Throat (30 page)

I had always felt so disconnected from school. So why was the loss of it bothering me now? There was nothing to stop me from learning on my own … but even more than I hated school, I hated the idea of not finishing. All that work. My hand cramping from taking notes. All the reading and projects and lugging sixty pounds of books through crowded halls. All of it cut off and done just like that.

I couldn’t believe I was missing it. It’s funny how when you get outside of something you hated, the hate isn’t so strong anymore. There’s a flip side, but it’s not love, it’s … the sense of being part of something, whether you wanted to or not.

I wondered if I had officially become the Lost Girl at school. Soon to be immortalized in a black-and-white photo—signifying death—hanging somewhere horrible like the cafeteria or the gym or the principal’s office. Kids years from now would see my face and wonder who that sad, angry chick was. And somebody would say, oh, she’s this weird girl that went missing years ago and they never found her. How’s that for a memorial?

It made me sad in a way that I had never felt sad before.

I had to do something physical. I pulled on my trail shoes and ran into town. Cruised by the local high school just for the vibe. It turned out to be acres and acres of two-story, flat brown buildings made of blocks the size of washing machines. It looked like a fortress. Maybe that’s what schools were expecting these days, an attack.

There were girls on the soccer field. They were okay, but looked as if they were only half trying. I wanted to be out there so bad, showing them how to really pound in a shot. Rush a defender.

Why not?

I jumped the short fence and raced onto the soccer field. I was wearing my jeans, but so what? Before I had even registered on their consciousness, I stole the next lazy pass setting up a shot, and then I was off, weaving my way around the girls, moving in and out as easily as if they were running in wet cement.

“Hey!” one of the girls yelled.

I knew girls like her. Tall and lanky, the kind that lulled you to sleep. Then, when you got too close, they would uncoil a leg like a
bazooka, and your stomach or chest or—worst of all—your face would get whacked so hard, it took a little while for the pain to even start.

The tall girl took up the chase, screaming at the others to follow.

“Come on, get her!”

Pretty soon I had half the team rushing at me from all sides. I moved with the ball in a way that was downright supernatural, dipping this way to duck one defender, swinging wide past three more, playing with them, really. Until I had the whole team and even the coaches—squatty ex-college soccer-type guys with legs like fire hydrants—all converging on me at midfield, screaming and cursing.

I barreled right through them, got my sights on the goal, swung my leg and bent the kick so hard, the keeper wound up horizontal in midair trying to stop it.
Too late
. It was in the net and I had jumped the fence again and was gone.

I wanted to die. I really did. Because it was over. Nothing was ever going to get that feeling back for me. Even if I killed Wirtz, went home, started going to school again—the thing I was best at, my greatest passion, something that meant everything to me personally—was done.
Forever
.

When I had first begun to understand my powers, I had thought I was a god. But now I knew the truth. I had lost everything, not because I was a god, but because I was a freak. And who wants to hang out with a freak except another freak? I was even more isolated than the
Sonnen
vampires. I was caught between two worlds, a foot in both, but all of me in neither.

I had never felt so lonely.

In the middle of the afternoon I ate pizza someone had left on a table in a mini-mall. I certainly was getting my quota of cheese these days. A girl came by wiping up, giving me a funny look, but she
didn’t say anything. I chewed a slice of lukewarm pepperoni and tried to imagine a life beyond hiding. Maybe I could convince Sagan to come with me. We’d go somewhere I’d always dreamed of going. Europe. South America. Some island. I would have to keep things secret as long as I could. If other vampires—if
Verloren
—ever found out about my special powers, would I be safe anywhere?

I daydreamed about a place where I could live with Sagan that was cool and wooded and kind of unpopulated … like Prince Edward Island. Wasn’t that where Anne of Green Gables was from? But maybe it was overrun with tourists these days. Okay, my own island off the coast of Maine. We wouldn’t need a big house, just a tiny cottage. I bet a vampire could sling together a cabin in no time. But then Sagan would have to know. But he’d have to know sooner or later anyhow. Surely he would start wondering why I never aged.

I tried to imagine a life like the
Sonnen
had been leading for centuries. Hiding, stealing, taking blood drop by drop from strangers. I wanted so much to help them. I wanted Sagan to help. But how could I ever tell him what I was?

Maybe the
Sonnen
could come and visit us up there? Sure, and we could all chop wood and skin rabbits and wait for the Cure.
Shut up
.

Late in the afternoon, my headset shrieked, shaking me out of my doldrums. It was still too early for Sagan, but I flicked it on delightedly.

“I’m skipping work tonight,” he said. “Meet me at the observatory at six o’clock. I’ve got something planned.”

I spent a good long while getting ready, then it seemed as if six would never get there. As much as I wanted to run, I forced myself
to stroll to the observatory so I would stay as neat and clean as possible. It was exciting, wondering what in the world he had in mind.

My heart was beating outside my chest when I saw his Jeep swinging up the long drive.

“Get in,” Sagan said, kissing my cheek and holding the door open for me.

We got out on the main road and headed north. I wished the seats were closer together.

“Isn’t this the way to the gate?” I said.

“Yep.”

“Sagan … I don’t get it. Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

My heart thumped. “Wait a minute … not more family stuff? Do I look okay?”

He laughed. “When do you ever
not
look okay? You look incredible. No, nothing like that. You’re safe.”

“Then what—”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

We left the interstate and then made several long slow turns. After several minutes the Jeep rolled to a stop in a broad parking lot and Sagan pulled up the hand brake.

The first thing I saw was a cobblestone canyon flanked by fancy shops and restaurants. Banana Republic. A Mac store. P.F. Chang’s, the Chocolate Crocodile. And right in front of us, a huge Barnes & Noble.

People were milling all over, some in shorts and casual stuff, others with more formal wear. It felt strange after all my isolation, almost claustrophobic, dodging in and out of the crowd.

“So where are we …?” I started.

“It’s a date,” Sagan said. “It’s called a date.”

*    *    *

We headed down the cobblestone canyon. I was nearly dizzy by the time he pulled me through some big glass doors.

The noise instantly changed to a gentle indoor babble. The odor of cooking wafted deliciously beneath my nose.

“Food!” I said, mouth watering. Somewhere a steak was being grilled. I could hear the meat sizzling in a way that I had never heard it before.… The sound of a waterfall couldn’t have been more beautiful.

“This is my family’s favorite place,” Sagan said, shaking out his cloth napkin after they seated us.

“O’Connor’s!” I said, looking at the tasseled menu in front of me.

“You know it?”

I nodded excitedly. “I’ve passed the billboards plenty of times.”

“You’ve never been?”

“Life in a single-parent family.”

“With six we don’t come here often, but we all love it.”

The wood around us was dark and heavy and elegant, and a fire was burning in the big stone hearth. After being outdoors so much, I felt completely out of place, but I didn’t care. I flipped through the menu, marveling at the choices.

“Why don’t we start with an appetizer?” Sagan said. “You like lobster dip?”

Did I.

We had a baby spinach and strawberry salad. Then a crab bisque that was a kind of thick soup that nearly lifted the top of my skull off. An hour later I was popping the last little bit of blue-cheese-encrusted garlic prime rib into my mouth, practically moaning with pleasure. I didn’t have words for the experience. Afterward I could only lean back in my chair and sigh contentedly.

“So you liked it?” Sagan said, grinning.

“
Like
is too small a word. Thank you.” I squeezed his fingers.

“And for dessert …”

“Oh my God. I’m stuffed.”

He checked the time on his cell. “Okay. I was thinking maybe an ice cream cone after the movie.”

“Movie?”

Being in a theater was an even bigger shock to my system. All those heads, people laughing, gabbing. So normal. I felt like I needed six more eyes. We were about twenty minutes into the movie before I began to settle down. My alertness made me realize just how paranoid I had become.

It was a good show, something called
Karma Chameleon
, all about a girl who figured her karma was responsible for screwing up her love life. I thought it was cute and sweet that Sagan had picked a chick flick. So I never told him I would have rather seen the sci-fi epic where zombies overrun the very first city on the moon.

The theater was only about a third full—everybody else was catching lunar zombies—and most of the audience looked as old as my mom. I wondered what they thought when Sagan leaned over the popcorn tub and kissed me. Then he did it again.

After that I didn’t think about anybody else at all. Not even vampires. We were just a boy and a girl in a dark room.

When we got out of the theater, most of the shops were closing, so there weren’t as many people around. A shaggy-looking guy with a guitar and a small amp was playing ancient tunes in front of a synchronized fountain. We chose a spot just far enough away to hear without paying attention. Of course I could have listened from the parking lot.

“You probably think I’m crazy, don’t you?” I said, taking a lick of ice cream.

Sagan smiled and kissed me on the temple. His lips were cold from the rocky road. I gently pushed him away to look deeply into his eyes. He blinked first.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he said. “I think you’re different. Different is good.”

“But maybe I’m not different,” I said. “Maybe I’m just like everybody else … only something happened. Something beyond my control, and it changed me. Changed me in a way that nobody would ever believe.”

“Okay,” Sagan said. “Can I guess what the change is?”

“If you want to. But you’ll never guess right.”

“Hmmm … you’ve got some strange new disease nobody ever heard of, cooked up in a government lab.” He glanced at the balled-up napkin in my hand. “I’m … probably infected right now and don’t even know it.”

I laughed. “Next.”

“Let’s see. A genetic experiment in … human enhancement. They were trying to design this perfect new species.…”

“Perfect? Please.”

“Girl DNA mixed with … I can’t think of an animal that would be right. A cheetah? But where’s your spots? Wait. That’s a leopard, isn’t it?”

I giggled. “Or a dalmatian. Nope, not even warm.”

“You’re killing me, you know that?”

“You’ve said that before. Okay,” I said, laying my head on his shoulder. “How about this. As long as you don’t bug me to death about it, I promise I will tell you. Soon.”

“How soon?”

“I don’t know. It depends … on a lot of things.”
Like me staying alive
.

“Why did you frown just then?” he said.

I turned away. “I’m sorry.”

He touched me on the chin, lifted my head up with his finger. “Hey, it’s all right. It’s going to be okay. Look … Emma. Tell me something … a secret about you nobody else knows. Not
the
secret. You know what I mean.”

I looked off into the distance. I’d never really been the secret type until recently.

“Okay. As far back as I can remember, I have always been kind of desperate … desperate to believe life is more interesting than it really is. You know what I mean?”

Sagan nodded.

“That’s why I’m always going on about history. I kind of use it as my evidence, you know? Of what life can really be. Does that sound totally stupid?”

“No.”

The shaggy guitar guy—somebody was actually watching him now. A single man, short but powerfully built, wearing a little hat that barely covered the top of his massive head.

“When you think about it, we have more in common than you realize, Emma,” Sagan said. He was holding my fingers. “Stars … some of them are already dead by the time we get to see them. We both want to be in places that are already gone.”

“Except … my place has people.”

“Don’t screw up the moment.” He pointed at the sky. “Maybe that star right there—maybe it once had life orbiting it? Maybe they were just like us. Only a trillion miles away and a million years ago.”

“You think too much,” I said. “But I like it.”

“Both of us want to go to places where neither of us can go, because it’s basically impossible,” he said. “Why do you think that is? Why don’t we want to be here?”

I snuggled against him. “I don’t know. Right here, right now … is there anyplace else?”