Covet (25 page)

It was my turn to fight a smile. “Sort of like an epipen for vamps?”

“Exactly. It has extra anticoagulants to keep it from clotting, so it might taste strange. But if you reach the point where you have to take it, you will be beyond the point of caring about taste.”

Yummy. “Thanks.” I put it in my new Coach purse, feeling like the vampire version of James Bond.

“And I will have my cell phone with me at all times, of course,” he added.

I couldn’t help but smile now. “It’s okay, Dad. Remember, I’ve done this whole starting school thing a few times. Same old school, same old people, same old town.”

“But you are not the same.”

Right. Good point. “I’ll see you tonight, probably around five or so after Charmers practice.” I tried to act cool and calm and completely confident as I waved goodbye.

Five minutes later, I parked in the front school lot in my same old spot. Then I got out and felt the breeze around my legs below the dress.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t quite like all my other first days of school.

At least getting ready for the Charmers morning practice, which started early and continued through first period every day, was the same old routine. What wasn’t part of the usual routine was the fact that I could now hear the director’s thoughts before she said them, which was hard to hide. I had to watch her lips and wait until I saw their movement match the words in her head before I took notes on the clipboard.

The rest of first period was spent working the music and sending the sophomore managers off for bags of ice for two dancers who had knee trouble. By the time I carried the sound system back to Mrs. Daniels’s office, the sameness of the general routine had almost lulled me into forgetting about all the other changes in my life. And because I’d chosen the black ballet flats instead of the heels as Dad’s notes had suggested for this outfit, walking wasn’t a problem.

At this point, my life was so cloudy I would take any silver lining I could get.

But when I went into the main hall for my second period class, it all came slamming back into me as the sound of everyone’s thoughts filled my head with a low roar. By the time I nearly ran into the Brat Twins, I was tense and in real need of escaping the crowd.

Then I realized Vanessa and her sister Hope were carrying the exact same purse as me. The only difference was the color. Vanessa’s was powder-blue, Hope’s was hot-pink, and mine was black to match the black-and-white wraparound dress Dad’s notes had suggested for today.

“Is that…” Hope began, staring at my purse. I had to read her lips in order to understand the words. Otherwise I never would have been able to hear her over everyone’s thoughts.

“It’s a knockoff.” Vanessa reached out and twisted my purse on my forearm until she could see the metal label. As soon as she saw it, she froze. “Where did you get this?” She acted like I’d stolen it straight out of her closet.

“At the Galleria,” I answered with a smile while trying not to laugh. Maybe the new wardrobe came with a few perks after all.

Vanessa eyed my dress, my necklace, my shoes. I managed to catch her fleeting thoughts as she considered grabbing my wrist to better inspect my bracelet then decided she didn’t want to have skin contact.

“Is that a—” Hope gasped and did reach for the bracelet.

Vanessa slapped her hand down. “Shut up, Hope. Come on, we’ll be late for class.” She yanked the purse off my forearm and tried to drop it on the ground.

I caught it before it fell more than a few inches. The move hadn’t felt any different than anything else I’d ever done, but both twins shrieked and took off at a fast trot, looking back over their shoulders at me every few seconds.

Crap. Had I done a vamp blur thing?

I needed way more tai chi practice if I was ever going to blend in this year.

I slowly slid the purse onto my shoulder. Then I repositioned it on my forearm in the crook of my elbow. Well, crud. How was one supposed to carry a designer purse? Dad’s notes hadn’t included any tips about that, and I’d never carried even a normal purse, much less one that was nice enough to tick off the Brat Twins.

Giving up for now, I continued toward my second period class, trying to ignore that too familiar ache forming in my chest and stomach warning me that Tristan was nearby. He was tall enough to be visible even in a crowd. Since I couldn’t see his head of golden hair standing out above everyone else’s in the hall, he was probably already in his second period classroom somewhere in this building. Good. I really didn’t want to have to run into him this morning if I could help it.

As the crowd parted for me, I caught bits of thoughts that stuck out from the jumble, several of them directed at me.

Is that a Coach bag?

Are those Jimmy Choos? No, they can’t be. Everyone knows she’s too poor to afford those. They’re probably knockoffs.

How can she afford that? Oh, I know, it’s her dad. He’s probably a drug dealer. Or maybe he’s in the mafia or something. Too bad they spent all their money on clothes instead of that run-down shack they’re living in now.

Part of me wanted to run through the hall and escape as fast as I could. Dad was half right. Everyone was looking at my clothing instead of me. But it obviously hadn’t changed how people thought of me.

Somehow I resisted the urge to use my vamp speed and just blow through the crowd. Control. It was all about self-control. I forced my legs to move human slow, then slower, casually strolling into class just before the tardy bell rang.

I had been looking forward to this class. English was my best subject in school. But when I walked into the room and saw everyone still standing around holding their books, I let out a long sigh.

There was only one reason that my classmates wouldn’t be seated already. The teacher must be getting ready to assign seats alphabetically.

I glanced around the room and locked gazes with Tristan. Everything inside me froze.

In that second, I knew just how wrong I had been to hope that my feelings for him had faded over the summer. Seeing him was like a physical blow as all the memories of our months together came crashing back over me, robbing me of breath and forcing me to acknowledge just how much I had missed seeing that face.

I still loved him as much as ever, if not more.

But now he was with Bethany.

And I would be stuck sitting near him again. With our last names of Coleman and Colbert and alphabetical seating, it was inevitable. For the first time, I found myself actually wishing the Clann’s control really did reach all the way to the JHS computerized class scheduling system so I wouldn’t have to share another class with him.

I tried to look away, really I did. I knew I was the one who had broken up with him and that it was flat-out rude to be staring at him now. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself, even as the raw hurt in his eyes seemed to burn through me.

The teacher, Mrs. Knowles, pointed at the front-row desk closest to the door, said a name, and someone sat down in it. She repeated the process with the desk beside it. Apparently she was going to assign seats horizontally like Mr. Smythe liked to do with all of his history classes, instead of in vertical rows. Which meant this year Tristan would end up beside me instead of behind me. Great. I wouldn’t be able to avoid seeing him out of the corner of my eye.

Maybe I should start wearing my hair down instead of in its usual ponytail, to block the view.

I tried to pay attention to Mrs. Knowles, but I couldn’t hear her over the rising roar of thoughts from my classmates driving into my head like an iPod turned up full blast.

She moved on, pointing to the third desk in the front row. Tristan moved to sit there, and at last I was freed from his gaze. But that didn’t lessen the volume of chaotic voices inside my head, or my racing pulse.

I couldn’t do this. I could not make it through yet another year of being so close to Tristan every other day. Every time I came to this class, I would have to sit just inches away from him for a whole hour and a half. I’d managed to make it through the final few weeks of torture last year. But then I’d had a whole summer away from him. And though I’d missed him, it had also been a relief from the physical ache of being around him.

I didn’t want to have to fight that battle yet again. Not this year. Not after all that we’d been through, the memories we’d made together, falling in love with him…

And the bloodlust.

Mrs. Knowles’ helmet-shaped hair filled my vision. I blinked, looked around. Everyone was seated now, with only one desk left open. The second desk in the front row…beside Tristan.

Mrs. Knowles was saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear her. I tried to read her lips and thought she was probably telling me to take my seat.

Since I had no way of telling how loud I actually was over the noise in my head, I tried whispering, “Um, couldn’t we please choose our own seats?”

She frowned, her entire face pinching as if she’d just taken a bite of food and found a hair in it. She said a single word that looked like, “What?”

I tried again, repeating myself a little louder so she could hear me. But she spoke so fast I couldn’t make out the words. Panicking, I tried again, loudly saying, “I would really like to choose my own desk please.”

Her face turned white, and from everyone’s shocked thoughts, I gathered that I’d just yelled at her. Crap.

CHAPTER 17

Whispering fast, I said, “I’m so sorry. I’m actually a little deaf right now from…from running music for Charmers practice last period.”

She searched my face, the color slowly returning to her cheeks. Taking a long, slow breath, she pointed at the empty desk and said, “Go. Sit. Down. Now.”

I didn’t look at the other students as I sat down in the dreaded seat, my skin prickling all over with awareness of how close Tristan was. I could tell from everyone’s thoughts exactly how crazy I looked. My fingernails bit into my palms as I sat as close to the edge of my seat away from Tristan as I could.

Inside my head, everyone’s voices grew louder and louder.

Oh man, those two can’t even look at each other!

Whoa. The veins in his neck are bulging. He looks mad enough to kill Savannah! What did she do to him last year?

Perfect shot! These pics are gonna get the gossips going on Facebook for sure.

I turned and caught some girl at the back of the room playing with her phone under her desk.

Drugs. She’s definitely dealing drugs to have all that money all of a sudden. Unless maybe that grandma of hers left a bundle of insurance money and she blew it all on clothing. Typical white trash, she should’ve used it for college instead.

I was starting to miss the Brat Twins’ daily insults. At least they said it all to my face.

Isn’t she Anne’s best friend? Yeah, I remember her sitting at their table every day. I wonder if she’s seen Anne yet.

Relieved to have heard one halfway nice thing about me, I latched on to that person’s train of thought, wondering who it came from. Then I snuck a peek at the desk to my left between me and the door. Ah, of course. Ron Abernathy, Anne’s one and only ex.

Listening in on Ron’s thoughts felt like an invasion of his privacy. But until I could figure out how to turn the ESP off, I was already invading everyone’s privacy as it was. And at least listening to Ron was better than focusing on the seething pain Tristan was projecting at my other side. Maybe if I concentrated on hearing only one person at a time, I could manage not to go crazy today.

Interestingly enough, it seemed the strength of each person’s “signal” was based on how strongly they felt about whatever they were thinking. Ron was pretty steady in his emotions when he thought about Anne, but since he wasn’t obsessively thinking about her nonstop, I couldn’t pick up every thought. Only the ones about Anne were loud enough for me to hear.

By the end of class, I was really starting to wonder what secrets Anne was keeping. It was obvious that Ron was still very much in love with her, and that Anne had been the one who had broken them up. Maybe it had something to do with Ron’s weird obsession about black cats? He thought about them almost as much as he thought about her.

In an effort to avoid as much of the foot traffic as possible, I was the first one out of my seat when the lunch bell rang. I gave in to the urge to walk at least human-fast down the main hall, slowing only after I was out the doors and on the cement, metal awning-covered catwalk that spanned the valley between the two hills the main building and math building rested on. I walked even slower down the ramp that led from the side of the catwalk to the valley floor where the cafeteria building was located. It was nice and quiet out here away from everyone’s thoughts, and I was tempted to just stay. But my friends were waiting for me.

As soon as I opened the cafeteria doors, the tidal wave of thoughts hit me so hard that I actually stumbled back a couple of steps.

Whoa. If this ESP crap continued at this level, the gossips wouldn’t have to lie about my going nuts in English class, because I really would go stark raving mad.

I staggered to my friends’ usual table, grateful for a change that we sat right beside the center aisle that cut across the cylinder-shaped brick building. The girls must have gotten out a little early from second period; their stuff was already there and they were in line getting food.

I knew I should buy my usual chili cheese fries and a soda, or at least a salad to pretend to eat. But the thought of having to even fake eating was too much at this point. I buried my head in my hands, closed my eyes, and prayed everyone’s thoughts would just shut up.

Last year when I’d started to sense the emotions around me, I’d learned that the ability grew worse when I was upset. Hearing everyone’s actual thoughts was so much worse than sensing their emotions. But maybe the ESP worked the same way. I tried to calm down, focusing on my breathing as if I were doing tai chi. Slow breath in. Hold it. Slow breath out. I pictured myself back home doing tai chi in my room, how the controlled movements made me feel like water flowing in slow motion.