Page 37 of Mate
“It’s unacceptable, and your and Koen’s anger is perfectly justified. He’s been suspended, pending investigation.” When did Juno talk withKoenabout my anger? “Secondly, I’m sorry it took me this long to contact you. I’m sure you’ve been anxious about the results— ”
“She absolutely has not,” Misery informs her cheerfully. “Her avoidance is the stuff psychiatrists’ dreams are made of.”
Juno blinks. “Well, Serena, either way, the reason this took months is that I had to run your father’s DNA through several Were databases, and— ”
“My father? You mean . . . myfatherwas a Were?”
“Yes.” She seems taken aback. “I thought you knew. It was widely shared in the Human news. Maddie felt that the public would want to know, and— I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault if I spent the last few months hiding inside a walnut, and . . .” I shake my head and wait for my perception of myself to adjust. I never fully articulated it, but somewhere, in a corner of my mind made up of no words and many,manyvibes, I assumed that the Were was my mother. Probably because that’s the case with . . .
“I’m not like her,” I say. The relief is a physical, tangible thing.
“Not like who?”
“Ana.”
Juno nods. “Indeed.”
“Does it mean that . . . Does it mean that we’ll have different outcomes, too?”
“Outcomes? Of what?”
“Just . . . different challenges. Or issues.”She won’t have a terminal diagnosis at twenty-five, will she?
“Presumably. We’re working on a sample of two, but you already manifest in different ways. You are closer to Human— redder blood, lower basal temperature, less acute senses. Ana may not shift, but she couldn’t pass for a Human the way you did at her age. So, yes. We can assume that different genotypes will lead to different phenotypes.”
Misery tilts her head. “You seem happy about it.”
“Oh, no, I’m not.” I notice my grin on the screen. I look on the verge of swing dancing on top of the keyboard. Probably because I am. “Just tired. Go ahead, please.” Juno buys it. Misery is somewhat trickier, but I’ve been hiding shit from her for years now.For her own good, I remind myself, careful not to look at her as I change the topic. “How can you tell that my father was the Were?”
“We took a look at your mitochondrial DNA.”
“Right. And mitochondrial DNA is mostly passed down from mother to child.” Noticing Misery’s thunderstruck expression, I ask, “What?”
“Nothing. Just, look at you. Being all sciency.”
“I had a mandatory biology class in college.”
“And you retained knowledge from that low C?”
“Stay out of my transcripts.”
“But they’re such a riveting bedtime read.”
“Andit was a C- plus.”
“You woman in STEM.”
She deserves being flipped off, and Juno’s throat clearing signals her agreement. “I used DNA comparison to find your genetic relatives, but in the Southwest, there are no individuals with DNA segments identical to yours.”
“Does that mean . . . no relatives?”
“We can be reasonably sure that your father was not Southwest.”
“Bummer.” Misery looks disappointed, like she wanted for the two of us to have this in common. Forherhome to bemyhome.
“So I expanded my search to other packs,” Juno continues. “Which complicated things.”
