I take a last look at the picture of Mom, now standing in one corner of my desk, then step toward the door of my cell. The panel of wood and steel is all that stands between me and my new school. I’ve never been great with new social situations. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming my nerves like Mom taught me. Breathe, calm, breathe. I can do this. I try not to think about how much I miss her, how alone I feel. I turn the doorknob and pull.

The clean, white walls of the dorm corridor are broken every dozen feet with another door like mine. The one right across from me reads “Marc.” I glance at a couple of others and don’t see any last names, or even last initials. I guess the student body here at the Butler Institute must be small enough that they don’t have a lot of repeat first names.

I don’t see anyone else in the hallway. The squeaks of my shoes echo down the corridor. Ahead, I hear the murmur of many voices. I force my feet to carry me forward with all the confidence I can muster. I’m so confident that my hands are shaking and my mind is screaming at me to get back into my cell and hide until someone forcibly pulls me out. I ignore my impulses for self-preservation and continue walking until I turn the corner into the enormous common room. The quiet roar of voices goes suddenly silent. I feel the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes staring at me.

The other students run the whole spectrum from near my age down to elementary school. I feel like I somehow stepped into one of those stupid college recruiting brochures where all the pictures are perfect models of diversity, and everyone is looking at you and smiling. Why are they all smiling at me? And why do they all seem vaguely familiar in a way I can’t quite place?

The smart part of my brain with the social skills in it tells me to smile back, wave, and introduce myself, but the lizard part in charge of self-preservation screams again and tries to push me back to my room. The smart part of me doesn’t stand a chance of taking control, but at least it stops me from running. That wouldn’t do any good now—they know I’m here.

One of them steps toward me, a guy nearly as tall as I am with short blond hair styled in a carefully messy way. He looks like he’s about my age, maybe a little younger, but he’s built like a football player. He swaggers like one too. Must be the captain of the team, or the student body president, or whatever the top of the food chain is in this weird little school. The rest of the kids hang back, their eyes still fixed on me like I’m a new, exotic, and maybe dangerous exhibit at the zoo.

“Noah Kimball?” he asks, his smile showing a mouth full of bright white teeth. I know I’ve never met him before, but I could swear that I’ve seen his face somewhere. He extends a hand. I’m supposed to shake it, but my fight-or-flight instincts are still grappling for control and all I can do is look at it, then look back up at his face. One of the younger kids off to one side whispers something I can’t catch and the guy’s smile fades.

“Noah?” he says again, more like a real question this time. I force myself to give a nod in response. He pastes the smile back on his face, but it looks forced now. “I’m Chad Butler. Welcome to the Butler Institute.”

Chad Butler? As in, the son of the institute’s founder? No wonder this guy has an entitled look to him. Wait. That would make him my father’s son. My brother. No, that can’t be right. I don’t have a brother. I would definitely know if I had a brother. Mom wouldn’t have kept me in the dark about that.

I’m still processing when he seems to decide that he’s given me enough of a chance to shake his hand. He steps closer to give me a too-familiar pat on the shoulder instead. “I heard you’ve had a rough few weeks,” he says quietly. “I’m sure you’ll come around.” He turns away. “Come on everyone, clear out. Let’s give the new guy a little space.”

The words seem right, and they would have been reassuring on their own. The tone even sounds almost understanding, but I catch something in his eyes as he turns away that tells me I’ve put myself on his bad side. The crowd thins out, mostly ignoring me now on Chad’s orders. The bulk of them file out through the big double doors. A few head down the hallways leading to the two wings of the dorms. A handful of the younger ones pile onto a couch and a section of the wall in front of them lights up with a show. A few of the kids, led by a cute girl with jet-black hair who looks maybe a year or so younger than me, defy Chad’s lead and come over to introduce themselves.

“Hey, I’m Louise,” she says, twiddling her fingers nervously in front of her.

I’m definitely supposed to answer her, but I can’t stop thinking about Chad Butler. That guy can’t really be my brother. No way. The girl gives me another smile and turns to go.

Answer her!

I sputter out a hello just in time for her to not hear me say it, since she’s halfway out the door already. Great. I just convinced most of the student body here that I’m fully defective.

I should follow her. I take a single step and get cut off as a skeletally thin guy a few inches taller than me slides past me from behind. I hadn’t even heard his footsteps from the hallway. He completely ignores me as he glides on past and goes outside. Doesn’t even give me a glance. Maybe I’m not the only socially gifted person here.

Suddenly the room clears. I’m the only one left besides the little kids now fully absorbed in their cartoons now playing on three different screens around the room. I wonder which of my fellow students that I alienated was supposed to show me around. Maybe that girl, Louise? I should go find her. She had really pretty eyes.

I’m about to go when I hear loud footfalls on the tile behind me. Not wanting to be surprised again, I turn in time to see a huge guy emerge from the hallway leading back to my room. He’s nearly as big as the giant in the suit from yesterday, a whole head taller than me with shoulders that barely fit through the door frame. Dark hair bunches in tight curls around his head and his skin is light brown. He gives me a broad smile.

“Welcome, my brother,” he says, “I’m Evan.”

Then he pulls me into a hug. I’m too stunned to know how to respond before he releases me. I can’t tell if he means brother biologically, metaphorically, or if this place is some kind of cult compound.

“Noah, right?” he asks, his deep voice full of warmth.

I give him a slow nod. I don’t want to risk giving any offense. This guy’s arms are thicker than my legs. I’m pretty sure he could snap me like a twig without breaking a sweat if he felt like it.

“Sorry about your mom, man,” Evan says. Does everyone here know my personal business? He waits a moment for me to answer, but I don’t. I’m not at all sure what to make of this guy. “Come on, let’s get some food into you. You’ll feel better.”

He takes a few steps toward the doors, then looks back at me. With no other real options, I follow him. Part of me worries that he might pick me up and carry me if I don’t. He leads me out into the crisp spring air and along the sidewalk surrounding the large open field, then slows until I catch up and walks beside me.

“So, I’m supposed to show you around. That was the dorms, this is the commons.” He spreads his hand out in the direction of the neatly manicured grass. “Not to be confused with the dorm common room, which we just left.” He laughs and points back and to the left. “Learning Center over there, you’ll see plenty of that place later. The big building with the pillars is the Residence. Up ahead is the cafeteria, past that, the Research Center. That’s where our father does all his high-tech stuff, so don’t worry about that for now unless he invites you there.”

Not “my father,” but “our father.” So, probably not a cult brother thing then. I almost stumble as I try to cope with the idea of having another brother while figuring out my new local geography. The Residence looks like a two-story colonial mansion—complete with a long row of fluted pillars in front. It spans the more-than-football-field length of the commons. The tall concrete wall runs along the opposite side of the field, broken only by the bars of the large metal gate, now closed, where the gorilla dropped me off last night. The desolate scrub of the Nevada desert beyond makes a stark contrast to the lush green grass and trees surrounding the buildings inside the wall. The cafeteria is short and wide, with floor-to-ceiling windows covering the side facing the commons. The Research Center towers behind it, looking more like a fancy office building than anything else.

A tall girl dressed in skin-tight exercise gear poses in a yoga routine on a mat near the center of the field. Her long, golden hair flows like it’s defying gravity as she grips one ankle, then lifts the leg behind her until it stretches over her head. Is the static electricity out here in the desert so intense that it makes her hair do that? Or maybe it’s some breeze I can’t feel from here. As we get closer, I hear music from an instrument I can’t see and don’t recognize.

Then I see her face. She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on. The floating hair combined with her stunning looks makes her seem like something outside reality, an angel somehow enrolled in this school. She notices me and gives me a smile, or maybe she’s smiling at Evan. It doesn’t matter. Something about it breaks the block that’s been keeping me from opening my mouth.

“Noah,” I finally say to Evan. “Yeah, I’m Noah.”

We’re close enough that the girl hears it and gives me a friendly nod before she goes back to her workout. My heart beats a little faster and I can’t help turning my head as we pass. She’s breathtaking.

“Oh, good.” Evan laughs. “You can talk. I was worried for a little bit there.”

“Yeah. I talk,” I answer. “Sorry. It’s been a lot to take in this morning. Who’s that girl?”

He laughs again. “That’s Andrea. You’ll like her. Everybody does. She’ll probably invite you to do yoga with her. Don’t give in.”

We cut across the lawn to the cafeteria entrance. Evan holds the door for me and the smells of bacon, sausage, and pancakes hit me. I realize I’m starving.

“I tried it once,” he continues. “Afterwards, I couldn’t walk for two days.” I give him a polite chuckle. Not being able to walk seems like a fair trade to get to know a girl who looks like that.

Inside, all the kids from the dorm building plus a bunch more gather around dozens of round tables spread through the large open room. Several look my way, but at least this time they don’t all stare.

“Sorry about earlier,” I tell Evan. “I’m not usually anti-social, I promise. At least not very. I’m not even sure what I’m doing at this school. My mom died, then my father had his lawyers ship me here.” We approach the counter at the back of the room. Behind it, half a dozen attractive twenty-something women bustle around in aprons and hairnets, moving scrambled eggs, sausages, pancakes, and hash browns from sizzling grills to serving containers under a row of heat lamps. Why is everyone here so good-looking?

“I get you, brother,” Evan declares.”Don’t worry about it. For now, get the waffles, they’re the best thing here. Ooh, and look, they still have bacon. They must have made extra today. Get some before it’s gone.”

Brother again. So weird. I shake it off and take his word on breakfast, getting a waffle and two strips of bacon from one of the servers. He leads me over to a table in the corner where we talk as we eat. Well, mostly he talks, but at least at this point I can respond like a real person.

He wasn’t wrong about breakfast. The waffles are great.  While I chew, he explains the daily routine: wake up, breakfast, class with teachers, computer lab, lunch, free time, project time, dinner, study, sleep, then wake up and do it all over again.

“It’s not all work, though,” he assures me. “During evening study we can turn on the screens in the common room if everyone is current on their schoolwork. And we get day trips on Saturdays if the weather’s good. Oh, and extra project time on Sundays instead of classes. Project time is practically fun time. You can pretty much work on anything you want, as long as Father approves it.”

“So, your father is Tom Butler?” I ask, just to confirm. He turns his head and looks at me sideways, like I asked him if the sky was blue, then laughs.

“Yeah. Tom Butler. The great man with the plan himself. The tamer of the fearsome nanobot horde. The technological savior of mankind. And of course, the founder of the illustrious Butler Institute.” He waves one hand around theatrically, and his smirk tells me that he doesn’t take our father’s reputation seriously.

“So you and me and Chad are…”

“Brothers,” he chuckles. “Yeah, I know it’s hard to believe, what with me being so good-looking and all.”

“All with different mothers, I’m guessing?”

He laughs again and gives my shoulder a pat. It’s nearly the same motion that Chad had used on me earlier, but from Evan it feels friendly and comforting instead of condescending. “You don’t miss anything, do you Noah?”

“I used to be quicker on the uptake, I promise. Give me a couple of days and I might get to where I can tie my shoes without help again.”

He keeps chuckling. I like this big guy. Something about his calm, deep voice and easy laugh helps me to feel almost normal. An electronic bell rings, and a lot of the kids clear out, but Evan doesn’t seem to be in any rush, so I keep eating bacon and waffles and talking to my newfound brother and friend.

“Evan,” a stern voice says from behind me. I turn and see Mrs. Hastings. “When I asked you to show Noah around, I expected more than a tour of our dining facilities.” She glances at her watch. “You are going to be tardy for your class.”

I’m still not sure what her role is at this school, but it seems to be something like a principal. Whatever it is, she’s got enough authority that Evan doesn’t bother arguing with her. He says goodbye and hustles off, leaving his tray on a counter near the door on his way out.