Edith looks outraged—at me, at Mrs. Bentham, at herself. I cross my arms. Edith’s whole face is scarlet and I bet she’s going to yell. To my surprise, she doesn’t. She nods her head slowly; tears start to fall down her face.
“Thanks,” she mutters to Mrs. Bentham, then turns to me. “Good luck,” Edith says, extending her hand to shake mine. I stare at it for a second before I take it. When Edith lets go, she turns on her heel, head held high, and leaves.
Mrs. Bentham stares at me. “Well done, Miss Grey. It seems you have more gusto than I imagined. That’s what we look for in Enforcers,” she says.
I didn’t mean to scratch her, but I did and I’m here another day for it. I should be happy, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve destroyed someone else’s life.
“See you tomorrow, dear.” Mrs. Bentham says, going back to call another pair of names. I pick up my bag and head out the door. It’s already two thirty and I’m exhausted. From this morning, from the sparring, from the demon search. A demon can’t just disappear like that. I need a nap.
My phone rings as soon as I get into the car and I dig it out of my pocket. It’s Carter’s number. God, he really is so annoying. “How’d you get this number?”
Carter chuckles on the other end. “You gave me your phone earlier, remember? I texted myself so I’d have it.”
“You are such a stalker,” I tell him.
“Tracker, but thanks for the compliment,” he says. I laugh, but my stomach hurts. Man, what is it with this boy?
“So,” Carter pauses. I hear something crash in the background. “You busy?”
My hair is damp with sweat and my face red. I’m pretty sure I’ll have some bruises within the hour. I can’t let him see me like this. “I’m not really dressed to go out in public.” Wait, why do I care how he sees me? I feel the blush surfacing on my cheeks. I’m a sicko and I have to look at myself in the rearview mirror so I can see my own blush. Yup, rosy.
“I’m sure you’re just as pretty as you always are.”
Silence fills the line. Did he just call me pretty? That’s totally what that was, right? There’s a crash on Carter’s end, then he clears his throat. “So?”
I should say no. I should not go because I have things to do. But if he does know something about me, I have to find out. That desire is stronger than anything else. I have to protect myself. That means going somewhere with less people. “See you in the alley where we met?”
Chapter Seven
Carter’s leaning against the wall when I see him, phone in his hands, one foot propped against the brick. I inhale. Part of me wants to turn and leave. His voice echoes in my ear—“pretty”—which is completely ridiculous and it shouldn’t make me feel this way. I’m not his anything. I don’t want to be, but the word still means something. I wish it didn’t. I feel like I’m in some alternate reality; this is so not me. This caring what I look like and caring what he meant and blushing girl.
Crap, I’m turning into my sister.
He looks up and then back down at his phone. There’s a pause before his eyes shoot back in my direction. Even from a few feet away, they glance over me, head to toe. I’m glad I showered before I came. I feel naked—like he can see through me. I straighten my shoulders. It will take more than that to make me nervous.
Carter pushes away from the wall and doesn’t take his eyes off me as he moves closer. My mouth is dry. There’s a surge in the air between us. By the time he reaches me, my stomach is flittering. Carter reaches out and touches my damp hair at the ends. What the hell am I doing?
I wish I could rewind time. Why did I agree to this?
“So, you have a theory? I hope it’s not string theory; I hear people are working on that already. ”
“Always so funny.”
“What are we doing here?”
Carter leans in closer. I can smell his musky nutmeg scent. “You were surprised the other morning when you expelled that demon.”
His tone isn’t accusatory. It’s a statement, a fact. That unnerves me more than if it were a question. I keep my face stern and my eyes steady. The best way to lie is to tell the truth.
“I don’t get trapped by demons every day.”
But Carter shakes his head. “It was more than that. More like a girl who didn’t know her way out of a situation. You reacted more like a Static than a witch.”
The world seems to stop around me. All I can focus on are the words in my head. I don’t have magic. I don’t have magic. How does he know that? How can he know that? I clear my throat and try to figure this out.
I can lie. I can tell him he’s crazy and wrong. I can do magic. I’ll prove it to him, but that could fail if it decided not to work.
I could run, but he knows my name, my phone number, and my sister, and could probably find my address with the WNN. Stupid Internet.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” he says.
I shake my head. I see no other way out of this. “I have magic. It’s just cranky.”
“Cranky?” he asks, sounding amused.
“It has a mind of its own. Sometimes it’s tired.” Sure, like he’s buying this.
A huff. “That sounds like the answer a Static would give.”
I push him against the brick wall and grit my teeth. “I am not Static.”
“Then what are you?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. Give the boy a mic and call him Jay-Z. I stare at him, because he doesn’t know anything. He can’t. That’s why he’s fishing. This is all a game that I will not let him win.
“I’m just a girl.”
I let go of his shirt and move away from the wall, pressing my hand against my temple. This boy gives me a headache. All of this has my stomach in knots. I don’t have magic—he can’t truly know that, can he? Only three people know, and they haven’t told anyone.
“I’m leaving.” I say.
I take four steps before he says, “You feel it, don’t you?”
I don’t turn back around to him, but I do stop. “Feel what?”
I hear his footsteps behind me as he moves around. “You feel it in your stomach. When I’m around, you feel sick.”
I inhale, but don’t turn around. None of this makes sense. “What?”
“I feel it too. Mine’s not sick so much as it tickles. Yours though, yours is sickness. Deny it, but you went pale earlier.”
I swallow, but he’s right about that too. How does he know that?
“See that over there?” Carter whispers, his mouth right up against my left ear, warm breath trailing down my neck. I can’t see his face out of the corner of my eye, but I see what he’s pointing out. There’s a large bay window, on the other side of the alley, which is covered inside with a type of dark paper. A condemned building.
“The window?” I turn around, and he’s gone. I have to shade my face from a patch of sunlight to see his silhouette on the roof.
“Blow it up,” he yells from the roof, and then he disappears out of my sight.
Great.
Blow it up?
“Can’t I just knock over a garbage can?” I yell. Because that I could manage with my foot. He doesn’t respond.
This day keeps surprising me, and not in the good way. I face the window again. I can’t blow it up. I can leave. I could walk away right now and then what? He couldn’t do anything. He has no power over me. I have no power over me. Except I do feel sick. How can he know how I feel—unless he really does feel it too? This doesn’t make sense.
I walk around the space in front of the window. I could break it, but he’d hear that. There’s no way out of this. I knew someone would figure me out eventually. Why it is this infuriating boy, I don’t know. Might as well get my ruin over with. I won’t be able to do this and then I’ll be forced to live in a van down by the river, to escape being sent away. I’ll get some cats and we’ll eat tuna together, like some depressing version of The Brady Bunch.