I stare at my lunch tray: some kind of mystery pasta (green mac and cheese, maybe?) and a diet coke. Man, do I wish I hadn’t forgotten to shove some Demon bars in my backpack today. Ah, Demon bars. Eight ounces of candy disguised as granola-based nutrition. Yum. Meanwhile, the school cafeteria’s idea of food is nothing less than terrifying.
Cissy slips into the empty chair across from me. Like always, it’s just the two of us at our favorite corner table. Her tawny eyes sparkle. “We need to talk.”
The room turns strangely quiet. I scan the nearby faces, noting how everyone’s actively avoiding looking in my direction. Dread and bile twist my stomach. My conversation with Cissy is today’s lunchtime theater, and no one wants to miss a word.
I poke at the greenish pasta with my fork. “Sure.”
“I wanted to talk about it over the weekend, but you didn’t pick up your phone.” Cissy sighs. “We were all a little surprised about the party.”
“We?” My back teeth lock with rage.
“You know Zeke, his friends, everyone at school who was at the party.” Cissy sips her can of diet soda. Then, she pauses. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I’m not embarrassed.” I force myself to drop my fork; I think I dug a hole through the plastic plate.
“Come on, Myla. I can see you’re still upset.” Cissy reaches across the table, wrapping her hand around my own. “Listen to me. Say the word and it’s over with Zeke. I mean it.” Tears bead in her tawny eyes; my anger slowly melts. “Your friendship means so much to me.”
Cissy’s been my best friend since first grade, and a true one. She taught me how to twist my hair into an envy-worthy braid; I showed her how to trip people with her tail. How could I not be happy for her? I open my mouth, trying to speak through the knot of emotion in my throat. I let out a few garbled words that sound like “Ree roo.”
Cissy frowns. “Um, what was that?”
I clear my throat. “Me too. Your friendship means a lot. I’m happy for you and Zeke.” Leaning back in my chair, I drum my fingers on the tabletop. “Look, there was another reason I lost it at the party.”
Cissy gives my hand a pat. “Sure there was. That’s why you asked me your hypothetical question on the car ride home.”
“What hypothetical?”
“You know. About wanting to kiss someone?” She rolls her eyes.
I inwardly groan. She thought that conversation was about Zeke, not Lincoln. Is there really any point to telling her the truth? I’m not going to get honest advice anyway.
Zeke chooses that moment to sashay up to table. “Hello, lovelies. Are we ready to go?”
Cissy holds up her pointer finger. “Not yet. Myla wants to tell me something.”
My gaze shifts between Cissy and her new beau. There is zero point in discussing Lincoln right now. They aren’t going to believe it, and I’ll never see the creep again anyway. “No, I’m good.”
“Are you sure there isn’t anything else?” Cissy taps her chin. “Your Mom, maybe?”
Damn, she’s good. “What makes you say that?”
“I know my Myla-la.”
Hmm. Maybe I should spill my guts about Verus, the dreamscapes, and how Dad’s a ghoul. Hey Cissy, you know how I’m a part-Furor, freaky-tailed, wrath-filled Arena fighter? Now we can add part-ghoul to the list, with an oracle Angel Queen stalker.
Ah, no. “There’s some stuff going on, but I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.”
Cissy frowns. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”
Zeke rubs his hands together. “Great, that’s all settled.” He hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “Want to meet the guys?”
I just about fall out of my chair. Zeke wants to take Cissy to meet his friends? He never takes anyone to meet his boys, at least not during daylight. Zeke hangs with the most notorious hotties in school and everyone knows there’s an invisible ‘no girls allowed’ sign over their lunch table. The fact that he’s inviting her to visit is nothing less than monumental.
“We’re ready.” Cissy grips my arm like she’ll rip it out of the socket. “Like I told you, Myla wants to go too.”
“I do?” Wow, I have zero desire to expose myself to Zeke and his lust-bunny brigade. Plus, I’m not one of those ‘I can’t eat by myself’ types. I can live without Cissy at lunch for one day. “Are you sure you want me to go?” Translation: can I stay here, please?
Cissy hauls me to my feet. “Yes, I’m absolutely, positively sure.”
My upper lip curls. Clearly, I hadn’t thought this whole ‘Cissy and Zeke’ thing through. Their dating changes me from ‘the star of the Cissy show’ to a sideline actress who gets hauled around to fill out the stage. My heart fills with a combination of severe depression and a sudden desire to kick Zeke’s ass.
This. Sucks.
Cissy shoots me a pleading glance. “Come on, sweetie?” I stare into her tawny, innocent eyes and feel my resistance melt away.