"Nuh-uh!" I teased. "You're so dead. Say good-bye to the Christmas dance. Jude hates liars."
"Oh, no. Do you think he'll be that mad?" She paused. "Wait, you said Christmas dance." She pointed at me. "Did he say something to you? He is going to ask me, right? Hey, do you want to go shopping for dresses after school?"
1 smiled, but I couldn't help wondering if should I say something to April about Jude. She seemed head over heels for him, but I couldn't help wondering if my brother's sudden interest in her was his way of rebounding--not from another relationship but from his own emotions. Or maybe it was April who was taking advantage of my brother. She sure did get over her shyness around him the second he seemed vulnerable. But the look on April's face was genuinely eager.
"Don't you think you should focus on studying for the English final before dress shopping?" I asked. "Didn't your mother threaten to ground you if you don't pass?"
"Ugh. Seriously, why did she have to start taking an interest in me now?"
"Hey, Grace," a raspy voice said from behind me.
April's eyebrows went up in double arches.
I turned toward the owner of the voice, already knowing whom it belonged to. I looked at his navy-blue sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his khaki pants, the slip of paper he held in his hands, the top of his hair that seemed to get lighter with every day that passed--I looked anywhere but his face, anywhere but his eyes. My gaze finally rested on his paint-smudged forearms.
"What do you want?" I asked. My voice came out colder than I expected.
"I need to talk to you," Daniel said.
"I ... I can't." I placed my drawing on top of my supply bucket and shoved it under my table.
"Come on, April. Let's go."
"Grace, please." Daniel held his hand out to me.
I flinched. His hands reminded me of the things he'd done to my brother. Would he have tried to do the same things to me if he'd known I was the one who turned his father in? "Go away." I took April's arm for strength.
"It's important," Daniel said.
I hesitated and let go of April.
"What, are you crazy?" she whispered. "You can't stay with him. People are already talking." I stared at her. "Talking about what?" April looked at her shoes.
"Hey, you girls coming?" Pete asked from the art-room doorway. Jude stood next to him, grinning at April. "We've gotta book if we want a booth."
"Coming," April said. She gave me a pointed look and then broke into a huge smile. "Hey, guys," she said as Jude wrapped his arm around her waist.
"You coming, Grace?" Pete held his hand out to me just like Daniel. I looked at the three of them in the doorway. April tilted her head and gestured for me to come. Jude looked at me and then glanced at Daniel; his smile faded into a thin, tight line.
"Let's go, Gracie," Jude said.
"Please stay," Daniel said from behind me.
I couldn't bring myself to glance at him. All Jude had ever asked me to do was stay away from Daniel. I failed in that promise originally, but I had to keep it now. I couldn't talk to Daniel. I couldn't be with him. I could not choose Daniel over my brother again.
"Leave me alone," I said. "Go somewhere else. You don't belong here." I took Pete's outstretched hand. He locked his fingers around mine and pulled me to his side, but his touch didn't make me feel the way I did when I was close to Daniel.
AT THE CAFE
I was six bites into my veggie burger, Pete was on reason three of his "Five Ways Hockey Could Change the World" lecture, and April was squealing with delight because Jude had just given her a blueberry muffin with an invitation to the Christmas dance when it fully hit me: I told Daniel to get out of my life. I dropped my burger and ran for the restroom. I barely made it to one of the toilets before garlic and seaweed burned up my throat.
When I came out of the stall, Lynn Bishop was standing at the sink. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her lips pursed but her eyes wide.
"Bad veggie burger," I mumbled, and stuck my hands under the faucet.
"Whatever." She chucked her paper towel into the trash and left.
Chapter Twenty Fears
THAT NIGHT
After dinner, I locked myself in my room. Cramming for my retake chem exam had eaten up most of my time last week, and I was still struggling to keep up with my other classes. With finals looming, I knew I was in trouble. Fd tried to study with April and Jude after school, but April had still been so giddy about Jude asking her to the dance, I realized it would be more effective if I worked on my own. But after a few hours of history and cale and a little Ralph Waldo Emerson, my weary gaze kept drifting down from my textbooks to the drawer in my desk. I took the key out of my music box and unlocked the drawer. I removed the book from the box, curled up in my comforter and pillows, and carefully turned to the second marked page. A little bedtime reading couldn't hurt anyone, right?
Dear Katharine,
I am increasingly convinced that Alexius's stories of the death Dogs are not mere myth. I wish to document as much as I can about this phenomenon.
Father Miguel says I am obsessed. But I fear he is the one with the obsession. He has persuaded large numbers of our campaign that they must punish the Greeks for their murder and betrayal. Even many of the Templars and Hospitalars are convinced by his inflammatory words. I find Alexius's stories a welcome distraction in all this plotting and persuasion. Alexius took me to a blind prophet who taught me more on the subject. While some Urbat, as he called them, are born with the wolf essence, others are created when bitten by an existing Urbat--much like the spreading of some terrible plague.
It may be that an Urbat created through infection, rather than birth, is more susceptible to the influences of the wolf. The curse may progress much more swiftly in the infected party if he is not vigilant in controlling his emotions
Daniel hadn't mentioned that his wolf condition was contagious. I couldn't believe that I had actually wanted to be like him, and now it made my mind spin to realize that it was as simple as a bite from his teeth---almost as simple as a kiss.
I looked at my hands and couldn't help picturing them covered in shaggy fur. My fingernails grew long into pointed claws that could rip flesh from bone. My mouth suddenly felt like it was full of razorsharp teeth and long, tearing fangs. What would my face look like with a long snout and muzzle? What if my eyes turned black, with no inner glow--reflecting only the light around me?