After her last class, Claire made it back to her locker and spun the lock, more than ready to escape school. Lisbeth was supposed to pick her up, and Claire wasn't even dreading the New Agey music that Lisbeth played in the car. She just wanted out of the hallway chaos.
But she hesitated before she pulled open the locker door. For years she'd watched other girls open their lockers and find flowers or balloons or tight-folded notes inside—wishing them luck on something or another. Kate-Marie's locker looked like a gift shop half the time. It was the sort of thing that Claire had always been jealous of—that kind of obvious attention. And it was exactly the type of thing she thought Matthew might do, especially since they hadn't had a chance to talk.
A hopping little anticipation started in Claire's middle, and slowly she pulled open the locker door.
And saw nothing. Just books, and a stray sweater shoved onto the shelf. No half-wilted carnation, no card. Not even a "good luck" scrawled on a piece of notebook paper. Claire sagged under the surprising weight of her disappointment. She grabbed her books, slammed the door shut, and practically ran for the parking lot.
"You okay?" Lisbeth frowned as Claire threw herself into the car and swung the door closed with more force than was necessary.
"Yeah. Fine." Claire slouched down in the seat and closed her eyes. "I'm just ready for it to be Tuesday."
Lisbeth put the car in gear and headed for the exit. "I can still tell that something's bugging you. You can talk to me about it, you know. I don't bite."
That was probably true. If Claire actually told Lisbeth about all the things that were bothering her, Lisbeth would be too busy running shrieking in the other direction to bite anyone.
"I'm stressed about my chem test tomorrow." It wasn't a lie, and it would probably get Lisbeth off her back.
"Oh. Well, at least you have a whole night ahead of you to study, right?" Lisbeth's voice was so perky-bright that it made Claire want to scream. Instead, she nodded.
Once they were home, Claire escaped to her room while Lisbeth tackled a mountain of laundry. Claire tried everything she could think of to calm herself down—listening to music, watching bad TV, reading her English assignment. Nothing worked. The minutes ticked by at an annoyingly steady pace. She resorted to pacing the room.
She was on the verge of going to ask Lisbeth to teach her some sort of magical yogic breathing, figuring she could blame it on pre-chem-test stress, when her mom appeared in the doorway.
"You look tense."
"Hi to you, too," Claire snapped. Of course she was tense.
"You have no reason to be worried." Her mother's voice was softer than a whisper—a vibration on the air. "You know how to do everything—more than everything, with your extra hearing abilities."
Claire tried not to dwell on the fact that that wasn't entirely true. She'd come really, really close to starting the fire, but that was far from a guarantee that she'd be successful enough to lead the hunt that night. Especially with her boyfriend staring at her while she tried.
"But everyone will be there. Watching." She eyed her mother resentfully. "Matthew, too." "You are my daughter." Her mother's voice was no louder than before, but it had a razor edge that cut Claire to the quick. "You are stronger than your nerves, and I expect you to be flawless tonight. Because I know you can be."
"Uh, thanks."
Her mother shot her a pointed look. "I will meet you downstairs at eleven thirty. That way, we will have plenty of time before the others arrive. I suggest you try to get some rest."
Marie turned and disappeared down the hall.
Claire walked over to the door, closed it, and resumed her pacing.
By the time eleven thirty rolled around, Claire had practically worn a bald patch in her carpet. With her nerves chattering, she threw on some old sweats and skittered down the stairs to meet her mom. Lisbeth had left hours before, after giving Claire a hug and a pep talk on the benefits of knowing how to balance a chemical equation. Claire and her mom had the house to themselves, but Claire still found herself moving quietly. She'd done so much sneaking in and out of the house over the summer that it had become a habit.
Her mother was waiting in the kitchen, dressed in hightech light-but-warm running gear.
"Ready to go?" her mother asked.
Claire hesitated. What she really wanted was to have a few minutes alone in the woods before she had to face the judging eyes of the pack. She looked at her mother and shook her head.
"You go. I'll be right behind you."
Marie gave her an appraising look, but there was no disappointment or suspicion in it. In fact, she looked almost understanding.
"Fine. Don't be long, though, chérie. This is not a night to be late."