Mom gets home a bit later than I do, usually. Seeing her shoes at the front entrance of the foyer, though, means I have to make a deal with her to go out later.

“Quentin,” Mother’s voice trails from-

-My bedroom? She waltzes out with a scrunchy in hand, she’s wearing a nice dress, dark purple, she’s exchanged her glasses for contacts. She always looks like two different people sometimes. Sometimes she looks a Mother, intentionally I think. She’s always told me the importance of making a story. She dresses down with glasses and cardigans because she wants to conjure the impression of a single Mom working hard.

This Mom though. The one in the purple dress feels more natural. More her genuine face.

“Why were you in my bedroom?” I ask her. I have to tailor my response to sound curious, and not defensive or angry.

“I was looking for,” Mom twirls around her silver, chained bracelet, “You’re always taking my things and never returning them.”

Mom has more accessories than me, I often borrow them. Mom’s like a personal thrift store.

“Where are you going?” I ask her.

“A date dear,” Mom responds, walking away from my bedroom, “Well, he thinks it’s a date.”

“Who?”

“Aren’t we full of questions,” Mom states, “If you must know, one of the Territory Directors of the law firm I work at, he’s not very good at disguising his true intentions. I don’t believe in the concept of woman sleeping to the top, its fiction designed by men.”

“But you’re going on a date with him?”

Mom just smiles.

“I am better at creating fiction than men are,” she looks at me more directly, “I’ll leave you some money for pizza or somethi-

-Actually,” I interrupt and notice her disapproval right away, “Sorry-

-no, go ahead,” Mom responds, “Actually?”

“I was asked to go out, after six,” I slowly introduce the idea.

Mom’s gaze immediately feels heavy.

“And why do you need to go out after six?” Mom asks me.

I have to make sure that I am as good as she is with a situation like this. Or else she’ll know I am lying.

“The arcade doesn’t open until later,” I tell her.

Mom raises one of her arched brows and mulls it over. She’s thinking, she switches her gaze away from me towards the kitchen. It’s clearer to see her purple eyeshadow now and plum lipstick, she folds her dainty fingers together in thought, “I presume you’re going with Charles?”

“Yes,” I respond.

Now she’s making the story up for me. It’s easier for me to be caught if she is the one making up the story because I have to follow everything she is saying.

“How much homework do you have?” she asks, knowing about my grades.

“It’s 5 now, I can do half of it in an hour, and the other half after I get back before bed? Plus Charles, said he would help me with homework,” I add.

Mom turns back towards me, she scans me and studies me. She’s looking for any flaw. I try not to give her any.

“Very well,” Mom states chipperly and smiles, “Be careful, my sweet prince, and if you can’t catch a bus, call me and I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay,” I respond, “And if your date doesn’t go well, you can call me and I’ll pick you up.” I attempt a joke.

Mom laughs.

“Oh dear, trust me, it won’t go poorly,”

“I am going to start my homework,” I am trying to get out of this conversation further. The thing is that I know Troy won’t be able to convince me of anything he has to say, unless I test it out for myself. So I have devised a plan, if he really is a Phantom - so he says - stuck in a Human body. Then I can prove that with the Pen, couldn’t I? I wonder if he is immortal? What happens if what he says isn’t true? How am I going to deal with a dead police officer?

Maybe I can provoke him. He seems like a short-tempered type of person. So it might not be that hard to press his buttons.

I try not to make too much noise in my bedroom, so she doesn’t know that I am looking around for anything out of place. I never believed my Mom to be someone who snoops, she has never done so before. I wonder why, now.

Movement out of the corner of my eye, most likely the bookshelves being in my blind spot. Nothing seems out of place.

All right time to work on what to do with Troy Holland. Also, what is the importance of the Order of the Exalted? Why is he so pressed and worried about them? Opening up my laptop:

"Order of the Exalted,"

Of course the first results that would come up would be the actual Order and the actual Oratories. I don't know if I feel like diving that deep into this. The Order I know is some sort of Administration that is separate from the Humanist and Traditionalist Administrations, they are supposed to keep the Humanist Administration in check, but are now policing both the Humanist and Traditionalist. They are supposed to provide some mediator role within the Administrations. And they supposedly have Agents who work alongside Civilian Services to help with abnormal events. Which would make sense why the Order would be interested in the Karma situation. What doesn't make sense is why the police care? When the old Director of the Police station was in charge most crime got ignored. This is irritating.