“There’s something on your mind,” Temper muses.
I look at Spencer. His handsome face is marred by a sullen, brutish scowl, as though he’s had his toys confiscated. I drop my voice to a whisper. “Look, let’s not mince words, OK? I know you’re gifted, and that’s not a problem for me. My problems are your interest in Rakwena, and your boy’s relationship with Kelly.”
Spencer lets out a choked laugh of incredulity. “And who the hell do you think you are to tell me what to do?” The outburst makes the others flinch.
“Man, chill,” whispers Rapunzel, who is sitting on Spencer’s left.
“No, she has no right to come over here and start throwing her weight around!” His gaze is so venomous I take a step back and hold up my hands to ward him off.
“Hey, I’m just worried about Kelly.”
“You don’t even like Kelly,” he spits out. How the hell does he know that?
“That’s enough.” Temper glares at Spencer.
But it’s too late. I’ve seen enough to make me certain that Spencer is a ticking bomb, and if he stays with Kelly he’s going to decimate her. I turn to Temper. “I don’t know what your story is yet, but I’ll find out. In the meantime, I suggest you keep this guy away from ungifted girls before somebody gets hurt. Is that clear?” I turn back to Spencer, who’s snarling at me. “Stay away from Kelly. I’ve gone up against bigger fish than you, so don’t think your little temper tantrums scare me.”
He leaps to his feet. Suddenly he doesn’t look so handsome anymore. “Back off, bitch!”
Whoa! My jaw drops. I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before. What follows happens so smoothly it almost seems rehearsed. Rapunzel and Elias get to their feet in one fluid motion, and march Spencer out of the restaurant. Simultaneously Duma and the remaining twin pack up what’s left of the food, sweeping it into bags so fast their hands seem to blur, then follow the others.
In seconds the table is clear, the curious onlookers from other tables have returned to their conversations and Temper is the only Cresta Crew member left.
“What the hell was that?” I demand. “Spencer clearly has issues and has no business dating anyone, let alone an ungifted!”
“You’ve made your point,” Temper growls. Ah. His patience has reached its limit. He gets to his feet and walks away.
Because I have absolutely no instinct for self-preservation, I follow. “Hey! What happened just now? And you still haven’t told me why you were staring at my boyfriend. You owe me an explanation!”
“I owe you nothing.” He whirls around to face me. He’s so big I have to crane my neck to look into his eyes.
I gulp, and my words vanish. “I…uh…just…Kelly…” I take a deep breath. “Spencer’s dangerous.”
“Not as dangerous as me,” he whispers, and turns away, leaving me standing on wobbly legs.
I wait till he’s out of sight before walking to Rakwena’s car. My head is swimming. I don’t know why Spencer erupted the way he did, but there is nothing more dangerous than a gifted without self-control. What happens if he loses his temper with Kelly and hurts her? Hell, even without gifts that boy is scary, and I get the feeling Temper knows this. Why is he allowing Spencer to keep seeing Kelly? He’s clearly the leader of the group – he should stop it.
When I reach the car, I quickly realise I have another problem on my hands. Rakwena is sitting in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel. His head is bowed and blue sparks are crackling on his knuckles. He looks like he’s in pain.
“Rakwena?” I climb into the passenger seat and put my hands over his. “Ow! You’re burning up!”
He raises his head and grimaces. “It’s just a headache. It happens sometimes, when my girlfriend won’t listen to reason.” He shakes off my hands and starts the engine.
I roll my eyes, annoyed. “Are we still having this argument? I’m fine, as you can see. They didn’t kill me. Not for lack of trying,” I add wryly.
“What?” He stares at me in horror.
I reach over to buckle my seatbelt. “I told Spencer to leave Kelly alone and he lost it. Called me a bitch. Can you believe that? Then they all got up and left. Didn’t want to make a scene, I guess. But now I know for sure they’re gifted, and that Spencer is trouble. I have to find out more.”
The car jerks forward. “Damn it, Connie!”
“Sorry, but I’m not dropping this.”
He doesn’t say another word, but his jaw is still twitching and his knuckles still give off the occasional spark. I glance out of the window, and my heart stops. The Cresta Crew are standing in front of a white family minivan, watching us. Even when we’re out of sight, I get the feeling they’re still watching through a different set of eyes. Eyes that see things that I can’t. Eyes that see around corners, through walls…across borders. Eyes that led them here, to us.
It’s a crazy thought, and I don’t know where it came from. Those boys didn’t come here for me or Rakwena – why would they? I try to focus on the road, on keeping an eye on Rakwena’s fading sparks, but thoughts are resilient. Once the seed is planted, it just sits there quietly in the dark and grows.
The weekend sneaks up on me. I’m surprised how quickly time has passed. I’ve barely seen my father all week, and my grandfather is still away. I spend Friday afternoon watching Lebz blow her father’s money on make-up and magazines.
“I need help,” I announce.
“Man trouble?” She wriggles her eyebrows suggestively.
“Yes. But not the man you’re thinking of. Dad and Ntatemogolo.”
“Oh.” Her disappointment is palpable. I almost laugh; I’ve deprived her of the joy of giving me relationship advice. “I thought we agreed that a peace treaty is impossible.”
“I don’t need them to make peace.” I pick up a jar of body butter and sniff it. “I just need them to work together on the Salinger project.”
“Isn’t your dad getting a research assistant?” Lebz tosses several bottles of nail polish into her rapidly filling shopping basket.
“Yes, but he’s supposed to work with an expert. He’ll end up getting someone else, and that would be a wasted opportunity. Don’t you see? This is the hand of fate at work – a perfect chance for them to finally learn to work together!”
Lebz looks dubious. “How are you going to get them to do it?”
“That’s where the help comes in,” I sigh.
“Oh, I have an idea!” she cries suddenly. “Pretend you’re going to live with Rakwena if they don’t make peace. Rita got Papa to let her go to Jamaica by threatening to move out. She cried, said he’s never home, and accused him of loving me more.”
I’m not surprised by her big sister’s antics – when people use the term “capable of anything” they mean Rita. “And how does a trip to Jamaica prove that he loves her?”
Lebz shrugs. “You know Rita – she could convince a pastor to rob a bank.”
I shake my head, grateful to be an only child. “Well, I’m not stooping to emotional blackmail. Besides, Dad would never buy it. Me, moving in with a boy?”
Lebz