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“So? What does that mean?”
    â€œIn an otherwise normal adult, it could be meaningless. Statistical deviations from the general population happen all the time. But”—he shuffled his notes to a new page—“your full-body X-ray shows that your growth plates never closed.”
    â€œGrowth plates?”
    â€œThe soft parts at the end of each of our bones that help contribute length to the bones as we grow. In females, the plates usually close after puberty, around age fourteen to seventeen.”
    She shifted on the examining table, her feet twitching with a desire to run, run away as fast as she could. “But I never really hit puberty.”
    â€œRight. The question these results all boil down to is, Why not? You’ve been the same height and weight for years and you’ve never menstruated. We also analyzed your recent radiographic dental scans and compared them with similar tests that Dr. Harrington performed when you went to see him for the growth hormone treatment. When you were fourteen.”
    â€œI remember,” she said. “It did nothing.”
    â€œNo one could have guessed at the truth then, but now enough time has passed so that the results are quite shocking.” Dr. Carlyle looked bewildered, but also strangely hyper. She noticed that his hands were trembling.
    â€œYour teeth,” he went on, “normally change from childhood through adolescence. But yours haven’t changed since you were fourteen.”
    â€œI’m . . . I’m not sure I get it.”
    â€œOne final result,” he said. He leaned back and crossed his legs in an imitation of composure, though his knuckles were white around his pen. “Anthropometric measurements show that your weight, height, and body mass index are less than the second percentile for a typical twenty-year-old woman. So now you see what I’m getting at.”
    â€œNo.” Her fingertips tingled with anxiety. “What?”
    â€œZoe.” He stared at her in open awe. “You stopped aging six years ago. You’re physiologically fourteen years old.”

CHAPTER 4
    New York City
9:25 A.M.
    Z oe didn’t know how much time passed before she spoke again.
    â€œThat’s ridiculous,” she breathed. “I’m twenty.” Though instantly, she knew he was right. She closed her eyes as nausea bloomed in the pit of her stomach, spreading upward.
    I’m still a kid.
    She looked down at her arms and legs, touched her face. Her skin felt cold. She dug her nails into her cheeks to see if they were still hers. Pain bit. She pulled back her hands in surprise, staring at her rounded nails. Child-sized nails. Finally she looked up at Dr. Carlyle, speechless. He reached for her hand, pressing it between his own. The unexpected kindness hastened fresh tears. She clutched him like a lifeline, letting go of all propriety. He squeezed back.
    â€œBut how?” she managed to choke out. “Why?”
    â€œWe just don’t know. My hypothesis is that it might stem from a disruption of the master regulator gene, which no one’s identified yet, but which is thought to exist.”
    â€œWhat?” It was hard to comprehend anything outside of her shock.
    â€œIt’s an idea that was first proposed in 1932 by a British marine biologist, who proposed that there’s a master gene that guides organisms through development, aging, and eventually death. But if this gene were disrupted, a chain reaction would occur throughout the body—which could explain your failed growth and seizures. Needless to say, this is only a guess. It merits much closer study, of course.”
    An astonishing thought swept through her with such force that she sagged against the wall. “Wait, am I not about to die?”
    â€œI was just getting to that.” A smile crept onto his lips. “I see no evidence that your body is breaking down. In fact, quite the opposite. Your heart,