“Really?” Ashley beamed bright enough to turn her skin from orange to yellow.
“Really, really.”
The warning bell chimed overhead, and Ashley managed a squeaky, “Okay,” before waving good-bye and rushing toward the freshman wing.
“That was nice of you,” Aelyx said from behind after Ashley had left.
Cara shrugged and popped open her locker. “I admire her guts. Not even my best friend wants to stand up for—” She cut off abruptly as a folded sheet of paper sailed out and drifted to her feet.
She tried hiding it from Aelyx, but he nudged her aside and scooped it off the floor. When he unfolded the sheet, she rested her hand on his forearm and peered around his shoulder. A message penned in meticulously formed capital letters warned, THE COP CAN’T ALWAYS BE THERE TO WATCH YOU. BUT I CAN. —HUMANIST
Humanist? The name sounded familiar. Wasn’t that the blog troll who’d ranted about weapons and called her a bitch a few weeks ago?
Cara’s mind flashed to the figure in the woods. What were the odds that this note was from the same person? Slim-to-none. But something about the handwriting bothered her, the way each letter imprinted into the paper. The writer had pressed so hard, he’d nearly pushed the ink through to the other side.
This was even weirder than her usual hate mail. “What cop?”
“That one, I suppose.” Aelyx glanced over her head, and Cara whirled around to find the school resource officer ambling toward them. She recognized him as someone who’d graduated with her brother. He was fresh out of the police academy and so green he could pass for broccoli.
“Hey, Cara.” Barry or Blaine, she couldn’t remember which, crossed his arms and let a smile slip before clearing his throat and resuming his mask of super seriousness. “You hear from Troy?”
“No. He only e-mails when he wants something.” She reached behind her back, grabbing the note from Aelyx and balling it in her fist. The last thing she wanted was a police escort through the halls because of these letters. “But if I hear from him, I’ll tell him you said hi.” She slammed her locker shut and started for homeroom, but he stopped her.
“Just so you know . . .” In true police fashion, he paused to adjust his utility belt, something they must’ve taught all cops in Doughnuts 101. “Someone called in a threat—nothing to worry about, but I’ll be walking you and Aelyx to your classes now.”
While Cara shut her eyes and groaned inwardly, Aelyx snatched the crumpled paper from her hand.
“Excellent.” Aelyx tossed the note to the officer before she had a chance to snatch it back. “Because Cah-ra’s been getting threatening notes.”
“I wouldn’t say that, Officer . . .” She trailed off, hoping to catch his name.
“Blake.” He smoothed the note and studied it, front and back. “Blake Borsch.” Holding the paper in midair, he asked, “Where’re the others?”
“There was only one more, and it just said traitor bitch.”
“Save ’em from now on. I need to see everything.” With one hand on his Maglite, Blake extended the other toward the now vacant hall, clearing them for takeoff. “After you.”
Cara slouched while trudging to class. It appeared she had three “friends” now: a sexy alien, a crazed fan girl, and a high school cop barely old enough to shave. Oh, and she just caught a glimpse of her former best friend holding hands with her ex. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to brain-bleach them away. No such luck.
“You really think wars wouldn’t break out if water became scarce?” Ashley asked Joss Fenske at practice later that afternoon. With a disbelieving shake of her head, she sat back and tapped an index finger against her desk. “Because countries have been battling over land and water rights for thousands of years.”
Just as Cara had predicted, Ashley was a natural. A good thing, too, because Cara hadn’t contributed much to the team today. Not that she hadn’t tried, but the organized shun had popped her swagger bubble. She couldn’t convince a pig to roll in mud today. The team didn’t seem to mind—nobody had made eye contact with her that afternoon, not even Mr. Bastian, the faculty adviser. She’d hoped her teachers wouldn’t sink so low, but a few of them had abruptly “forgotten” to write her letters of recommendation for her college applications. Speciesist jerks.
Since she was useless for debate, she might as well get her next blog post up. Cara flipped open her laptop and got to work.
Tuesday, November 16
A Call to Arms!
In case you’ve been living under a rock and haven’t heard, there’s a new bill called the L’eihr Expulsion Act circulating among our representatives. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together—which is apparently more than Senator Ibis possesses—recognizes this bill for what it is: flagrant xenophobia. He’s even stooped to accusing L’eihr exchange students of tainting local crops, which makes no sense. Why would L’eihrs blight a few random fields of soybeans, wheat, and grapes when they have the technology to eradicate all vegetation on Earth? Why not go balls to the wall and leave us at their mercy? Um, because WE’RE NOT ENEMIES, that’s why!
Let’s stop the crazy and work together to kill this bill. Here’s how you can help ...
Cara paused with her fingertips resting lightly against the keys, unable to continue. She didn’t know what to say to rally the troops. Her readers already knew how to write their representatives—what she needed was a fresh idea.
She brainstormed for a few minutes, but nothing came. With a frustrated sigh, she closed her laptop again. It seemed she couldn’t debate or blog when her give-a-crap was broken.
“Hey, guys.” She stood and gathered her things. “I’m heading out early. Think I’m coming down with the flu.” The boo-hoo flu, that is. “Ashley, you’re doing great. See you next week?”
“Okay.”
When Ashley continued to gaze at her in obvious concern, Cara flapped a hand and said, “It’s probably one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, I know.” She sniffed a small laugh. “Just be careful not to give it to Aelyx.”
Awesome. Good to know someone cared.
Chapter Fourteen
Aelyx assembled the microscope he’d borrowed from the school science lab. It was the most primitive piece of equipment he’d ever used, but the best he could manage considering he’d left his analytical tools on L’eihr. The rudimentary data from his water collection device indicated abnormally high pollutant levels, and curiosity had driven him to investigate.
That and sheer boredom.
He glanced at his bedroom wall. Cara was on the other side of that barrier, but she barely made a sound anymore. She didn’t cry, laugh, argue, or debate. He’d allowed her to “win” two chess games, but that didn’t help. Now she refused to play. Outside of school, he only saw her at meal times and when their paths intersected on the way to the bathroom. It was as if her glorious flame had been snuffed out, and he wished he knew how to ignite it again. He wanted his Elire back—his beautiful warrior.
With a quiet sigh, he placed a glass slide beneath the scope and removed the lid from his sterile petri dish. After giving the water inside his collection device a thorough shake, he unscrewed the cap and poured its contents into the dish, then squeezed two drops onto the slide. What he saw through the eyepiece made him gasp in shock.