Mirage (9 page)

Over the summer I’d asked her point-blank if her parents might be right, if she might be suffering from anorexia or bulimia. Because frankly I’d been worried; I’d never seen her that thin before. She’d sworn to me that she was fine, that she’d been eating, just watching her calories a bit more than usual. I wanted to believe her, to think that we were close enough that she’d tell me if something serious was going on.

Then again, look at all the secrets
I
was keeping from
her
.

“A dietician?” I asked.

“Yeah, I have to keep a food diary, and I’m doing weekly weigh-ins. It totally sucks.”

“But they’re letting you stay at Performing Arts,” I reminded her. “That’s better than the alternative, right?”

“Yeah, but I swear they want me to get fat and give up dancing. God forbid I do anything artistic. I should go to law school, like they did, and spend my days cooped up in a stuffy office.” I could hear the frustration in her voice. “Anyway, when are you coming back down here?”

“Thanksgiving, probably.”

“Seriously? That’s forever away.” She sighed dramatically. “So, how are things going with Aidan? Everything still all rainbows and butterflies?”

“Pretty much.” I couldn’t help but smile. “But make that Technicolor rainbows and ginormous, sparkly butterflies.”

“Wow. I cannot
wait
to meet this guy. Hey, bring him for Thanksgiving!”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not sure how Gran would feel about that.” Or worse, Lupe. I could just imagine her barring the front door as she tried to ward him off with garlic and a crucifix.

Instinctively, I reached down for the delicate silver cross I wore on a chain around my neck—a gift from Lupe last fall.

“Speaking of your gran, I went by and saw her yesterday.”

My heart swelled with gratitude. “Really? That was so nice of you!”

“No problem—you know I love her. She seemed stronger. Better. And I really like Melanie.”

“Me too. I hope it works out.” I looked up as the door swung open and Cece came bounding in.

“Hey,” she called out.

“Hey,” I called back. “I’ll be off in a sec.”

“Is that your roommate?” Whitney asked.

“Yeah, it’s almost time for dinner.”

“I should let you go, then,” Whitney said.

“I guess.” I turned toward the window, watching dark clouds move across the sky. “I’m glad you called, though. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” She sounded like she was going to cry.

“Hey, Whit … just promise me you’re eating, okay?”

“I
am
eating. Do you really think I’d lie to you?”

Something in my gut told me that she would—and that she was. “Of course not,” I said, despite my misgivings. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yep. Bye!”

My heart suddenly heavy, I touched the screen to end the call.

“Uh-oh, I spy a sad face.” Cece sat down across from me.

I set aside my phone with a shrug. “I just hope she’s okay.”

“Me too,” Cece said, and I knew she meant it, even though she’d never even met Whitney. “Hey, I told Sophie I’d go to the school store with her after dinner. Want to come? Maybe some retail therapy will cheer you up.”

“Sure, why not?” I smoothed out the quilt on my bed, trailing my fingers across the colorful squares that Lupe had so lovingly crafted. “Marissa told me they’ve got a new boutique section.”

“Yeah, really nice stuff. Expensive, but nice.”

“Well, Patsy felt so guilty about not being able to spend any time with me before school started that she dumped a small fortune into my school account. Might as well start spending it, right?”

Cece laughed. “Yeah, you gotta love parental guilt. Hey, how was fencing practice? Seems like you were gone all afternoon.”

“It was long, and I sucked. I was so distracted thinking about this whole Blackwell thing. I still don’t get it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us do. Have you had a chance to talk to Aidan, see what he thinks?”

I shrugged. “Not really. I was at practice all day, and he’s going to be working in the lab again tonight on that thing with Dr. Byrne. Sounds like it was going well last night, but he had to stop early and go deal with Jenna.”

“Hey, at least now you know what they’re doing out in the woods together, right? Anyway, back to practice—any new Tyler deets to share?”

“Not really. He was just his usual annoying, overconfident self. I think maybe it’s just an act or something. No one can be that arrogant.”

“I like guys with a bit of swagger,” Cece said with a smirk. “Todd had no swagger.”

I shook my head. “Poor Todd.”

She waved one hand. “He’ll survive.”

“Stone cold,” I teased.

“Whatever.” Cece was literally bouncing on the bed. “Any idea if Tyler’s got a girlfriend? Back at Summerhaven or something?”

“I have no idea—seriously, we don’t talk about stuff like that. Our conversation mostly consists of him telling me how awesome he is just before I kick his butt.”

Cece stood and walked over to the room’s little sitting area. “Well, if he ever needs anyone to soothe his wounded ego, feel free to offer my services.”

“Will do,” I said with a laugh. “Hey, you got any more of those peanut-butter cookies?” Cece’s mom had dropped her off at school with a Tupperware tub full of homemade cookies, and I’d been craving one all day.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she chastised, laying a hand protectively over the tub’s lid. “Dinner’s in fifteen minutes.”

I stood, reaching for my shoes. “Well, it better be something good, because I’m starved.”

I slid into a desk in the second row, Aidan beside me. I’d made it to fifth period, my last academic class of the day. All I had left was sixth-period fencing.

I glanced over at Aidan and smiled, watching as he slapped a notebook down on his desk and uncapped his pen. It had been a pretty good day so far. First-period calculus had been far less painful than I’d anticipated, especially with Aidan on one side of me and Sophie on the other. Second-period English seemed promising, and Sophie shared that class with me too. Cece and I had third-period French together, and then after lunch I met back up with Aidan for fourth-period British history followed by art history. All in all, it was a pretty good schedule.

I looked up as Joshua entered the classroom, smiling as he made his way toward the empty seat beside Aidan. Joshua and Aidan seemed to have developed a particularly tight bond since last year—probably because Aidan had been responsible for making idiots like Scott Jackson leave the shape-shifters alone, once and for all. We’d passed Scott in the courtyard on our way to fourth period, and he’d given us a
wide
berth. Last fall he’d seen Aidan’s red-rimmed eyes and elongated canine teeth, and then peed his pants in fright. No
way
would he want that last bit to get out. Nope, he hadn’t picked on a shape-shifter since.

“Is this seat taken?” someone asked, startling me.

I looked up as Tyler dropped his bag to the floor and slid into the seat on my right without waiting for my reply.

I shook my head. “It is now.”

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, you don’t exactly strike me as the art history type.”

“No?” he asked. “Interesting.”

By now Aidan was sitting forward in his seat, watching the exchange with obvious interest. “I’m Aidan Gray,” he interjected, leaning toward me and draping one arm across my shoulders. “You must be the new guy. Tyler, right?”

Tyler looked at Aidan curiously, clearly taking note of the possessive gesture, which was totally un-Aidan-like. “Uh, yeah,” he drawled. “I see you two know each other. Hmm, you never mentioned a boyfriend.”

I narrowed my eyes at him—what, did he think he was going to get me in trouble or something? “That’s because it never came up.”

“Now, I find
that
interesting,” Aidan said.

What was this, some sort of male pissing contest? Luckily, the teacher strode in just then, interrupting all the fun.

“And here I was worried about Byrne,” Aidan whispered. He dropped his arm and leaned back into his chair, his gaze focused on the teacher who was settling his things on the desk at the front of the room.

He’s on the fencing team with me,
I answered in my head as the teacher scrawled the name “Dr. Charles Michael Andrulis” across the blackboard. I noticed that he wore a pair of thin tan gloves, which I knew by now meant that he was probably some form of clairsentient, able to sense information psychically through touch. “Psychometry,” some called it. I wondered briefly if the gloves were to protect himself from information overload or to protect us from his psychic invasion as he handled things we’d touched. Maybe both.

“Don’t let these put you off,” he called out, almost as if he could read my thoughts. He held up his hands, palms facing out. “I just prefer a barrier between myself and your teenage angst. Not that I don’t appreciate a little romance.” He laughed, and the class joined in. I glanced over at Aidan, but his gaze was fixed on Tyler, who was drumming a pencil on his desk, a scowl on his face as he stared straight ahead.

“But occasionally my gift comes in handy,” the teacher continued, mercifully oblivious to our little drama in the second row. “What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on the
Mona Lisa
. Literally,” he added wistfully. “Perhaps someday. Anyway …” He trailed off, reaching for a piece of paper on his desk. “Let me start with attendance. Then we’ll talk about art.”

Fifty minutes later the bells began to peal, signaling the end of the period. I closed my notebook and stuffed it in my backpack, trying to ignore the tension I felt crackling between the guys on either side of me. Did Aidan really feel threatened by Tyler, or was it all just posturing? Either way, it seemed pretty stupid.

“So, fencing’s next period,” Tyler said, rising to stand beside my desk. He tipped his head toward Aidan. “Does he mind if you and I walk over together?”

“Do you mind if I walk with you two?” Aidan countered. “I’ve got sixth period free.”

I stood, then immediately reached for Aidan as my vision began to tunnel.
Oh no …

“What’s wrong with her?” I heard Tyler ask, just before Aidan’s arms came around me, holding me tight as the vision took over my consciousness.

“That’s it,” Cece cried, tears coursing down her cheeks. “I’m out, Violet.” She was tossing things into a suitcase as I sat there helplessly.

“What do you mean, out?” I asked. My hair was shorter, just barely brushing my shoulders.

“Expelled,” Cece answered. “God, my parents are going to kill me!”

“It’s my fault,” I said. “All because I sent you snooping for clues.”

I blinked hard, my vision swimming back to normal, the hum in my ears receding. I hadn’t seen enough; I hadn’t had time to search for any sort of clues. Cece expelled? It didn’t make any sense. She was a good student, a model student. What could she possibly do to get expelled—and what part would I play in it?

“How bad?” Aidan murmured, his lips against my hair.

I let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve seen much worse.” No one had been physically harmed, at least.

“What just happened?” Tyler asked, his voice laced with concern. “Did you have a seizure or something?”

If only it were that simple.

I stepped away from Aidan. “A vision, Tyler. My gift, remember?”

I quickly replayed the vision in my mind. I’d seen my hair short like that once before, but the memory was just out of reach.

“You okay to go to fencing?” Tyler asked, taking a step toward me. “Or should I tell Coach you’re sick or something?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” At least, I
would
be fine. “I’m coming, just give me a sec.”

Aidan was openly glaring at Tyler now. “Why don’t you give her some space,” he said.

Can you please stop that?
I snapped silently.

Aidan’s gaze shot toward mine.
Stop what?

I shook my head.
This whole weird possessive thing you’re doing. Tyler’s not … he’s just being nice.

Aidan’s eyebrows arched knowingly.
That’s what
you
think.

“… going to be late if we don’t get moving,” Tyler was saying, glancing down at his watch.

I just nodded.

“I’ll let you two get going, then,” Aidan said, his voice maddeningly polite.

With that, he turned and walked away from us. I stood there silently, watching his back as he slipped down the aisle and disappeared through the door without a backward glance.

Tyler’s smirk was unmistakable as he stood there beside me watching Aidan’s exit.

“After you,” he said at last with a sweeping gesture toward the door. Without a word, I set off, Tyler falling into step beside me.

It was only later, as we made our way across the courtyard en route to the gym, that the memory I’d been trying to grasp earlier drifted effortlessly into my consciousness.

I’d had a vision last year—a vision of myself lying in an unfamiliar, antique-looking bed. Aidan had been there in the bed with me, gazing down at me with bloodlust in his eyes. I had looked slightly different—my hair had been shorter, barely brushing my shoulders.

Exactly
like it was in the vision I’d just had.

8 ~ This Kiss

G
ot any plans for later?” Tyler asked, sprawled beside me on the piste. Around us, the rest of the team were packing up their gear, heading out to make the most of what was left of the afternoon. I was too tired to do anything but lie there, staring up at the ceiling.

“What, you mean tonight?” I swiped the back of one hand across my sweaty forehead. The air was hot and damp, like a sauna. Not for the first time, I wished the long row of floor-to-ceiling windows lining the far wall opened, allowing in fresh air. The studio was stuffy, and it smelled like stale sweat and dust—not particularly a pleasant combination, but a familiar one.