As Is gazes at Devyn with her own lovey-dovey look, he says, “Yeah. Teen love. So obvious. So hormonal.”
“I am not hormonal.” I fake glare at him.
He just laughs. Cassidy, this girl Dev supposedly dated back in fourth grade, waves to him. He smiles and waves back. Issie stiffens and I’m about to tell her Cassidy is no competition when Nick sidles up to us. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me against his side. I instinctively lean into his solid chest. I can’t help it. I breathe in his pheromones and get almost dizzy. He’s all woods and clean air and warmth. He kisses the top of my head.
“People! No PDA!” Coach Walsh heads over to us. He’s got four Ping-Pong paddles and a pack of balls.
Nick’s fingers tighten around mine for a second and then he lets me go.
“You four,” Coach barks. “Table tennis. Far table. You can handle that, Devyn?”
Devyn nods and reaches for his canes. Just a month ago Devyn couldn’t really stand. Now he’s walking a little bit. Doctors say it’s a miracle. We know better. Devyn, like Nick, isn’t quite human. He’s a shifter. He can change into an animal form—an eagle—and that makes him heal faster, heal better. What would’ve paralyzed a normal human? He’s beating it. Still, he can’t hide how impatient he is with the whole thing. Sometimes his lips shake because he’s so frustrated.
Is hands me a paddle and whispers, “He used to rock at Ping-Pong.”
I smile. “How does someone rock at Ping-Pong?”
“Just watch,” she says knowingly and gives Nick another paddle.
“It’s the bird in him,” Nick explains. “Crazy hand-eye coordination.”
“Are you bragging about me?” Dev asks. He’s got the paddle in the proper handshake position Coach Walsh drilled into us the other day.
“Yeah.” Is gets all fluttery and eyelashy. “We are.”
“It’s not really about the hand-eye, it’s about knowing where the ball is going, where you want the ball to go,” Devyn explains. “It’s like life. It’s all about purpose and direction. You can’t worry about it. You have to plan and predict and react.”
I swear Issie almost swoons.
“I’ve been doing some research about how pixies play into Norse myths,” he says. “It’s interesting stuff. Very obscure, though.”
“You going to inform us?” Nick serves.
Dev volleys back. “Not quite yet. Zara, I’m thinking about a chapter in the book, though, on the mythology. Is that kosher with you?”
“Yep.” I twirl my paddle in my hand and flick some lint off my vintage U2 T-shirt.
Nick hits the ball again. Dev volleys. The little fluorescent orange ball flies back and forth so fast I can’t really see it; just hear the click-pop of it on the hard table when it makes contact. I step away. So does Issie. The guys don’t even notice.
“So why were you late?” I ask.
“Patrolling.” Nick’s wrist flicks the ball back toward Devyn. Devyn counters.
“We know that, Macho One,” Issie says. She hunkers down low at the table like she’s actually going to get a chance to hit a ball. “But you’re late.”
We are all staring at him. Nick looks away.
“I had a little encounter,” Nick finally says. His forehead crinkles.
Devyn misses the ball. It skitters off the table and to the side. Issie runs to retrieve it, but it bounces and lobs under the other tables and keeps rolling across the shiny gym floor.
I push the hair out of my face so I can really examine him. He’s still all there. He is not dead. I ask, “Are you okay?”
Nick meets my gaze and he lifts his arms wide like I should inspect him. “Of course.”
Issie brings back the ball and hands it to Dev to serve, although it’s not technically his serve because he lost the volley.
“Cassidy sent you a note,” she says, her voice losing all its happy.
“Thanks.” Devyn pockets it, adjusts his canes, and leans forward a little but still serves the ball perfectly in a diagonal across the table. It bounces in front of me, but I don’t even really register it until Nick hits it for me. It bounces back to the other side. Issie crosses her arms in front of her chest and looks at the floor. She’s terrified that Dev might like Cassidy. She is really nice and everything, but totally not made of awesome the way Issie is.
“What are you guys talking about?” she asks.
“What made me late. It was a pixie,” Nick says. “I took care of it.”
Nick hits the ball a little too hard and it flashes over the table and hits the wall on the opposite side of the gym near Cassidy.
“I think I’ll let that one go,” Is says.
“You met up with a pixie and you didn’t call,” I say, my voice squeaking with frustration. “You didn’t call for help?”
Nick says all calm and easy, “It was too quick, baby.”
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” I say jokingly but not really. “You know the rules. You call for help if you’re going to be late. That’s the rule for everyone, not just you. We’re all in danger here.”
“Uh-oh,” Is murmurs. “Maybe I will go get that ball. Or else I might go all teacher on you about how men use the term ‘baby’ in a negative way because they can’t deal with the empowering nature of birth and are jealous. Oops! I started already. Be right back.”
“Is has some major conflict-avoidance issues,” Devyn says, like we don’t already know.
“I didn’t need help,” Nick says, ignoring them both. He turns to face me again. His eyes are kind but his voice doesn’t lose the serious tone. “There wasn’t any time.”
“There is always time,” I insist. “It takes two seconds to send a text.”
Is returns with the ball. “Conflict all done?”
I nod but it’s not totally true. Nick has to stop taking unnecessary risks and I have to make him see that, but now is not the time. We’re in PE. Seriously. I bump Nick’s hip with my own before we get back in our proper Ping-Pong positions. “I win this argument.”
“Conflict all done,” Devyn assures her.
She smiles at him. “I serve.” She misses the ball. “Oops. You serve.”