by Syrie James
“Oh?” “I guess it takes practice.”
“Practice?” Alec’s green eyes were wary. “Claire, you can’t—”
“Yeah, yeah.” She hurried on, “Grandma also said that because I’m a Halfblood, I’ll probably figure it out pretty fast. And I have a theory. I think I have to be really upset or tense or something for it to have an effect.”
“What makes you think that?” Alec asked.
“When I tried to use it on you, I was just being playful. When I used it on my mom, I was superangry. It felt like the power was coming from the knots in my stomach.”
“So you need to get all emo to brainwash someone?” interjected Brian.
“Maybe. But I wasn’t Hulking out; it was like it was all bottled up inside.”
Alec nodded, deep in thought. “That must be why the Fallen want your dad.”
“My dad?” Claire repeated as they arrived in the dappled sunlight of the North Quad.
“Yeah. Imagine what would happen if he used his gift to—” Alec cut off abruptly.
Claire understood why. Brian had led them to a lunch table beneath some shady trees where his new fling, Kayla, was sitting alone with her lunch tray. Spotting them, she rose with a huge smile on her face.
“Yay, you guys came!” Kayla leapt up and wrapped Brian in a warm hug. “I was so bummed—Mary is home sick, and Jess bailed to eat with her boyfriend in the theater lobby. I was afraid I was going to have to fly solo today.”
Claire and Alec awkwardly sat down across from her and Brian, exchanging glances and wondering how much Kayla had heard.
They didn’t have to wait long for their answer. Kayla’s brow scrunched as she cut up her piece of chicken. “So, what’s this about some guy using a gift?”
Crap. How was she going to explain this away? “Um, my mom has a … friend … who’s really gifted,” Claire stammered. “I mean, he’s really, really good at … um—”
“Swing dancing,” Alec interjected smoothly. “Claire’s mom is taking swing-dance classes and asked the guy to be her partner, but he’s too shy.”
“Lame,” said Kayla between chews. “My grandparents met at a dance. I’d love to learn how to swing! Maybe I could take the class with your mom?”
“I’ll ask,” Claire said hesitantly, desperate to change the subject.
The universe suddenly came through for her. At that moment, Erica walked by, part of the flock surrounding Gabrielle Miller. She looked a little awkward to be mingling with that crowd, but even more bothered when she glanced at Claire and the rest … all sitting with Kayla. Without a word, Erica continued on with her group to another table.
It was the second time Erica had snubbed her that day. Claire felt stung yet again.
Brian watched the gaggle pass by, then said quietly, “Hey CB, what would happen if you tried, you know … swing dancing … with Erica? Do you think she’d forgive you and start talking to you again?”
Claire shot him a shut up! look, horrified at both the implication of the euphemism, and the potential for Kayla to start asking more questions. “That’s a terrible idea, Bri. You threatened to annihilate me if I ever tried ‘dancing’ with you, so why do you think she’d feel any differently?”
Kayla pouted. “Brian! Are you really so antidancing?”
Brian looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Uh—well—”
Kayla cozied up to Brian. “I was hoping if I take the swing class, that you’d take it with me!”
Claire dug into her food, praying that this lunch would be over soon.
fifteen
“Welcome, everyone, to the start of our little play,” said Ms. Donnelly.
Alec sat with the rest of the cast on the theater stage in a double ring of chairs. The drama teacher stood in the center, her auburn hair pulled into a ponytail and her eyes bright as she passed out scripts and rehearsal schedules.
“We’ve got the largest cast in Emerson’s history,” Ms. Donnelly continued, “and I’ll tell you why. I’ve been very aware over the years that many students felt hurt or left out when I didn’t cast them in a play or musical. This time, I decided to do something different and cast everyone who auditioned. Which gives us a big, wonderful chorus. I hope you’ll all sing your hearts out. And that you’re happy to be here.”
Alec glanced around the circle of students, most of whom were smiling. Erica was an exception. He could tell that Claire, seated beside him, had also noticed Erica’s bleak expression and was doing her best to mask her own feelings about the situation.
The other holdout was Neil, who sat directly across from them. He looked conflicted, like even he couldn’t tell whether he was glad to be there or not.
“Here’s how it’s going to work,” Ms. Donnelly went on. “Today, we’ll read through the script start to finish. Mr. Lang will sing the songs to get you familiar with them. Then for the next eight weeks, you’ll be dividing your time between choreography rehearsals with Mrs. Frank in the dance studio, learning the songs in the music room, and blocking out the play scene by scene in the theater with me, until we finally put it all together at the end. Take a look at the rehearsal schedules and plan your lives accordingly.”
A quick perusal of the schedule showed Alec he would have very little time outside of school and rehearsal until the show was over. To his surprise, he found himself looking forward to it, partly because he’d be spending most of that time with Claire. But there was another reason, too. Whenever his duties had allowed him to attend theater in the past—in dozens of countries across the world—he’d enjoyed it, and often wondered what the experience of putting on a play was like. Now he was going to find out.
He wasn’t worried about the acting part. As Claire had pointed out, for more than a hundred years, he’d been pretending to be something he wasn’t. Hopefully, now he could use his skills for fun.
“For those of you who’ve never been in a play before,” Ms. Donnelly continued, “no matter how big or small you think your role is, please know that if the rehearsal schedule calls for you to be here the entire time, that’s not negotiable. If you have downtime, you’re welcome to do your homework, but just be ready.”
They soon segued into the reading of the play itself. Ms. Donnelly read the stage directions while Mr. Lang played the piano at the side of the stage whenever a song came up. He was a tenor with an exceptional range, enabling him to perform decent renditions of all the music. Those members of the cast who already knew the big production numbers were encouraged to sing along. Occasionally, Ms. Donnelly would halt the reading and mention lines she wanted to cut or change, which everyone marked on their scripts.
Although some of the students read through their parts casually, Alec did his best to act the words. Almost as if it were a competition, Neil gave his part an enthusiastic go as well. Alec was relieved to find, when it got to the romantic scenes between Guinevere and Lancelot, that he didn’t feel as jealous or resentful as he’d expected. It still bothered him that Claire and Neil were playing lovers, but in this reading at least, it felt pretty tame and chaste. He had nothing to worry about, he told himself. He and Claire were solid. Their relationship was open and honest.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. Alec felt a dash of guilt recalling the scuffle last night, which he still hadn’t told Claire about. After his encounter outside the bar, he’d returned the coolers of blood to UCLA anonymously. According to the GPS tracking device he’d placed on the Fallen’s car, the guy had escaped his trunk a half hour after their fight and driven off to a residential section of Silverlake. Alec had gone up there and checked out the house but saw nothing suspicious.
It was best not to bring up the incident, he decided. Claire hated it when he got involved in a fight, and she had plenty on her mind already. He had no idea what those bags of blood were for, but it was a safe bet that whatever the Fallen were up to, it wasn�
�t good. Until he knew more, better not to add to her worries.
Glancing sideways at Claire, Alec noticed that she seemed more relaxed than she’d been in a long while, as if focusing on the script and the music allowed her to shove all the drama of school and home and her new gift aside. He suddenly realized that he was feeling more relaxed, too.
Maybe this play would be a good thing for both of them.
sixteen
Claire was walking past the library just as break ended Wednesday morning, gloveless and eating a blueberry muffin, when she noticed something strange.
Gabrielle Miller was staring into her locker with a frown.
More than a frown. Gabrielle’s forehead was so furrowed that her perfectly plucked eyebrows were nearly touching. Her mouth was scrunched up into an almost-scowl, and Claire felt certain she detected a hint of moisture in the girl’s eyes.
This was totally out of character for Gabrielle. She was the perpetual center of her own universe, with a sunny, confident personality. It was weird even to see her standing alone, since she was typically surrounded by a pack of admirers, both male and female (including Erica, nowadays).
Claire paused, popping the last bite of muffin into her mouth and wondering what was going on. Gabrielle took off her cardigan, tucking it around her backpack strap as she shrugged the pack onto her shoulders. Just then, her best friends darted up to her, Courtney shrieking “There you are!” while Ashley cried, “Omigod, you’ll never guess who just asked me out!”
Gabrielle’s dark expression vanished as though it had never existed, replaced by an instant smile. She slammed her locker shut, and the chattering threesome moved off, no one but Claire noticing the sweater slip out and fall to the ground.
Claire bent down and picked up the cardigan. The moment she touched it, Claire was struck by a jolt of heat and a slight twinge in her stomach. Crap, she thought, recognizing the signs of a vision about to start. She cursed herself for not putting her gloves back on. She didn’t enjoy being temporarily tossed into someone else’s mind and body, and was about to drop the sweater when some instinct told her to hang on and see where the vision took her.
As Claire straightened up, still holding the sweater, the world around her blurred and shifted.
She was standing in front of Gabrielle’s locker. Manicured hands that weren’t her own flipped the combination and opened the door. The locker interior was wallpapered with a collage of photos of members of the junior class, including Gabrielle’s and Neil’s portraits as Homecoming King and Queen, and team photos of the volleyball and tennis teams.
“Hey, Gabby,” a male voice called out from the other side of the open locker door.
The hands tilted the door closed, revealing Jason Tate, who was at his locker down the row.
Butterflies danced in her stomach at the sight of Jason’s self-conscious smile.
“What’s up,” she heard herself reply in Gabrielle’s voice. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh, really?” One of Jason’s dark eyebrows raised in surprise as he closed his locker.
“Yeah. The girls and I are breaking in my new Jacuzzi on Saturday night while my parents are in Palm Springs. Want to join us?”
Jason’s other eyebrow lifted to join the first. “You want to hot tub in January? That’s crazy.”
“This isn’t Minnesota! Anyway, we’re gonna raid the bar. That should keep us warm.”
“Wow …”
“Come on, I just got a new bikini. I need an excuse to show it off.”
Something changed on Jason’s face. His eyes flicked to the floor, as if he was trying hard to dig up the right words to respond. “Um. It sounds nice, but … not really my thing.”
“Okay. So what is your thing?” Gabrielle responded quickly. “Movies? Roller coasters? Paintball? I’m free on Friday.”
“Wish I could, but this Friday we’re sort of doing family stuff.” He looked genuinely sorry. “Thanks for asking, though. Catch you later.” Shouldering his backpack, he gave her a small smile and walked off.
Claire felt a crushing sense of disappointment and confusion as she/Gabrielle turned back to her locker door, her focus zeroing in for a long moment on a photo of Jason in the posted collage. The image became fuzzy as her vision clouded with moisture. Blinking away tears, she took off her sweater, tucking it around her backpack. Then a female voice shrieked:
“There you are!”
Ashley’s voice cried, “Omigod, you’ll never guess who just asked me out!”
A bell was ringing somewhere.
The vision filled with static and abruptly ended. Claire blinked and found herself rooted to the spot where she’d picked up the cardigan. A bell was ringing, signaling five minutes ’til the end of break. Students darted past her, hurrying to class. Claire stared at the sweater in her hands, trembling as she struggled to make the adjustment back to reality.
A voice came from the end of the row. “What?” It was Neil, looking at her defensively.
Dear God, Claire thought. Brian once mentioned that she had a weird, thousand-yard stare whenever she got a vision. Had Neil noticed her doing that?
Claire cleared her throat. “Hmm?”
“You were staring at me.”
Her cheeks flushed as she tugged on her gloves. “Uh, no, sorry, I was just thinking about … something. I didn’t even know you were there.”
Neil shook his head and tucked his thumbs into his backpack straps. “Figures.”
As he turned and climbed up the nearby stairwell, Claire again called out, “Sorry!” but he didn’t look back.
Still trembling slightly, she folded the sweater, stowed it in her backpack, and headed off to class, her mind whirling with what she’d just seen and heard between Gabrielle and Jason. It had obviously happened a few minutes ago and must be why Gabrielle had looked so upset.
Clearly, Gabrielle had a major crush on Jason. Based on the intense feelings she’d experienced while in the girl’s point of view, Claire sensed that rejection was not a familiar emotion to someone as popular as Gabrielle Miller. Claire kind of felt sorry for her. The two of them weren’t exactly best friends, but Gabrielle had been nice in the wake of the scaffolding incident, as well as during the whole Homecoming Queen/Princess thing.
She felt sorry for Jason, too. Everyone knew that Jason was so shy, he’d never dated anyone before—at least not at school. Did he really have some vague “family thing” on Friday night? Even if hot tubbing wasn’t his thing, Claire sensed that Jason had wanted to say yes to Gabrielle’s offers but didn’t have the nerve. He seemed like such a nice, quiet guy.
Maybe he just needed a little push in the right direction. If Claire talked to Jason, said a few encouraging words, hopefully he’d grow a pair and ask Gabrielle out. Then he and Gabrielle could end up as happy as she and Alec were (without all the paranormal drama).
Jason was in AP bio with her that period. After class let out, Claire hurried up to him, pulling Gabrielle’s sweater out of her backpack. “Hey, Jason!”
He paused and turned to her. Claire had never talked to Jason in her life, but Emerson Academy was so small, everyone knew each other’s names.
“Hey, Claire,” he answered, surprised.
“Gabby dropped this by her locker. I figure she’ll want it ASAP. Would you mind giving it back to her?”
His eyes widened. “Me? Why?”
“I don’t know if I’ll see her again today, but you guys have ceramics next, right? I’ve seen you in there on my way to Spanish.”
“Okay, sure.” He took the sweater.
“By the way.” Claire lowered her voice. “In case you didn’t know: I overheard her talking to Ashley and Courtney. She’s into you, Jason.”
“Oh, yeah?” He looked down, like he had earlier when he was talking to Gabrielle. Man, was this guy shy, or what?
“Why do you even care?” he asked quietly.
“I care because I want to see you guys happy. I thought that knowing it was a sure thing would make taking a shot at it a little easier.”
He shrugged a little awkwardly. “Okay. Well. I’ll definitely give her the sweater.”
Claire was frustrated. He obviously wasn’t taking the bait. By the time he worked up the nerve to ask her out, they’d probably be leaving for college. If only he’d get over his nerves and just … try.
Then it hit Claire. She had the power of persuasion. Clearly, Jason needed more than a gentle push. And she could make this happen.
Helena and Alec kept telling her not to use her mind-control ability. But in this instance, she could really do some good. If it didn’t work, who would even know? Just Helena, maybe, if she was watching Claire right now. But that was a chance she’d have to take. What was that phrase? Something about great power and great responsibility?
Jason was halfway down the stairs toward the art studio when Claire blurted, “Jason, wait!”
He turned to Claire with a quizzical expression. She hurried down to him.
“Listen to me.” She drummed up all the emotions she was feeling into a tight ball inside her, training all her thoughts on her objective. “You and Gabby would be really good together. Just use the sweater as an excuse to talk to her, and ask her out.”
She waited tensely for what seemed like an ice age, but he didn’t reply, still appearing conflicted. Clearly, Claire needed to crank it up a notch. She focused more intently on the passion deep in her core. “You can do it,” she went on, at the same time thinking at him over and over: Ask her out. Ask her out. Ask her out.
That did the trick. The now-familiar sense of connection between Claire and her target tugged at her like a fish caught on a line. She was thrilled to see Jason’s eyes glaze over as he nodded, newfound confidence on his face. “Okay. Thanks.” He turned, sweater in hand, and trotted off to class.