The Nightmare Affair - Page 40/87

Katarina was looking directly at me now and speaking even louder than before. “I mean how many times does Eli have to say no before she gets it?”

“I think you should seriously consider the snake thing again,” said Selene, equally as loud.

“Would if I could, but—” I broke off, remembering the truth about my magic.

“Beats me,” said Carla. “Then again, Nightmares aren’t known for being smart, right?”

Selene flashed them the double finger.

Katarina grinned so maliciously, I contemplated casting a jinx at her, maybe the silencer so nobody could hear her talk or the jab aimed at her nose, see if I could break it. I’d had enough of being docile. Ever since what I’d done to her in Eli’s dream I’d been trying to be nice, but enough was enough.

I flipped her the finger instead.

“Put it down.” Selene grabbed my hand and forced me to lower it. Too late, I realized Mr. Ankil had seen me.

He came over, an uncharacteristic frown on his face. He looked oddly pale and tired. His long hair appeared as if he hadn’t washed it in days. I wondered if he were sick or something. “I think that’s quite enough of that, Dusty.”

“Okay,” I said, somewhat stunned by the reprimand. Ankil rarely played the part of disciplinarian. I thought he of all people would understand, given what he’d shared with me about his own picked-on childhood.

He nodded absently in my direction, his mind and attention already elsewhere. He looked around, unconsciously wringing his hands over and over again.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Ankil?” I asked.

“What?” He looked sharply back at me as if he’d forgotten about me already. His voice trembled as he answered, “Oh. Not at all. Just behave yourself, Dusty.” He walked away.

“That was weird,” I said, ignoring the victorious grin on Katarina’s face.

“Yeah, I know. But he’s been acting strange lately,” said Selene.

I thought about it for a moment and realized she was right. The last couple of days his classes had been oddly subdued, less hands-on and more time spent reading the textbook or answering essay questions. “I wonder— Oh, crap.”

“What?” Selene said.

“It’s him,” I whispered, ducking behind her. “Hide me.” Paul was walking down the hallway toward us. I pressed my shoulder against the wall and pushed Selene farther out for coverage. Not that her slender personage was nearly big enough to accomplish the task.

Paul stopped when he reached us. I couldn’t help it. I stepped beside Selene to see him more clearly. I ran my fingers over my hair, trying to make it lay flat. At least the pink polka dots were finally gone.

“Hey, Dusty,” he said.

“I don’t think she wants to talk to you.” Selene crossed her arms in front of her, fixing him with her sternest glare. She looked more tomboy than ever.

“I know. I don’t blame her.” Paul shifted his gaze from Selene to me. “But please let me explain.”

“Humph,” said Selene.

I knew I ought to tell him to take a hike, but I wanted to hear what he had to say. He looked every bit as pale and tired as Mr. Ankil. The telltale yellow color of a half-healed bruise rimmed his right cheek, and his nose appeared even more crooked than I remembered. I wondered if he’d taken up boxing or something.

When his rich brown eyes locked on mine, I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t still attracted to him. “You have two minutes.”

Paul glanced at Selene and shifted the backpack on his shoulder, clearly uncomfortable with talking in front of her. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “I was sick.”

Selene snorted. “Too sick to call?”

Paul ignored her, keeping his gaze on me. “I got hurt the Saturday morning before we were supposed to go out and ended up at Vejovis for a while.”

My eyes widened. Vejovis was the local magickind hospital, but students rarely went there. Most ailments and injuries could be treated by the nurses who worked in Arkwell’s infirmary. Only serious injuries ever required the level of magic the doctors at Vejovis provided. It must’ve been bad if Paul had ended up there.

“What happened?” I asked, taking a closer look at him. Besides the old bruise on his face, I couldn’t spot anything else wrong.

“I … went home Friday night and fell down some stairs. Broke a couple of bones.” He purposefully turned to Selene, pointing to the yellow spot beneath his eye. “Including my cheekbone. Talking hurt.” He looked back at me. “By the time I could talk, I didn’t know what to say. I knew you’d think I stood you up. I just got back to school today, and I wanted to explain what happened in person.”

I swallowed, thinking about all the times the past two weeks I’d wished something bad would happen to him. “I’m sorry you were hurt. But you’re okay now?” It was a stupid question, but I couldn’t think of anything better.

“Yeah, I’m fine—better now.”

Selene frowned. “You fell down the stairs and broke your cheekbone?”

I winced at the skepticism in her voice, even as a part of me agreed with her. It did seem an unlikely thing to happen.

Paul shifted his backpack again. “It was a bad fall. There were lots of steps. I broke my wrist, too, and sprained an ankle.”

“Ouch,” I said.

Paul opened his mouth to reply, but the loud creak of the gym doors opening stopped him. We all turned to look as the first in line finally started moving inside.