The kitchen door is closed when I return to the Finnigan's home. I curse then walk around the side of the house looking for another way in. I can see Dale's window is wide open. I wonder if he's left it like that for me.
Does he think I can freaking fly?
I kick the rock at my foot and watch my boot whoosh through it.
This sucks.
I'm about to slump to the ground when the front door opens.
"You don't need to worry, Mary. He's being honest with us, that's the most important thing."
"I just want him to be happy. I don't want a repeat of-"
Mr. Finnigan places his finger gently on his wife's lips.
"That will never happen again. Don't be afraid. We have to trust him now."
She gives him a soft smile.
"I know."
With a tender gaze, Mr. Finnigan leans down and kisses his wife. I take my chance and crawl past them and through the front door. I'm sure I end up pulling my hips through their legs. They both seem to shiver as they step away from each other.
"Have fun."
"I will. This couple are fantastic. So suited. These pre-marriage sessions have been great."
"Only one month 'til the wedding. I can't believe it."
Mr. Finnigan gives her a grin.
"Can't wait to marry them."
"Bye sweetie. Love you."
"You too, babe. Home soon."
I watch them exchange one last adoring look before scampering up the stairs.
"I didn't know your Dad was a minister."
Dale jumps a mile as I walk through his open doorway.
Dropping his head in his hands, he mumbles something about whether or not his heart will be able to survive this then looks up at me.
"He's not anymore. He does counselling, funerals, weddings, stuff like that."
He sits back in his chair with a sigh and rubs his eyes.
There is an empty chair next to him. I take a seat and clear my throat so he knows where I am.
He turns my way.
"Hey, are you okay? You just disappeared."
"Yeah." I shrug, trying to sound casual. "I just went home."
"Everything okay?"
I don't answer him straight away, I can't. I just gaze at his computer screen. He's been researching first aid pages. I can also see his Twitter account open, but the page isn't up, so I can't scan it for my name. I glance at him and see the map book open beneath his hands. He's marking out routes to try and also has a page of questions he's compiling to ask my friends.
"Nicole?" Dale asks softly.
"I don't get it." I shake my head, thinking about the day I've just had.
"Get what?"
My voice takes on a distant quality as I picture Dale's parents kissing each other goodbye then think about my mom crying in the kitchen. It then flashes back to school and I listen to my friends laughing about me being dead.
"I'm popular. I'm pretty. In spite of their nastiness today, girls still want to be me and guys want to be with me." I snap out of it and look straight at Dale. "You barely have any friends. You have scars on your face that scare everyone away."
Dale frowns and licks his lips.
"Is there a point to this or are you just trying to give me a complex?"
I pause for a long beat then look into his beautiful brown eyes. "Why do I want your life?"
Dale's face folds with a look of such compassion and sympathy I have to turn away. I can sense him about to say something, but he's interrupted by a tap on the door.
His mother pops in and looks around the room. "I thought I heard you talking to someone."
"Oh, no, I'm just..." he blushes.
"Acting out scenes for your book again?"
He lets out a nervous chuckle.
She grins at him then puts her hand on her hip as she walks through his room and closes the window. "You should be doing your physics homework, not writing."
"I'm transferring, remember?" His cheeky grin is adorable.
His mother flicks the drapes closed.
"You're not transferred yet and until you are, I want you to give it your best... then you can write until you're crossed eyed."
She pats his shoulder.
"Yes, ma'am." He salutes.
She gives a little laugh then kisses his cheek before leaving.
To be honest, I'm glad for the interruption. I don't want to have my question answered. I don't want to see that look on Dale's face again, because that look makes me want to melt.
I sit up straight and shake the bangs out of my eyes.
"So are you writing a book or a short story?" I ask brightly.
Dale hesitates, obviously surprised by my abrupt mood change. Jumping up, he closes his door and comes back to his desk.
"I'm going for a novel."
"Why won't you let me read it?"
He plops back down in his chair.
"It's still the first draft. It needs some major work and I'm not really ready to share."
I wrinkle my nose at him.
Flicking the map book closed, he moves it to the side of his desk.
"Listen, I better get my homework done. I'll go as fast as I can, then we can plan out a route for tomorrow."
"Okay," I mumble and rest my chin in my hand. I watch him work with a confused little frown on his face. It's actually quite adorable. I turn away and peruse his desk then smile when Dale absentmindedly grabs a book off the top of his manuscript. I lean over it and start reading.
It's good. I mean really good. By the end of paragraph four I like the main character and by the end of the page I have to know what he's going to do about the piece of armor he's just discovered.
I grab at the page and try to flick it over. My fingers whistle through it. I hold in my irritated grunt and try again.
I let out a sigh and resist the urge to ask Dale to do it for me. Like he'd say yes after specifically telling me not to read it. I glance sideways at him. He squints his eyes and frowns as he studies the text, jots down some more notes then types something into his computer.
I look back at the manuscript and narrow my eyes.
Rubbing my fingers together, I reach for the page. Determination courses through me as I push my finger onto the paper and flick. The page bounces up then flops back down.
My mouth drops open.
Licking my lips, I narrow my eyes and reach down again. I hold my breath as I use more force to flick the page across. It lifts up beautifully and falls down beside the manuscript. I can now see page two.
I lean down to read it and become aware of Dale's frozen form beside me. His eyes are slitty as he glares at me.
"Are you reading my manuscript?"
"I just turned the page."
"I told you not to read th-. Holy crap you did just turn the page." He sits forward. "Can you do it again?"
I try again. It takes three attempts, but we both give out triumphant chuckles as it floats in the air and lands on the floor beside me.
Dale nods with a grin.
"Good to know. Now stop reading my stuff." He picks up the two fallen pages and neatly places them back on the pile.
"Why not? It's good."
He goes still and looks at me.
"Really? You think it's good?"
"Yeah. I like Matthias already and I really want to know the significance of the breastplate he's just found. What's the symbol on the front mean?"
Dale's eyes glimmer with a smile.
"I guess you'd have to read it to find out."
"Duh. That's what I'm trying to do."