The room came back in full clarity. Multiple eyes were still locked in my direction.
“Hey . . .” Finley leaned over the table, looking as if he’d said it multiple times already. “Carwynn? Ya all right?”
I drew in a breath.
“Yeah, sorry.” I looked down at my hands, then back up. “Better now. I was—caught off guard. My control slipped.”
I needed to learn to control my ability, now more than ever. What had just happened was nothing—nothing in comparison to what it could’ve been.
It’d been a while since that creature, that darkness slipped out. Tonight marked the third time ever. The second from that douchebag in college, and the first, well, that was the day my abilities awoke.
The ghost of that memory lurked in the shadows of my mind.
5
CARWYNN
HUMAN REALM—AGE 13
Sweating.Like. A. Pig.
I used my most dramatic grunts to fake a stomachache. My foster mom immediately rasped out, “You’re going to school.”
Ugh. I hated it here. Middle school sucked.
Another humid day, but I was wearing my sweatshirt like a suit of armor. Last week’s battle—having to line up in the nurse’s office for physicals, getting weighed like cattle in front of the whole class. Kids took bets on who the highest prized cow would be. I took first place.
Absolute humiliation.
Wanna know something even more humiliating? Having gym first period. With a brute of a gym teacher, Ms. Pearl, who was anything but. She was a bodybuilding, military crew-cut wearing, sadist. She’d make us run a half mile at the beginning of class as a warmup.
“Run faster, Fadas!” she’d scream. And yes, that really wasthe last name they assigned me as an orphan. The universe took a huge steamy dump on me with that one.
Hurrying through the hall, I flapped my sweatshirt in and out like a fan.
After gym, I changed at the speed of light in the bathroom stall. A trick I learned after Crysta and her nasty friends stole my clothes the first day.
I pulled my auburn hair into a neatly tucked ponytail, but there was no hiding the bright-red flush to my face.What a wonderful way to start the day.
Darting into the classroom, I scooted into a seat, glancing around.
Crysta was clicked up with her minions, Rhett being one of them. I couldn’t help but stare.
Why did he have to be so darn cute?
The popular kids always laughed the loudest.
One of them drawled a terrible southern accent, “Life is like a box of chocolates!”
I rolled my eyes.
Crysta caught me staring.
I looked down, studying the wood on my desk like it was the most fascinating thing in the room.
Please, please . . . Leave me alone. Just a break for one day!
“Speaking of knowing your way around a box of chocolates—we should ask Carwynn!” Crysta nodded her head in my direction, face pinched. “She’sobviouslyan expert!”
