Yes. I’m scared of you. More terrified than I’ve ever been of anyone.But I can’t let him know that, so I dodge his question with one of my own. Media Training 101. “How long has the lake been... doing that?” I ask.
“Not sure,” he says. “I first saw the vision three months ago. A coincidence—I was just walking around the lake at night when I noticed something in the water. I assumed I was hallucinating. Especially because it disappeared after just a minute, and when I returned to the lake the next morning, it was gone. Must’ve visited the lake twenty, thirty times before I figured out there was a pattern to it.”
“The moon,” I murmur, remembering.
He nods. “Once the moon reaches its highest point, thevision starts—and it always ends on the same scene. The same house burning down.”
My heart skips with a new realization: He doesn’t know the house is mine, or else he wouldn’t be talking about it like this. And if he has no ideawherethe house is, he can’t set it ablaze just yet—that gives me an advantage. Or at least more time.
“The thing is, other people have passed by that lake, but nobody else has reacted. I thought I was the only one who could see the vision... until you,” he says, his gaze fixed on me with the pressure and precision of a knife. He’s staring at me like I have all his prized possessions locked in my basement and the key dangling from my pinkie finger, and he’s calculating when to lunge for it.
“And what does that mean?” I ask. My voice sounds breathless to my own ears.
“You tell me,” he says, his eyes narrowing as if I’d implanted myself in the vision on purpose. “For some reason... for better or worse, you’re part of my future, Chanel.”
A violent shiver courses through my body. He’s leaning in close, too close, the darkness of his gaze inescapable, and I’m scared that if he were to touch me, he’d feel just how hard I’m trembling, how fast my heart is beating. I can’t remember the last time someone had such an overpowering effect on me. I’m transfixed. Too terrified to stay, too terrified to move.
Even his beauty is terrifying.
Then the classroom door creaks open somewhere behind us, and I startle, lurching away from him like I’ve been shoved. Two girls from the lower-year level are standing in the entrance,openly ogling us, their expressions scandalized. I can feel the flush in my cheeks, and I can only imagine what it seems like we were doing alone in here.
“Um, we’re so sorry to interrupt,” one of the girls says with a giggle.
“It’s fine. I was just leaving,” I tell her, smoothing my hair with a quick smile, careful not to look over at Ares again.
“Remember our session,” Ares says from behind me, which sets off another round of giggling. No doubt our uninvited viewers are thinkinghook-up sessionrather thanmath tutoring.
“Yeah, got it,” I say briskly, and hurry out of the classroom—but not before I overhear the girls whispering to each other.
“Oh my god, do you think they’re running for prom queen and king together?”
“I feel like they’d definitely win.”
“No, don’t sound so sure. There’s also Henry Li.”
Henry.Of course. I make up my mind on the spot and change course midstep, turning down the corridor. He’s exactly who I need to find right now. He should know what to do.
After all, who better to turn to for advice about the supernatural than the creators of Beijing Ghost?
4
Chanel
“Henry. Henry Li.King Henry.”
Airington’s unanimously recognized royalty slows his footsteps, but just slightly, letting me catch up to him outside the humanities building. The group of wide-eyed girls who’ve been tailing him from his last class step aside when they see that it’s me.
I make eye contact with each one of them as I stride forward, and they take it upon themselves to quickly disperse. Everyone knows by now that Henry Li is extremely, happily taken by my best friend, Alice, but that still hasn’t stopped some of the newer students from trying their luck. They’ve probably watched too many movies and have deluded themselves into thinking that if they can drop a pen near Henry at just the right moment, he’ll notice them and fall head over heels.
As if he’s capable of seeing anyone except Alice Sun.
“Chanel,” Henry greets in his typical posh, reserved manner, like he’s reading my name out of an old British newspaper. He looks like he could be on the front page of a newspaper too,with his immaculately ironed button-down shirt and wavy hair, which has grown out an inch or two since last summer. Or, to be more accurate, since Alice made an offhand remark about how much she liked running her fingers through his hair when it was longer. “Let me guess: You would like to know when Alice is free?”
I lift a dramatic hand to my chest with fake indignation. “Now, why would you just go ahead andassumethat I’m here only to ask about Alice? Maybe I simply want to know how you are.”
“I am quite well,” he says, and motions toward the glass doors. “About to head to my next class, which begins in—” He glances pointedly down at his watch. “—three and a half minutes.”
I take this as my obvious cue to get to the point, but since I’m physically incapable of asking for something without going through the motions of small talk first, I continue with good cheer, “And how is your mother?”
