ARIA

The next morning, Uncle Barty drops me off in front of the university, as he usually parks his car in the back. "Here you go. Enjoy your classes, alright? And don't forget to come see me for lunch."

"I will," I reply before reaching for my bag, which I've placed by my feet. Suddenly, he grabs my wrist and I snap my head in his direction, alarmed.

"What's that?" he demands, his voice laced with concern.

"What?" I ask right before I realize what he's talking about.

My palms.

Although ...