“It hurts too much,” I choke out.
“It’s okay, child.” Soren’s voice is soft, pulsing in our language. Her fingers are softer still, caressing my back in a soothing motion.
“I did it, Soren,” I whisper brokenly. “I made it happen.”
“No, my lady,” she says. “You could not have predicted any of this. You did what you thought was best to keep him safe. To keep all of us safe.”
“He should have been with me. In Waterfell. Not here. And not alone.” My words are raw, shattered gasps, clawing their way out of my throat. “He couldn’t have known what bonding would feel like, either. And I pushed him away, ripping us both apart when we should have been together. Thinking it would be better. For both of us. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t.”
Soren turns me around gently to face her, her eyes flashing green fire. “Don’t do this to yourself, Nerissa. It is what it is.” She wipes the tear-rain combination from my face with her thumb. “Lo is seeing the neurosurgeon this week. We’ll know more then on how we can help him.”
“We don’t know that we can help him,” I say in a defeated voice. “His human DNA is doing things that we have no experience with.”
“He’s Aquarathi, too,” Soren says. “Which means his capacity to heal is better than any human’s.”
I meet her eyes, hope blooming softly. “I hope you’re right.”
“See what the doctor says, and we’ll go from there. Come on, let’s get you back to bed. Big day of school tomorrow.”
“Soren, did you talk to Speio? About what I saw on the beach?”
Soren nods, her face grim. “No traces of anything.”
“Was he sure?”
She pulls me close in a warm embrace. “Don’t worry. Echlios will make sure Speio didn’t miss anything. Now, you need to get some rest.”
Despite Soren’s comforting words, I can’t help feeling a sense of dread, like an invisible net is closing in, one that we can’t see or avoid no matter how hard we try. I know what I saw earlier—it was one of Cano’s creatures...watching...and wanting me to see it. Taunting me...Cano’s way of saying I have no idea what’s coming next. And the truth is, none of us do. Not even with Lo. At the end of the day, he’s still a cross-species alien/human hybrid, and anything the neurosurgeon says will be speculation at best.
With a last look at the rapidly clearing skies, I allow Soren to walk me back to my room, where I fall into a fitful sleep.
* * *
“Come on, slowpoke!” Jenna shouts, slamming her locker shut. “English is this way. Forget how to navigate these hallowed halls already?”
I haven’t exactly forgotten, but the sight of Cara all over Lo at the far end of the lockers is already making me sick to my stomach. It’s not so much her flirting that’s getting me...it’s the look on Lo’s face, as if he’s enjoying every minute of it. Which, I remind myself, he’s bound to...he’s a boy.
I remember Jenna’s words from yesterday evening when we’d driven back from the beach. Fight fire with fire.
Of course, it didn’t help that she made me watch Grease for inspiration—girl-next-door tutorial on how to lure the quintessential bad boy—emphatically stating that there’s nothing that black leather pants can’t accomplish. Laughing, I told her she’d have to kill me before getting me anywhere near leather pants. But she has a point. He’s not exactly going to notice me if I’m a mute wallflower.
Smoothing my hair and cringing inwardly, I take a deep breath, lick my lips and strut past them.
“Hey, Lo,” I say in a breathy voice, blushing furiously at how ridiculous I must sound. But obviously he doesn’t think so. Neither does Cara. They both stare at me—him with an appreciative smile, and her, not so much. But I’m not there to win Cara over. I’m there for Lo. “You heading to English?” I ask him, ignoring her scowl. “I wanted to ask you something about Sawyer.”
“Yeah,” Lo says, grabbing his books. “What’s up?”
Elated, I ignore Jenna’s raised eyebrows and congratulatory wink from the rear of the room as we walk into class together. I turn slightly and see Cara trailing behind us, her face a hilarious combination of thunder and puke. Sawyer waves, and Lo plunks down in a vacant seat next to him. I take the spot next to Jenna and stifle a grin as Cara is forced to grab one of the few open seats at the front of the class.
Nerissa, one. Cara, zero.
Mr. Donovan clears his throat and pushes his spectacles up on his nose, smiling widely. “Welcome, class, we have a few new faces this week.” Everyone looks around in unison to check out the “new faces.” So far, it looks like one new girl and a guy who I thought graduated last year. Guess not. Oh, and me, which would explain why everyone’s staring at me as if I have a bull’s-eye tattooed on my forehead. Technically, I’m not new but, well, tell everyone else that. Mr. Donovan continues. “This week, we are going to start with The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde, which is one of my favorite plays.”
Amid the groans from the class, I smile to myself...finally something new that I haven’t read on my own. At least I can drown myself in that if things get rough—nothing like academics to take a girl’s mind off unrequited love. I glance at Lo through my lashes. He’s flipping through the pages of the play, his lower lip caught between his teeth. I can’t help noticing how cute he looks, yet how different. Gone are the rebellious flip-flops from last year, which aren’t part of the Dover Prep uniform, as well as his permanently sand-covered feet. Gone also are the days when he used to cut class just to go surfing. The old Lo would have been horrified to be in class on time or to be caught without an appropriately bored expression on his face. A part of me desperately misses that boy, but I know he’s in there somewhere...somewhere beneath the meticulously neat hair and immaculate uniform.
Mr. Donovan thumps his book on the desk, making me jump, and people swivel to the front of the class. “You are going to work in groups of four or five, and each group will be assigned a specific theme to discuss. As part of your midterm, there will be a debate between each of the groups to prove or disprove the theme you have been assigned. This will count toward half of your final grade in this class, so please take it seriously. The group assignments are as follows.”
The assignments are all alphabetical, so my silver lining is that Cara is an A last name and Lo is an S, but nothing prepares me for the pure venom that comes my way when Lo and I somehow end up in the same group. In this class there aren’t many last names between Marin and Seavon. Jenna is also in our group, as well as two other boys. Sawyer is with Speio, so he doesn’t look too miserable at having to split up from Jenna. The new girl—Rian Thorn—is with them.
Jenna catches my eyes and I can see her lips twitching as she nods at the theme that Donovan has just written up on the blackboard for our group. I almost snort—The Double Life. Someone definitely has a sense of humor, considering that there are two aliens pretending to be human in this group alone. Well, not that Lo knows that he’s alien, but who’s counting?
The rest of the morning passes in a bustle of activity, running from class to class, and getting myself reacquainted with the routine. After American Government, Advanced Math and French class, I trudge toward the cafeteria and toss my books and my food-laden tray down onto an empty table. Jenna, Speio, Sawyer and surprisingly Lo immediately join me. They look exactly how I feel. Wiped.
“Seriously,” I say. “Is senior year supposed to be death in a backpack? It’s only lunchtime, for crying out loud. How’d you guys survive weeks of this already?”
“Dover Prep prides itself on academic preparation for college-bound students,” Jenna intones, mimicking the opening statements on the Dover Prep brochure.
“Guess they didn’t include torture and cruel or unusual