I slam my door and storm across the lot, marching right past Damen who's leaning against his car, waiting for me.
"Um, hel-lo! Tall dark and handsome at three o'clock, you walked right by him! What is going on with you?" Miles says, grabbing my arm and looking at me. "Are you guys in a fight?"
But I just shake my head and pull away. "Nothing's going on,"
I say, striding toward the building.
Even though the last time I checked Damen was well behind me when I walk into class and head for my seat, he's already , there. So I raise my hood and switch on my iPod, making a point to ignore him, while I wait for Mr. Robins to call roll.
"Ever," Damen whispers, as I stare straight ahead, focusing on Mr. Robins's receding hairline, just waiting for my turn to say "Ever, I know you're upset. But I can explain." I stare straight ahead, pretending not to hear. "Ever: please," Damen begs.
But I just act like he's not even there. And just when Mr.
Robins gets to my name, Damen sighs, closes his eyes, and says, "Pine. Just remember, you asked for it."
And the next thing I know; a horrible thwonk! resonates throughout the room, as nineteen heads hit the tops of their desks.
Everyone's head but Damen's and mine.
I gaze all around, mouth gaping, eyes trying to comprehend, and when I finally turn back to Damen, staring accusingly, he just shrugs and says, "This is exactly what I'd hoped to avoid."
"What've you done?" I stare at all the limp bodies, a terrible understanding beginning to emerge. "Omigod, you killed them! You killed everyone!" I shout, my heart pounding so fast I'm sure he can hear it.
But he just shakes his head and says, "Come on, Ever. What do you take me for? Of course, I didn't kill them. They're just taking a little… siesta, that's all."
I scoot to the edge of my seat, my eyes fixed on the door, plotting my escape.
"You can try, but you won't get very far. You see how I beat you to class even though you had a head start?" He crosses his legs and gazes at me, his face calm, voice steady as can be.
"You can read my mind?" I whisper, recalling some of my more embarrassing thoughts, my cheeks growing hot as my fingers grip the edge of my desk.
"Usually." He shrugs. "Well, pretty much always, yes."
"For how long?" I stare at him, part of me wanting to take my chance on escape, while the other part wants to get a few questions answered before my most certain demise.
"Since the first day I saw you," he whispers, his gaze locked on mine, sending a flood of warmth through my body.
"And when was that?" I ask, voice trembling, remembering the photo on his table, and wondering just how long he's been stalking me.
"I'm not stalking you." He laughs. "At least not in the way that you think."
"Why should I believe you?" I glare, knowing better than to trust him, no matter how trivial.
"Because I've never lied to you."
"You're lying now!"
"I've never lied to you about anything important," he says, averting his gaze.
"Oh really? What about the fact that you took a photo of me long before you were even enrolled here? Where does that fall on your list of important things to share in a relationship?" I glare.
He sighs, his eyes appearing tired when he says, "And where does being a clairvoyant who hangs out with her dead little sister fall upon yours?"
"You don't know anything about me." I stand, hands sweaty and shaky, heart slam-dancing in my chest, as I stare at all of the slumped-over bodies, Stacia with her mouth hanging open, Craig snoring so loud he's vibrating; Mr. Robins looking more happy and peaceful than I've ever seen him. "Is it the whole school? Or just this room?"
"I can't be sure, but I'm guessing it's the whole school." He nods, smiling as he glances around, clearly pleased with his handiwork.
And without another word, I spring from my seat, race out the door, sprint down the hall, across the quad, and through the office. Fleeing past all the slumped-over secretaries and administrators sleeping at their desks, before bursting through the door and into the parking lot, running toward my little red Miata, where Damen is already waiting, my bag dangling from the very tips of his fingers.