“Aw, Oliver,” I hugged him back, “I’m pretty tough to kill.”
He wiped his eyes, composing himself. He took in the two of us and made a tsk-ing sound. “Whoa. You two put the hag in haggard.”
That earned him a pillow to the face.
***
Today was going a lot like yesterday. Everyone acted as though I was the bubonic plague. By the time I walked into my third period class, History of the Isle of Man, I had adjusted to the disgust and fear I saw in most students’ eyes. When would they realize I was just like them?
I made my way down a row of desks. Predictably, those closest to me scooted their desks away—as if my mere proximity would somehow affect them.
I managed to find a series of empty desks near the back of the room, and I picked one and sat down.
I was left to my dark thoughts until a sexy guy with wavy blonde hair entered the room. The girls noticed him instantly. They followed him with their eyes as he made his way through the class. I could hear the subtle increase of the room’s collective heart rate, and I could even smell the adrenaline of a few girls who had some serious crushes.
He passed them, making a beeline for … me. I stared into a pair of baby blues as he sat down next to me, looking like a golden god.
“Hey,” he said casually, his voice thick with an Australian accent. He leaned back in his chair and stretched, oblivious to the attention he was receiving.
“Uh, hi,” I replied, surprised someone wanted to talk to me.
“I’m Caleb Jennings.”
I looked around us, sure this had to be a mistake or some sort of prank. “I’m Gabrielle,” I said.
The bell rang, and our teacher approached the front of the class.
“Did I miss anything yesterday?” Caleb asked. “I was out.”
I whispered back. “Only a series of Manx terms for different geographical regions. Absolutely riveting.”
Caleb stared at me for a moment, and then broke out into laughter.
Mr. Mead gave us the stink eye, but he didn’t stop talking to scold us.
“I heard Mr. Mead is supposed to be epically boring,” Caleb said.
“Really—you heard that? Your source must’ve confused our teacher with someone else. Like I said, this guy’s absolutely riveting.” Caleb snickered.
Two girls turned to give me dirty looks. They turned back around and leaned into each other. I could hear their whispered accusation: Why is he sitting with her? And why is he talking to her? I was wondering the same thing myself.
As the class got going, and the professor discussed the history of the Isle of Man, Caleb passed a paper to me.
I looked over at him, and he smiled before continuing to take notes. I opened the note to find a game of hangman. The sentence that I was to figure out, letter by letter, ended with a question mark. As we passed the note back and forth, and I was seriously losing, the hanged man began looking an awful lot like Professor Mead with his monocle and neatly trimmed beard.
Eventually I decoded the message.
Will you go out with me Friday night?
I quickly looked over at Caleb, who was waiting for my answer.
Going on a date would be a lost cause. For one, my past experiences had never ended well. The only person to ever pursue me further than a single date was Andre, and well, I didn’t really know what to think of that situation.
Two, I was a soulmate. The odds were next to impossible that Caleb was my single true love.
Even knowing it would end badly, I wrote yes below his hangman game along with my number.
He smiled brightly and began humming as he went back to his notes, while I sat there trying to tune back in to the lecture and already regretting my decision.
“… The Mauthe Doog, or Moddey Dhoo, is a black demonic dog that is said to roam these very halls.
“It is believed to be a death knell; anyone who sees the dog will supposedly die soon after.” The bell rang, interrupting today’s oh-so-exciting discussion of demonic dogs.
“Remember to study your Manx names and read the first chapter of the History and Myths of the Isle of Man for Friday’s quiz. Class dismissed.”
While I was still packing, Caleb grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and then he was gone.
***
After school I wandered into the library. Now that my genetics were at the center of a controversy, I needed information about my parents. I didn’t know if I’d find anything, but I figured the supernatural community was fairly small. Hopefully that made it more likely that someone had recorded my parents’ lives.
The library was barren except for what appeared to be a witch reading up on her spells.
Reading through the catalogue signs, I came to an aisle marked Monsters.
I walked down the isle, reading the subcategories. Aquatic Beasts. Otherworld Creatures. Nocturnal Beings.
Bingo.