Coveted

by Tara K. Young

  Chapter 24

  I tried to catch up on homework while I waited for Bran to finish his detention but hadn't made much of a dent by the time he found me at the computers in the library. While I should have been focused on Dickens and statistics, I was too busy worrying about what would happen between Bran and Alistair. One of the duels from Michael's stupid Kung Fu DVD flashed in my mind.

  I was both relieved and surprised when Bran showed up looking exactly the same, but the sight of him also brought Alistair's words back to me. Why had I run? As much as I hated it, I needed to use the stone.

  Bran graced me with his crooked smile. "No death pit matches," he said with a chuckle. He knew what I had been thinking.

  "What did he want?" I asked as I removed my USB key from the computer.

  He shrugged. "Just to be a nuisance. He just stared at me with a smug smile the whole time."

  For a threat, Alistair sure was passive.

  I looked at my stack of books. Stone or not, I wouldn't have time for Bran tonight so I did not let him come inside after dropping me off.

  My mother yelled a hello from the kitchen when I got inside. As I set my bag down and hung Bran's jacket on the hook, she said, "You just missed Michael."

  If Michael were still sick, there would be no way he would visit but he was not the type to skip school either. "What did he want?" I asked. I stood still. I didn't want to miss her answer.

  Several pots clanged together before she replied, "Said he had leant you a book and needed it back. I let him check your room. He seemed to have found it. He left right away and said he'd call you later."

  I hadn't borrowed anything from him recently. I kicked off my shoes and ran down the hall to my room. I ripped open the drawer of my night table. I lifted up my pillow and looked under it and inside the case before checking under the bed. Twenty minutes later and all my previous tidying undone, my mother was in the doorway as I continued to search through my room.

  "Usually, people put things into drawers to tidy up," she said.

  "Just looking for something." I was groping the carpet under my dresser for the third time.

  "Well, dinner will be in half an hour. Is Bran joining us tonight?"

  "No, I've got too much homework." I looked around at the mess I had created. "And I have to get this cleaned up too."

  She shook her head as she walked back to the kitchen. "Let me know if you've found any mutated dust bunnies and need a shovel," she called over her shoulder.

  There was no doubt now. Michael had taken the stone. I nipped out to the living room just to grab my phone from my bag.

  Give it back. I texted.

  When there was no immediate response, I slipped on my mother's gardening crocs and walked over his to house. After five minutes of ringing the doorbell and banging on the door with no result, I gave up and trudged home. There was little else I could do but get to cleaning my room. At least it would distract me until I heard from Michael.

  But Michael didn't text back.

  My mother and I sat in silence during dinner, only talking when she asked if I was alright and I claimed I was distracted thinking about schoolwork.

  He still hadn't responded by the time I returned to my room to work on said schoolwork, or when I had given up trying to concentrate on it and threw it in the corner in a huff.

  I awoke the next morning. I looked down at myself, realizing I had fallen asleep in my clothes. In a repeat of my initial ransacking of the day before, I threw my pillow to the floor and pulled the sheets aside, this time searching for my phone. I found it wedged between my mattress and the wall at the head of the bed. I threw it across the room when I saw there were no messages or missed calls.

  I had even more trouble focusing during school that day. It was a nuisance. Michael was still absent and all I wanted was to throttle him for stealing something that so obviously wasn't his. I was barely aware of Alistair's existence and only because the gnawing demanded it was I attentive to Bran's presence.

  Michael was such an unbelievable jerk. He had no right. And what was going on with him anyway? Wasn't I his best friend? Yet he had said nothing to me. He had dumped his girlfriend and stopped coming to school. The teachers seemed unconcerned and didn't ask about him so I had to assume he was getting his mother to call him in as sick. Nothing about this was like Michael.

  I swallowed. Then again, Michael had never been confronted with facts that so thoroughly shattered his worldview before. Maybe he had cracked.

  My worry wasn't strong enough to overcome my anger until after school. As Bran found something for us to watch, I sprinted across the lawn to knock on the door again. There was still no answer. I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted him.

  Are you alive?

  No answer.

  What did you see? I added.

  There was still no answer. I returned my phone to my pocket and walked back to the house. Where was he? My anger was gone. I now had no idea if he was ok.

  "Everything alright?" Bran asked when I came inside. He had already made himself comfortable on the couch, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

  "I don't know. I'm worried about Michael," I said as I slipped off my shoes and walked over to join him on the couch. I flopped down next to him and leaned into his side.

  "I'm sure he'll be back to school soon," he said as he lowered one arm to curve it around my body. "Maria was gone almost a full two weeks."

  I wrapped an arm around his middle and rested my head on his chest. The gnawing shrieked its assent but I couldn't indulge. "I don't think he's sick anymore, but he is missing," I insisted.

  Bran looked down at me. A dimple had formed between his eyebrows. "Why do you think he's missing?"

  "He hasn't answered the door or returned any of my calls or texts. It isn't like him to ignore me. He would at least say something snarky back if he didn't want to talk." I sighed. "It's all because of that stupid stone."

  The crease between his brows deepened. "He touched the stone? What happened?"

  "I don't know. He sort of freaked out and ran off. Aside from telling me he dumped Maria, he hasn't spoken to me since."

  "So he dumped her after he touched it?"

  I nodded. "I guess so."

  He stared at the blank television screen. "I think I should send the guys to look for him," he said. "If it was something that bothered him that much, it couldn't hurt to make sure he's ok."

  Michael had not been the only one affected by the stone. I had not forgotten Bran's haunted look when he had touched it. "What did it show you?"

  His arm around me tightened its hold. I could hear his heartbeat speed up. With his free hand, he lifted my chin. The blue and green spiralled together. Even if I had not shared a long history with him, even if I hadn't know the truth about him, I would have melted just as easily as I did now. Even the gnawing was powerless. He pressed his lips against mine. When I whimpered involuntarily, his chuckle forced him to pull away. He rested his forehead against mine. "To the end of my life," he whispered.

  "Was it that bad?" I asked, refusing to let him distract me.

  "It was the day you were taken from me." His burr was strong. "Never," he whispered. "I can never endure that again."

  And yet he would, if I didn't give him what he wanted. One day, I would grow old and die. I couldn't do that to him. Even if I had to take parts from the dead—I stifled a convulsion—I could not force him to live eternity alone. I would give him what he wanted... someday. I couldn't admit it to him yet but soon I would. I just needed time to digest the reality and accept it for myself.