“True,” I admitted. “Did you know there was a message in what you wrote?”
“A what?”
I set my backpack on the sink and pul ed out my school newspaper notebook. “Here.” I passed the paper to her, running my finger down the first letters in each of her hastily written sentences.
BEWARE.
Stunned, her volume rose. “Now you’re trying to freak me out.”
“No,” I insisted. “I didn’t know what it meant at first. But then—wel , something weird happened later that night. And BEWARE seemed like a fitting sentiment.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“What’s going on, Soph? Does this happen to you often?”
“This? ” She waved my notepaper and shoved it back against my chest. “No. This doesn’t happen to me often.”
I swal owed. Just like a normal person living a more than normal life. “Do you see strange things?”
“We’re in high school. We al see strange things.” Soft-spoken Sophia was gone, replaced by the same anxious and angry Sophie I’d witnessed confront Derek that day.
“There’s more to that photo than you’re saying. What sort of strange things do you see?”
“Maybe I don’t want to say. Maybe I’m perfectly comfortable letting you and Sarah be the crazy girls at Junction High.”
“Niiice. Maybe if you tel me, I can help you.”
“You can’t undo what was done to me,” she scoffed. “This thing I have, it’s permanent. I’d rather not get into it. Let’s leave it with the fact that I’ve tried to get rid of it.”
into it. Let’s leave it with the fact that I’ve tried to get rid of it.”
“What is it? ”
“God, Jessie. You’re so frustrating sometimes.” She blew out a breath. “Fine. I’l let you into my crazy little world.” She pul ed the photo back out of the envelope and pressed it flat across the bathroom mirror.
“What do you see there?”
“Our graduating class. Wel , plus a few people who probably won’t graduate with our class.”
She rol ed her eyes. “Awesome. Pen, please.”
Puzzled, I looked at her.
She snapped her fingers. “Come on. Chop-chop.”
I obeyed, watching as she scribbled al over the huge photo, the mirror reflecting back her look of extreme concentration. She pul ed back, frowning, but seemingly satisfied. “Al that?”—she ran her fingers along the scribbled-out areas—“blurs.”
“Real y?” I pul ed my picture out and compared it. There were a handful of places she hadn’t scribbled out. “What about those?” I asked, touching them one by one. VP Perlson, Derek Jamieson, Pietr, Cat, Sarah, Sophia.
Me.
“Al those members of the junior class look clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Why?”
“I’ve thought about it a bunch. I think it’s about intentions. Motivation. I feel like … like these people have clear goals. Beyond making a living, getting good grades or scoring. In footbal or with girls.” She smirked.
“It’s almost like they— we— have a cal ing. And we’re already on the path.” She handed back the pen.
“Crazy, huh?”
Whatever inside me had reconciled with the existence of werewolves only briefly freaked at the idea.
“Can you, like— read their motivation? See what their cal ing is? What drives them?”
She shrugged. “Maybe someday. I just know we’re different.”
“Can you do that with any photo?”
“Not so much. It needs to be new. Maybe it’s an energy thing. I’m trying to research it, but what do you put in a Google search for this? It’s al so frikkin’ weird.”
“Welcome to my world.” There was a spot just away from the bleachers that Sophia had careful y left un-scribbled, too. A vaguely human-looking shape. I tapped it with a finger. “And this?”
Sophia grinned. “Ready for the real ride into crazy town?”
“Most days I’m driving the bus.”
“Fine. Sometimes I see a woman. She’s hazy. Like she’s not quite here and not quite”—she waved a hand—“there. Wherever there is.”
“Like a ghost?”
Her lips smooshed together and shoved from one side of her face to the other. It was the first time I’d seen Sophie look ugly. “Yeah.”
“Who is she?”
“Your mother.”
My world froze for a minute, and I staggered. The photo fel from my fingers, and Sophia snatched it back as it drifted.
“It gets better. She has a message for you.”
I swal owed, the noise crackling in my ears. The lump in my throat refused to budge.
“I’ve only gotten part of it so far,” she admitted. “Actual y”—she tugged my notepaper out again—“it seems you got the same part I did.”
BEWARE.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was my strangest trip to service learning yet. Al day Pietr kept his distance, but every time Derek came close, Pietr’s gaze found me. He never said more than a cool word, never even brushed against me when we passed in the hal .
On the ride to Golden Oaks, Pietr sat up front. Hascal, Smith, and Jaikin were quick to resume our standard flirting game, but my heart wasn’t in it.
“Jessie,” Hascal wheezed, “you’re not real y here, are you?” He waved a hand so pale it was nearly translucent.
“Sorry, boys. I—”
“Is it Derek? It’s got to be Derek. He’s been giving her a lot— a lot—of attention recently,” Jaikin rattled.
“Or Maximilian Rusakova. He’s been hanging on her.”
My three favorite nerds looked at one another, nodded sagely, and turned back to me.
“Nope.” I popped the “p” on the end for emphasis. “I’m just exhausted. Stressed. My head’s pounding.”
Smith petted my arm, his clammy touch raising gooseflesh.
“Have you tried a nice herbal tea?”
“Mmm. Chamomile ith my favorite.”
I glanced at Hascal. He was starting to lose his s’s again—an unfortunate side effect of his severe al ergic reaction to anything in the canid family. Al ergic to dogs, wolves, jackals and evidently werewolves.