Kitabı oku: «With All My Soul», sayfa 2

2

“We’re the bait? And you’re okay with this?” Nash stared across the room at his brother, challenge swirling in the greens and browns of his eyes—a bean sidhe’s emotions could be read in the colors twisting in their irises, at least by fellow bean sidhes.

“Hell no, I’m not okay with it. It’s dangerous, and risky, and perilous, and also profoundly unsafe. But I have yet to come up with a better idea, so…” Tod gestured to me, reluctantly yielding the floor, but Em snatched it before I could speak.

“We’re the bait? So we’re going to be dangled? How are we going to be dangled?”

“Okay, first of all, no one has to do this.” I stood and Tod scooted over so I could sit on the arm of the couch, from where I could see everyone in the room. “You’re all completely free to just…not participate. But obviously, I can’t promise that staying out of this will keep you safe. We weren’t dangling anything in front of anyone the last time Avari and his hellion posse set their sights on us. Not on purpose, anyway. Which is why I’m pretty sure it’ll be easy to get their attention. The hard part will be keeping them from seeing the setup. So, raise your hand if you want to be a part of this, then I’ll—”

“I’m in.” Nash didn’t bother to raise his hand.

“Just like that?” Em frowned at him.

He nodded. “No one wants to see that bastard pay more than I do.”

“I’m fully prepared to debate that statement with you, but there’s really no point.” I glanced around the room again. “I’m in, obviously, as is Tod.” He nodded to confirm, and a single pale curl fell over his forehead. “What about you two?”

“You couldn’t keep me out of this if you tried,” Sabine said. “This place is dull when there’s no evil afoot.”

“When is that, exactly?” Tod gave her a sardonic grin, and Sabine returned it.

“Em?” I wasn’t yet familiar enough with her new face to tell what she was thinking. “You totally don’t have to do this.”

“No.” She drained the last of her whiskey and soda, made a sour face, then set the glass down a little too hard on the coffee table. “I’m in. Just tell me what to do.”

“Yeah. What kind of dangling are we talking about?” Nash said. “Carrot in front of a donkey? Or raw meat over a pit of lions?”

“Probably not the carrot.” Sabine shrugged. “Hellions strike me more as carnivores.”

I’d rarely heard a truer statement. As far as I could tell, hellions lived only to consume humanity—whichever parts of us they could get. Our emotions. Our blood. Our flesh. And, rumor had it, any other bodily fluids on hand.

“Since they can’t cross into the human world, with a few obvious exceptions—” like the recent invasion of hellions wearing the souls and forms of the dead “—we’re only going to be dangling our emotions.”

“Oh, good. Metaphysical carrots.” Emma exhaled in relief and looked like she might want a refill.

“Here’s where it gets tricky,” Tod said, while I headed into the kitchen for a six-pack of sodas from the fridge. “They’re not going to be fooled by anything less than the real thing. Authentic—and very strong—envy and vanity.”

“Envy for Invidia and vanity for Belphegore?” Sabine said, and I nodded.

Nash accepted the soda I handed him, then passed it to Sabine. “What about Avari?”

I handed him another can. “We’re not going to worry about him. He’s harder to get rid of than to trap, and if one of us starts flaunting unusual levels of greed, he’ll know something’s up. But if he thinks Invidia and Belphegore are closing in on the carrot he’s been chasing for months—”

“Or any of us other carrots,” Tod added, accepting a can for himself.

“—he’ll jump into the game on his own. Which is exactly what we want. So all we really have to do is dangle one carrot in front of each of the other two. And since this involves you all, I’m open to suggestions. Anyone want to dangle?”

Sabine raised her hand. “I nominate Sophie as bait for Invidia.”

Tod laughed. He was always able to find humor in even the creepiest situations. I’d thought that was an undead thing, until I became a member of the undead. Then I realized it was a Tod-thing.

“Just because you don’t like someone doesn’t mean you can feed her to a hellion,” Em said. “Haven’t we been over this?”

“I don’t want to get rid of her, I—” Sabine rolled her eyes and started over. “Okay, I do kind of want to get rid of her, but that’s not what this is. Think about it. Out of all seven of us, who’s currently harboring the most envy?”

The three of them turned to look at Nash, who fired back angry glares. “Screw you all. Just because I don’t think my brother should have made out with my girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m jealous of him!”

“Forgiven and forgotten…” I reminded him, but his glare only deepened.

“Not Nash,” Sabine snapped. “He has everything he could possibly want. Everything. More than he can handle,” she added, as if we could possibly have missed her point. “I’m talking about Sophie. Did you all see the look she gave Em when Luca was talking to her in the kitchen?”

I had seen that.

“That was nothing. He was trying to make me feel better about my hair. Seriously. He’s totally into Sophie.”

“I know. I can’t figure it out, but I don’t doubt it,” Sabine said. “But Sophie does. And with a little nudging, I think I can turn your prissy little cousin’s shiny new insecurity into a feast of jealousy any hellion of envy would covet.” She glanced around for our reactions. “How’s that for a carrot?”

“What kind of nudge are you talking about?” I wasn’t Sophie’s biggest fan either, but that didn’t give me the right to put her in any danger she didn’t volunteer for.

Sabine shrugged. “A little strategic feeding of her fears. Namely, self-doubt.” As a mara, she could do that and much more. “And I’ve been dying to try out my vial of Invidia’s hair. That shit is concentrated liquid envy.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on.” The mara rolled her eyes at my hesitance. “I figure a drop in her morning diet shake should be enough to do the job. That can’t be any worse for her than those pills she pops when she gets upset.”

Aunt Val’s sedatives.

I made a mental note to sneak into Sophie’s room in the middle of the night and flush the whole stash.

“We could at least ask her if she wants to.” Em shrugged. “She did look pretty jealous.…”

“She can’t know about it!” Sabine insisted. “If we tell her, she’ll know she has no reason to be jealous, and there goes our carrot.”

“We’re not going to spike her protein shake and throw her to the wolves!” I insisted.

Tod chuckled. “I thought they were lions. Or donkeys. You’re losing control of your metaphors, Kay.”

I turned on him, but before I could yell at him to stop lightening the mood, Nash spoke up. “We could watch her. All of us. We could take shifts. That way, if anything goes wrong, we can stomp on the brakes immediately.”

“No.”

Tod took my hand again. “She’s already in danger, Kaylee. You said it yourself. We all are. At least this way, someone will have her back, 24/7. If you think about it, she may actually be safer this way.”

So I thought about it, and I had to admit they were right. I’d done everything I could think of to keep Emma safe and only wound up getting her killed. Twice. Maybe the best way to keep Sophie safe was to manipulate her environment.

I thought we should at least tell Luca what we were doing, though, so he could watch out for her, too. But he would never go for it. And he was spending almost every waking moment with her anyway, so he’d definitely notice if something went wrong, even if he didn’t know she was in any particular danger.…

“You all swear you’ll help me look out for her?”

Heads nodded all over the living room, but Sabine only shrugged. “I’m in the perfect position for that, unfortunately.”

“Fine. But we’re not giving her a drop of Invidia’s creepy liquid hair until we’ve tested it.”

“Wait.” Emma frowned and raised Lydia’s thin, pale brown eyebrows. “Isn’t that stuff, like, corrosive? It sizzles like acid.”

“Yeah, in its concentrated form. It was a challenge to contain. Over time, it’ll eat through nearly anything but plastic.” Sabine’s grin looked almost vindictive, and I started to question her motives. “But it’s easily diluted in anything water based, like coffee or tea. Or nondairy diet protein shakes.”

Tod set his empty soda can on the coffee table. “You’ve been experimenting with it?”

“Just a little—I don’t want to waste it. But one drop dissolved in eight ounces of water is perfectly safe to touch. I stuck a finger in and felt nothing. Even took a little sip.”

“And?” Nash prompted.

“And I dumped the rest of it out. I just wanted to make sure it was safe, not feel the effects myself.”

I groaned, “Do we even want to know why you were testing it?”

Sabine shrugged. “Probably not. But I’m willing to take a full dose this time, if that’ll convince you that it’s safe. Physically, at least.”

“No!” Em and I said in unison. She continued, “The last time you were all hopped up on jealousy you tried to sell us in the Netherworld.”

“I’ll try it,” I said. “Otherwise, we’re not doing this.”

Sabine shrugged again and sank back against Nash’s shoulder. “Fine. I’ll go get it when we’re done here.”

“It’s not somewhere Sophie could find it, right?” Tod said.

“It’s in the toe of my left boot. The dancing queen won’t go near shoes without a designer label. She thinks she’s allergic to cheap fabric.” She twisted to scowl at Nash. “Sophie and I are not compatible. I still don’t see why your mom won’t let me stay with you guys.”

Emma actually grinned, for the first time in days. “Because Harmony thinks she’s too young to be a grandmother. But she’s, like, what? Eighty?”

“Eighty-two,” Tod said. From puberty on, bean sidhes age much slower than humans. Our average life span is around four hundred years. Not that I’d know from personal experience. Half the bean sidhes I knew were already dead or living on borrowed time. But Nash didn’t know his brother had traded death dates with him—Tod didn’t want him to feel guilty about something that was beyond his control. “Anyway, it’s not the grandmother thing that bothers her. It’s the thought of you two as parents.”

“That thought bothers me, too.” Sabine’s gaze settled on me and Tod. “Not a risk for you, though, right? You two have all the luck.”

“Yeah.” Sarcasm dripped from the word as Tod pushed pale curls back from his face, and I could feel my own cheeks flame. “Not having to worry about teen pregnancy totally makes up for the fact that we’re dead.” His eyes flashed in anger, probably on my behalf. “Every time I think you’ve reached the pinnacle of insensitivity, you exceed your own reach.”

“No way. You don’t get to be mad about the truth.” Sabine turned to Nash, obviously puzzled by social etiquette she didn’t understand. “Are they pissed because I mentioned sex or death?”

“New subject!” Nash stood and stomped into the kitchen with his soda.

“I second the motion,” I mumbled as he drained his can and dropped it into the recycling bin. I would much rather talk about trekking toward certain death in the Netherworld than ever again discuss sex in front of my boyfriend, his brother/my ex, and his new girlfriend. Who was also his old girlfriend/first love, who’d once tried to sell me to a demon to get rid of me.

Some conversations will just never be comfortable.

“Okay. So.” I shook my head, trying to mentally strike the previous two minutes from the official record. “Any ideas for how to lure Belphegore into our hellion cage match?”

“Vanity, right?” Nash reappeared in the living room with an open bag of potato chips. “I nominate my venerable brother. He likes to play hero, and one look at him should establish the vanity angle.”

“Nash!” I really shouldn’t have been surprised by the dig. But I was.

“What?” He raised one brow at me in challenge. “It’s okay to call me jealous, but not to call him vain?”

“Awareness of one’s obvious advantages doesn’t imply vanity,” Tod insisted calmly.

Nash turned on him. “Does it imply narcissism?”

Tod huffed. “This coming from the guy who owns more hair products than his girlfriend.”

“I don’t own any hair products,” Sabine said. And that was true. Her beauty was natural. Dark, fierce, and kinda scary at times, but completely natural.

Nash glared at his brother. “When you were still alive you spent more time looking at yourself than at girls, and I doubt death changed that.”

“Seriously? Are we doing this again?” The overhead light flickered in response to Sabine’s irritation—another creepy aspect of hanging out with a mara. “You’re pretty. He’s pretty.” She turned to scowl at Nash. “Your brother’s arrogant, and you’re confrontational. You’re both fed, clothed, sheltered, and sexually satisfied.”

“Sabine!” I hissed, while Em stared at the floor, evidently lost in her own thoughts. But the mara continued without even glancing at me.

“Now bury the hatchet in this stupid little family feud, or I’m going to bury one in you both!”

For a moment, we all stared at her. I should have been accustomed to her lack of a verbal filter and apparent determination to discuss my private life in front of the entire world, but every now and then she still shocked me.

“Well?” She glanced from one brother to the other, but before either of them decided to make the first move, Emma looked up, her jaw set in a determined line, though she wasn’t looking at anyone in particular—in fact, she seemed to be looking inward.

“I’ll do it. I’ll be Belphegore’s carrot.”

For a second I could only stare at Emma as what she was saying sank in. Then I shook my head, horrified by the thought. When I’d said we would be the bait, I hadn’t meant Emma. More than any of us, she deserved a little peace.

“No, Em, you don’t have to do that. You’ve been through so much already. This is the last thing you need right now.”

She twisted on the couch to face me, tucking one leg beneath her, and again I was thrown off by how odd it was to look into Lydia’s face and see Emma’s eyes. Hear Emma’s voice. “Your plan is good, Kaylee,” she said. “It’s smart, and it’s bold, and it could work. But it won’t work if you’re not willing to accept help. To let the rest of us take the risks you’ve been taking on your own.”

“No, Kaylee’s right. I’ll do it.” Tod shrugged. “I prefer to think of myself as a pretty accurate judge of my own gifts, but in the right slant of light, that could be seen as vanity, and—”

“I’m the natural choice,” Em insisted.

“You’re the least vain person I know—”

“Just listen,” my best friend said, and I did, because that was the least I owed her. “I never thought about it until I died and woke up with a stranger’s face, but who we are is very much influenced by what we look like. By our own self-images. Think about the crazy things people will do to change the way they look. Dangerous diets. Obsessive workouts. Unnecessary surgeries. And what they’re really trying to change is who they are. Or at least how they see themselves. As if changing what they look like can actually do that. It can’t. But for the first time, I understand that mind-set. It’s like my name.”

“Your name?” Nash looked just as confused as I felt.

“Yeah. We went through several baby books and at least a dozen baby-naming websites looking for a new name for me, but no matter what we tried—no matter what names I thought I liked—I couldn’t remember to answer to them. Because they weren’t me. I didn’t associate those names with who I am. Just like I don’t associate this body—this face—with who I am. Every time I look in the mirror, I’m surprised. There’s this moment of disorientation when I have to remind myself that I’m seeing my own reflection. And I know I should be grateful. Sophie was right about that. I’m still alive, and that’s the most important thing, and I should be grateful to Tod and Kaylee for directing my soul, and to Lydia for giving me her body. Not that she had any choice in the matter.”

Em sniffled and a tear fell from each of her eyes to roll slowly down her cheeks. “But I can’t help it. Every time I look in the mirror, I’m disappointed.”

“Because you’re not pretty anymore?” Sabine said, and I’d never wanted worse to smack her.

Okay, except for that time I did smack her.

“What?” the mara said, like she actually didn’t understand her gaffe. “It’s true. Lydia’s not pretty, and Em’s used to being pretty. That can’t be easy. I may not go through a lot of trouble in the morning, but that doesn’t mean I’d be happy to wake up tomorrow with nothing to fill out my bra, you know?” She gestured toward my nearly flat chest, and that time my palm itched to connect with her face.

“She’s right.” Em frowned and glanced at me apologetically. “Not about your boobs. They’re fine.”

“Way better than fine,” Tod leaned over to whisper, and I buried my face in my hands, both embarrassed and relieved to realize that Nash was the only one in the room who’d refrained from commenting on the sad state of my personal assets.

“But Sabine knows what I’m saying,” Em said, mercifully diverting attention from me and my subpar endowment. “I liked who I was. What I looked like. I liked having curves, and I liked my hair, and loved having clear skin without having to mess with it. I liked seeing my eyes in my own face. I’m never going to have that again, and I hate it. So yeah, I’m vain. As it turns out, I’m really vain. If Sabine’s willing to help manipulate that with a little strategic fear amplification, I know I could reel Belphegore in.”

She closed her eyes for a second, then met my gaze. “And, frankly, I plan to enjoy the hell out of it. The bitch broke my neck, Kaylee. It’s her fault I died—not yours. And I’m not going to let any of you tell me I can’t play a big part in bringing her down. I deserve this. She’s going to get what she deserves, too.”

3

“How was the reception?” I set a glass of sweet tea on the end table next to my father, then carefully lifted his leg from the coffee table and slid a pillow beneath it.

“Kaylee, you really don’t have to wait on me. I’m fine.” He scruffed the fur between Styx’s small, pointed ears, and she snuggled closer. The cutest part about their recent bonding was that my dad thought Styx was hungry for attention. I suspected the truth had more to do with her determination to protect him at all costs.

Styx was half-Netherhound. She was fiercely loyal and could snap a human long bone in a single bite.

“You were stabbed in the leg by a psychotic hellion wearing Sabine’s foster mother’s face.” In the kitchen again, I pulled his plate out of the microwave and grabbed a fork from the dish drainer. “What part of that is fine?”

“The part where I lived.” My dad sighed, and for a moment his eyes swirled with survivor’s guilt. “Some weren’t so lucky.”

“I heard that!” Em called from the bedroom, where she was obsessing over which of my hopelessly plain T-shirts to wear on her first day of school as Emily Cavanaugh.

“You’re a survivor, Em!” I called back. More of a survivor than I was, anyway. At least her heart still beat on its own. Even if it wasn’t her original heart.

I shooed Styx off the couch with one hand while I handed my dad’s plate to him with the other.

“How’s she doing?” My dad pulled back the plastic film covering his dinner as I set the remote control next to him.

“It’s going to take a while to adjust, but she’ll get there.” I shrugged. “She still has all of us.” Which was more than most new kids had on the first day. “So? The reception? How’s Ms. Marshall? And Em’s sisters?”

My father sighed. He no longer looked hungry. “They’re hurting, Kay. It kills me that we can’t tell them the truth.”

We’d thought about it. A lot. After all, we could certainly prove our crazy story. But telling them that Emma was still alive in someone else’s body would mean telling them about bean sidhes, and reapers, and death dates, and about the Netherworld, and that there were hellions over there just waiting to devour our souls and torture us for all of eternity.

Most humans didn’t handle that kind of disclosure well.

“It probably doesn’t help that they had to wait nearly two weeks to bury her.”

The police had refused to release Emma’s body until after a full autopsy. They hadn’t bought our claim that she’d broken her neck in a freak fall from the swing set at the lake, where my birthday party had been crashed by hellions.

We didn’t tell them about the hellions.

Of course, part of the reason our story was so hard for them to accept was that her boyfriend, Jayson, had died that same day. As had Sabine’s foster mother. That was too many deaths related to one high school clique to pass as coincidence.

But in the end, they’d had to release all the bodies for burial when they could find no signs of foul play. Because there was no foul play, on our part, anyway.

The hellions were not available for questioning.

“I’m just glad it’s over.” My dad picked up his fork and poked at a clump of rehydrated mashed potatoes.

“Yeah.” Except for the part about us getting rid of the three hellions occupying the Netherworld version of my high school. My dad wasn’t ready to hear about that just yet. At least not until his leg had healed.

“Hey,” Tod said, and I looked up to find him standing in the middle of the living room, holding a plain manila envelope.

“Is that…?” My dad gestured to the envelope, and Tod nodded.

“Em!” I called when he sat on the couch on my other side and handed me the package.

My bedroom door creaked open, and Emma trudged in from the hall as I dumped the contents of the envelope on the coffee table. She looked more nervous than curious when she saw what Tod had brought.

I picked up a small laminated card from the middle of the pile of papers and held it out to her. “Emily Cavanaugh, you are now officially licensed to drive.” Even though Lydia’s body was only fifteen years old. It hadn’t seemed fair to make Em wait another year and take driver’s ed all over again. She’d already lost so much—including her car.

“Where did you get them done?” Em sank into the armchair, staring at her new license.

I wondered what she was thinking. Was she hating her new face again? I couldn’t help wishing she’d known Lydia before becoming her. Lydia was so kind and selfless. She was so beautiful on the inside that her outside hadn’t mattered.

And it’s not like she’d had any obvious flaws. She was just…normal.

Obviously normal was hard to get used to, after a lifetime of gorgeous.

“I got yours the same place I got mine.” Tod had needed paperwork to get hired as a pizza delivery boy, just like Em needed it to start school. “But I’m sworn to secrecy on that front.”

“Like it matters.” Emma slid her new license into her back pocket, then leaned forward to study her new birth certificate. “This is bizarre. I’m not sure I’ve even seen my real one.” She frowned and picked up another small paper card. “New social security number. I guess I should memorize this…”

“Thanks for getting these, Tod,” my dad said, lifting a forkful of meat loaf toward his mouth.

“No problem.”

When my dad turned on the TV and Em sank farther into the chair to study her new social security number, Tod gave his head a subtle nod toward the hall.

“Hey, Dad, we’re gonna go…” I hesitated, trying to come up with a quick, reasonable excuse to be alone with Tod, but my father only rolled his eyes.

“Just leave the door open.”

I gave him a grateful smile and picked up my glass of water on the way into the hall.

In the middle of my bedroom floor, between the beds, I turned and put one hand over Tod’s chest to feel his heartbeat. It was there—faint but very real. The gesture, checking for his heartbeat, had become both habit and a silent communication between us. A reassurance.

A promise too big to be defined by mere words.

He opened his mouth, and I put one finger over my lips in the universal sign for “shhhh.”

Tod rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to be reminded to make sure the living couldn’t hear him—one of the handier perks of our undead state. In fact, he often had to be reminded to let others see and hear him. In the two-plus years since his death, most normal human functions had fallen out of habit, and he’d once told me he wasn’t sure his heart ever beat when I wasn’t there to feel it.

I’d promptly melted into a puddle of Kaylee-goo.

My fingers curled around a handful of his shirt when he kissed me, and I stood on my toes to give him more of me. To taste more of him. “Mmm…” I murmured when his lips trailed from my mouth over my chin, then down my neck. “I missed that.”

“It’s only been a few hours,” he whispered, though no one else could hear us. “Shouldn’t eternity make us more patient?”

“It’s having the opposite effect. Knowing we should have forever makes me want a little bit of forever right now…” I pulled him back up, and my lips met his again. His hands trailed slowly up my sides, and I let the feel of him chase away the anger and sadness I’d been fighting for most of the day. For most of the past two weeks, in fact. Tod felt good. Tod always felt good, even when the rest of my world was falling apart.

“Oh!” He pulled away from me and reached into his pocket, then held up a small plastic vial full of a murky greenish liquid. “I almost forgot. I picked this up to save Sabine a trip.”

“Is that…?”

“Yeah. She said not to touch it until you dilute it. We’re supposed to use this.” He dug in his other pocket and came up with a small plastic medicinal dropper. “But for the record, I don’t approve of you ingesting Netherworld substances. Especially untested Netherworld substances. So I really have no choice but to hang out until the effects have completely worn off. To make sure you’re safe.”

I laughed. “My dad and Em are here.”

He lifted one pale brow. “And, naturally, you’re going to tell your dad what you’re up to…?”

I tugged him closer until I could whisper against his cheek. “I thought we agreed there were some things he doesn’t need to know about.…”

“We did.” His hand slid beneath the hem of my shirt, and the dropper grazed my side. “Those are my very favorite things.”

“You know, when it’s silent in there, I get suspicious!” my dad called from the living room. Em laughed. Tod groaned.

He held me for another second and I breathed in his scent, then let him go and took my water glass from the desk, where I’d set it. I stared down into it, then at the vial. “This is not going to mix well.” I pulled out my rolling chair—it wouldn’t go far, with Em’s bed in the way—and sank into it, then set the glass down again while Tod worked the plug from the vial.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“No. But I can’t give it to Sophie if I’m not willing to try it myself.”

He stuck the tip of the dropper into the vial and drew up a quarter of an inch of murky green gunk. “My mom calls that the baby food test.”

“Baby food?”

“Yeah. When we were little, she wouldn’t give us anything to eat until she’d tasted it herself. Which is why she started baking. Evidently baby food is vile.”

I watched as he dropped into a squat, so that he was eye level with my glass. “So you really did grow up on cookies and cake. I knew it.”

“That’s why I’m so sweet now. I have no idea what went wrong with Nash.” He carefully squeezed the bulb at the top of the dropper, and a single drop of concentrated liquid envy plopped into my glass. For a second, it hung suspended in the water. Then tiny threadlike feelers of dark, dark green stretched out from the drop in all directions, bleeding slowly into the rest of the glass while Tod squirted the rest of what he’d sucked up back into the vial.

In seconds, the drop was gone and my water was an uneven green, paler than the concentrated color. Like an old bruise.

“Yuck.” I held the glass up to the light, and the green grew paler. “Maybe we should have mixed it with soda.”

Tod opened his mouth, and I took the first sip before he could offer to drink it for me. To test it on himself. The last thing I needed was for him to develop an irrational envy. The only person he could possibly be jealous of was Nash, and it had taken me forever to get the two of them back on speaking terms. Backward momentum was not okay.

“Yuck!” I made a face and wished for a cookie to rid my mouth of the foul film. “Envy tastes bitter.”

Tod laughed. “I could have told you that without even trying it. You gulp that, and I’ll get you something sweet to chase it with.”

“Thanks.”

I made myself drink the whole glass while he was gone, then made a mental note to warn Sabine to put it in something dark and sweet. Definitely coffee or soda. Or artificially sweetened diet protein shakes.

As I was swallowing the last mouthful, Tod reappeared in my room with a clear plastic cup of pink lemonade from my favorite burger place, a block from school. “Thanks.” I set the empty glass down and gulped a quarter of the lemonade through the straw without even taking the cup from him. “Much better.”

He set the drink on my nightstand, then sank onto my bed and scooted back until he could lean against the wall. I sat in front of him, my back pressed against his chest, and his arms wrapped around me. “Feel anything yet?”

“Just this.” I threaded my fingers between his in my lap. But I was already starting to regret volunteering for our little experiment. The more I thought about it, the easier it was to remember how I’d felt with Invidia spewing envy into the air at my school, poisoning us, amplifying whatever benign envy we felt on a daily basis until it poured from us in bitter, violent waves.