She looked longingly at her running shoes. Going for a run, even in her human form, was the only thing that really calmed her down lately. But it was too late to go running. Anyone who saw her jogging at this hour was bound to think something suspicious was going on.
She kicked the shoes into her closet and grabbed her phone—there were two messages. The first was from Matthew, her boyfriend. He sounded exhausted. With only five days left until the state soccer finals on Saturday, the coach had them on a crazy practice schedule. Still, in spite of the fatigue in his voice, he told her that he hoped she'd had fun at the gathering and that he'd see her in the morning. And that he loved her.
The words sank into Claire like sunshine. Matthew always had that effect on her. No matter what, he made her feel like whatever was going on, she could handle it. It didn't hurt that he was the only human in Hanover Falls who knew about the werewolves. He was a secret-keeper for the pack, a gardien. He protected them, and they protected him. Being honest with him about who and what she was made it a lot easier for Claire to keep lying to everyone else. Like her best friend, who had left the second message. Emily's words came out all in a rush. She demanded to know why Claire wasn't answering her phone at almost midnight, unless she was asleep, in which case Emily was very sorry for maybe waking her up, but she really, really needed the blueblack nail polish she'd left at Claire's the weekend before and could Claire bring it with her tomorrow, please?
Claire laughed, loving Emily's signature, caffeine-fueled intensity. She deleted the message and grabbed the little glass bottle off her dresser, stuffing it into her backpack. She looked longingly at her bed, but she was still too wired to sleep. Instead, she trudged into the bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping the hot water would help. With her mother's announcement tying knots of tension in her shoulders, though, there might not be enough hot water in the whole city to relax her. School the next day was slow-motion torture. Her exhaustion from the gathering and the constant, nibbling worry about the upcoming new moon ceremony were a dizzying mix. Claire staggered through the halls toward her locker, having survived first-period history without falling asleep on her desk or chewing her nails down to the quick. Considering how she felt, that counted as a major success. She dropped her bag in front of her locker, sending a dust bunny flying.
"Oh, yay! Yayyayyayyay! You're here!" Emily bounced across the floor with a huge smile on her face. Her hair still startled Claire. After Emily had gotten back from her forced exile at her aunt and uncle's farm last summer, she'd chopped off her hair. It was short and sort of spiky in an irregular way that looked good on her, but Claire couldn't quite get used to it. She kept expecting to see the long, smooth ponytail Emily had worn since the fourth grade.
Emily started talking well before she actually got to Claire, her questions flying out of her mouth like a flock of sparrows. "Did you get my message? Did you bring the nail polish? Are you okay? I waited for you before class, but you never showed and I got worried. . . ."
Claire blinked, trying to digest all the words. She ticked off the answers on her fingers. "Got the message, brought the polish, fine-but-tired. I was up late and I overslept." She grinned at Emily. "Okay?"
Emily held out her hand. "Polish first. It's an emergency."
Claire dug it out of her bag.
Emily took it and then pointed the bottle back at Claire. "So, if you were up late, why didn't you answer my call?"
"My phone died. I didn't realize it until I went to bed, and by then it was way, way too late to call." The lie was as easy as blinking. She didn't even feel guilty anymore. Not really. Not when she knew what the consequences would be if anyone found out her identity. The thought made Claire's stomach sway inside her. "You look like you're going to faint or throw up or something." Emily leaned forward. Claire could smell the fakesweet scent of strawberry Pop-Tarts on Emily's breath, and it reminded her that she'd skipped breakfast.
"Your pupils are all funny. Are you sure you're okay?"
Claire blinked. Swallowed. Shook her head, then nodded. Oh great, Claire. Way to look totally together.
"I'm fine. Just tired, really. And hungry. So, what's with the manicure urgency?"
Distraction was always a good tactic. And with Emily, it usually worked.
"So, that's the other reason I was calling." Emily glanced around the hallway and dropped her voice. "That guy Ryan, in art class? The one who does all the charcoal work?"
Claire nodded again. It was hard to keep track of Emily's endless string of potentially datable guys, but she vaguely remembered something about a blond guy who'd been making Emily's toes curl in the art room.