X OX O —Mom
P.S. I’ll call you tonight from my hotel.
I groaned and lowered my forehead to the counter. I didn’t want to spend ten more minutes with Scott, let alone a couple of hours.
Forty minutes later, I’d showered, dressed, and consumed a bowl of strawberry oatmeal. There was a knock at the front door, and I opened it to find Vee smiling. “Ready for another fun-filled day of summer school?” she asked.
I grabbed my backpack off a hook in the coat closet. “Let’s just get this day over with, okay?”
“Whoa. Who peed in your Cheerios?”
“Scott Parnell.” Patch.
“I see the incontinence problem didn’t go away over time.”
“I’m supposed to give him a tour of town after class.”
“One-on-one time with a boy. What’s to hate?”
“You should have been here last night. Dinner was bizarre.
Scott’s mom started to tell us about his troubled past, but Scott cut her off. Not only that, but it almost seemed like he was threatening her. Then he excused himself to use the bathroom, but ended up eavesdropping on us from the hall.” And then spoke to his mom’s thoughts. Maybe.
“Sounds like he’s trying to keep his life private. Sounds like we might have to do something to change that.” I was two steps ahead of Vee, leading the way out, and I came up short. I’d just experienced a flash of inspiration. “I have a great idea,” I said, turning around. “Why don’t you give Scott the tour? No, seriously, Vee. You’ll love him. He has that reckless, anti-rules, bad-boy attitude. He even asked if we had beer—scandalous, right? I think he’s right up your all ey.”
“No can do. I’ve got a lunch date with Rixon.” I felt an unexpected stab in the vicinity of my heart. Patch and I had lunch plans today too, but somehow I doubted they were happening. What had I done? I had to call him. I had to find a way to talk to him. I wasn’t going to end things like this. It was absurd. But a small voice that I despised questioned why he hadn’t called first. He had just as much to apologize for as I did.
“I’ll pay you eight dollars and thirty-two cents to take Scott around, final offer,” I said.
“Tempting, but no. And here’s another thing. Patch probably isn’t going to be a happy camper if you and Scott make a habit of this exclusive time. Don’t get me wrong. I couldn’t care less what Patch thinks, and if you want to drive him crazy, more power to you. Still, I thought I’d raise the point.” I was halfway down the front porch steps, and my footing slipped at the mention of Patch. I thought about telling Vee that I’d called things off, but I wasn’t ready to say it out loud. I felt my cell phone, with Patch’s picture saved on it, burning in my pocket. Part of me wanted to hurl the phone into the trees on the far side of the road. Part of me couldn’t lose him that quickly.
Besides, if I told Vee, she’d inevitably point out that a breakup made us free to date other people, which was the wrong conclusion. I wasn’t looking elsewhere, and neither was Patch. I hoped. This was just a snag. Our first real fight. The breakup hoped. This was just a snag. Our first real fight. The breakup wasn’t permanent. Caught up in the moment, we’d both said things we didn’t mean.
“If I were you, I’d bail,” Vee said, her four-inch heels stabbing down the steps behind me. “That’s what I do whenever I find myself in a jam. Call Scott and tell him your cat’s coughing up mice intestines, and you have to take it to the vet after school.”
“He was over here last night. He knows I don’t have a cat.”
“Then unless he’s got overcooked spaghetti for brains, he’ll figure out you’re not interested.”
I considered this. If I got out of giving Scott a tour of town, maybe I could borrow Vee’s car and follow him. Try as I might to rationalize what I’d heard last night, I couldn’t ignore the nagging suspicion that Scott had spoken to his mom’s thoughts. One year ago I would have brushed the idea off as ridiculous. But things were different now. Patch had spoken to my thoughts numerous times. So had Chauncey (a.k.a. Jules), a Nephil from my past. Since fall en angels didn’t age, and I’d known Scott since he was five, I’d already ruled that out. But even if Scott wasn’t a fall en angel, he could still be Nephilim.
But if he was Nephilim, what was he doing in Coldwater?
What was he doing living an ordinary teen life? Did he know he was Nephilim? Did Lynn? Had Scott sworn fealty to a fall en angel yet? If he hadn’t, was it my responsibility to warn him about what lay ahead? I hadn’t instantly hit it off with Scott, but that didn’t mean I thought he deserved to give up his body for two weeks every year.
Of course, maybe he wasn’t Nephilim at all. Maybe I was getting carried away with the imagined belief that I’d overheard him speak to his mom’s thoughts.
After chemistry I swung by my locker, traded out my textbook for my backpack and cell, then walked to the side doors offering a clear view of the student parking lot. Scott was sitting on the hood of his silver-blue Mustang. He was still wearing the Hawaiian hat, and it dawned on me that if he kept this up, I wouldn’t recognize him without it. Case in point: I didn’t even know his hair color. I pulled the Post-it note my mom had left for me out of my pocket and dialed his number.
“This must be Nora Grey,” he answered. “I hope you’re not ditching me.”
“Bad news. My cat’s sick. The vet squeezed me in for a twelve thirty appointment. I’m going to have to take a rain check on the tour. Sorry,” I finished, not expecting to feel quite this guilty. After all, it was just a little lie. And not one part of me honestly believed that Scott wanted a tour of Coldwater. At least, that’s what I was telling myself to ease my conscience.
“Right,” Scott said, and broke the connection.
I’d only just closed my cell phone when Vee came up behind me. “Let him down easy, that’s my girl.”
“Do you mind if I borrow the Neon for the afternoon?” I asked, watching Scott slide off the Mustang and place a call on his cell.
“What’s the occasion?”
“I want to tail Scott.”
“What for? This morning you made it pretty clear you think he’s a bottom-feeder.”
“Something about him is … off.”
“Something about him is … off.”
“Yeah, it’s called his sunglasses. Hulk Hogan, anyone? Either way, no can do. I have my lunch date with Rixon.”
“Yeah, but Rixon could give you a ride so I can have the Neon,” I said, shooting a glance through the window to confirm that Scott hadn’t hopped inside the Mustang yet. I didn’t want him leaving before I convinced Vee to hand over the Neon’s keys.
“Of course he can. But then I’d look needy. Guys today want a strong, independent woman.”
“If you let me take the Neon, I’ll fill up the tank.” Vee’s expression softened just a tad. “All the way?”
“All the way.” Or as much as eight dollars and thirty-two cents would buy.
Vee chewed her lip. “Okay,” she said slowly. “But maybe I should come along and keep you company, make sure nothing bad happens.”