Even more bizarre was that my mom was now referring to my doctor on a first-name basis—their relationship had taken a trip into serious land, it seemed, and I’d missed it. Grabbing my backpack, I stopped. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“You came home in the middle of the night Monday, right? Before your shift ended?” When she shook her head, I was even more confused. “How did I get to the hospital?”
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” She placed her hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever, but… Your friend brought you to the hospital.”
“My friend?”
“Yes, Daemon brought you in. Although, I’m curious how he knew you were so sick at three in the morning.” Her eyes narrowed. “Actually, I’m very curious.”
Oh, crap. “So am I.”
Chapter 3
I’d never been more eager to get to trig in my life. How in the hell had Daemon known I was sick? The dream I had about the lake couldn’t have been real. No way. If it was…I was going to…I didn’t know what I’d do, but I was sure my flaming cheeks would be involved.
Lesa was the first to arrive. “Yay! You’re back! How are you feeling? Better?”
“Yeah, I’m doing okay.” My eyes darted to the door. A few seconds later, Carissa came in.
She tugged on a strand of my hair as she passed, smiling. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. We were all worried. Especially when we stopped by to visit and you were completely out of it.”
I wondered what I’d done in front of them that I couldn’t remember. “Do I even want to know?”
Lesa giggled, pulling out her textbook. “You mumbled a lot. And you kept calling out for someone.”
Oh, no. “I did?”
Taking pity on me, Carissa kept her voice low. “You were calling out for Daemon.”
I dropped my face in my hands and moaned. “Oh, God.”
Lesa giggled. “It was kind of cute.”
A minute before the tardy bell rang, I felt an all-too-familiar warmth on my neck and glanced up. Daemon swaggered into class. Textbook-less as usual. He had a notebook, but I don’t think he ever wrote anything in it. I was beginning to suspect our math teacher was an alien, because how else would Daemon get away with not doing a damn thing in class?
He passed by without so much as a look.
I twisted around in my chair. “I need to talk to you.”
He slid into his desk chair. “Okay.”
“In private,” I whispered.
His expression didn’t change as he leaned back in his chair. “Meet me in the library at lunch. No one really goes in there. You know, with all those books and stuff.”
I made a face before flipping to the front of the class. Maybe five seconds later, I felt his pen poking me in the back. Taking a deep, patient breath, I faced him. Daemon had his desk tipped forward. Inches separated us. “Yes?”
He grinned. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
“Thanks,” I grumbled.
His gaze flickered around me, and I knew what he was doing. He was looking at the trace. “Know what?”
I cocked my head to the side, waiting.
“You’re not glowing,” he whispered.
Surprised, I let my jaw fall slack. I’d been shining like a disco ball on Monday and now I didn’t have a trace? “Like, at all?”
He shook his head.
The teacher started the class, so I had to face the front again, but I wasn’t paying attention. My mind was stuck on the fact I wasn’t glowing anymore. I should be—no, I was ecstatic, but the connection, it was still there. My hope that it would fade along with the trace was total bunk.
After class, I asked the girls to let Dee know I’d be late for lunch. Since they’d overheard part of the conversation, Carissa was full of giggles and Lesa launched into her fantasy about doing it in the library. Something I didn’t need to know. Or think about. But now I was, because I could so picture Daemon getting into that sort of thing.
Morning classes dragged. Mr. Garrison gave me the usual untrustworthy glance throughout biology after his eyes widened upon seeing me. He was like the unofficial guardian of the Luxen living outside of the alien colony. The non-glowy version of me seemed to get as much attention as the glowy version. Probably had more to do with the fact he wasn’t too happy that I knew what they really were.
The door opened just as he went for the projector, and a boy walked in, wearing a vintage Pac-Man shirt—which was made of awesome. A low murmur went through the classroom as the stranger handed Mr. Garrison a note.
He was new, obviously. His brown hair was artfully messy, like it was styled that way on purpose. Good looking, too, with golden-colored skin and a confident grin on his face.
“It seems we have a new student,” Mr. Garrison said, dropping the note on his desk. “Blake Saunders from…?”
“California,” the boy supplied. “Santa Monica.”
Several oohs and ahhs followed that. Lesa sat up straighter. Yay. I’d no longer be the “new kid.”
“All right, Blake from Santa Monica.” Mr. Garrison scanned the classroom, his gaze stopping on the empty seat beside me. “There’s your seat and your lab partner. Have fun.”
My eyes narrowed on Mr. Garrison, not sure if “Have fun” was a thinly veiled insult or a secret hope the non-alien boy would distract me from the alien one.
Appearing oblivious to the curious stares, Blake took his seat next to me and smiled. “Hi.”