“I don’t get the problem,” Charlie said to Martin Young, who was typing furiously on the huge computer in the computer base. Martin was the eldest Young, so probably the most knowledgeable. “So what if her eyes go white?”

“Well, that would mean she’s been lying to us this whole time,” the teenager replied. “And also, you know how when you’re a kid, in the films, the hero is always in white, while the villain is black clad?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s the opposite here. Black is pure, like the earth that forms this planet. While white is unnatural, man-made, tampered with. A white-eye is considered to be an evil being. So if it turns out that Kenz is one… It’ll cause an uproar on the Isles, and that’s not what we need right now.”

*          *          *          *          *

“Kenz! Why don’t you just admit that you’re a white-eye so we can all hate you?”

Stacey laughed, “Phi, I’m not a white-eye. Don’t you think you would’ve noticed?”

“You’ve always been a sly one…”

“Shut up, Cali!”

*          *          *          *          *

“Hey, Simpson,” Brendan called, walking into the living room the next morning. “There’s a letter for you here.”

“Really?” Charlie went over, and took the letter off the younger male.

“Unless Phillip’s changed his name again without telling us… I’d say so.” Brendan dropped the rest of the mail on the coffee table. Charlie remembered that he had no one to receive mail off. “And no offence, but it’s not his type of name. Last time, he became ‘Ermintrude Florence Hamperbasket IV’. Martin had to impersonate him to get it changed back. Phillip was not happy when he found out.” Charlie opened the envelope, which had his name and the house address written on it in red ink. A photograph fell into his hand.

“What’s this?” he asked no-one in particular, turning it the right way up. “‘David’?”

“Who’s David?” Brendan asked curiously. He paused, “That sounds somewhat familiar…”

“It’s a photo. With the word ‘David’ written on it in the kind of Celtic font,” Charlie told him, ignoring the other comment. He squinted at it, “Hang on. Is that skin underneath?” He looked up, his eyes widening. “It’s a tattoo. Someone sent me a photo of a tattoo.”

Brendan peered at it, “Interesting…” He frowned at the photo, “What’s the other one?”

“What? Oh…” Charlie peeled the photos apart, and they both stared at the photo.

“Strike two for Kenz…” Brendan muttered.