Wicked Sense (25 page)

I open my locker and stare at my books as if they’re strangers.

Priscilla smiles. “Oh, good. I thought your mother… How is she?”
She starts to rummage
in
her locker too.

I smile back at her. Who
would have
guessed Priscilla would be so thoughtful? “She’s doing great. I mean, she likes to be pampered.” I call Mum every morning now
, which is
the
middle of
the
afternoon in London, and she tells me about her day.
So
strange how I’
m feeling more connected to her now,
half a world away.

I still feel a little guilty about not telling Priscilla the truth about my mother. It’s not that I don’t trust her;
I just
need more t
ime. I’ve always been reserved. It’s hard to change
overnight.

My True Sight makes me tingle. Not for the first time, I wished I could turn it off. Jane is probably parking, and I can sense her all the way from there. Since the sensation intensifies the closer the subject gets to me, I can trace Jane
’s
steps all around school. I have a personal Jane radar. Sure, it’s useful, but it’s also a constant reminder of the danger she represents to me.

And to the Singularity.

“Hel
-
lo?” Priscilla says in a
sing
song
y
voice. “You’ve been staring
into your locker like a zombie.”

“I… uh… forgot to do my
assignment
. A
gain,” I say. Actually, this is true. “Can I copy yours?
Or your notes?
”

Priscilla snorts,
but tastefully. “You’re clearly confusing me wit
h someone else,” she says. “School
work is not my thing.”

I smirk and get my books.

Priscilla
closes her locker and
nudges me with her elbow, whispering, “
Soooo
, I noticed Drake disappeared yesterday too. Anything you want to share?”

Okay. I can’t hide everything. During lunchtime, I tell her about my day with him. Omitting all the supernatural part
s
, of course.

“Tha
t sounds like one
ü
ber
-hot
day
!” she says.
“
What did you do after that?” Her yogurt spoon is halfway to her mouth, and not moving.

“He drove me home.
”

Her eyebrows
rise.
A
mischievous smile
sprout on her lips
. “And
?
” she says, her spoon trembling a bit.

“He went home,” I say.

She stares at me for a w
hile, and then finally eats
her spoonful of yogurt
.

“It was just
kiss
ing
,” I lie.

“It may be. But making out is a gateway drug to sex, you know?”
In between spoon licks,
she asks me,
matter-of-factly,
“Aren’t you guys d
oing it?”

I giggle—what’s wrong with me? “I just got back,” I say, trying to deflect her q
uestion. “We’re not even dating.
”

Priscilla
leans over and
whispers, “You have done it, right?”

I don’t answer. She senses something is wrong. She l
ays her spoon down on the table
and
turns to
face me. I know my expression has
darkened.

“I’ve done
it,” I say, with a cold voice that isn’t mine.

Priscilla’s response is to scan the cafeteria for prying eye
s. Then she stands up, pulling me by the
arm. I don’t move. She tries again, now with surprising strength for a girl her size.
I let myself be hoisted up
. She holds my hand and commands
, “Follow me.”

She takes me outside, to this lonely picnic table behind the school. I didn’t even know this part of the school existed.
No windows face
us; not even the cafeteria noises can reach us.

“Good place to make out,” she says, as an explanation, while we sit
side
-
by
-
side
. “Sorry,” she adds, realizing her faux-pas. “What happened?” she asks. Her voice is
soft
.

I
’ve
never talked about this.

Don’t feel sorry for yourself, Skye.

Cleansed by my morning ritual, I feel safe.
Free. Unafraid.

I take a deep breath and look into her understanding eyes. I say, “I did it. In London with
Connor
, my ex.
He is two years older. We’d
been dating, and I knew he had hoo
ked up with other girls, even when
we we
re together. Finally, we did it.”

I pause, not for effect, but because I never spoke the next words aloud.
“But I didn’t want to,
”
I add.

Priscilla
’s
eyebrows
go up and her lips go down in
a concerned expression
. H
er eyes
are
pool
s
of sorrow. She rests her hand over mine.

“Did he…?”
S
he can’t finish the sentence.

I shake my head.
“No
. No
, it wasn’t like that. But he did force me in other ways. He knew I was unsure, that I wasn’t ready.
I thought the only way I could make us exclusive was
by
going along.
He could
have stopped; he could ha
ve waited. It’s like this invisible force, this
pressure…”
I stop. Putting it into words is harder than I imagined.

She just taps my hand
. I’m glad she doesn’t feel the need to say something. May the Goddess bless silent friends.

After a while, I’m ready to continue.
“It was an ugly, negative,
bitter thing. I didn’t know
…
I
didn’t r
ealize I could
ha
ve stopped him—us
. It was all my fault.”

This stirs Priscilla
’s
indignation. “
It wasn’t your fault at all. He manipulated you. He was
older,
in a position of power; he knew he had influence over you.
”

I shake my head. “It was my responsibility too. I should’ve been strong. But what I can’t forget is that
w
hen I didn’t enjoy it as much as him, he said it was all my fault, that I was empty inside.
And after I made it clear I didn’t want to do it again,
he dumped me.
”

Priscilla
’s
jaw drops. I know the feeling; I’ve had it for the last two years.

I can’t stop talking. “
W
hile I
traveled
with Mum
, he strayed.
I was afraid of losing him.
How can you share your life with someone for so long, and then it’s over?” Empty, yes, but only
after
he left.

“Jerk!” she says, unnecessarily.
“Actually, he’s beyond jerk level, now he’s been officially promoted to douche
bag,” she says
, maybe
trying to make me feel better.

Priscilla hugs me. I welcome her embra
ce. For a long time I believed it was my fault, only mine
. Her gesture is an acknowledgment that I’m not insane, that he’s indeed a jerk.

During our hug I try to forget that even after he left me, I was stupid enough to pin
e
for him, to fantasize about us together again.
Connor used to take me out
around London
, but after he dumped me I never return
ed to those places: not only
did I worry I
w
ould run into him, but to me it
was as if
the places belonged to him.

I’ve been afraid for
too
long.

I’m so grateful to Priscilla. She realized something was wrong with me and made me spill
my guts,
which was exactly what I needed. To put it into words. To vent. I don’t know, to have some closure.

We disengage, and I just nod at her. I feel lighter. She smiles and I realize I have a true friend.

To my credit, I don’t cry. This new Skye is already stronger than I expected.

After school, I go to the pool building.
We didn’t report anything to
the
school, and I want to know what peop
le think about the mess we left
.

In a way, it’s like returning to a crime scene. Not
my
crime, but still.

Coach Summers is in there, along
side
Bill, the janitor. Bill doesn’t look happy.

When Coach sees me, he beckons me to join them.

“Hey, Mr. Hunter,”
Coach
says. “Did you do a few laps on Monday?”

“No
.
Concussion, remember?” I point to my head. I really recommend
getting a concussion; it’s an excuse for all times. “Why?”

Bill’s annoyed voice answers me. “Some funny guy came over and spilled paint into the pool, on the stands, even
in
the lobby.
It’s all clean now.
Damn tough to get rid of it.” He shakes his head, and I get the feeling he’d like nothing more than get those imaginary vandals alone.
“We should have locks on the doors.”

“As I asked you two years ago,” Coach says.

Bill ignores the jab.
“Anyway, Summers, I’m done here. See you at the league tonight?
A pint later?
”

Coach and Bill do an awkward handshake thing. Bill leaves and Coach turns to me.

“Are you going back to swimming?” he asks.

“Sure thing,” I say.

“
Any chance
the hit on your head made you see things clearly? Do you want to be part of the team?” Coach
crosses
his arms, his
standard posture.

“I’m afraid not
,
” I
reply
.

“But you’re a good swimmer; you wouldn’t be embarrassed. You could even be JV, if
you prefer. Come on, Drake. It woul
d improve your standing with the girls.”

No, it wouldn’t. But I say, “Th
at’s not a good enough reason, C
oach.”

“Or the boys,” he says, raising his hands. “I don’t judge, as long as you keep it away from the locker room.”

I need to parade around with
a girl
soon, so these g
ay rumors don’t leave the joke r
ealm.
“I’m unsure
if
what you just said violates so
me code of conduct
,
”
I say.

“It actually does. Go repo
rt me.” Coach makes a dismissive
gesture.

I shrug. “Nah. Too much trouble.”

“As always,
a
kid’s laziness helps me keep my job.”

He gives
me
a little punch on the arm and leave
s. I stare at the pool,
sigh
ing
. The school has no idea what happened. Skye and Jane dodged a bullet.

I go into the locker room, change
into my
manly
swimming trunks
, and get back to the pool. While I stretch, I wonder if I’l
l be able to feel Skye’s blood i
n the water.

Without a previous agreement, we avoided each other at school. We’re back to that are-
we-or-aren’t-we place. Weird place to be.

Every time I saw her
today,
I wished I could
do something. Scream to the whole school we’re together. Run to her and kiss her. Dance.

“Wow! Why have you been hiding this six
pack, Drake?” A voice echoes in the building.