Seventeen

Last night, when Damen finally called (at least I assumed it was him since the display read private), I let it go straight into voice mail. And this morning, while I'm getting ready for school, I delete it without even listening.

"Aren't you at least curious?" Riley asks, spinning around in my desk chair, her slicked-back hair and Matrix costume a shiny black blur.

"No." I glare at the Mickey Mouse sweatshirt still in its bag, then reach for one that he didn't buy me.

"Well; you could've let me listen, so I could give you the gist."

"Double no." I twist my hair into a bun, then stab it with a pencil to hold it in place.

"Well, don't take it out on your hair. I mean, jeez, what'd it ever do to you?" She laughs. But when I don't respond she looks at me and says, "I don't get you. Why are you always so angry?

So you lost him on the freeway, and he forgot to give you his number. Big deal. I mean, when did you get so dang paranoid?"

I shake my head and turn away, knowing she's right. I am angry. And paranoid. And things far worse than that. Just your everyday, garden-variety, easily annoyed, thought-hearing, aura seeing, spirit-sensing freak. But what she doesn't know is that there's more to the story than I'm willing to share.

Like Drina trailing us to Disneyland.

And how Damen always disappears whenever she's near.

I turn back to Riley, shaking my head as I take in her sleek shiny costume. "How long are you going to play Halloween?"

She folds her arms and pouts. "For as long as I want."

And when I see her bottom lip quiver, I feel like the world's biggest grouch.

"Look, I'm sorry," I say, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, wishing my life would just stabilize, find some kind of balance.

"No you're not." She glares at me. "It's so obvious you're not."

"Riley, I am, really. And believe me, I don't want to fight." She shakes her head and gazes up at the ceiling, tapping her foot against the carpeted floor.

"Are you coming?" I head for the door, but she refuses to answer. So I take a deep breath, and say, "Come on, Riley. You know I can't afford to be late. Please make up your mind."

She closes her eyes and shakes her head and when she looks at me again, her eyes have gone red. "I don't have to be here, you know.

I grip the door handle, needing to leave yet knowing I can't, not after she's said that. "What're you talking about?"

"I mean, here! All of this! You and me. Our little visits. I don't have to do this."

I stare at her, my stomach curling, willing her to stop, not wanting to hear any more. I've gotten so used to her presence I never considered the alternative, that there might be someplace else she'd rather be.

"But-but I thought you liked being here?" I say, my throat tight and sore, my voice betraying my panic.

"I do like being here. But, well, maybe it's not the right thing.

Maybe I should be somewhere else! Did you ever think of that?" She's looking at me, her eyes full of anguish and confusion, and even though I'm now officially late for school, there's no way I can leave.

"Riley-I-what exactly do you mean?" I ask, wishing I could rewind this whole morning and start over again.

"Well, Ava says-"

"Ava?" My eyes practically bug out of my head.

"Yeah, you know, the psychic, from the Halloween party? The one who could see me?"

I shake my head and open the door, looking over my shoulder to say, "I hate to break it to you, but Ava's a quack. A phony. A charlatan. A con artist! You shouldn't listen to a word she says. She's crazy!"

But Riley just shrugs, her eyes on mine. "She said some really interesting things."

And her voice bears so much pain and worry, I'll say anything to make it go away. "Listen." I peer down the hall, even though I know Sabine's no longer here.

"I don't want to hear about Ava. I mean, if you want to visit her, even after everything I just told you, then fine, it's not like I can stop you. Just remember that Ava doesn't know us. And she has absolutely no right to judge us or the fact that we like to hang together. It's none of her business.

It's our business." And when I look at her, I see that her eyes are still wide, her lip still quivering, and my heart sinks right to the floor.

"I really need to leave, so are you coming or not?" I whisper.

"Not." She glares.

Since Miles was smart enough not to hang out and wait, I drive to school alone. And even though the bell already rang, Damen is there, waiting next to his car, in the second best spot next to mine.

"Hey," he says, coming around to my side and leaning in for a kiss.

But I just grab my bag and race for the gate.

"I'm sorry I lost you yesterday. I called your cell but you didn't answer." He trails alongside me.

I grab hold of the cold iron bars and shake them as hard as I can. But when they don't even budge, I close my eyes and press my forehead against them, knowing I'm too late, it's useless.

"Did you get my message?"

I let go of the gate and head for the office, envisioning the awful moment when I'll step inside and get nailed for yesterday's ditching and today's tardy.

"What's wrong?" he asks, grabbing hold of my hand and turning my insides to warm molten liquid. "I thought we had fun. I thought you enjoyed it?"

I lean against the low brick wall and sigh. Feeling rubbery, weak, completely defenseless.

"Or were you just humoring me?" He squeezes my hand, his eyes begging me not to be mad.

And just as I start to fold, just when I've almost swallowed his bait, I drop his hand and move away. Wincing as memories of Haven, our phone call, and his strange disappearance on the freeway rush over me like a tidal wave. "Did you know Drina went to Disneyland too?" I say, and the second I say it, I realize how petty I sound. Yet, now that it's out there, I may as well continue. "Is there something I should know? Something you need to tell me?" I press my lips together and brace for the worst.

But he just looks at me, gazing into my eyes as he says, "I'm not interested in Drina. I'm only interested in you."

I stare at the ground, wanting to believe, wishing it were only that easy. But when he takes my hand again, I realize it is that easy, because all of my doubts just slip right away.

"So now's the part when you tell me you feel the same way," he says, gazing at me.

I hesitate, my heartbeat so severe I'm sure he can hear it. But when I pause for too long, the moment flees, and he slips his arm around my waist and leads me back to the gate.

"That's okay." He smiles. "Take your time. There's no rush, no expiration date." He laughs.

"But for now; let's get you to class."

"But we have to go through the office." I stop in my tracks and squint at him. "The gate's locked, remember?"

He shakes his head. "Ever, the gate's not locked."

"Uh, sorry, but I just tried to open it. It's locked," I remind him.

He smiles. "Will you trust me?"

I look at him.

"What's it going to cost you? A few steps? Some additional tardy minutes?"

I glance between the office and him, then I shake my head and follow, all the way back to the gate that is somehow, inexplicably open.

"But I saw it! And you saw it too!" I face him, not understanding how any of this could have happened. "I even shook them, as hard as I could, and they wouldn't budge an inch."

But he just kisses my cheek and ushers me through, laughing as he says, "Go on. And don't worry, Mr. Robins is incapacitated and the sub's in a daze. You'll be fine."

"You're not coming?" I ask, that needy, panicky feeling building inside me again.

But he just shrugs. "I'm emancipated. I do what I want."

"Yeah, but-" I stop, realizing his phone number's not the only thing missing. I barely even know this guy. And I can't help but wonder how he can possibly make me feel so good, so normal, when everything about him is so abnormal. Though it's not until I've turned away that I realize he's yet to explain what happened on the freeway last night.