I turned the wheel and stepped on the gas, backtracking around the looping, narrow path and ignoring all the ten mile per hour signs. The main road was just up ahead.
My body was shaking with a cold sweat by the time my little white car passed through the gate. Instantly, I was jolted back to the one dream I wanted to forget—my dream visit in the cemetery. Everyone had left Claire’s funeral, but I wasn’t alone. There had been an enormous creepy raven hovering nearby.
Suddenly I felt eyes watching me from behind, I stepped on the gas and without looking back tore through the streets of Hopewell until I reached home.
I opened the back door to a dark and empty house and flicked on the kitchen light. A note from my mom was waiting on the counter.
Out with Nate. Food in fridge. Love, Mom Good, I thought to myself. At least I didn’t have to explain my shaky emotional state. I was such a wreck she was sure to think I robbed a bank or was doing drugs or something. I tried to calm myself, replaying what had happened. I freaked out at a pile of leaves in a cemetery. That’s all they were. Just leaves. I kept telling myself that and tried to settle my nerves.
I wasn’t hungry, but instead, felt a little crampy. I checked the calendar. Yeesh. Twenty-eight days already? I headed up for a nice warm shower to ease the lingering chill, flicking on every light switch along the way.
The warm water streamed down my skin but I was still shivering. If the shower had been any hotter my skin would have burned. I leaned my forehead against the tiled wall, feeling the water soak my hair and trickle down my nose where it plunked to my feet. It didn’t help. I turned the water off and wrapped myself in a soft towel.
Plodding to my room, I got into my pajamas and sat on the end of my bed, feeling both tense and strangely empty.
The after effects of Hadrian should be long gone by now. In fact, most of the kids in school were acting completely normal. The ones who had suddenly looked empty, showing that their guardians had been taken, were fine now. I remembered the way the air would grow chilly whenever their guardians were ripped away. That wasn’t happening now. Things seemed back to normal. Well, except for Brynn. But maybe she never even had a guardian.
I thought of Garreth.
No, things weren’t normal.
Things sucked.
I flopped back on my bed, my wet red hair falling in chunky tangles, as I hadn’t bothered to comb it. I curled up tightly on my side, pulling my quilt up to cover my legs. I felt cold and sick and empty.
Was it possible this was all my fault? Did he stay here too long? Long enough to make him act and feel like a real human? Maybe this was a really bad side effect of being earthbound. But isn’t that what I wanted for him when I watched him follow Derek down the hall? This must be why he’s mad at me. I caused this.
I tucked the quilt beneath my head. My covers were getting wet from my hair, making me cold all over again. I tried to stay focused on Garreth, but other thoughts wormed their way in. I needed to figure this out, not only to help him but also to keep myself from losing my mind. But my mind strayed to places it didn’t belong.
Sleep was coming for me. I was floating in myself as the fear I felt inside seeped away. I thought of black feathers and wings …
I willed Garreth’s face to appear in my mind, but his face changed to another … one with dark hair, pale skin, green eyes …
I felt a crushing sensation in my chest.
And I felt miserably guilty.
Chapter Eleven
“Wake up, Teagan. School,” my mother called from the hallway.
Without Garreth, I was totally unprepared for her morning knock at my door. I refused to start the day feeling empty, so I refocused. Stretching my arms and legs as far as they would allow, I remembered it was Wednesday and in two days I would be sitting down to dinner with Brynn and Nate.
Hmmm. Maybe Ryan’s right. Maybe there is a way to find out what she’s up to.
“I’m up,” I answered back, hearing my mom close the bathroom door.
Surprisingly, I had slept fairly well. I didn’t ache so much and no longer felt chilled. I lifted my hand to the top of my head and felt the chaos. I had forgotten about my hair and would have to spend extra time this morning trying to tame it.
I sat up and looked around. My room was the same as always. I wasn’t expecting any company this morning so I flipped the covers back, ready to swing my legs over the side of my bed.
Then I saw it. It had been next to me all night, under my covers.
I picked it up and looked around, but there was nothing, not even in the corners where the shadows fell silently.
I took the feather between my fingers. It was so long that the ends brushed my lips. I closed my eyes, thinking of him. Then, I took the sharp end of the quill and very lightly, pricked the inside of my arm. I opened my eyes to see a dot of red expand from the tiny puncture and swell like a crimson bead on my skin.
I drew a shaky breath into my throat.
If I closed my eyes again, I would see it, the picture of us. The one that refused to go away.
… his wings beating wildly, lifting us up off the stone floor of the chamber … the loose quills piercing the tender flesh of my arms as he held me close to him and then the delicious sensation of his lips pressed against my skin, kissing away the pain …
Quickly, I grabbed a tissue from my nightstand and dabbed my arm, holding it down a few seconds to stop the bleeding. I looked around, feeling paranoid.
I don’t believe I just did that.
One-handedly, I made my bed the best I could, tucking the feather into the underside of my pillowcase. In a flash I got dressed, spritzed the unruly mop on my head with the water bottle I kept on my dresser and bounded down the steps, remembering to eat breakfast. For some reason, I couldn’t help the smile from creeping onto my face. I tried to put a finger on my feelings. Was I happy? I was still nervous. I mean, a feather managed to get stuck underneath my pillow sometime during the night. How normal was that? But I felt safer now, to a degree.
Even if the feather was black.
And the feeling stayed with me all the way to school. My classes came and went without incident. Nothing fell out of my locker except the usual calculus book, which I kicked every time it jumped out at me. I saw Ryan before homeroom and then again before lunch and both times he appeared apprehensive. He probably thought that overnight, rationality had permeated my senses, making me realize that I really did hate him. Even with my reassurance, he didn’t seem too convinced.
It didn’t help that by the end of the day, my cramps were killing me and I was positive Ryan thought my sudden withdrawal had something to do with him. How do you explain cramps to a guy? I knew the answer to that one. You don’t. Instead, I made my way to the third floor bathroom.
I was just about to grab my purse from the metal hook on the last stall door when a small group of girls strolled in. I recognized their voices immediately. Peeking through the little, narrow opening by the door, I had a sideways view of Sage and Lauren. They were at the mirror, primping, obviously in love with themselves. Emily was leaning down, and from what I could tell, she was rolling a miniature lint roller up and down her expensive black tights. I realized then that Brynn was not with them and I strained my vision, pressing my face right up to the door in case she was further away out of range. Not only were they without Brynn, but the absent leader of their hateful little group was also the topic of their discussion.
“What is her obsession with that girl?” Lauren’s squeaky voice filled the tiled room.
“Beats me.”
It was Sage who answered her, her gold bracelets jingled as she held her arm up, looking for signs of white beneath her brown, toned arms.
Who would wear a tank top in fall?
As I eavesdropped, it amazed me how superficial their group really was. Not that I thought any of them held any depth or consideration, but it dawned on me how tactless they truly were. To each other. They were bashing Brynn as
if she were an outsider, which shocked me. I thought their type stuck together. But as they recounted Brynn’s personal business, I realized they were also talking about me.
Emily chimed in then, tucking her trusty little lint roller back into her bag, “I know, all she does is talk about how she’s going to ruin the girl’s life. I mean, come on! Why bother!”
“Hello? Her dad is dating her mother. That practically makes them sisters.”
“Eew.”
I pressed my ear to the opening but they were walking further away from the mirror.
“Well, whatever she’s planning to do, I hope she gets on with it. She’s acting weird.”
“Yeah, I like wearing black and all, but … save it for the runway.” Lauren let her sentence trail off as soon as the lip gloss applicator touched her already perfect mouth. “What’s with that book she keeps looking for? The one in her dad’s library?”
“Who cares! I say this Friday we go to that party without her. I mean, she’s got some little dinner to go to anyway, doesn’t she?” Sage was clearly annoyed. “I’m not ruining another good party at Marc Slater’s just so Brynn can play scavenger hunt through her dad’s dusty old medical books. I heard Marc found his dad’s stash of rum!”
“You’re right, but do you think he put her up to it?” Lauren asked as they filed out.
Just like that, they were gone and I was left alone in the bathroom shaking.
Black? Raiding her dad’s office? What was Brynn getting into?
I didn’t like the sound of this and obviously her friends were getting bored of Brynn’s idea of weekend fun. Luckily, they were all too shallow to read into what this could really be about. Something was not right with this. I knew Brynn hated me but after Ryan’s warning that she was still after me, and the revelation that it was supposed to be me on the roof at the rave last year instead of Claire …
If ever there was a time I needed Garreth to calm my nerves, it was now. But he was absent in more ways than one. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the florescent glow of the bathroom. I splashed some cold water on my face, dried it with a paper towel, and walked quickly to my locker, grabbing everything I would need. The walk to my car took longer than usual. Each step felt like a step backwards as I thought of the impending weekend.
As soon as I got home, I was promptly shuffled from my car into my mother’s Honda. Together we drove to the store for pizza supplies for Friday night.
I followed her around, aimlessly pushing the metal cart like an eight year-old. When you’re eight it is a big deal to push the cart up and down the aisles.
It isn’t when you’re eighteen and a senior and the little gray-haired ladies still smile at you as if you’re the biggest help in the world.
My mind wandered, as usual, and I tried to steer it towards matters of importance—like the calculus homework I had to tackle or what conditioner to buy so my hair never looked the way it did today again. Ever. Then the inevitable happened and my mother dropped a series of bombs. As hard as it was to swallow, the first one was expected. In fact, I expected it yesterday, but I guess she was just trying to be nice.
We were in the frozen food aisle when she asked, “So how is Garreth doing? He hasn’t been around lately?”
“He’s just not feeling himself,” I said quietly. It wasn’t a lie. Our last conversation, the one I’d been avoiding, played through my head. He definitely didn’t act or sound like himself.
“Hmm. That’s too bad. Let’s stop over at the spice aisle. Brynn came up with the idea of having a topping bar! How brilliant is that?”
I rolled my eyes.
The next ten minutes were taken up by intense decision making. Parmesan or parmesan-romano? Crushed peppers or creole powder? Garlic powder? Garlic salt? Garlic flakes? By the time my mom made the earth-shattering choice of what we were all going to shake onto our pizza, I had spaced so severely that I may have even drooled on myself.
Thankfully, the toppings were the last thing on the list. As we were checking out, Mom asked if I wanted a magazine or a candy bar, just like she used to when I was little. After picking out a pack of gum, I noticed she looked a little antsy all of a sudden, like she couldn’t wait to leave. Well, geez, she could’ve felt that way back in the spice aisle.
After paying we walked to the car and she carefully placed the bags in the trunk. I realized that she wasn’t being cautious for the groceries’ sake but for mine as she turned to me and half-whispered “Nate’s asked us to move in with them.”
I stood staring at her like an idiot, unable to move. Really.
“Honey? Well, what do you think?” she was giving me one of her strained smiles. The kind where it’s sort of painted on her face and overly cheerful.
But it was starting to crack from the tension.
Without a word I turned, opened the passenger door and got inside, shutting the door on the mess that had just exploded in my face. I didn’t have to look out the window to know that my mom was still standing there, dumbfounded. I could visualize her biting the inside of her cheek, the crease forming deeply on her forehead. I heard her mutter “alrighty then,” and then she got in on her side and we drove home in complete, uncomfortable silence.
Chapter Twelve
Silently, we unloaded the groceries and then went our separate ways for the rest of the night. Guilt consumed me as I tried to focus on equations and found myself padding inconspicuously into her bedroom, waiting by the doorframe for her to notice and invite me in.
She looked tired as she peered over the top of the novel she was reading. Again, the guilt pangs hit me hard as I realized something. Our disagreements seemed to wear on her, but when she was with Dr. Dean she looked years younger. When she talked about Dr. Dean she gushed like a teenager, going on and on like a first crush, stopping only when my ears rang painfully and I couldn’t take it anymore.
I shook my head and stepped into her room. She patted the covers next to her and I quietly climbed in beside her, curling up on my side.
“Homework done?”
“No,” I answered, letting that subject drop. I took a deep breath then asked, “Do you really love him?”
She slid her finger between the pages she was reading and let the book rest on her chest. “Can you believe it? I really do.”
“Why?”
She looked away thoughtfully, then sighed and her gaze rested back on me.
“For a long time I’ve been the happiest person in the world,” she smiled.
I was confused. I thought living with me was difficult, but then remembered it’s only been that way recently. “You are my life, Teagan. Losing your father was hard, but it was you who helped me through it. You do realize you saved me? If I didn’t have you, who knows what kind of person I would be right now.”
This wasn’t the first time I had heard this story. How the responsibility of taking care of me had kept her grounded. I was also her one last link to my father. Wasn’t it painful that I reminded her of him? I knew she loved me, but I still couldn’t help feeling guilty. Now I understood my need to reverse the roles … why I wanted to take care of her. I’ve been feeling responsible for her well being all along.
“But … sorry, that doesn’t really answer my question.”
She cupped her hand beneath my chin and looked at me thoughtfully.
“When I met Nate in the hospital with you, I was so grateful to him … but there was something else there. A connection. I know it sounds silly.”
“No it doesn’t, go on,” I urged.
For a fleeting moment I felt like we were two girlfriends, having a sleepover and gossiping about guys.
“When I looked at him to take his card,” she blushed. “I was reminded of how it felt when I met your dad. He makes me feel like me again, and she’s someone I’ve missed for a very long time.”
I smiled up at her. How could I take this away from her? She was so happy with him.
“He’s a good guy, Teagan. He doesn’t hav
e to be your father. Just give him a chance to be your friend.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain, Mom. I know he makes you happy. It’s just …” I let out a huge sigh. “You know Brynn and I don’t exactly get along, so she gets in the way of my getting to know him better.”
“She’s no cup of tea, that’s for sure. Even Nate has issues with her.”
“Are we moving in with them?” I buried my head beneath her arm, afraid of the answer.
“I’d love to, but no, I’m not going to ask you to move.”
“But … then why?” I stammered, bringing my head up to look at her.
“I was just trying to have a heart-to-heart conversation with you, sweetie. Don’t you realize that I’ve missed the way we used to talk to each other?”
I nodded sheepishly, “I miss it too.”
“Do you know how long it would take to list this house and pack all our junk up? This house probably wouldn’t even budge on the market until after your graduation.”
I giggled nervously, realizing my overreaction.
“Did you think we were going to move in this weekend?” she asked.
“If we ever do move in with them, just put me on the opposite side of the house. Better yet, a different floor.”
“She can’t be all that bad.” She smiled, shaking her head.
“Don’t even go there, Mom. She’s evil.”
“Nate thinks it’s the friends she hangs out with, that they’re a bad influence. He’s sort of an expert on all that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, curling up under the covers.
“Oh, he’s a brilliant man. He has all sorts of theories and ideas on humanity and ethics. Why people are the way they are. It’s amazing he chose the medical field. He could have easily gone into philosophy or history. You know, he even has a theory about that funny scar on your hand.”
My ears perked up the moment the words came to her lips and I clutched my right hand tightly beneath the covers. Only a few, select people knew the truth about my scar. It was pure luck that the fire in the woods burned my hand, camouflaging my mark.
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