Working on my gloves proved to be a time consuming project, particurly with my other obligations taking up parts of my time. Whether it was homework, school projects, or just doing things Gail asked me to. The fact that I seemed happier and more willing to do what she asked was an important part of my facade.

  Couldn’t have my foster parents getting worried, after all. If they were worried, they might start asking questions. Like ‘can we meet these friends you’ve been spending so much time with?’, or ‘hey why do you need to run off to do so much extracurricur work with these other kids?’

  The less they knew, the better it would be for all of us.

  I was home alone when I did the final touches on my glove, and as I put the st screw into pce on the brassy studs on my knuckles I felt the fog being lifted from my brain. The persistent itch, driving me to invent, had faded. I lifted my gloves into view, my eyes widening once comprehension dawned on what I had just made.

  The gloves looked much the same as before, only now with rge cubic studs on the knuckles, linked by bands of that same metal. At first I didn’t believe what I was looking at, silently sliding my left glove and clenching that fist a few times.

  The studs didn’t add much in the way of weight, nor did the shock absorption mechanisms sewn in the wristbands. Even so I felt them in there, all that tech under a thin veneer of bck cloth.

  I focused on my gloved fist and gave it a small swing. The air rippled in the path of my fist, kicking up a small wave of pressure that rattled the tools on my workbench. A little pulse of amplified kinetic energy. “What the fuck,” I mumbled.

  These, as I had expected, were like Knuckle’s gauntlets. Or, at least, my version functioned on the same principal. But... how had I managed that?

  “Shouldn’t be possible to copy another Artisan’s tech. Not at all.” And yet, I had. I thought back to when I had first held Knuckle’s weapons in my hand, a desperate attempt to improve my odds of survival against Impact. I’d felt a spark when I’d gripped those weapons, but surely that wouldn’t have...

  “I learned to copy his tech just by touching it?”

  The thought alone sent a chill through my whole body. Exciting, on one hand, being able to copy the tech of other Artisans if I could get my hands on it. But, on the other hand, the thought terrified me. If word got out that I could do something like that, then just about every other Artisan in the country would be after my head.

  We were, as a people, rather protective of our tech.

  I closed my eyes, willed myself calm with a few slow and deep breaths. Maybe I was overreacting, I told myself. I drummed my fingers anxiously on the workbench, tapping one foot to a random rhythm. Maybe it was just a fluke. It was my first time touching any technique other than mine or my dad’s, after all. I couldn’t make any sweeping conclusions off of just one example.

  I’d need to get my hands on other pieces of Artisan gear before I could say for sure what was going on.

  My eyes popped open, a warning signal coming from a toy soldier I had put on watch in the living room. Gail and Brian must have been back. I moved quickly, setting my tool and my gear into a duffle bag. It was a weighty thing, but I still managed to shove it under my bed.

  I walked from my room, faking a carefree swagger, and peered over the bannister to see my foster family making their way inside. Brian was carrying two shopping bags, Todd was carrying four with ease.

  “Heeeeey, there she is,” Gail said, smiling up at me. “Was worried you’d have run off on some errand or other.”

  “Hey, even I need to take a break,” I said, shrugging.

  “Careful, she’s skittish like a deer. Might run off on you,” Brian said, chuckling.

  “God, Brian, the stand-up circuit is dying without you on it.” I made my way downstairs and venture to the kitchen, my eyes meeting Todd’s as he set the bags down on the isnd.

  “Hey, Jess, are we going to the park ter?” he asked hopefully, grinning up at me.

  I grimaced. Yeah, I still had that crap going on. “I don’t have much else to teach you, kid,” I muttered. “But... fine, whatever. I could do with the fresh air.”

  “Well don’t go running off just yet now,” Gail said.

  I turned to see her and Brian enter the kitchen, and a small fsh of panic ran though my body when I noticed a strange look they shared with each other. For a moment, my paranoid monkey brain feared that they had somehow found me out.

  “Brian and I have noticed how hard you’ve been trying these past months. Perfect attendance, good grades, new friends... and you’re getting along better with Todd these days too. It’s very nice to see, Jess,” Gail said, smiling at me.

  I hesitated and suddenly found myself unable to meet her gaze. “It’s nothing, really.” It was all part of the illusion. Behaving myself so they wouldn’t be suspicious of me.

  “Well, I know I like to make jokes... but I am proud of you too, Jess,” Brian said, stroking the coarse stubble on his jaw. “It’s been good for my blood pressure, not having to brace for calls from your school.”

  “Yeah yeah,” I replied. It wasn’t much of a reply at all, but it was all I could think to say in my flustered state.

  “So...” Gail sucked in a bit of air through her teeth, and I finally noticed she was holding something behind her back. “Some folks would say it’s not great to give kids something to reward them for good behaviour, but I figure you’ve earned something Jess. A gift from us to you.”

  She handed me a small box and I gingerly lifted the white lid to peer inside. A watch stared back up at me, the frame made of sterling silver while the band was slim leather strap. It was not particurly fancy but I appreciated the sleek simplicity of it.

  “I know it’s not much,” Gail said, smiling at me. “But... just think of it as a little bit of gratitude, for how hard you’ve been trying these past weeks. I’m proud of you, Jess.”

  “I uh...” The watch trembled in my grasp, and suddenly my throat was filled with a weighty lump. I turned the watch over and stared at the back of it. There, engraved in tiny calligraphy, was a simple message.

  For Jess

  Love G and B.

  I felt tears prick the edges of my vision, and my throat grew all the tighter. “It’s lovely, I uh... I really appreciate it.”

  “You okay?” Gail asked, offering me a sympathetic smile.

  Was I? I really didn’t know. I’d gotten used to not expecting anything from my foster families, and if I was being honest I couldn’t remember the st time I’d gotten a gift. Least of all one that had had a nice personal touch to it like this one.

  “Thanks. I just uh...” I managed a smile as I made my way from the room. “I just forgot something upstairs. I... I’ll be right back.”

  I made my way to the stairs, trying my best to keep my composure. But the tears rose in my eyes, and my breath came out sharp and quivering. “Fuck,” I murmured, wiping my eyes with one hand. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”