different glasses doesn’t change anything. Why are you here? Where’s Luna?” Will someone please tell me what on earth is going on?!

  “Your sister is perfectly fine,” Dr. Fischer said, fiddling with the thermometer anxiously. “She’s in the next bed over.” Solomon started to rise, but the doctor put out a hand to stop him. Solomon could’ve easily gotten past the skinny doctor, but he was curious to know why Dr. Fischer had shown up out of nowhere. “You’ll have plenty of time to check on her later,” the doctor said, his nervousness suddenly disappearing, replaced by authority and confidence. “I need to talk with you first.”

  “If you want me to wait, then you better start talking.” Solomon crossed his arms stubbornly.

  “Very well. I came here to keep an eye on you twins and make sure the experiment was successful. For two seventh-graders, you did a surprisingly good job with it. I might have to suggest a scientific award for Luna once this whole mess is over. There are a handful of side effects from the triggering process, like your fever, but they should fade with time. Speaking of your fever, may I take your temperature?” Dr. Fischer held up the thermometer, and Solomon reluctantly allowed his temperature to be taken. “Exactly one hundred and two degrees. Not surprising. It’s been the same for days now.”

  “Is that bad?” Solomon shifted uneasily in his hospital bed. “That sounds super high.”

  “Yes, well… I’d like to congratulate you, by the way. I did some peripheral tests, and it seems like the experiment did in fact work. I’d love to hear how it went and what it looked like, if we have time for it. I just wish I could keep an eye on your ongoing progress.”

  Solomon perked up a little. “You can be our mentor and teach us to use our powers!”

  Dr. Fischer looked away, his nervous attitude flaring up again. “I was actually thinking more along the lines of recording a groundbreaking scientific discovery.”

  “Oh.” Solomon’s spirits deflated like a popped balloon. “Oh, okay.”

  “It doesn’t matter much either way, though,” the doctor said quickly, “because I have a flight tonight, and I don’t want to miss it.” He glanced at his watch. “Actually, I don’t even have time to interview you.” The doctor turned to leave, but paused. “Take care of your sister, Solomon. You’re on your own now.”