"Quiet, girls," Mr. Smythe said.
The twins fell silent.
I ignored them as I returned to my seat and tried to listen to the day's lecture.
But deep inside me, I could feel that alien coldness waiting for the next time I lost control.
Tristan
Maybe Savannah was hiding the fact that she was seriously sick.
She'd shot out of history class today like a rocket and stayed gone for half an hour. When she'd returned, she had been white as a sheet and shaking, and she hadn't taken any notes during Mr. Smythe's lecture like she normally did.
And I never had heard a good explanation for why she had been so sick last spring. Maybe she hadn't made the Charmers team as a dancer because she had a medical condition. Though that still wouldn't explain why she didn't want me near the dance room this afternoon.
The rest of the day took too long to get through, but finally the last bell rang. I waited a few minutes at my locker to give Savannah time to get to the dance room. Then I headed that way, walking up the sports and art building's second-floor stairs as quietly as I could.
I could hear music, something sad and moody. Easing the door open at the third-floor landing, I entered the hallway and jerked to a stop.
I'd always known that Savannah was beautiful. But this...this was something else. I'd had no idea she could even move like that.
She'd turned off the dance-room lights and shut the room's double doors. But I could still see her through the long, narrow windows at either side of the entrance. In the faint sunlight slanting in through the exterior windows, with her red hair down and flowing around her pale skin...
She didn't look real. She looked like something I'd dreamed up.
Suddenly, she froze, her back to me, her body tense. When she turned toward the doors, she had one hand pressed to the center of her chest, her fingers spread wide just below her collarbone. Her other hand spread over her stomach below her rib cage.
I knew it. She was sick. I yanked the doors open. "Sav, what's wrong?"
"What are you doing here? I told you I didn't need your help."
"Just tell me what's going on. Are you okay?"
"Of course I'm okay. Why?"
"You look like you're in pain." I nodded at her hands.
She dropped them to her sides, where they clenched into fists. "No, I'm fine. I was just-"
"Then why aren't you a dancer with the Charmers?" The question blurted out before I could reconsider asking it. But if she was sick, I had to know.
She flinched as if I'd hit her and took too long to reply. "I wasn't good enough apparently."
"That's bull. You just danced better than their current captain does." Not that I was an expert, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to see how she'd been practically defying gravity in there.
One small shoulder rose and fell as she stomped over to the stereo and snapped it off. "That's how things work sometimes. I'd better get going."
I knew when someone was lying to my face. But why would she lie about this? I followed her into the uniform closet. "Why aren't you at least filling in as an alternate dancer this year with Keisha and Vicki?"
She stopped before a step stool, keeping her back to me. "That's a long story."
"I've got all night."
She hesitated, then sighed and reached for the stool, her movements suddenly jerky. "My father's...family didn't like me dancing last year. So I promised them I wouldn't anymore."
Must be some religious thing.
She dragged the stool a few feet to the left.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Hats." She pointed at a long row of square white boxes on the shelf above the uniforms, then stepped onto the stool. She was taking my advice, after all. Good. Except I was tall enough to get the boxes for her without needing a stool.
I stepped up beside her and reached over her head for a box.
She froze and drew in a long breath, then suddenly gasped and wobbled on the stool. Forgetting the hats, I grabbed her waist before she could fall.
Her entire body tensed like a string stretched to the breaking point. Gripping my shoulders with surprising strength, she met my gaze head-on.
Her irises were a gray so light they looked almost silver as she stared at me, the stool making her nearly my height now. The only other time I'd seen her eyes this color was after my fight with Greg. The last time we'd stood this close together.
"Tristan..." she whispered.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded, leaning closer to me. Then there was only one thought. Forget the plan. I lowered my head and kissed her.
I'd kissed other girls. Lots of them. Nothing had ever felt like this, though.
She kissed me back, her arms wrapped around my neck so our whole bodies lined up. My head swam, and my knees shook.
Too quickly, the burn in my lungs forced me to lift my head and take a long gulp of air. I kept holding her in case she felt as light-headed and weak as I did.
"I... We..." she gasped.
"Yeah," I agreed, still breathless. "Wow."
The dazed look left her face, replaced by horror. She pushed away from me and stepped down from the stool as all the color drained from her cheeks. "You kissed me!"
"You kissed me back." How had she recovered so fast? She had to have felt the world slam to a halt during that kiss, too.
"I did not. I got a little...light-headed. And you took advantage of my confusion."
"I can tell when a girl is kissing me back."
She pressed a hand to her stomach and another to her chest like before.
"Why do you keep doing that? And why are you feeling light-headed? Are you sick? Tell me the truth."
"No, I'm not sick. I just..." Frowning, she pressed a hand to her forehead. "I didn't eat much at lunch. And don't change the subject. This is not okay. You and I can't-"
"Have dinner with me." I cringed at my total, sudden lack of self-control. Good job, Tristan. So much for being her friend first.
"Okay."
"Okay?" My pulse shot up through my skull. Yes!
"No! Wait. No. I can't. We can't."
"Is that your final answer?" I joked even as my heart dropped down somewhere near my gut. I should have known getting her to date me wouldn't be so easy.