“Grace?”
I sighed heavily and turned away from Talbot. He’d followed us out into the hall—I should have known that I wouldn’t get by him so easily. I pursed my lips, determined not to talk to him.
“What you said in there, about Daniel not being able to—”
“Stop,” I said. I’d never been very good at holding my tongue. “You don’t have the right to ask me anything about him.”
“Then can I ask when you’re going to give me another chance? When are you going to trust me?”
“I trusted you before, Talbot. I trusted you when I thought you were the only person on my side. You were supposed to be my mentor. I thought you were my friend. But you were working for Caleb all along. You were the enemy.” You’re one of the people responsible for what happened to Daniel.
“You seem to be forgetting the part where I turned on Caleb and tried to help you escape. And then I used my powers to help heal you. Do you know how difficult that all was? But I did it because I care about you. Because we are friends. I’m on your side now.” He sighed. “So what more do I have to do to prove to you that I’m a changed man?”
I was quiet until I heard April’s footsteps coming back up the stairs from the basement. “Keep my father safe tomorrow,” I said, and stepped outside through the exit doors without looking back.
Chapter Five
SILVER BULLETS
MONDAY, AT SCHOOL
If Dad had thought a day at school would be good for my sanity, he couldn’t have been more wrong.
Part of the “home and hospital” arrangement for Daniel was that I was supposed to gather his missed assignments from his teachers through the day. Which meant I was hit over and over again in the gut each time I was asked how he was doing, and had to lie through my teeth about how his doctor thought it should only be a few more days, and how appreciative he was that they were willing to let him make up his assignments. I swear my neck must have looked like it was on fire considering how many fibs I had to tell.
To add insult to injury, Daniel’s homework pile was so heavy I had to use some of my superstrength just to heft my backpack around. He’d missed almost a whole week of school before the midterm break, and since the policy for sick leave was that he still needed to turn in his assignments by the end of this month—it meant that I was going to have a lot to do in the next few weeks if I wanted to keep Daniel from flunking out of high school.
As if I didn’t already have enough on my plate.
But things only got worse in fourth period when Mr. Barlow handed me two thin manila envelopes in addition to a stack of drawing exercises for Daniel. “I think you’ll be needing these,” he said. “I’m sure Daniel has been asking about it. Thought I’d put his mind at ease so he can rest and get better.”
My expression must have said something like, Huh? because Barlow tapped the envelopes on top the pile and said, “They’re your and Daniel’s letters for Trenton.”
“Letters for Trenton?”
“Don’t tell me Daniel’s forgotten about the application due date? If so, we’d better get a whole team of doctors in there to look him over. Might have fever-induced amnesia or something.”
Oh no! I almost dropped the whole stack of papers. How could I have forgotten about our Trenton applications? If there was one thing Daniel wanted (other than to regain his human form, I suppose), it was admission into the Amelia Trenton Art Institute. It had one of the best industrial design departments in the country—and was pretty much everything Daniel had staked his future on.