He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone beeped. He held out the dog leads for me to grab. “Hold these for a sec.” He checked his phone, his expression turning serious. “I have to go. Can you take the dogs back for me, please? I don’t have time.”
“What is it?” I asked. “A fire?”
“At the community centre. Sounds bad.”
He set off as a thought came to me. It was Saturday afternoon. On Saturday afternoons, Margo had drama rehearsals in the community centre. My heart dropped to my stomach. What if she was hurt? What if she used her gift?
I ran for home, hurrying with the dogs who seemed happy enough to race me. Then I stopped, unsure what I should do, until the dogs pulled on the leads and forced me to keep walking. Back home, I dithered in the driveway for too many minutes, unsure of what to do, while the dogs grew restless around me.
Perdita found me there when she drove home, her expression puzzled. “What are you doing?” she asked after she parked. “Did something happen?”
“Yeah, but…” I paced towards her. “Nathan got called to a fire in the community centre.”
“The community centre? But Tammy…” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Margo.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what to do.”
“Give me the dogs,” she said. “I’ll take care of them. Go to her.”
“What if she doesn’t want me there?”
“Then make sure she’s safe. Go. I’ll take care of everything here.”
I didn’t hesitate for more than a second, but outside the gate, I glanced back, and Perdita looked so very small and alone. That’s when I really did hesitate, but she waved me on. The thought occurred to me that it must be hard to be the one left behind, to always be the one waving off the others as they sprang into action. Maybe that was why I felt so strongly about Margo’s gift—I was the one being left behind.
By the time I made it to the community centre, the immediate danger was over. The damage was done, but the fire had been contained, and all that was left was for the last of the flames to be extinguished. The drama club had all gathered together within a safe distance from the building, excitedly talking amongst themselves. There was no sense of urgency or fear about the scene, except for the teacher, who was speaking rapidly on her phone, gesturing wildly.
Taller than the rest of the girls, Margo stood out from the group, impossible not to notice. She didn’t look ill or scared or even freaked out, so I figured she hadn’t used her power. She seemed as excitable as the others, so I decided to quietly leave. She wanted to fit in; I would be an unwelcome presence.
I headed for home, but I felt more lonely than ever.
The onions were burning; that would have been obvious even without a werewolf sense of smell. I lowered the heat and took the pan off the hob.
“Sorry.” Perdita added a dash of water to deglaze the pan before returning it to the heat, gently pushing me out of the way. “I got distracted.”
She was more than distracted. She kept looking out the window and pacing the kitchen. I had already told her the fire wasn’t so bad, that everyone was safe, but she appeared to be brooding on it.
“It’s okay,” I said again. “Nobody got hurt.”
She nodded, but her expression remained grim. “I know.”
“He’ll be home soon.”
She made a face. “I know that, too.”
Her tone made me flinch. “Did I do something?”
She looked up at me, regret replacing the irritation in her eyes. “Of course not. Ignore me, Dorian. My head’s all over the place today.”
“It’s all right. I’ll finish dinner.”
She shook her head, moving to the fridge to take out more ingredients. “I can do it.” But her hands were trembling.
“I’ll help then.”
She shot me a grateful smile. Together, we worked in silence until the sauce was simmering.
“And now we wait,” she said, slipping into a seat at the table.