Free Imposter by Chanda Stafford

myself to handle it without hurting myself. “Are you going to tell him?”
    She shakes her head. “No, and I recommend you keep your mouth shut as well.”
    “I thought you said Socrates couldn’t care less.”
    She stares deep into my soul, her gaze so hypnotic I can’t look away. “Because if you fall out of Socrates’s good graces, you’ll end up back in the Smith. And without anyone to protect you, you’d be dead before you unpacked your clothes.”
     

Crazy
    Mira
     
    The silver shuttle bumps against the ground as it lands. Part of me wants to peer out the narrow windows, but I’m afraid of what I’ll see. I remind myself that this isn’t a prison, like the one for Lifers I was taken to when Tanner tried to help me escape. But still, the term institution reminds me of that cold, drab place with high walls reaching toward the sky and angry guards torturing starving prisoners. I shiver when the memories of my own arrest rise to the surface. Will, sitting straight-backed to my right, glances at me, but I ignore him. When the ship’s purr abruptly stops, anxiety burrows deep in my stomach and twists it into little knots. Ben whines from his padded spot close to the door. Maybe he feels my nervousness, too.
    A crack of light appears around the door as it lowers and forms steps down to the bright green grass. Grass? At a prison? The gravity belts release and Will stands up. Without waiting for either of us, he strides to the door and goes down the stairs ahead of us. Ben and I get to our feet at the same time. He stretches, his long brown and black body blending with the shadows.
    “Come here, boy.” I pat my side. Ben gives me a doggy snort of disgust. “Come on, let’s go.” He huffs and then meanders over to me. I grab the short leather leash attached to his harness before following Will down the stairs.
    Real emerald green lawn stretches all around us, broken only by a stone path that leads up to a sprawling, red brick building.
    “This is my kind of prison,” I murmur.
    Will turns toward me. “What did you say?”
    “Oh, nothing.” My face burns from embarrassment. “Just talking to myself.”
    Will considers me for a minute before he shrugs and continues up the path. Ben sniffs the grass on our way and stops, but I tug on his leash. It probably wouldn’t make a good impression if he peed on their lawn.
    As we approach the institution, I start to notice the little details. White shutters decorate each of the windows stretching from one side to the other. Perfectly groomed, dark green trees decorated with light pink flowers line the last half of the path up to the building. Three wide cement steps lead to a set of heavy oak doors.
    As we reach the bottom of the steps, a dark-haired woman in a snow-white uniform and white hat forces the doors open and skips down the steps. A crimson smile stretches painfully across her face, and she fixes her gaze on me, passing over Will entirely.
    “Welcome, Socrates. We’re so very glad to see you. My name is Amy, and I’ll be your guide today.” Her bubbly effervescence unnerves me. People shouldn’t smile that much.
    When my eyes meet his, Will shrugs as if to say, “This is your choice. Now we have to deal with it.”
    “We couldn’t believe it when George Eliot said you were interested in coming here to see our dear friend Lewis Carroll. It’s such a delight to have someone like yourself visit us. I can’t begin to tell you how excited we are that you’re here.”
    She pauses to give us both another blinding grin. “Although we did find it strange that George Eliot was so vague about your reason for coming since our friend hasn’t had any notable visitors in over a year. Is there something wrong?”
    “No. I just thought it was past due, so I asked Eliot to make the arrangements.”
    When I don’t elaborate, Amy’s smile becomes forced. Will smirks.
    “Though I certainly appreciate you accommodating us on such short notice. I’m sure