<b>Chapter </b>41
Jade’s POV:
<i>Cloud </i>City
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42
I pushed open Max’s bedroom door, pharmacy bag clutched in one hand. His head jerked up from his
physics textbook, eyes immediately brightening when he saw me.
“You’re back,” he said, closing his book and pushing himself to his feet.
“Just got in,” I replied, entering his room. I tossed my backpack onto his bed and held up the pharmacy bag. “Got something for you.”
Max’s eyes fixed on the bag, noticing the logo: “Morrison Pharmaceutical Research Center.” <b>I </b>could
practically see hope blooming across his features.
“Is that-” he started, his voice catching.
I nodded, emptying the bag onto his desk. Several small vials of clear liquid, packets of powdered
substances, and a set of specialized medical instruments tumbled out.
“Holy shit,” Max whispered, reaching tentatively toward one of the vials. “This is really happening?”
“It’s happening,” I confirmed. With practiced movements, I began organizing the items on his desk. In my previous life as Shadow, I’d prepared countless medicalpounds–though usually they were designed to harm rather than heal. “I need to mix these properly before you can use them.”
Max watched me work, fascination evident in his expression. “Where did you learn to do this<b>?</b>” he
asked.
“Self–taught,” I replied without looking up. “Every day, early morning and evening, thirty minutes after meals. That’s when you’ll take it.” I carefully filled a series of small bottles with the mixture I’d created. “And I’ll massage your left leg for thirty minutes every day,bined with these exercises<b>.</b>”
I demonstrated the movements on my own leg. “Like this. The medication will reduce inmmation and promote muscle regeneration, but physical therapy is essential for proper healing.”
Max stared at the bottles, clearly processing everything. “How much did this cost?” he finally asked, voice barely audible.
10:10 <b>Wed</b><b>, </b>Sep 17
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<b>I </b>capped thest bottle and looked at him. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But-”
。 (42<b>) </b>
“It’s still within eptable range,” <b>I </b>cut him off. “Worth every penny.”
I watched his face flush with excitement as Ibeled each bottle with precise instructions. Being able to help him gave me a satisfaction I hadn’t expected when I first woke up in this body.
“People at school won’t stop talking about what happened with Jason,” Max said, breaking the silence. “Did you know he transferred to Weske High?”
I nodded absently, focusing on my work. Jason Reynolds was a minor problem easily dealt with.
“The weird thing is, now everyone knows I’m your brother.” A small smile touched his lips. “It’s like suddenly being rted to you is… cool.”
“They’re just nosy,” I replied, though I wasn’t truly annoyed.
“You should hear some of the theories,” Max continued, warming to the subject. “Someone said you must be working for the CIA. Another kid swore you’re in witness protection.” Heughed softly. “My personal favorite is that you’re secretly a martial arts champion who can’tpete publicly for some
reason.”
My lips twitched slightly. “People have active imaginations.” Though honestly, the truth was far more interesting than any of their theories.
“Everyone agrees on one thing though,” Max said. “You definitely have some kind of secret
background.”
Before <b>I </b>could respond, I heard the front door m, followed by high–pitched voices andughter.
Momentster<b>, </b>Emily burst into Max’s room without knocking, Linda close behind. Both were dressed in designer clothes that looked brand new, their hair professionally styled. They looked nothing like people returning from a friend’s wedding.
“We’re back.” Emily smiled.
Linda eyed the medical supplies spread across Max’s desk. “What’s all this?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” I replied coolly, continuing my work.
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:
Emily held out a small gift bag toward me. “Brought you something from the wedding.”
I didn’t even look up. “No thanks.” Whatever it was, I didn’t want or need it.
Emily’s face flushed with anger. She tossed the bag onto the bed. “Whatever. Your loss.”
As Emily flounced out, Max caught my eye. “They don’t look like they’ve been to a wedding,” he whispered. “More like they just won the lottery or something.”
“Hmm,” I responded nomittally.
That evening, I sat Max at the kitchen table and carefully massaged his left leg. The specialized cream I applied would help stimte nerve endings and increase blood flow to the atrophied muscles. I could tell by the subtle rxation in his face that he could already feel something
different.
Linda walked in, stopping abruptly at the sight. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted the bottle of
medicine on the table.
“What are you putting on him?” she demanded, marching forward. “Stop that right now!”
“It’s medicine, Mom,” Max said. “For my leg.”
“From where? Some back–alley pharmacy? That stuff could be dangerous!” Linda reached for the bottle. “This could kill you for all we know!”
Frank appeared in the doorway, drawn by themotion. “What’s going on?”
“Your daughter is ying doctor with Max’s health!” Linda snapped. “Using God knows what!”
“It’s from Dr. Morrison,” Frank said calmly. “Jade mentioned it earlier.”
“Morrison? Who the hell is that?” Linda’s voice rose. “Some quack she found online?”
“Dr. Walter Morrison,” I said evenly, continuing the massage without breaking rhythm. “Head of Morrison Pharmaceutical Research Center in New York.”
Linda scoffed and made a grab for the medicine bottle. I moved it away, but she lunged again, knocking it from my hand. The bottle hit the floor and shattered, its contents spreading across the
tiles<b>. </b>
<b>42 </b>
10:10 Wed<b>, </b><b>Sep </b>17
I felt a sh of cold rage. The medication was irreceable–each batch custom–formted. In my previous life, I would have broken her wrist for such an action.
“Mom!” Max shouted, horror in his voice. “What did you do?”
Linda backed away, startled by his outburst. “I’m trying to protect you!”
“That was my only chance!” Max’s voice cracked. “Do you know how long I’ve been living with this?
Even if that medicine could kill me, I’d still take it!”
Silence fell over the kitchen. Linda stared at her son, mouth agape.
42
I continued massaging Max’s leg, keeping my expression neutral despite my anger. “Don’t worry,” I said calmly. “That was just one day’s dose. I have more upstairs.” I’d prepared for such contingencies -another habit from my previous life.
Dayster, on the morning of the SAT exam, Max appeared at my bedroom door fully dressed despite
the early hour.
“I’ll take you to the testing center,” he offered, fidgeting with his shirt sleeve–a new button–down I’d bought him.
I looked up from my desk. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Max insisted. The changes in him were subtle but significant. He stood straighter, his eyes clearer. Though his limp remained, there was a new energy in his movements. “It’s a big day.”
Twenty minutester<b>, </b>we arrived at the school entrance. Other students streamed past us, many apanied by anxious–looking parents offeringst–minute advice and encouragement.
“You’re cutting it close,” Max said, checking his watch. “Test starts in ten minutes.”
I shrugged, entirely unconcerned. “I’ll make it.”
A group of parents nearby nced at us, their expressions disapproving as they took in my rxed demeanor<b>. </b>
“That poor girl,” one mother whispered not–quite–quietly enough. “She doesn’t seem prepared at all. Probably won’t even finish the test.”
10:10 Wed, <b>Sep </b>17
Badass in Disguise