The Hidden Girls

"Mm-hmm, a mansion in the Tribeca District, right?" The girls looked at the house, which was completely different from what they had imagined.

The twelfth floor in the Tribeca District, which had once housed a group of Mutant students, still looked like an unfinished apartment. There was a little more furniture now, including a refrigerator and a microwave.

The sofa and low table were still there. Other than that, a large number of sleeping bags had been piled up in one room.

The bathroom was equally crude, but everything worked properly. That counted as good news, probably.

After roughly introducing his place—though there really was not much to introduce—Henry said, "You can stay here and get some rest. There aren't any beds, but you're free to use the sleeping bags in that room.

"A group of students used them when they stayed here before. I cleaned them all afterward. They aren't brand-new, but they're clean. Want me to order you some pizza?"

At the mention of food, Marty Franklin was the first to react. "Oh, that would be wonderful. I could eat a whole large pizza by myself right now. I'm starving."

The other two, however, were not nearly as energetic as the Black girl. They flopped onto the sofa like dead fish, each taking one end. Their normal lives had suddenly been turned upside down; their reactions were the normal ones. The fact that the Black girl could still chatter nonstop must have been some kind of racial talent.

"Do you need anything else? Don't expect five-star hotel service here, but I can still get you some necessities."

"Isn't there even a radio here? A TV? A computer? You said this was your house, but it doesn't look like you live here. Do you have another place?"

Henry had