Covet (The Clann #2)

Covet (The Clann #2) Page 16

Which turned out to be way harder than I'd expected, even though the blood memories had faded by the time I arrived at the school's main gym.

Last year's slumber party had been a blast. Of course, that was before I apparently looked like a cross between a human and a mannequin. By the end of the night I'd lost count of the times I had to explain why I was so pale and all my freckles had faded away ("the weird gym lighting"), or why I wasn't eating anything ("already ate").

And then there was the small fact that I could now hear everyone's thoughts.

When I'd first walked into the gym, I'd thought that the noise level seemed so loud because they had multiple jamboxes on somewhere, each one turned to a different radio talk show or something. It had taken me a few minutes to realize what I was really hearing. When I did figure it out, I'd had to duck into the girls' restroom in order to calm down. The stupid feeding must have caused it.

At least the bloodlust hadn't shown up, too.

"How did it go?" Dad called from the kitchen as I entered the house the next morning.

"Fine," I sighed, knowing he'd hear me even if I whispered no matter what room he was working in today.

I left it at that. No way was I going to tell him about the ESP ability. If I did, the council would know about it and try to recruit me as their newest spy or something.

I trudged up the steps to my room, kicked off my sneakers, went to stick them in my closet, and froze.

When I'd given Dad the go-ahead to buy new stuff, I thought he'd get a few things to supplement my wardrobe.

We really had to work on our communication skills.

"A skirt?" I muttered, holding up a clear-plastic-draped black-lace thing on a hanger. Next to it hung some kind of black-and-white dress. Hadn't he noticed that my closet featured only jeans? I didn't own dresses or skirts for a reason. Surely he didn't really expect me to wear this kind of stuff to school. Maybe the skirt and dress were for special occasions. Though what those would be, I had no idea. Maybe I could wear them for Christmas and the Charmers end of year banquet or something.

Then I spotted the shoe boxes. Holding my breath, I opened the first one, and the air whooshed out of my lungs in pure horror.

My phone rang in my pocket. I grabbed it, still staring at the new footwear as I answered.

"Hey, ready for school on Monday?" Anne said by way of a greeting. At least I couldn't hear her thoughts over the phone.

Then I realized what she'd said. Oh great. Tomorrow I'd have to deal with school, rumors about Tristan and me, gossip about Tristan and Bethany, who were still seeing each other, and hearing everyone's thoughts all day.

"Oh yay, I can hardly wait," I grumbled. "How'd your shopping go?" The girls had gotten together yesterday evening to take advantage of all the back-to-school sales in Tyler.

Anne launched into telling me all about it...where they'd shopped, the mountain of "crap," as she put it, that Michelle and Carrie had talked her into getting.

"I needed you there to keep them from ganging up on me!" she growled.

I smiled, realizing how much I missed my friends. At least there was one good thing about going back to school tomorrow. I'd get to see them all again in a nice, safe public setting.

"Sounds like you had fun." I flopped into the rolling chair at my desk. "My dad insisted on buying all new stuff for me to wear this year. Wait till you see what he picked out. You're going to fall over laughing."

"Total makeover, huh?"

"And then some. He went to the Galleria. And the stuff he picked out...dresses. And skirts. And heels!"

Anne snorted with laughter.

"I ask you, just how the heck am I supposed to walk across the practice fields and climb metal bleachers at Charmers practice in heels?" I asked.

After she stopped snickering, she said, "Well, you could always take a second outfit of normal clothes with you every day and change at school."

"Tempting. Except I promised I'd wear whatever he picked out."

"Why would you do that?"

"It was the only way he would let me go to the Charmers slumber party last night."

"Oh yeah? And was it worth it?"

"I wish I could say yes. But I ended up spending the whole night lying about why I wasn't eating and why I'm so pale now."

"You've always been pale."

"Yeah, well, according to Mom I've reached whole new levels of pale lately." Ever since I started the dumb vamp feedings. But no way was I discussing that with Anne.

I sighed. "Hey, if we don't have any classes together before lunch tomorrow, save me a seat at our usual table, okay? I may not be able to eat, but at least we can all go over our class schedules together. And before you ask, yes, you have my permission to laugh as loudly as you want at the heels."

She snorted. "My grandma makes me wear heels to church. So I'll probably be feeling your pain too much to laugh."

"Thanks." I smiled.

"Good luck getting to school without breaking an ankle," she added with a snicker before ending the call.

I tossed my phone onto the bed while eyeing the remaining shoe boxes. I probably didn't even want to know what was in them.

Then again, I'd have to find out sooner or later.

Taking a deep breath for courage, I quickly bent over and flicked the lids off the rest of the boxes. And then I sighed.

Dad had gotten me ballet flats. Lots and lots of ballet flats in all kinds of colors and fabrics. And they were cute.

I sat down, pulled on a pair and had to bite my lower lip to hold back the urge to squee. Okay, now these just might make wearing the rest of the new stuff bearable.

Then I glanced up and saw the collection of notes, each stuffed within a clear sheet protector, which hung from a metal ring attached to the knob of my closet door. A quick flip through them showed countless suggested outfits, complete with recommended shoe and jewelry options, enough for at least a month. He'd even taken pictures of each outfit laid out on my bed so I couldn't get confused.

"Geez," I muttered, unsure whether to be alarmed or grateful.

Would I get this anally retentive when I was three hundred years old?

The next morning, I tried not to look in the mirror too closely as I got ready for school. I didn't want to dwell on how different I looked and whether anyone at school would get weirded out about it. I was nervous enough as it was.

Please don't let me run into Tristan, part of me prayed with every breath I inhaled.

And on the exhale of every breath, another part of me yearned for just one glimpse of him, just one more time to hear his voice, his laugh, or see his smile...

Dad was waiting by the front door as I came down the stairs.

"I see you found my notes." He nodded in approval as he assessed my outfit.

I bit the tip of my tongue to keep from telling him just what I thought of his "notes." When I thought of a more diplomatic reply, I said, "Thanks for the ballet flats. I really like them."'

"And the rest of it?"

I went through three or four possible responses and chose the nicest of them. "I'm sure I'll learn to get used to them." I tacked on a teeth-baring attempt at a smile.

At least none of the new stuff was too wild or crazy or slutty.

His lips twitched.

"I want you to keep this with you at all times." He held out what looked like a short, fat black-and-gold pen. "Click it and it is a pen. Turn the clip sideways and it is an emergency stash of blood."

It was my turn to fight a smile. "Sort of like an epipen for vamps?"

"Exactly. It has extra anticoagulants to keep it from clotting, so it might taste strange. But if you reach the point where you have to take it, you will be beyond the point of caring about taste."

Yummy. "Thanks." I put it in my new Coach purse, feeling like the vampire version of James Bond.

"And I will have my cell phone with me at all times, of course," he added.

I couldn't help but smile now. "It's okay, Dad. Remember, I've done this whole starting school thing a few times. Same old school, same old people, same old town."

"But you are not the same."

Right. Good point. "I'll see you tonight, probably around five or so after Charmers practice." I tried to act cool and calm and completely confident as I waved goodbye.

Five minutes later, I parked in the front school lot in my same old spot. Then I got out and felt the breeze around my legs below the dress.

Okay, maybe this wasn't quite like all my other first days of school.

At least getting ready for the Charmers morning practice, which started early and continued through first period every day, was the same old routine. What wasn't part of the usual routine was the fact that I could now hear the director's thoughts before she said them, which was hard to hide. I had to watch her lips and wait until I saw their movement match the words in her head before I took notes on the clipboard.

The rest of first period was spent working the music and sending the sophomore managers off for bags of ice for two dancers who had knee trouble. By the time I carried the sound system back to Mrs. Daniels's office, the sameness of the general routine had almost lulled me into forgetting about all the other changes in my life. And because I'd chosen the black ballet flats instead of the heels as Dad's notes had suggested for this outfit, walking wasn't a problem.

At this point, my life was so cloudy I would take any silver lining I could get.

But when I went into the main hall for my second period class, it all came slamming back into me as the sound of everyone's thoughts filled my head with a low roar. By the time I nearly ran into the Brat Twins, I was tense and in real need of escaping the crowd.

Then I realized Vanessa and her sister Hope were carrying the exact same purse as me. The only difference was the color. Vanessa's was powder-blue, Hope's was hot-pink, and mine was black to match the black-and-white wraparound dress Dad's notes had suggested for today.

"Is that..." Hope began, staring at my purse. I had to read her lips in order to understand the words. Otherwise I never would have been able to hear her over everyone's thoughts.

"It's a knockoff." Vanessa reached out and twisted my purse on my forearm until she could see the metal label. As soon as she saw it, she froze. "Where did you get this?" She acted like I'd stolen it straight out of her closet.

"At the Galleria," I answered with a smile while trying not to laugh. Maybe the new wardrobe came with a few perks after all.

Vanessa eyed my dress, my necklace, my shoes. I managed to catch her fleeting thoughts as she considered grabbing my wrist to better inspect my bracelet then decided she didn't want to have skin contact.

"Is that a-" Hope gasped and did reach for the bracelet.

Vanessa slapped her hand down. "Shut up, Hope. Come on, we'll be late for class." She yanked the purse off my forearm and tried to drop it on the ground.

I caught it before it fell more than a few inches. The move hadn't felt any different than anything else I'd ever done, but both twins shrieked and took off at a fast trot, looking back over their shoulders at me every few seconds.

Crap. Had I done a vamp blur thing?

I needed way more tai chi practice if I was ever going to blend in this year.

I slowly slid the purse onto my shoulder. Then I repositioned it on my forearm in the crook of my elbow. Well, crud. How was one supposed to carry a designer purse? Dad's notes hadn't included any tips about that, and I'd never carried even a normal purse, much less one that was nice enough to tick off the Brat Twins.

Giving up for now, I continued toward my second period class, trying to ignore that too familiar ache forming in my chest and stomach warning me that Tristan was nearby. He was tall enough to be visible even in a crowd. Since I couldn't see his head of golden hair standing out above everyone else's in the hall, he was probably already in his second period classroom somewhere in this building. Good. I really didn't want to have to run into him this morning if I could help it.

As the crowd parted for me, I caught bits of thoughts that stuck out from the jumble, several of them directed at me.

Is that a Coach bag?

Are those Jimmy Choos? No, they can't be. Everyone knows she's too poor to afford those. They're probably knockoffs.

How can she afford that? Oh, I know, it's her dad. He's probably a drug dealer. Or maybe he's in the mafia or something. Too bad they spent all their money on clothes instead of that run-down shack they're living in now.

Part of me wanted to run through the hall and escape as fast as I could. Dad was half right. Everyone was looking at my clothing instead of me. But it obviously hadn't changed how people thought of me.

Somehow I resisted the urge to use my vamp speed and just blow through the crowd. Control. It was all about self-control. I forced my legs to move human slow, then slower, casually strolling into class just before the tardy bell rang.

I had been looking forward to this class. English was my best subject in school. But when I walked into the room and saw everyone still standing around holding their books, I let out a long sigh.

There was only one reason that my classmates wouldn't be seated already. The teacher must be getting ready to assign seats alphabetically.

I glanced around the room and locked gazes with Tristan. Everything inside me froze.

In that second, I knew just how wrong I had been to hope that my feelings for him had faded over the summer. Seeing him was like a physical blow as all the memories of our months together came crashing back over me, robbing me of breath and forcing me to acknowledge just how much I had missed seeing that face.

I still loved him as much as ever, if not more.

But now he was with Bethany.

And I would be stuck sitting near him again. With our last names of Coleman and Colbert and alphabetical seating, it was inevitable. For the first time, I found myself actually wishing the Clann's control really did reach all the way to the JHS computerized class scheduling system so I wouldn't have to share another class with him.

I tried to look away, really I did. I knew I was the one who had broken up with him and that it was flat-out rude to be staring at him now. But I couldn't seem to stop myself, even as the raw hurt in his eyes seemed to burn through me.

The teacher, Mrs. Knowles, pointed at the front-row desk closest to the door, said a name, and someone sat down in it. She repeated the process with the desk beside it. Apparently she was going to assign seats horizontally like Mr. Smythe liked to do with all of his history classes, instead of in vertical rows. Which meant this year Tristan would end up beside me instead of behind me. Great. I wouldn't be able to avoid seeing him out of the corner of my eye.

Maybe I should start wearing my hair down instead of in its usual ponytail, to block the view.

I tried to pay attention to Mrs. Knowles, but I couldn't hear her over the rising roar of thoughts from my classmates driving into my head like an iPod turned up full blast.

She moved on, pointing to the third desk in the front row. Tristan moved to sit there, and at last I was freed from his gaze. But that didn't lessen the volume of chaotic voices inside my head, or my racing pulse.

I couldn't do this. I could not make it through yet another year of being so close to Tristan every other day. Every time I came to this class, I would have to sit just inches away from him for a whole hour and a half. I'd managed to make it through the final few weeks of torture last year. But then I'd had a whole summer away from him. And though I'd missed him, it had also been a relief from the physical ache of being around him.

I didn't want to have to fight that battle yet again. Not this year. Not after all that we'd been through, the memories we'd made together, falling in love with him...

And the bloodlust.

Mrs. Knowles' helmet-shaped hair filled my vision. I blinked, looked around. Everyone was seated now, with only one desk left open. The second desk in the front row...beside Tristan.

Mrs. Knowles was saying something to me, but I couldn't hear her. I tried to read her lips and thought she was probably telling me to take my seat.

Since I had no way of telling how loud I actually was over the noise in my head, I tried whispering, "Um, couldn't we please choose our own seats?"

She frowned, her entire face pinching as if she'd just taken a bite of food and found a hair in it. She said a single word that looked like, "What?"

I tried again, repeating myself a little louder so she could hear me. But she spoke so fast I couldn't make out the words. Panicking, I tried again, loudly saying, "I would really like to choose my own desk please."

Her face turned white, and from everyone's shocked thoughts, I gathered that I'd just yelled at her. Crap.