Neither (The Noctalis Chronicles 3)

“What's her name? I know that look. You met a girl. Or maybe a guy? No judgment here.” She points to herself.

“How did you —” Jamie says.

“I'm not as dumb as I look,” Helena says.

“Did you meet someone?” I ask.

His face goes red — a rare occurrence. “Um, yeah. I did.”

“No way, really?” Tex squeals and claps her hands. “It's about time! Your standards are too freaking high. Who is it?”

“Her name is Brooke. She's not from around here.” That's it?

“Oh no, you don't get off that easy,” Tex says, poking his arm.

“We should get going. We're going to show Helena around town. See you at lunch?” Viktor says.

Peter gracefully makes his exit after giving me a kiss. Viktor says good-bye to Tex, and Helena calls out that she'll see us later.

“Speak. Now,” Tex says, sticking her finger in Jamie's face.

He shrugs and shifts his bag on his shoulder. “I don't know what you want me to say. She was by the side of the road with a broken car and I helped her. We started talking, and I don't know.”

“So that's where you were on Friday. You work fast, Jamie,” Tex says, raising her eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“It's not like that, Tex. She's... I can't really describe her.”

“Well, we have to meet her. Like right now.”

“She's... not here. She's with her family.”

“Did she move here?”

“Sort of. It's really complicated.”

“It doesn't sound good, Jamie,” I say. I'm getting red flags right and left.

“You don't know her,” he says defensively. What is his deal? It's like this girl has him under a spell.

“Can we get to know her? Why don't you invite her to come with us to Miller's? Then we can do it as a group thing.”

“I don't know. She's not really into fried food.”

What kind of girl is she? God, I hope she's not one of those girls who cares about every single calorie she puts in her mouth. Jamie wouldn't fall like this for a girl like that. No way.

“Then she can get a salad,” I say.

“I don't think so,” he says, tugging his ear again. I'm getting another huge red flag. My women's intuition is tingling.

“Why don't you want us to meet her?” I say, touching his arm. It's nearly time for us to go to class, but I don't really care if we're late. This is far more important.

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're going to attack her?” The sarcasm drips from Jamie's voice. Why is he being like this?

“We won't attack her. Tex will be nice, right?” I say, glaring at her. She gives me a wide-eyed innocent look.

“Who, me? I can be nice.”

The bell rings, ending our discussion.

“Look, we'll talk later, okay? We just want to meet the girl that has you looking like you've been hit over the head,” I say, hugging his side. He sighs and puts his arm around me, and I get a strange smell. It's kind of sweet and reminds me of green apples. It's not a human smell. I take another whiff as he lets me go. No, I must have imagined it.

“I'll see you later,” he says, giving me a weird look. I think we need to talk just the two of us. Tex has a tendency to be more demanding than gentle when it comes to information.

“Text me,” I call after him.

“Are you chewing gum?” Tex asks me.

“No, why?”

“Something smells like apples.” She looks around as if a person in an apple costume is going to jump out at us from behind a car and explain the smell.

“Yeah, I smelled that, too. Huh.”

Tex shrugs and starts walking toward school, but I'm not as dismissive of the smell. I'm beginning to understand why Jamie doesn't want us to meet his new girl, and I'm wondering if he knows she's not human. Tex skips inside the building, but I make a detour. I know Peter will be waiting on the other side of the building.

“Is it someone you know?” I say even before I come around the corner. He's alone and looks unconcerned, but that doesn't mean anything. Peter never looks concerned about anything.

“It is someone new. I do not think he is in danger, since she hasn't hurt him. Helena will search. She should not be hard to find. She is new; that is why her smell is so strong.”

“Tell her to be careful.” I feel bad that Peter and Viktor are stuck babysitting Tex and me, but I'm glad they're not going into the unknown. I give him a quick kiss and rush to class.

I'm beyond late for class, and Mr. Galakis gives me the hairy eyeball when I walk in, but quickly puts it behind a mask of a smile. People are staring at me, and it takes a second for me to realize it's because everyone knows about Mom's diagnosis. How could I forget about that? Oh, right the whole Di/Helena thing had kind of put it out of my mind.

I sit down, wishing everyone would keep their eyeballs to themselves.

“Okay, everyone, get started on the problems on the board. When you're done, put your papers up here, take out your books and work on section twelve.” Everyone stops looking at me and a collective groan rolls through the room. The problems swim in front of my eyes. I really wish Peter was here. He'd explain them in a way that makes sense.

Mr. Galakis gets up from his desk and makes a beeline for mine. Oh, crap.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Ava?” Awesome. He has that pity face on. I've seen it before when Mom was first diagnosed, only this time it is magnified, so it is even more pitiful. Ugh.

“I just wanted to say that I heard about your mother, and I'm very sorry. I know you've been having a hard time lately and I wanted you to know that if you need more time, or an extension on you assignments, all you need to do is ask. If you don't feel up to taking the final, we can come up with some sort of project that can stand in for your grade. How does that sound?”

Okay, on the one hand, I don’t want to be treated differently than everyone else. It felt wrong, like a handout. On the other hand, there is no way I am going to be able to study as hard for the final as it would require to get even a decent grade. Decisions, decisions.

“You don't have to decide right now. Think about it and let me know by the end of the week.”

I nod my head and we go back inside. A hiss of whispering ceases. Just what I need. I go back to my desk, and an image of lighting the entire classroom on fire blooms in the back of my mind. I dwell on it for a moment before starting the problems on the board.

It's the same in my next class. My teacher pulls me aside with the pity face and gives me the same spiel. I tell her I'll think about it and smile sweetly. God, I'm going to get out of all my finals. They must have had some sort of meeting about me, because they all say relatively the same thing. By the time lunch rolls around, I'm exhausted and worried and stressed and ready to bite the next person who looks at me like they're sad for me.