Chapter 11
Callie
I duck under a backpack that’s so full it looks like the kid is ready for the coming apocalypse instead of one night’s worth of homework, and around a group of students who think the very middle of the hallway is a great place to discuss where in Portland is the best place to get sushi.
The crowded hallway is a loud cacophony of noise made up of talking, laughing, and the slamming of locker doors. Fighting my way through the mob of students after school is a very different experience than when the guys walk me to class. No one jumps out of the way for a tiny blonde girl that looks like a strong wind could knock her on her ass.
Vaguely, I notice people whispering when they see me go by, but it’s only my third day of school, and a weird girl starting mid semester leads to gossip. Especially, when it looks like I’ve made fast friends with the hottest guys at school. If they only knew that the boys they’re drooling over are actually supernatural creatures. Who am I kidding? They’d just drool more.
It feels like I’ve survived a gauntlet, when I make it around the corner. My face is flushed, sweat has collected on my lower back, and pieces of my hair escaped its hair tie and are now falling into my face. Quickly, I unzip my red hoodie and shove up my sleeves, while I weave through the final living obstacles to my locker.
Kaleb stands waiting near my locker looking as well pressed as he did this morning. If he wasn’t so nice that would be really annoying. He has a book out, one finger tucked between the pages to hold his place, and looks like he’d rather be reading it than stuck talking to the girl that’s cornered him. Ha. And he says Nolan can’t stand still too long without getting mobbed.
I shove my renegade tresses behind my ears, and with a short wave, I greet, “Hey, Kaleb.”
“Hey,” he greets back, his deep voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
Normal people would probably at least acknowledge the girl standing next to him, but for the past three days, I’ve had complete strangers either whispering behind my back or sending me death glares that look like they’re fueled with the power of the sun. I’m not surprised by it, but yeah, still not really in the mood for meeting new people-- especially those that appear to make Kaleb uncomfortable.
Instead, I kneel down to get at my locker, the tile floor hard against my knees. Though bottom lockers aren’t the most popular, I’m grateful to have snagged one. If I had a top locker, I’d need one of the guys to get my things all the time-- or carry a step ladder around. The underappreciated struggles of the vertically challenged.
I roll my lips, pressing them tight against each other, and fight hard not to laugh. Poor Kaleb. Too attractive for his own good, and too nice to tell them to go away.
When the students next to me leave, he leans against the lockers beside mine, creating a few more meager inches between him and the girl next to him. Hints of sandalwood tease my nose, a welcome relief from the scents of cleaning supplies and the lingering cloud of Axe body spray my locker neighbor doused himself in. Seriously dude, if I can smell you before I can see you, you’ve put too much on.
The girl gazes with moon eyes at Kaleb. She looks so sweet it kind of makes my teeth hurt-- and I feel mildly guilty for thinking it. Her chestnut brown, curly hair falls in pretty ringlets around her shoulders, pinned back on one side to keep it out of her face. Her nose and cheeks are sprinkled with freckles, and her big blue eyes are magnified behind retro, cat-eye glasses. She finishes up the look with ballet flats, skinny jeans, a floral scoop neck blouse, and a soft, dark blue cardigan. Everything about her screams kind, smart, and dependable-- and well, slightly needy at the moment.
“I’ll only be a sec,” I assure, plopping my backpack on the ground in front of me.
A tight smile barely holds on, as he replies casually, “It’s fine.”
Sure it is.
Neither of them are saying anything, so I keep talking like I’m not part of this bubble of awkward. “Thanks for offering the ride, by the way. Nolan’s driving is a little much for me.”
“Except for Donovan, I think Nolan’s driving is a bit much for everyone.” Kaleb’s smile for me is more genuine, but his fingers nervously tap against the cover of his book. Pride, Prejudice and Zombies. Cool.
The pretty girl gives him a significant look, like she wants to tell him something, but not in front of me. I really hope she’s not planning to profess her undying love, because she’s gonna get some bad news.
Unable to take it anymore, I ask, “Want to introduce me to your friend?”
Before he can open his mouth, she holds out her hand with lighting speed and introduces herself. “I’m Rachel.”
Even her voice is sweet-- light with a singsong quality that makes me think a flock of bluebirds will appear any minute.
“Callie. Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand, trying to figure out what I’m missing, because she isn’t looking at me like I’m the devil incarnate, unlike Nolan’s admirers. Now, I really feel bad, since she seems friendly, if not somewhat manic.
“I know who you are,” she titters while she withdraws her hand. “New girl in a small school.”
“Right-- hard to be incognito under those circumstances,” I reply, not knowing what else to say.
Kaleb clears his throat. “Thank you for waiting with me, but Callie’s here now, and I wouldn’t want you late for the student council meeting.”
“Right,” she chirps, tucking her hair behind her ears. For a moment she looks at her feet, then seems to gather enough courage to look up into his eyes. “I just…” She takes a quick breath and places one hand on his arm. “I just want you know that I’m here for you-- if you want to talk to someone, you know.”
And the plot thickens.
The muscles in his shoulders tense and his smile turns brittle, but he sounds patient and polite when he replies, “Thank you, Rachel. I… appreciate your concern and offer. I’m dealing with things my own way, but if I need a shoulder, I know you’re there for me.”
“Always,” she answers, with a mixture of warmth and longing. “We’ve been through a lot, so…”
“Yes… we have,” he admits, rolling his shoulders.
Now, I’m also wishing they had this little conversation when I wasn’t around. Oh my god, please go. I’m getting second hand awkwardness over here.
I can’t handle the spectacle anymore and go back to digging through my locker, trading out my joke of a Jewelry 1 textbook for my Pre Cal book. It’s my turn to do the math homework, which I’m so not looking forward to. Mr. Harris gave us an additional ten problems he made up himself so that we couldn’t look up the answers in the back of the book.
In his ever pompous manner, he told us, “Life won’t hand you the answers. You have to figure it out yourself.”
I’m starting to understand why they trade homework assignments. At least Nolan is in charge of US History today.
Kaleb and Rachel are still murmuring quietly to each other when I finish collecting what I need for homework tonight, so I begin fiddling with the keychain attached to my backpack that I made in class today. It consists of four river stones of varying sizes, and though it’s not awful, especially for the first piece of jewelry I’ve ever made, it’s… understated compared to some of my classmates.
Some girls chose really nice beads made of abalone and combined them with bits of crystal, so they cast rainbows when it caught the light. A few other classmates made Native American inspired keychains with small beads woven into intricate patterns. One girl made a freaking dreamcatcher! I’ve always performed well in school, but no amount of studying can make me artistically gifted.
I really hope I get points for participation. Maybe I can get a book with better patterns than the hideous ones in the textbook, because making it up as I go is so not cutting it.
Finally the awkward ends, and Rachel makes some passing farewell that it was nice to meet me. When she’s out of eyesight, Kaleb’s shoulders droop, and he releases a long, pent up breath.
“So, she seemed nice,” I snicker while closing up my locker. “Do I get to find out who she really is past ‘Rachel’?” I finger quote her name.
He rubs at his eyes with one hand and sighs, “She’s my ex-girlfriend.”
“Oh-- that explains the awkward,” I cringe, standing up and slinging my backpack over one shoulder. “I’m guessing you broke up with her.”
He offers me a wry smile. “That obvious?”
“Well…” I let the word stretch, while I try to find a polite way to word my answer. “It appears that she may not be quite over you yet-- while you look like you want to sprint in the opposite direction and change your phone number-- and possibly your name.”
He chuckles, a smooth rumble that can be felt through the air, and his eyes crinkle in the corners. I really don’t blame Rachel for not being over him. Kaleb has perfect boyfriend material written all over him. Someone else’s boyfriend that is. Not mine.
Butterflies dance in my stomach at the thought, and I squash those suckers down. I’m only beginning to work out the mechanics of friendship-- and not freezing up when they touch me. On top of that there’s the great mystery that is me and who and what my family is. And let’s not forget the crushing weight that is my past. My heart picks up speed, and I work to keep my breaths even.
What were we talking about again? Right, ex-girlfriend. See, totally ill equipped for such a position.
I clear my throat and return my focus to Kaleb. “Should I ask for the details?”
He sighs again, running a hand along his short cropped, black hair, and he gives me a measuring look. His warm brown eyes seek something in mine, but I’ll be damned if I know what. Gripping his book with both hands, he taps out a quick beat with his fingers.
“Sure, but…?” He stands up and looks around the hallway. The crowd has thinned considerably, the great exodus after school generally quick, but there are still some students mulling around. “Not here? I actually wanted to see how you were doing with-- everything.”
“And the middle of the hallway isn’t the best place to discuss-- everything.” We would make the worst spies. “What about Donovan? Isn’t he waiting for us?”
“He’ll be fine for a little while,” he assures me. “I told him you had to stay after school to talk to Mrs. Mills about an upcoming term paper.”
“Is there an actual term paper coming up?” I ask, since I haven’t really done more than skim the syllabus.
“Not for a while,” he promises, “and I’ll help you.”
It’s said so casually, but the offer makes a warm glow in my chest. For the first time, I have people in my life that feel their time and their help is a given-- because we’re friends.
“Where to?” I chirp, hoping my face looks normal.
“This way,” he says with a nod down the hall, then he holds out one hand to me.
Unlike Nolan, who would’ve grabbed my hand or thrown an arm over my shoulders, Kaleb leaves the decision of physical contact to me. I swallow heavily, and nerves shiver down my skin. You can do this. Normal, human contact.
Carefully, I place my hand in his. Despite feeling overheated earlier after my battle through the masses, my fingers are like ice against the heat of his skin. He gives me a kind smile, his posture and body language relaxed.
After lacing our fingers together, he leads me through the halls, the occasional student shouting out his name and greeting him as we pass.
“Rachel and I dated for about a year,” he shares as we walk, glancing down at me. “We knew each other before that through different classes and clubs, but it was the summer between freshman and sophomore year that we decided to start dating.”
Now that I’ve met her, I vaguely recall seeing her in our AP Chemistry and AP English class. She sits close to the front of the class, whereas Kaleb and I both sit towards the back. I’m surprised she didn’t manage to snag Kaleb as her lab partner.
“Wow. A year in high school is practically married,” I reply, conscious of our hands linked together. Friends hold hands, right? Damn it. Is there a manual I can study for this type of thing?
Kaleb shoves the book he’s holding into his back pocket, because boys have pockets big enough to do things like that. So unfair. Then he adjusts the strap of his backpack with his free hand.
“Yeah, we were practically a fixture of the school,” he comments with a shrug. “There were a lot of people disappointed when we broke up.”
“How tragic for them,” I snort.
Through several twists and turns, we’ve ended up near the cafeteria. Kaleb releases my hand, which I’m both relieved and slightly forlorn about. As confused as I am about how all of this works, once my internal knee-jerk, someone’s touching me, reaction settles, there’s something comforting about the physical contact. Until recently, I’d no idea what that was like. As far as I can remember, even before the torture, there was a cold and detached quality to the way my father interacted with me.
Whispers of memories try to grab hold, but I push them away. I can’t keep letting the bastard win in my own damn mind.
Kaleb holds open a nearby door for me that leads out to the abandoned lunch patio, and I shiver as I walk outside. Because of the time of day, the whole area is covered in grey shadows. The cold nips at my exposed skin and cuts right through my dark green Henley. Quickly, I zip up my hoodie.
He follows behind me and settles at one of the blue lunch tables, tossing his backpack on the tabletop.
I follow suit, sitting on the bench next to him, while pulling the sleeves of my red sweater over my hands. The metal bench is freezing from its several hours hidden from the sun, and the cold seeps right through my jeans.
While squirming and tugging on my sweater to act as partial barrier between my ass and the frigid seat, I ask, “So if you were the golden standard for couples, why did you two break up?”
“Felix happened,” he answers quietly. His gaze meets mine, and it looks like he struggles to hold it. “He died, and it became my responsibility to help him pass on. He takes priority over my love life-- and honestly, I was tired of lying.”
“She’s human, I take it?” Day three, and it’s still a fucking weird distinction to make.
He takes a moment to dig through his backpack for a grey pullover, which he quickly puts on.
“Yes, she’s human,” he replies, “and I was running out of excuses for why we couldn’t spend time with each other.” He pauses before confessing, “So I told her I needed to grieve, and I wasn’t capable of doing that and be what she deserved in a boyfriend.”
“Wow. That’s…” I trail off, unsure how I feel about it. At the very least, it explains why Rachel runs around with hope in her eyes. She sees it as a waiting game.
Kaleb swallows heavily. “Not my finest hour, but not a lie. I am grieving Felix, in ways few people could understand, and I’m no longer capable of being what she deserves. It’s just not in me anymore.”
There’s a mask of stoicism held tight across his features, with small fractures showing the depth of the feelings underneath. My heart is an aching thing in my chest, as I feel completely inept to comfort him.
“What do you mean ‘in ways few people could understand’?” I croak, my own emotions connected to Felix beginning to coil in my throat.
Kaleb gazes intently into my eyes, and there’s a spinning hidden world within his. He slowly opens his hands in his lap-- an open invitation to place mine within them.
Fighting through nerves and indecision, I pull back my sleeves to my wrists and again place my hands within his. He curls his fingers around them while his thumbs cast slow arcs against my knuckles.
“I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone,” he murmurs, and the fractures grow, pulling at his eyes with the weight of his coming words.
“Are you sure?” I question, a thread of fear sliding through my stomach. “We haven’t really known each other that long.”
“Don’t worry, Callie. It’s nothing bad,” he assures with a soft smile. “And I want to earn your trust, which means giving you mine.”
My heart begins to rattle in my ears, and the tips of my fingers press against his palms.
He squeezes my hands, when he feels the subtle tremors quake through them, and reading the anxiety on my face, he adds, “This doesn’t mean I expect you to start telling me your life history right now. I just want you to know that when you’re ready, I’ll listen.”
That’s the second time someone has made that offer this week, and it’s nice that he cares, but simply thinking about talking about my past makes me ill. I want to push it all down and lock it away. Too bad my psyche has other opinions on the matter.
I nod, acknowledging that I heard him.
He licks his full lips, then expels a deep, controlled breath. “I told you how light nephilim are responsible for helping lost souls cross over.”
I nod again, then start chewing on my bottom lip.
“Well, the first soul I’ll cross will be Felix,” he announces without inflection.
The weight of his words holds in the silence, whatever mundane sounds of the school seem far away.
“To be honest, I should really be trying to help Felix come to terms with his and his family’s death, instead of feeding into his need to find out who did it, but if I do that…” For the first time ever speaking with Kaleb, his eyes shift away from mine. “If I do that, then it’s because of me he’s not with us anymore.”
“Oh Kaleb,” I breathe, blinking hard against the burn of building tears.
I’ve only known Felix for a few days, and it feels almost devastating to think of him gone. He’s the first person to show me there may be real hope after the life I’ve lived. I can’t imagine what it must be like for Kaleb to wear that knowledge-- that responsibility-- and not be constantly falling apart at the seams.
He sniffs, and flashes me a tight smile. “I’ve never told anyone this, but in a lot of ways, I envy Donovan.”
Shock rings through me, but I do my best to hide it from my face. It’s hard to believe anyone would envy Donovan’s plight.
Kaleb’s eyes slip closed, as the real confession falls from his lips. “I know… I know what he’s expected to do is unfair and hard and dangerous, but… in the end, his calling will save lives. He’s not just killing demons; he’s protecting people. They’ll never know, but hundreds of people will keep their lives because of what he does.”
A shuddered breath escapes through his clenched teeth, and he opens his eyes, his gaze returning to mine. A strip of the waning afternoon light makes its way through the shadows, and highlights his eyes to the rich color of fresh turned earth, while casting copper slashes along the smooth lines of his nose and cheeks-- a sharp contrast to his dark sepia skin. He hides his pain so carefully that even while looking for it, it’s easy to miss-- deflected and twisted, until it’s invisible and instead, nothing but compassion looks at back at you.
“I’ll save no one,” he declares, pitching his mouth to one side. “My future is nothing but death, and not the souls that have lived full and happy lives. For however long I live, I’ll have to counsel parents to let go of their orphaned children. I’ll have to convince murder victims to release their hate and anger over the injustice of the world. I’ll have to give solace to the spirits that I may personally feel don’t deserve it. And I can’t forget the people that die at the hands of demons. Dark nephilim take out the demons, but it’s the duty of light nephilim to deal with the aftermath.”
My hands slide up his palms and curl into tight grips around his wrists-- the best I have to show I’m here with him and listening without judgement. I can heal any injury. For anyone else that would be a blessing, but for me, it’s been nothing but a cage-- a painful, torturous, cage that I can never escape.
I clear my throat. “So, what I’ve gotten out of this is: it really sucks to be nephilim.”
He laughs, a booming sound that fills the patio. His big hands surround my wrists-- and a sizable amount of my forearm. The heat of his skin burns through the sleeves of my sweater and shirt, warming the flesh beneath.
“Everything has its blessings and its pitfalls,” Kaleb answers, already beginning to shore up the fissured cracks I witnessed in his mask.
“Kaleb, I found Donovan this morning on my way to first period. He was staring at the memorial picture of Felix.” I chew on my lip, scared to know the answer to my question. “He told me-- he said he was different than other dark nephilim… and that he’d be lucky to live past twenty-five. Why?”
“Deodamnatus,” Kaleb curses. “I can’t tell you why he’s different. That’s his story to tell, but it’s his own stupidity that will get him killed.” He expels a slow breath. “We told you that his family died in a house fire, but we left out that it was demons that set the fire. Based on what you just told me, I think he plans to go after them once he graduates.”
“I don’t understand,” I reply, resisting the nervous urge to break away. “Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do?”
“Not the way he plans to do it,” he sighs, releasing my left hand so he can rub at his eyes. “His parents were over a hundred years old when they died-- young for nephilim, but they were experienced and well trained-- and still died at the hands of these demons. Normally, Donovan would’ve been raised by another dark nephilim family. Through them he would’ve developed connections, become part of a network that would be able to help him. Instead, he was raised by my parents. He got the chance at a real childhood because of it-- but the cost-- he’s alone.”
Suddenly, the loneliness I felt inside of him that first day we met makes sense. He hoped I was like him, and together, we wouldn’t be alone anymore.
“So the stupidity is…?” I lead.
He purses his lips and fumes, “Instead of trying to find other dark nephilim to work with first-- or at the very least get some real world experience, he’s going to kamikaze straight at those demons.” He releases yet another deep breath, before meeting my eyes. “I’ll talk to him. Try not to worry. I have at least a year and a half to get him to change his mind.”
“You don’t think he’d leave early, do you?” I murmur.
With his right hand, he gives my knee a gentle squeeze. “No, I don’t. And if he tried, my mother would track him down and drag him home.” A smile tugs at his lips. “When the time comes for us to go, she’ll be proud and stoic, because that’s the way she is. But until then, we’re her kids, and no one will stand in the way of her kids experiencing every last moment of their childhood. Not even them.”
I snort and some of the pressure in my chest eases. There’s hope. There’s an answer to help Donovan.
“Anyway, all of this wasn’t what I meant to talk with you about,” he says, shaking his head.
“You mean you didn’t bring me out here just to tell me about your abysmal love life?” I quip, stuffing any of my lingering emotions down into the depths of ‘Deal With Later.’ “I mean you did say everything.”
“Everything is right,” he comments with a smirk. “Surprisingly, being ambushed by my ex was not how I expected this afternoon to go.”
“Yeah, about that,” I grimace. “I don’t think she realizes how broken up you guys really are.”
“I know,” he groans. “I just… haven’t quite figured out how to tell her, since I can’t really go with the truth.”
“So that’s the rule? Tell no humans ever?” I ask, my free hand now scratching at my jeans.
A sardonic expression twists over his features. “There’s one way it’s excused to share with a human what you are-- you marry them. Once they’re family, or will be family, then they can know.”
I blink at him for a moment. “Well, that’s intense.”
“Yeah.” He begins tracing delicate lines along the back of my right hand, and sweet shivers follow in the wake of his fingers. “I liked Rachel, but despite high school benchmarks regarding relationships, I didn’t really see forever for us.”
His heartbeat is a steady pulse beneath my palm, and he seems for the most part relaxed. I feel twinges of pity for Rachel, because as far as I can tell, Kaleb appears to have made peace with their breakup. Then again, what do I know? I’m still working on functioning in some semblance of a normal person.
This, however, does bring up something I’ve wondered. “Okay, so humans can only be brought into the supernatural loop if they’re going to become ‘part of the family’.” I finger quote with one hand. “Does that mean every supernatural person has at least one supernatural parent, or can humans get a ‘surprise, you have a witch baby’?”
He does that thing again, where he searches my eyes for what’s not being said in my question, and my stomach has an uncomfortable freefall sensation. With every conversation we have, the feeling he’ll piece my history together without me realizing it grows. Amidst the empathy and compassion that floods through him, is an astute mind that misses little.
“Every supernatural has to have at least one supernatural parent,” he answers evenly without any hint of judgement over my ignorance. “Except for vampires-- then both parents have to be vampires.”
I nod slowly, trying to fit the pieces together of what that means to me. The bastard didn’t appear to have any magic of his own-- only an obsession with my mother and the occult. Then my mother must have been a witch-- but why leave me with my father? And Aunt Mildred said my father’s family ran in the same circles as the Volkov’s. Wait… does this mean Mildred is a witch?
Kaleb is quiet, while my thoughts swirl around. The air starts to feel thinner and harder to breathe, and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. Finally, I have to give up and shake my head. I push away my tumultuous thoughts for another time, when I’m alone and they can be pieced out and examined slowly. It feels like every answer I get, leads to a million more questions.
“I’m sorry,” I say, after realizing I’ve been staring out at the back lawn for an uncomfortable amount of time. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“It’s fine,” he assures, rubbing the back of my hand. His expression is a look of never ending patience, like he’s willing to sit for hours waiting for me to collect myself. “I wanted a chance to check in with you and see how you were doing with everything. The truth about the supernatural world was kind of dropped in your lap, and I can only imagine what the past few days have been like for you.”
“How I’m doing?” I huff, unsure where to begin. “Is it okay to say I have no idea?”
The renegade hair is back, and he tucks away what he can behind my ear. Softly, he tells me, “Yeah. It’s okay not to know.”
Part of me wishes he’d hug me, but I can’t bring myself to ask. I feel lost and overwhelmed, with only my stubborn refusal to really deal with anything keeping me afloat.
I squeeze his left wrist, the connection between us now feeling like a lifeline. “I know it’s been only a couple of days, but have you learned anything about magic that you can tell me? Maybe like how I caused it to rain on an otherwise sunny day?”
“I tried searching online resources last night, but it’s going to take time to figure out what’s real, and what’s human fantasy,” he answers, gently squeezing my wrist in return. “I promise, we will find answers.”
“Thanks, I just… I don’t know anything,” I lament, chewing on my lip. “I know I’m leaking magic, apparently, but what does that even mean? How does magic work? How do I cast spells on purpose, opposed to random rainstorms because Nolan’s ex is a bitch? Is there anything you can tell me?”
Kaleb sighs and looks off into the middle distance. His expression is thoughtful, like he’s going through all his memories and knowledge for anything that might help me. Finally, his gaze shifts back to mine.
“This is all I know,” he starts, his thumb casting arcs against my clutched wrist. “Magic is what connects us all and makes being supernatural possible. As dumb as it sounds, magic is life.”
I squint painfully at him. “Like midichlorians from Star Wars?”
“I assure you, magic will not make you a Jedi,” he snorts. “Anyway, magic connects all things, but not all supernaturals can access magic the same way. For witches, it’s about the elements-- earth, air, fire, water. I have no idea what that all entails, only that witches have strengths in different elements, and it’s only in those elements that they can control magic.”
“So the huge rainstorm means I’m strong with water?” I ask, my brain already starting to hurt.
“Possibly-- or maybe wind?” he postulates. “The storm may have felt sudden, but you could’ve called it from an area where the storm already was.”
“Called it?” I echo. “How did I call it? I didn’t mean to call anything.”
“I don’t know,” he answers softly. “It’s one of things I need to research. As far as I’m aware, witches need to verbally say something to cast a spell, but you did it accidently.”
I want to argue that maybe the storm wasn’t me, but I felt something surge through me when it happened-- and there’s still the whole healing factor. I’m doing that without saying anything as well. Unless screaming counts.
“If you want, we can try to run experiments while I search for more information. We might be able to find answers through trial and error,” he suggests, his fingers tapping against his knee.
There’s that annoying voice in my head telling me that’s a bad idea. How I created a thunderstorm by accident. With my luck, I’ll create a tsunami that’ll take out half the coast of Oregon. But I’ve gone so long without answers…
“Alright-- Yeah, let’s do it,” I chirp, then clear my throat. “Let’s figure out how to cast some spells.”
And that’s a thing I get to say now without sounding crazy, I mentally snort.
Kaleb nods and releases a breathy laugh. “We can do it today if you like, after we finish our homework.”
A freefall sensation slices through me, and I shake my head. Not ready. “How about one more night researching. Maybe we can get more information on how spellcasting works, before we experiment.”
He looks thoughtful. “Good idea. With a more focused search, hopefully, I’ll be able to come up with something we can use.”
While I sigh with relief, both our phones buzz with a text message.
I retrieve my hand from Kaleb’s warm grasp and root around in the small pocket of my backpack, while he shifts to dig into the front pocket of his jeans.
After I thumb through the lock screen, I see a message in our group text.
Donovan: Kaleb can recite the damn book from memory. Get whatever spark notes you need, and let’s go.
“I don’t think he’s going to believe our cover for much longer,” I snicker. “Or the very least, he’ll come looking for us soon.”
My phone buzzes again.
Nolan: Uh oh. Looks like someone’s hangry.
Donovan: Damn right I am, and there better still be food when I get there.
Nolan: Food? Shit. I knew I forgot something.
There’s another buzz, followed by a picture of Nolan with a plate filled with several slices of various artisan pizzas.
Donovan answers with a picture of himself flipping the bird while he’s leaning against his truck.
Kaleb and I look up from our phones and bust up laughing, then my eyes light up when I realize what I have tucked away in my backpack.
Shaking with laughter, I dig out the candy bar that’s still in its wrapper from lunch, set it on the table, and take a picture, texting it with the caption: Donovan. Eat a Snickers. You’re not yourself when you’re hungry.
Within seconds, there’s a reply.
Donovan: Yes I am. And where the hell are you? That table isn’t in a classroom.
Nolan: Busted!
Kaleb throws his backpack over his shoulder, and with one hand, responds:
Kaleb: Relax. We’re on our way out to you now. If you’re nice, Callie may give you a bite of her candy.
I grin, gather my things, and text back:
Me: I don’t know. Do we want to find out what happens when I’m hangry?
Nolan: Felix says don’t make her hangry! We wouldn’t like her when she’s hangry.
Donovan: Ten minutes, or you can walk to Nolan’s.
Kaleb motions with his head for me to follow him over the back lawn and towards the parking lot. He chuckles when he texts:
Kaleb: Or we can fly ;)
There’s a long pause before there’s a response.
Donovan: Callie, give Kaleb back his phone.
I look over confused and see Kaleb grinning. Quickly, I type back:
Me: I didn’t steal his phone!
Donovan: Bull. Suggesting something fun is a dead giveaway it’s not him.
Now I understand why he’s grinning, and I can’t help but release a breathy laugh. Turns out Kaleb has a hidden mischievous side all his own, because no matter how much I deny it, Donovan will never believe Kaleb suggested exposing his wings in broad daylight just to save us from walking.