Which only results in my classmates going wild, their ridicule hitting the next level as a profusion of soda cans are hurled at my head.
Roman sighs, looking at me when he says, "Ever, really. I insist. You've got to stop this madness, now! You're making a bloody Tool of yourself if you think that'll work! What're you gonna do next, slap all their cheeks?"
I stand there, my breath coming in short shallow gasps, knowing I'm not wrong, despite what he says. I'm sure he's got them spellbound, hijacked their minds by some kind of trance—And then I remember this old documentary I once saw on TV, where the hypnotist brought the patient back not by slapping or snapping but by clapping on the count of three. I take a deep breath, watching as my classmates climb on top of the table and benches, the better to pelt me with their uneaten food. And I know it's my last chance, that if this doesn't work—well—I don't know what I will do. So I close my eyes, and yell: "WAKE UP!"
Then I count from three to one and clap my hands twice at the end. And then—And then—nothing.
The whole school goes silent as they slowly come to. They rub their eyes, blinking, yawning, and stretching as though awakening from a very long nap. Gazing around in confusion, wondering why they're on top of the table with the very same people they once deemed as freaks.
Craig is the first to react. Finding himself so close to Miles their shoulders practically touch, he bolts for the far end. Reassuring himself with the company of his fellow jocks, reclaiming his manhood with a punch on the arm.
And when Haven stares at her carrot sticks with a look of absolute disgust, I can't help but smile, knowing the big happy family is back to their normal routine of name-calling, eye-rolling, and snubbing each other in favor of their usual cliques, returned to a world where animosity and loathing still rule. My school is back to normal again. I turn toward the gate, prepared to take Roman down, but he's already gone. So I grip Damen tighter, easing him across the parking lot and into my car as Miles and Haven, the two best friends I've missed so much and will never see again, follow along.
"You guys know I love you, right?" I glance between them, knowing they'll freak, but it has to be said. They look at each other, exchanging a look of alarm, both of them wondering what could've possibly happened to the girl they once pegged as the Ice Queen.
"Um, okay..." Haven says, shaking her head.
But I just smile and grasp them both to me, squeezing them tightly as I whisper to Miles, "Whatever you do don't stop acting or singing, it's going to bring you—" I stop, wondering if I should tell him how I just saw a flash of bright lights and Broadway, but not wanting to rob him of the journey by always looking ahead, I say, "It's going to bring you great happiness." And before he can even respond, I've moved on to Haven, knowing I have to get this over with quick, so I can get Damen to Ava's, but determined to find a way to urge her to love herself more, to stop losing herself in others, and that Josh is worth hanging on to for however long it lasts.
"You have so much value," I tell her. "So much to give—I just wish you could see how bright your star truly does shine."
"Um, gag!" she says, laughing as she untangles herself from my grip. "Are you okay?" She squints between me and Damen. "And what's up with him? Why's he all hunched over like that?"
I shake my head and climb inside, having no more time to waste. And as I back out of my space, I look out my window and say, "Hey, do you guys know where Roman lives?"
Chapter Forty-Two
I never imagined I'd be grateful for my sudden growth spurt and newly bulging biceps, but it's because of my new size and strength (not to mention Darnell's emaciated state) that I practically carry him all the way from my car to Ava's front door in just a handful of steps. Supporting his body as I knock on her door, fully prepared to break it down if I have to, but glad when she answers and waves us both in. I head for the hall as Damen stumbles along with me, pausing just outside the indigo door and gaping at Ava when she hesitates to open it.
"If your room is as sacred and pure as you think it is, then don't you think that will only help Damen? Don't you think he needs all the positive energy he can get?" I say, knowing she's conflicted about admitting the "contaminated" energy of a sick and dying man, which is just so ridiculous I hardly know where to begin.
She looks at me, holding my gaze far longer than my diminishing patience would prefer, and when she finally gives in, I barrel right past her, getting Damen settled on the futon in the corner and covering his body with the wool throw she keeps nearby. "The juice is in my trunk, along with the antidote," I say, tossing her the keys. "The juice won't be any good for another two days, but he should be much better tonight, when the full moon rises and the antidote is ready. And then you can give him the juice later, to help rebuild his strength. Even though he probably won't even need it since it'll all reverse anyway. But still—just in case—" I nod, wishing I felt half as confident as I sound.
"Are you sure this'll work?" she asks, watching as I pull my very last bottle of elixir from my bag.
"It has to."
I gaze at Damen, so pale, so weak, so—old. And yet, he's still Damen. Traces of his amazing beauty still present, marred only slightly by the acceleration of years resulting in his silver hair, his nearly translucent skin, the fan of wrinkles surrounding his eyes. "It's our only hope," I add, waving her away as I drop to my knees, the door closing behind me as I smooth his hair off his face and gently force him to drink. At first he fights it, thrashing his head from side to side and keeping his mouth firmly closed. But when it's clear that I'm not about to give up, he gives in. Allowing the liquid to flow down his throat as his skin warms and his color returns. Emptying the bottle and gazing at me with such love and reverence, I'm overcome with joy just to know that he's back.
"I missed you," I murmur, nodding and blinking and swallowing hard, my heart bursting with yearning as I press my lips to his cheek. All the pent-up emotions I've fought so hard to keep in check all this time, now rushing to the surface, bubbling over, as I kiss him again and again. "You're going to be okay," I tell him. "You're going to be back to your old self very soon." My sudden burst of happiness withering like a popped balloon as his gaze turns dark and sweeps over my face.
"You left me," he whispers.
I shake my head, wanting him to know it's not true. I never left him—he left me—but it wasn't his fault and I forgive him. I forgive him for everything he's ever done—or said—even though it's already too late—even though it doesn't really matter anymore—But instead I just say, "No. I haven't. You've been ill. Very ill. But it's over with now and soon you'll be better. You just have to promise to drink the antidote when—" When Ava gives it to you—the words I can't bear to say, won't say, not wanting him to know that this is our last moment together—o
ur final good-bye. "All you need to know is that you're going to be fine. But you need to watch out for Roman. He's not your friend. He's evil. He's trying to kill you. So you must regain your strength so you can take him down." I press my mouth to his forehead, his cheek, unable to stop until I've covered his entire face with my kiss. Tasting my own salty tears on the curve of his lips, as I breathe him in, hoping to imprint his scent, his taste, the feel of his skin, wanting to carry the memory of him wherever I go.
But even after I tell him I love him—even after I lie down beside him, pull him into my arms, and press his body to mine—even after I remain there for hours, lying right alongside him as he sleeps—even after I close my eyes and concentrate on melding my energy with his, hoping to heal him with my love, my essence, my very being, trying to impress some small part of myself onto him—even after all of that—the moment I move away, he says it again. An accusation from his dream state, intended only for me.
"You left me."
Not realizing until I've said my final good-bye and closed the door behind me, that he's not referring to the past. He's prophesying our future.
Chapter Forty-Three
I head down the hall and into the kitchen, my heart heavy, my legs wooden, and every step away from Damen just makes it worse.
"You okay?" Ava asks, standing at the stove, brewing some tea. As though all of those hours didn't just pass.