Until I heard someone claim that Nash had cut me—and was the source of whatever mysterious damage Scott had suffered—when he caught the two of us together.
There were other, quieter rumors from people who’d seen Scott’s breakdown in class or in the cafeteria. They knew something had been wrong with him before we’d ever left school, but their tales were less exciting and never really caught on. Which left me and Nash to bear the brunt of the rumors and the stares.
And Sophie, of course. Her conspicuous absence only fanned the flames of the rumor bonfire consuming the school, and for the first time, she found herself tied to a stake at the center of the blaze, condemned to burn alongside me.
I couldn’t really blame her for skipping school. Especially considering she had no idea what had really happened between me, Scott, and Nash. For all I knew, she’d actually bought the load of crap Laura was shoveling.
“Just ignore them.” Emma glared across the room at a couple of juniors whispering and staring at me while they waited for test booklets. “Their own lives aren’t interesting enough to warrant gossip,” she said, loud enough for the whole class to hear.
Mrs. Knott frowned and cleared her throat, and Emma avoided her eyes as she flipped open her test. But as soon as the teacher turned away, Em kicked my chair softly to regain my attention. “I’m really worried about Doug,” she whispered. “He didn’t show up for his English midterm this morning.” Ever since Scott’s freakout at school, she’d been watching Doug closely for signs that he was headed down the same path. “He’s hardly eating anything. And this is going to sound stupid, but his hands are always cold.”
I tried to smile and calm her down. She couldn’t help him, so worrying would do her no good. “I’m sure that doesn’t mean anything, Em. Nash’s hands are usually freezing, and he’s…”
No. I closed my eyes and swallowed thickly. It was a coincidence. Nash wasn’t using. He was helping me get rid of frost for good. He knew how dangerous it was, and he was just as repulsed by the thought of sucking hellion breath as I was.
But Doug was using, and it would kill him.
I hadn’t told Emma the truth about the Demon’s Breath, even after what happened with Scott, because Dad and Harmony agreed that the less she knew, the safer she’d be from Everett and his Netherworld supplier. But watching her now, forehead wrinkled in concern for the first high school guy she’d shown any interest in, I couldn’t help thinking that Dad and Harmony were wrong this time.
I knew better than most that ignorance was neither blissful nor safe, and it didn’t seem fair to put Emma through what I’d suffered. Especially considering that Scott had turned out to be dangerous on Demon’s Breath.
What if Doug did, too?
“Em, I need to tell you something.” Her brows rose, and she nodded, but then Mrs. Knott walked down the aisle between us and I’d lost my chance to speak. The test had begun. “After class,” I mouthed, then turned my attention to my midterm.
Unfortunately, Doug was waiting for Emma after class, and she waved to me apologetically as she wrapped one arm around his waist, promising she’d catch me at lunch.
At first, I was surprised that Doug hadn’t asked me what happened to Scott. Until I noticed the half-eaten candy bar in his fist as they walked off. He held it without the wrapper, and despite his tight grip, the chocolate wasn’t melting against his skin. He was frosted, and probably not thinking about anything but staying that way.
Tod’s hospital shift started at noon, so I’d fully expected him to pop into class during one of my early midterms, demanding to know what he’d missed when I couldn’t possibly answer him. But I didn’t see him all morning, and I couldn’t help wondering why he was never around during his off hours, but would skip out on work to come bug me and Nash.
By eleven-thirty, my morning overdose of caffeine had worn off and I wobbled on my feet, flinching when I caught myself against the wall with my bad arm. I’d survived my first three midterms—though I couldn’t swear I’d aced them—and had three still to go. But after only twelve hours of sleep over the past three days, I could barely spell my name right, and passing the remaining tests seemed like a long shot, at best.
So during lunch, Nash and I snuck out of the cafeteria and into the parking lot, where I slept in the reclined seat of my rental car while he devoured a cafeteria cheeseburger and crammed for his physics test, ready to wake me if I so much as hummed in my sleep.
I jolted awake thirty-eight minutes into our forty-five-minute lunch period, sitting straight up in the driver’s seat with Nash staring at me like I’d just recited the U.S. presidents in my sleep. An ability which probably would have come in handy during my history test.
“What happened?” I blinked, confused, until I remembered I was still at school, in a car I hadn’t completely gotten used to yet. Was that why I felt so…disoriented? But exhaustion couldn’t explain why I’d evidently sat up in my sleep.
Nash’s eyes churned steadily with fear and with some emotion I couldn’t quite identify, and as I watched, his irises began to settle as he got a handle on the scare I’d obviously given him. “You were making weird noises. So I woke you up.”
I was? I didn’t remember having any dreams at all, much less the horrifying, recurring death dream. But something had obviously happened, and it had clearly scared the crap out of Nash.
In spite of my rude—and odd—awakening, the short nap helped more than I’d thought possible. Or maybe that was the Mountain Dew Nash handed me as we walked back into the building, just in time for fifth period. “Drink fast and work hard,” he said, giving me the sweetest, peppermint-scented kiss on the nose. “I’ll see you in the gym after school.”
He was trying really hard to make up for our fight the day before, and the caffeine fix was good for several bonus points.
But by the time the final bell rang, the Mountain Dew was wearing off and my arm was really starting to throb. I couldn’t stand the thought of spending my Friday afternoon painting booths for my cousin’s pet project—left-handed, thanks to my injury—while her friends stared and whispered. If Sophie was skipping, we could, too. So I drove Nash home and crashed on his bed while he played Xbox.
Nash shook me awake a couple of hours later, with hands so cold I could feel them through my shirt. I was relieved to discover that I had neither dreamed nor struck any odd positions in my sleep. “You have to get up if we’re going to make it to the party,” he whispered, soft, warm lips brushing my cheek.
The setting sun cast slanted shadow bars across Nash’s room through his half-closed blinds, and I blinked in the crimson glare, trying to fully wake up. The alarm clock on his bedside table said it was almost five-thirty. “Mmmm…” He smelled so good I wanted to bury my face in his shirt and breathe him in. Then go back to sleep.
Who needs food and water? Nash and slumber would be enough to sustain me. Right?
“What party?” I mumbled, pushing myself up on my good arm, in spite of the heavy hand of sleep threatening to pull me back under.
“Fuller’s. Remember? We were going to find Everett?”
And that’s when reality came crashing in on me, washing away the serenity that waking up next to Nash had lent me.
Doug’s party. Everett’s balloons. Scott’s knife. My sliced-up arm. Suddenly my head hurt and my stomach was churning in dread.
“I can’t believe he’s still throwing a party, with one of his best friends in the hospital.” And charged with a felony.
Nash shrugged. “The crowd will be bigger than ever tonight, everyone hoping to hear what really happened to Carter.”
Well, they wouldn’t hear it from me. “My dad’ll kill me if we go to Doug’s.” Not that my father’s caution had ever stopped me from helping a friend in need before.