Cissy’s here. Sweet.
I glance at my Darth Vader alarm clock; the thrax autumn tournament ended hours ago. In a feat of super stealthy-ness, I was able to sneak home without Mom seeing me or my muddy dress, thanks in large part to the world’s biggest bathroom-window-slash-emergency-entrance. Since then, I’ve been waiting on pins and needles for some news from Cissy.
Mom speaks next. “I thought you and Myla were at your house.”
Leaping to my feet, I rush through my bedroom door. “Hi, Mom! Hey, Cissy!” I find both of them standing in the opened doorway. Cissy’s in sweats and a t-shirt; Mom wears a look that says ‘you two are up to something.’
Mom’s chocolate eyes narrow. “What are you doing home, Myla?”
I sidle up to the front door and try to act cool. “Oh, I came back here a while ago to do some homework. Didn’t you hear me come in?”
“Ah, no.” Her Mom-radar is now scanning the situation, full throttle. I’m sure she suspects something’s off here, but hopefully she won’t guess what it is.
I grab my best friend’s hand. “Cissy’s here to help with the rest of my homework.” I drag her toward my room. “See you later, Mom!” We rush through the bedroom doorway, closing it quickly behind us.
I’m bursting with curiosity. “So, what happened after I left?”
“That Earl is a piece of nastiness. All he did was whine about how you humiliated him.” Cissy rolls her eyes. “He wanted to file an official diplomatic complaint.”
“That douchebag! I saved his freaking life!” My eyes flicker red with anger. An official complaint could cause me, Mom, and the Ryders a whole lot of trouble.
She rubs her chin thoughtfully. “Everyone in the House of Acca was screaming for it.”
“I heard them.” My voice hitches. “Someone should wash their mouths out with soap.” The memory of their cries echoes through my mind. My chest tightens with humiliation and rage.
Cissy shoots me a sly grin. “Don’t take that part too seriously. They were complaining, but not complaining, if you know what I mean.”
Huh. “That’s clear as mud.”
Cissy looks around the room, as if searching for the words. “It’s like the Earl’s people don’t respect him, but they’re too afraid of him to push back when he’s being a loser.” She frowns. “The Earl is not very thrax, if you know what I mean.”
I snap my fingers. “Now that I understand. For a leader of demon hunters, he acts like a total wuss. Plus, he doesn’t know dick about fighting demons. A crossbow with a Limus?”
Cissy chuckles. “I don’t think a lot of them knew that.”
I raise my pointer finger. “A lot of them aren’t an Earl.”
“True.” She eyes me carefully. “Anyway, you won’t have to worry about an official complaint. Lincoln stuck up for you.”
My heart beats so wildly, I think it could break free from my chest. “Oh, he did?” I decide that now’s a really good time to straighten everything on my dresser. “What did he say?”
“You saved the Earl’s life and they owe you thanks, not a complaint. He shut down the discussion like that.” She snaps her fingers.
Suddenly, I feel like doing a happy dance around the bedroom. “Did he say anything else?”
“He said it’s not the thrax way to repay your kindness with cruelty, even if…” Her hand pops over her mouth.
My heart beats even more excitedly, if that’s possible. “Come on. Even if what?”
“Even if you are a demon.” Cissy winces.
There’s that word again: demon.
“Oh.” I plunk down at the edge of my bed and fold my hands into my lap. Sadness wraps about me like a heavy blanket.
Cissy sits down beside me. “Don’t let him get you down. You’re from totally different worlds, that’s all.” She wraps her arm about my shoulder. “Look, I’m glad you’re interested in someone, but really? It shouldn’t be him.”
Ouch. That hurt.
“I didn’t say I was interested.” My eyes start to sting. Whatever you do, don’t cry, Myla.
“Come on, sweetie.” She gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “A ton of guys would give anything to date you. The fact is, you’re a quasi, not a thrax. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Her voice takes on a joking tone. “It’s not like you’re part ghoul or something.”
And then I lose it: a full on, snot-strings-out-of-my-nose festival of balling my eyes out. It takes Cissy a while to calm me down enough so I can explain why I’m so upset.
“Here’s the thing. I think my dad’s a ghoul.”
Cissy gasps. “I’m sorry, Myla.”
My face flushes with embarrassment and pain. “For so long, I wanted to know two things: what Mom did before the war and who my father was. Now, I wish I’d never asked.”
Cissy twists so she can see me face-to-face. “If it makes any difference, it doesn’t change how I feel about you or our friendship. Not one bit.”
My mouth rounds into a shaky smile. “Thanks, Cissy. That does make a difference.”