The words froze Claire's blood, and she stood gaping at Dr. Engle. His lips thinned into a satisfied-looking line. She knew that he didn't intend the double meaning she heard in his words. He wouldn't be offering her a ride if he had any suspicions about her being a werewolf, but it still made her shudder.
"Thanks for the offer," she simpered, hoping a stickysweet act would get him off her back. "But I'm not that far from home." She'd been planning to run awhile longer, but she just wanted to get out from under Dr. Engle's probing gaze.
"Well, be careful," he admonished, pulling his head back into the car like a turtle retreating into its shell. "I suppose I'll see you at the house sometime," he called through the window. Slowly, it slid shut, and he drove away.
Claire could practically feel him watching her in the rearview mirror.
She turned and ran back toward her house with the ice from Dr. Engle's comments still chilling her veins.
There was no room for error with him around—he was too vigilant. Too committed.
And much, much too scary. Claire sprinted up the drive with her sweat-dampened shirt slapping against her as she went. Lisbeth was going to freak out about how long she'd been gone, and Claire wanted to have time to shower and shake off her encounter with Dr. Engle before she headed back out into the woods to practice. The minute Lisbeth went to sleep, she promised herself, she'd be out the door.
She opened the back door and stepped inside, wavering the tiniest bit from the weird sort of vertigo that came with stopping after a long run. Lisbeth was waiting for her.
"Forget something?" she asked Claire in her best I'm-thegrownup-here voice.
Claire blinked, looking down at the white jacket she'd put on before she'd left.
"Like, your phone?" Lisbeth held it up and Claire reached for it, as if she could erase the mistake by getting the phone into her hand—as if her fingertips could apologize. She was supposed to take her phone with her when she went for a run.
"Um, sorry?" she offered.
Lisbeth shook her head. "I swear, keeping you safe is like trying to make the rain fall up." She held out the phone. "It's been ringing off the hook. Since I know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere, I'm going to bed."
"Okay." Claire took the phone and checked the screen. Five missed calls. "Good night."
"Come get me if you need anything," Lisbeth sighed, heading for the stairs.
Claire nodded, only half-listening. Her voice mail icon was flashing frantically. All the missed calls were from Emily.
She dialed the number.
Emily answered on the first ring. "Finally! Where have you been?"
"Sorry," Claire apologized. "I went for a run and forgot my phone."
"Again? Seriously, Claire, the phone only works if the battery is charged and you have it with you."
The memory of Dr. Engle's pale eyes peering into the woods shivered over Claire's skin. "Trust me, I know. Is this a bad time? Is it too late?"
"Nah. I'm just trying to make a green glaze to put on this pot that Amy helped me throw yesterday."
Amy's passion for pottery was right up Emily's alley. Nothing artsy held any appeal for Claire, but right then she wished it did. Maybe she should take another crack at sculpture.
"So, what's up? Why all the calls?" She glanced out her bedroom window at the night-covered woods. Just a few minutes and she'd be out there.
Emily took a little, hitching sort of breath. "It's Ryan."
The guy from art class. At least this time Claire remembered. "What about him?"
"So, you know we've been flirting like crazy for days, and I really thought he was on the verge of asking me out. But after the last bell today, I saw him in the parking lot with Lindsay McCracken."
Emily was crying. Claire could hear it. She went into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the counter, not wanting to lie on the bed in her sweaty clothes. "Okay," she said slowly. "Well, maybe he needed a homework assignment or something."
Emily choked out a little laugh. "Unless she wrote the vocab words on her tonsils, I don't think so. They were steaming up the car windows, and they weren't even in the car."
Claire made a face. "Ew. Ouch."
"Just wait," Emily sniffled. "It gets worse."
Claire looked at the clock. She was dying to get into the forest, but Emily's voice had that just-getting-warmed-up sound to it. Claire stared at the shower, wondering if she could put Emily on speaker while she cleaned herself up.
The choked sob that came from the other end of the phone answered her question. Emily needed her. And not on speakerphone.
"Worse how?" she asked.
"I ran into Yolanda—like, literally ran into her because I was watching the PDA horrorfest, and she said that Ryan asked Lindsay to the ball today." The last word was more of a wail.
Claire took a deep breath. "Oh. Wow. That sucks."
"I know! I mean, I really, really thought he was going to ask me out, but apparently he's just an outrageous flirt." Emily bawled.