The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1) (13 page)

“I’m curious.” His eyes squinted in speculation as he continued to close on me. “I am going to try and say this as politely as possible: have you been with anyone
before?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, offended.

“Have you ever been with a guy before?” His feet finally stopped, and his jaw went hard as he gulped. “Intimately?”

I was suddenly glad for the fog to cover the rush of color to my cheeks, though it seemed he was blushing
too.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, recalling as I did that one night I’d made it to second base with my friend
Adam.

All I heard was a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“I didn’t answer
you!”

He grinned tolerantly. “You said
enough.”

Whatever he was, he was clever. But it scared me that I might actually have feelings for him. I looked away to mask my feelings, upset with
myself.

“So what now?” I muttered. But it was only a moment before I found myself goggling at him once
more.

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” he said, his face void of any expression. He picked up a rock and skipped it far over the water, too distant for me to see where it finally sank. “But we should probably take you
home.”

I
nodded.

When we got in the car, my breath stuttered as Lucas leaned over toward my door. He looked up with a naughty smile as if he fully knew the effect he had on me. “Seatbelt.”

“Right,” I said stupidly.

I had a bazillion questions to ask, but did I dare ask? Should I wait? I couldn’t get over my nerves or the knots in my stomach, so I kept quiet and stared out the dark window. When we pulled into my neighborhood, I expected him to start shedding some light on the evening’s events, but when he pulled up to my house, the only thing he said was, “Are you going to be
okay?”

The deep-rooted anger erupted.

“Define
okay
. If
okay
means bumps and bruises, yes, I will be fine. But it’s more than that. You know things that I think I deserve to know,” I said, overwrought with exhaustion. “And what did you mean when you said you were running out of
time?”

“You shouldn’t know this much. It’s not
safe.”

I ignored him. “You said you were from the same
realm
as the shadows. Are you an alien or something?”

He chuckled. “No, I am from
Earth.”

“Can I trust
you?”

Sadness took over his eyes. “You probably shouldn’t.”

“And Gabriella and Dylan—can I trust
them?”

His smile twisted as he shook his head, contemplating. Then he grinned widely, knowing already that I’d hate his response. “Probably not them
either.”

I threw open the car
door.

“I get it,” I said, bending over to see his
face.

He rested his elbow on the steering wheel casually and looked at me. “You
do?”

“Yes. You are trouble, and Gabriella is trouble. Wherever you are, those
things
will be. Just leave me alone, Lucas. Stop following me . . . I don’t need your protection . . . and . . . I don’t need you to pretend to
care.”

I slammed his door closed before he could reply and stormed to the porch. Once I was on the other side of the front door, I leaned against it for strength.
What did I just do?
I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but now I was more scared than
ever.

CHAPTER TEN

Abandoned

I hid in my room all weekend like a lunatic hermit, afraid to leave as theories of who or what Lucas could be rained down in my head. Eventually my confusion drove me to pure madness. I felt weak and vulnerable until, abruptly, as I got ready for school Monday morning, one idea began a constant ticking:
Staying away from Lucas might
not
be in my best interests.

The frost on the grass didn’t really surprise me, not in early October, but the rumors at school did. People were saying that Lucas had
moved.

“What?” I blurted, almost choking on my carrot at
lunch.

“Yeah, their dad got another offer back in Mexico,” Ashley said, combing her fingers through her red hair. “Heard all about it in English when Gabriella didn’t show
up.”

“But what does his dad even do?” I
asked.

“No one knows at the
Tahoe Review Journal
, and
they
know everything,” Tyson said, popping a tater tot into his
mouth.

The news tightened the knots in my stomach. Within an hour, they were so big that I had to make bathroom runs throughout class to wet my face. As I leaned over the porcelain sink and splashed the cold water on my cheeks, I looked at myself in the mirror. A pale face, almost green, stared back when I realized I had been wrong. Without Lucas, I feared for my
life.

Every day without Lucas I was more on edge, believing that the rumors were actually true. After school on Friday, as I drove home past the pumpkin patch, watching the pickers get wet in the light drizzle, I suddenly remembered the book Mae had given me. My gut told me it was a good place to start investigating my suspicions—whatever those were. When I got home, though, Max and Casey’s car was not what I wanted to
see.

“Hey, sis. Miss us?” Max said, leaning back on the breakfast bar as I walked through the door. His hair had grown shaggier, and he was chomping repulsively over a large plate of
nachos.

It was disgusting. Imagining his stomach as a bottomless pit, I looked away and started for the
stairs.

“Is Jett going out with you tonight?” Max yelled. I ignored him and kept ascending. “What is that kid doing tonight, Case?”

“I don’t know. I’ll call him,” Casey
said.

I closed my bedroom door and crossed to my desk. I picked up the burgundy book, wiped off the collected dust, and opened it slowly. The hardbound cover creaked as I turned to the title page,
Legends of the New
World
.

A couple of pages in, I knew this wasn’t a mass-produced book. Blotches of ink spattered the pages as if cast off a quill, and the fine paper was filled with drawings and tiny notes underneath that looked handwritten. It was scribbled cursive, as if the author was in a hurry, making it look more like a journal than a book. I skipped to the back cover to search for sources or an author, but there was nothing.

I flipped back through the book until one picture caught my eye. It was a set of twins. The caption read, “The Hero Twins.” I leaned in closer, focusing on the small drawing. The artist’s notes called these twins gods, but they looked like savages in breechcloths, one with a Mohawk and the other with long hair in a ponytail. The Mohawk twin held a ball the size of a grapefruit, while the other held a tomahawk.

Something about their broad physique and the way they stood seemed familiar. The boy on the left I was almost positive I recognized. Then suddenly my breath cut short and I choked. My eyes widened with bewilderment. It couldn’t be. I pushed the thought out and pressed my fingers hard into the book to read the names underneath the drawing: “Hunahpu and Xibalanque.” I looked back into the eyes of the boy on the left, unbelieving, and determined that his face belonged to someone I knew . . . Dylan Castillo.

I threw the book shut and scratched my chin. It couldn’t possibly be Dylan. That would be ridiculous. But my finding fed a curiosity I couldn’t ignore. I hesitated, but before I knew it, I was turning back to the page. I stared at it hard.
How are the drawing and Dylan so close?
I turned the page to another picture, skipping a few paragraphs of writing. It was a sketch of a city set on the edge of a tall cliff overlooking an ocean. It was beautiful. The caption called it
Tulum.

As I moved to the next drawing, my anxiety intensified. It was an entire page full of pictures I knew I’d seen before. There were six distinct drawings, similarly mazy, but each different in itself. One I was positive was an exact replica of Lucas’s tattoo. It had the circle, the mazelike lines, the star, and the tree. My eyes zoomed to the scribbled cursive above it: “Markings of the Royal Gods.”
Gods?
I quickly looked underneath the picture. The caption read, “Aztec Prince.” I blinked hard, closed the book quickly, and sat up, stumped.

Before I even considered accepting Lucas as an Aztec prince, sure that I was losing my mind, I needed to leave. I aimed for the grocery store to purchase something—anything with high sugar content. But under the grim sky on my way home, with a seat full of candy, I thought I saw movement through the forest. I pressed my foot against the gas pedal without thinking, hoping to reach home before something else reached
me.

By the time I turned onto my street, the late sky had cleared, creating the perfect cloudless dusk. Jett’s car was parked on the curb, dewy from the afternoon showers. I shifted to park with a deep breath, still imagining I was being followed, and braced myself for the run from my car to the front door. I counted to three, then opened the door and fled for the
house.

I was surprised to find all the drapes drawn when I stampeded inside. It was dark, with the kind of quietness that raised the hairs on my
arms.

“Jett?” I called out, slowly taking a step toward the
stairs.

I scanned the front living room through the dimness while I waited for him to say something. But I heard nothing.

“Jett?” This time my voice was trembling as I tried to speak up.
Maybe he didn’t hear me.
“Jett?”

I didn’t see any movement in the living room, so I moved on to the family room like a victim in a horror film.
Where’s that stupid light switch?
My hand fumbled along the wall as I got past the stairs, feeling around for the plastic cover. Before my hand could flip the switch, a loud “BOO” sounded at my
side.

“AHH!” My arms flew to the sides, knocking over some pictures on the end table. Jett laughed.

“I’m going to kill you! Why’d you do that?” I screamed, practically feeling my veins popping out of my
neck.

I didn’t wait for an answer. I was already rushing up to my room as the first tear fell. I didn’t want Jett to see me emotional like this, but a knock sounded on the bedroom door the second I slammed it
shut.

“What?” I hollered. I flipped on my light and sniffed. The air smelled like Lucas, as it had when I returned from the hospital.

“Zara, it’s Jett. I’m sorry. Look, don’t be mad. We just thought it would be
funny.”

But I wasn’t listening. I stepped away from the door and followed my nose. The trail brought me closer to the window, and then I saw it. There, sitting on the windowsill, was another vase with a single fire-and-ice rose. A piece of ripped parchment paper was tied around the rim of the glass with twine. My hands trembled as I reached for the
paper.

I’M
SORRY.

I swept the shades away from the window and searched the street for him. When I saw nothing but the gold light of dusk, disappointment and fear settled in. The rumors at school were true. I was utterly
alone.

“Zara, did you hear what I said?” Jett called through the
door.

I strode to the door, ready to kill that boy, and threw it open, creating a wall of wind that blew through Jett’s hair. He took a step back, looking
scared.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through the past few weeks, so please, spare me the stupid games,” I
said.

“Well then tell me, because I don’t like who you are right now. What happened?”

I puffed exhaustedly and retreated to my bed, where I fell on my back and stared up at the ceiling. “Never mind, forget
it.”

“No. Tell me.” He stepped through my parents’ invisible
do not cross
tape between the hall and my bedroom and joined me on the bed. “I’m concerned about
you.”

He looked to the rose on the window and put some pieces together. “Did Lucas do anything to you when we were playing the night
games?”

I felt stiff as I turned my head to him. Eight years had passed since Jett was last in my room. He sat there hunched over, with his elbows on his knees, a boy who was sincerely concerned and confused. His brown eyes were soft when he asked me again. “Did
he?”

I looked back up to the ceiling again, not able to bear Jett’s sudden love for me. “No,” I answered. “Lucas didn’t
do
anything.”

Once I said it, I shook my head incredulously, and my shoulders shook as I started laughing. Lucas
didn’t
do anything. Not literally, and yet I held him responsible for everything. Jett had no idea of the measure of trouble I had been in since my car crashed that night. He had no idea of my migraines, the visions I had when I blacked out, or the creatures that had been chasing me. All of it was too unreasonable to explain to him . . .to
anyone.

“I have just been a little spooked lately, that’s all. Your joke came at the wrong time for me. Sorry, I shouldn’t have flipped out on you,” I
lied.

“Really?” he asked. He seemed to doubt me at first, but eventually his squint went away, and he looked down at the ground. “I had no
idea.”

“Well, now you do,” I said, resting my hands across my ribcage.

Mom appeared at the door, looking at us sternly. “Oh, good afternoon, Jett. You know the
rules.”

“Yes, Mrs. Moss,” he answered as he shot to the door, where he leaned for a moment. “I planned for us to do a bonfire tonight, but we can reschedule it for another night if you
want.”

“No, that’s fine. I just don’t want to be alone,” I
said.

“When can you be
ready?”

“Twenty minutes?”

“All right. I’ll go pick up Tommy and Bri, get the wood and lighter fluid, and come back to get you,” he said before fleeing downstairs.

By the time I got off the bed, there was a warm dent in the shape of my body. I dressed warmly, pulled a beanie over my head, and walked to Jett’s truck without enthusiasm. Tommy and Bri were in the back of the cab, and Max and Casey sat in the truck’s bed, whistling obnoxiously at me as I got into the truck. The only thing good about leaving was watching the twins freeze as Jett accelerated onto the freeway.

The last bit of sun was setting as we entered our usual bonfire area, a little clearing flush with the lakeshore, filled with soft sand and fallen logs. Loud music and laughter swirled in the cab, but I stared out my window at the brilliant streaks of orange, purple, and pink in the sky, dreading its darkening. It was black by the time the fire was lit. I was paranoid, checking over my shoulders and across the lake for any movement, constantly observing my surroundings.

Then, out of nowhere, headlights shone on the fire. I followed the hazy beam to the approaching car as it parked next to Jett’s truck and its lights went off. At once I recognized the red sedan, and fumes ignited at my core. All four doors opened, and five snobby cheerleaders stepped
out.

“Who invited them?” I looked meaningfully at
Jett.

Max got up and walked toward them, smiling. “I
did.”

“Why, man?” Jett asked, sounding truly
upset.

“I hate you,” I yelled at
Max.

“Relax, they don’t mean any harm. Ladies!” Max held his hands like a circus ringleader, inviting them to come to the
fire.

Poppy spotted us and snickered as she walked over to the
twins.

I stood. “Jett, get me out of here right
now.”

“What about Max and
Casey?”

We looked at them simultaneously. The twins were sitting on a log, each with a girl sitting on each leg. Jett turned back to me and nodded. “All right. Tommy, Bri, we’re leaving.”

They were cuddled together on a log, maybe a little too comfortable for an audience.

“Bri’s parents aren’t home. Can you take us there?” Tommy
asked.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s just leave . . . now,” Jett
said.

Without a word, Tommy stood and pulled a giggling Bri toward Jett’s
truck.

When we got back home, my anxiety didn’t get any better. I was surprised to see the house completely dark. Jett followed me inside and watched as I dashed through the house, obsessively turning on every
light.

“You going to be okay alone?” he
asked.

My feet froze.
Alone?
I pushed past Jett and ran outside to the driveway. My parents’ cars were
gone.

“I’m coming with you to take Tommy and Bri home,” I stated, marching back to the
truck.

“Um, okay.” Jett nodded without argument.

When Jett pulled up to my house a second time, I was relieved to see that my parents had finally come
home.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said as I opened the
door.

Jett’s hand reached for my arm. “Hey.”

I looked from the hand clasped around my arm to his face, which was grim in the light from the green dashboard.

“I just want you to know that Poppy has nothing on you,” he
said.

I looked away. This was neither the place nor time for a heart-to-heart with Jett. “Good night, Jett.”

The moment the metal of his door clanked shut, I had the feeling something was following me in the dark. I speed-walked up the grass until Jett’s car drove away, then sprinted to the porch, my hands already reaching for the handle of the front door. I stormed into the house and slammed the door shut behind me, but stopped short when I saw Dad in the living room reading a book by the lamp. He cast a funny look at me over his reading glasses.

“Oh, hi Dad.” I laughed awkwardly.

“
What
are you
doing?”

“Nothing. I just hate being in the dark by
myself.”