Soul Crossed (5 page)

No, not very homey at all.

We go directly to Cam’s room, which is small and bathed in eerie green light coming from a lava lamp on his desk. He sits down and hastily shoves some papers in a drawer, but not before I see they’re some kind of sketches.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks. He’s glaring at me with his dark little eyes, and he looks kind of creepy in this strange lighting. I remember that he has the “capacity for great evil.”

“I think you accidentally grabbed my notes from chem,” I say as though nothing is amiss. He seems taken aback but goes searching through his backpack, resurfacing with the spiral-bound notebook.

“Sorry,” he says, and I relax, sitting on the corner of his unmade bed.

“So these are your new digs, huh?”

“Yeah. I guess.” He glances at the drawer with his papers like he’s longing to release them. I think he wants me to go.

“What do you do for fun?” I ask, lying back against the wall.

“I play video games.”

“Cool.”
Not
.

“I like to design things, too,” he adds after a moment.

“Wow. Like what?” I ask, sitting up at full attention. He purses his lips like he’s trying to decide whether or not to trust me. I wait for it.

“N-n-nothing,” he says, his eyes shooting down and to the left.

“Is that what you were doing when I got here?” I ask. And before he can say anything, I yank open the desk drawer, grab the papers he shoved on top, and do my best to look fascinated.

“You can’t touch those!” He scrabbles at my hands in an effort to retrieve them, but I tug them out of his reach.

“But these are awesome,” I say, studying the first couple sketches. They look like technical papers. I’d say blueprints, but there is clearly no building. There’s no doubt the third sketch is an automatic rifle.

He stops pulling at me. I turn back toward him, nearly jumping backward when I see the cold look in his eyes and the way he clenches his fist next to his thigh. He could give The Boss a run for his money.

“Those are private.”

“Easy, Cam. I think you and I have some common interests.” I don’t use glamour, per se, just will him to open up a little.

He shifts back into shy Cam, averting his eyes and shaking out his hand.

“They’re weapons,” he says, and I see he’s holding his breath, waiting for me to laugh or maybe even leave.

“Cool,” I say, and in this light, I don’t think he sees my eyes glint red.

“You like weapons?” he asks, a little too excited.

“You mean like guns?” I ask, peering at the last paper.

“Well, guns, knives, sure. But I also design other…things.”

“Like what?”

He taps the first papers, finally wrestling them from my grasp. “Like bombs.”

Now I see it. I see why I was sent here and the kind of course I can set him on. It’s almost too easy. And then. And then he’ll be an ogre. A killer. He’ll take lives, maybe millions if he’s really what The Boss says.

“I need to use your bathroom,” I say, backing away. He looks disappointed. “Then we’ll talk about weapons.” He perks up a bit and shows me to the bathroom, where I run the cold water and splash it onto my face.

The reality of what I’m meant to do—what I’m meant to put in motion—hangs over me like an anchor, pulling me down and grinding me to a halt. I look in the mirror. The same blue eyes. The same curly black hair and handsome face. I’m still me, right? I might be a little selfish. I might even be a little destructive sometimes, but I’m no monster. I’m not.

Behind me, blue flames shoot up all around. I turn and find myself in the center of a raging fire. I’m surrounded by heat and smoke. “This can’t be real,” I say out loud. I sound panicked, but I’m sure it’s an illusion. Raging infernos don’t just pop out of nowhere. But the blaze is alive—it licks the sleeve of my jacket, and the searing pain is definitely real.

I wave my arm frantically and scream, but the flames only grow and spread, covering my leather jacket and starting on my hair. I drop to the ground and roll, but there’s no room, the circle of fire is closing in—I’m being burned alive. The smoke and smell of my own scalding flesh smothers my screams, and my body spasms on the floor, my lungs smoldering as the rest of me is consumed.

Then it’s over. I’m lying on the bathroom floor, shaking from head to foot. I scramble to my feet, clutching the edges of the sink and staring into the mirror. I look crazed. Ruffled. The memory of the pain is as real as the fire moments ago, but I’m not burnt. I touch my face with a trembling hand. The Boss went all out this time.

Message received.

Back in Cam’s room, he shows me his hidden designs, his eyes lighting up like Christmas has come early. I spy another sketch at the bottom of the drawer. It’s partially folded, but I can make out the depiction of needles and straps and a long, stiff board. I feel queasy, reminded of ancient instruments of torture.

“So, have you actually made any of these things?” I ask, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Just one,” he says.

“Cool. Lets see it.”

It’s been almost three weeks, and I still don’t feel any closer to figuring Cam out. I’m frustrated because I thought I’d be done with my task by now. Be visiting my family. I’ve started to wonder if this is all just a test Ms. Alvarez designed. That would really piss me off, especially after having to face the disapproval in her eyes each night when I show up no closer to accomplishing my task.

On the other hand, Josh has turned out to be a lot of fun to be with since our coffee date. It’s like he swallowed a humble pill or something compared to how he was acting before.

We’re at lunch in the cafeteria. It’s Josh, Cam, Fatmeh, Shelby, and me. I wish those girls didn’t annoy me quite so much. I feel guilty about it, especially since I can’t really understand why I do, other than the fact that they’re impeding my investigation into Cam’s psyche.

“Come on, you guys just have to try out this afternoon,” Shelby says. She’s looking at Josh when she says “you guys.”

“I’m no actor,” Cam says quietly.

“Well, there are other jobs,” says Fatmeh.

“Like what?” he asks, putting down the fry he’d been about to pop in his mouth.

“I don’t know. Like, props, costume, tech stuff. You know.” Fatmeh shrugs and eats a bite of pasta.

“Tech stuff?” he asks.

“Yeah. Set design, lighting, sound. We always need people who are good at that stuff,” Shelby says.

“OK,” he says, smiling. Shoot. This means I have to be involved, too.

“I guess I could try out,” I say. Maybe I can get a background part. I’m no good at technical stuff, and I can’t sew worth a damn. I look at Josh.

“I’m in,” he says, though he sounds less than enthusiastic. Fatmeh and Shelby look beyond ecstatic.

When I enter the auditorium, I’m struck with the enormity of it. Giant red velvet curtains sweep the beat-up wooden floor of the stage, and a sunken orchestra pit graces the front end. Only one person occupies the mass of stadium seats, and I take her to be the director, Miss Adams. I inhale the musty smell, and it feels like a testament to the unwritten history of the place. The whole thing is a bit intimidating.

“Please sign in, and list first and second choices for parts. We’ll be reading in a minute or so.” Miss Adams pauses, looking around at the handful of students perched on the edge of the stage. “I was going to list callbacks tomorrow, but since there are so few of you here, I doubt that will be necessary.”

“There’s tons of people when we do the Spring musical,” Shelby whispers to me. I guess most of the student body isn’t into Shakespeare. I notice Josh is hanging out in the wings. Maybe he’s wondering what he’s gotten himself into. Only three boys are here, and Josh is a shoe-in for Romeo based on looks alone. I get up and pass him the clipboard in case he thinks he’s getting out of this.

“Thanks,” he says. I ignore the sarcasm.

“You’re welcome.”

“You two in the corner. You’re new here, aren’t you?” I glance around, and Miss Adams is looking right at Josh and me. “Why don’t we start with you?”

I grimace, filing away the knowledge that talking out of turn is akin to volunteering in Miss Adams’ world. She passes up some scripts for us, open to the middle, and the others clear the stage. My heart is beating like a hammer, and I look to Josh for help—only to see some of that mischievous sparkle back in his eyes.

I follow him to center stage. My mouth is incredibly dry. All eyes are on us. No—I realize with some relief and a tinge of jealousy that most eyes are on Josh.

“Act Three, Scene Five. Start at the highlighted part,” Miss Adams prompts. Josh begins.

My breath is caught in my chest. I had no idea he could read like that. I glance around and see every eye on Josh. But his, I notice, are focused only on me, and I can almost believe I am all he sees.

My voice starts out shaky, but ends confident when I focus on him. I know this play inside out. It’s one of my favorite stories. There’s nothing quite as romantic as forbidden love.

His eyes are glistening in the light.

Tears swim in my eyes, and I have to stop there. I back away, unsure why I am feeling this way. I’m confused. So is Josh. I can see it in his eyes.

“Bravo!” Miss Adams applauds and the others join in. Reminded of their existence, I place a hand over my mouth, embarrassed at my display.

An hour later, I have the part of Juliet.

Grace is really freaking me out. Granted, I’ve been a little preoccupied these past few weeks, what with the launching of a future mass-murderer and all. But something must be up with her. Either that or my drama skills are off the hook. Maybe it does have something to do with my new abilities.

Speaking of abilities, I’m itching to use them. I’ve been granted this amazing opportunity, and I’ve been squandering it on worrying about my job. Some Demon I am. Screw it, I’m going out tonight.

“Hey, Grace.” I pull her aside after leaving practice. She stares at my hand on her jacket like she expects to now turn to stone. Does she have an idea what I am? No way. I push the thought aside and let her go.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“You busy tonight?” It’s Friday, and I figure she could use a little fun.

“You want to run lines?” She’s such a blonde.

“No. I want to go clubbing. Do you want to come?” I pronounce each word to make sure she gets it. She must because she looks horrified. It figures—I bet she’s never even thought about getting a fake ID, even though she could easily pass for old enough. I bet most of the kids here haven’t either, though. I mean, they probably wouldn’t expect me to know about shit like clubbing when I barely have my license.

“I don’t think my Aunt will let me,” she says.

“Are you sixteen? Or are you six?” I’m not letting her out of this one. She frowns and starts to walk away. It’s been muggy this week, and the moisture hangs in the air like a damp sponge. Shelby’s hair makes her look like a poodle. Even Grace’s is extra curly. It looks nice.

“Fine. How about dinner then?” I call. She pauses halfway across the lawn.

“I guess an early dinner would be OK,” she says. “I’ll meet you here at five.”

Either she doesn’t want me to meet this Aunt of hers or she’s hiding something. I suspect it’s a little of both. But I guess I have my own secrets.

Suddenly Cam is at my side. He’s standing taller these days and wearing his hair pulled back in a ponytail. A few weeks ago he had no backbone—now he looks me in the eyes. His stutter has all but disappeared.

“Hey, Cam.”

“You like her.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I don’t know.”

“You said once before if I was interested you’d step back.” I did say something like that didn’t I?

“Totally. Dude, I’m sorry. I just thought you would have made your move by now.”

He relaxes. “I’ve never asked a girl out before,” he admits. No news flash there.

“Well, you should wait until you’re ready.”

“I don’t know. I see now that if I don’t do something soon, someone else will.”

Was that a dig? I look away so he can’t see my eyes. “I’ll step back. Don’t worry. And I’ll let you know if I see anyone else coming on to her.”

“Thanks. Maybe you should ask Shelby out. She’s pining over you as we speak.”

I glance back toward the main entrance, and sure enough Shelby’s watching me. When she sees me looking, she tucks her wild auburn hair back behind her ear and blushes.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” Cam is saying.

“I’ll catch up with you in a few,” I tell him and head off toward temptation. I’ve been making pretty good strides with Cam, I can take a little “me time.”