“You didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“That’s no excuse. Dad taught me about wolves. I knew how they behaved. I’d seen it with the other boys, the other subjects…”
“Do you remember them? Simon wasn’t sure you did.”
“Yeah. I do.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked, then looked at me. “You getting tired?”
“A little.”
“It shouldn’t be far now. So, uh…” He seemed to be searching for something to say. I hoped it was more about himself or about the other werewolves, but when he finally spoke, he said, “That special school you go to. You take theater?”
“I’m in the theater arts stream. We still take all the regular classes, like math, English, science….”
And so we shifted to simpler subjects for the rest of the walk.
Thirty-three
WE REACHED THE NEXT town and found the bus stop—a flower shop, actually, with tickets sold at the till. We tried again for youth prices and, as in Buffalo, got them without question. Figures.
That meant we had extra cash and a little more than two hours before departure. As for what we’d do with that time and money? Our grumbling stomachs answered that question.
It was getting dark now, still early evening though, so no one paid any attention to a couple of teens walking around. We went a few blocks looking for a place that sold hot, cheap food. Derek’s nose led us to a fast-food Chinese restaurant. A popular destination, unfortunately, with a huge line. I saved us a table while he went up to the counter.
The line barely seemed to be moving, and the restaurant was stifling hot. Before long, my eyelids were flagging.
“Tired, dear?”
I straightened to see an elderly woman in a yellow coat standing beside my table. She smiled at me. I returned it.
“Mind if I sit for a moment?” She waved at the empty chair across from me.
My gaze shot to Derek, still five people from the front of the line.
“I’ll leave when your young man comes back,” she said. “It’s terribly busy in here, isn’t it?”
I nodded and waved for her to take the seat. She did.
“I have a great-granddaughter your age,” she said. “About fourteen, I’m guessing.”
“That’s right,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too nervous. I shouldn’t be answering questions, even incorrectly, but I didn’t know what else to do. I glanced at Derek, hoping for rescue, but he was studying the menu board.
“Ninth grade?”
“Yes.”
“And what’s your favorite subject, dear?”
“Drama.”
She laughed. “I haven’t heard that one. Is it like acting?”
I explained and as we talked, I relaxed. Once we got beyond age and grade, she didn’t ask anything too personal—not even my name. She was just an old lady who wanted to talk, which was nice for a change.
We chatted until Derek was second in line. Then laughter erupted at a table behind me. I turned to see two couples, a year or two older than me. The girls were sneering in disgust. One guy was red-faced with stifled laughter. The other wasn’t bothering to hold his in, laughing so hard he was doubled over.
All four were looking at me.
The entire restaurant was looking at me.
It was like a nightmare where kids are laughing at you, and you keep walking through the halls, not knowing why until you realize you aren’t wearing any pants. I knew I was wearing pants. The only thing I could think of was my black hair. It wasn’t that bad, was it?
“Oh, dear,” whispered the old woman.
“Wh-what’s wrong? Wh-what did I do?”
She leaned over, her eyes glistening. Tears? Why would she be—?
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I only…” She gave a sad twist of a smile. “I only wanted to speak to you. You seemed like such a nice girl.”
I caught a glimpse of Derek, out of line now, striding over, glowering at the snickering boys. The woman got to her feet and leaned across the table again.
“It was very nice talking to you, dear.” She put her hand on mine…and it passed through.
I leaped to my feet.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
The look on her face was so sad that I wanted to say it was okay, it was my fault. But before I could get a word out, she faded away, and then all I could hear was the laughter around me, the mutters of “crazy” and “schizo,” and I stood there, rooted to the floor, until Derek took my arm, his grip so soft I could barely feel it.
“Come on,” he said.
“Yeah,” the laughing guy called. “I think your girlfriend’s day pass has expired.”
Derek slowly raised his head, lip curling in that too-familiar look. I grabbed his arm. He blinked and nodded. As we turned to go, the other guy at the table chimed in.
“Trolling for chicks at the psych ward?” He shook his head. “Now that’s desperate.”
As we passed the front window, I swore every eye inside followed us. I caught a few looks: sympathy, pity, distaste, disgust. Derek moved between me and the window, blocking my view as we walked.
“They didn’t need to do that,” he said. “Those kids, sure. They’re idiots. But the grown-ups should know better. What if you were mentally ill?”
He led me around to the parking lot, then stopped at the back, under the shadow of the building overhang.
“You’ll never see them again,” he said. “And if they’d treat a real mentally ill person like that, then you shouldn’t care what they think. Bunch of morons.”
I said nothing, just stared out at the parking lot, shivering. He shifted in front of me, trying to block the wind.
“W-we should go,” I said. “You need to eat. I’m sorry.”
“For what? Talking to yourself? So what? People do it all the time. They should have ignored it.”
“Would you?”
“Sure. None of my business. I—”
“—wouldn’t laugh or stare. I know. But you couldn’t ignore it. Maybe you’d pretend not to notice, but you’d still think about it, about the person doing it, what was wrong with her, whether she was going to freak out and pull a gun or…” I wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m babbling. But you know what I mean. I was sitting in a restaurant, carrying on a conversation with someone and I never even guessed she was a ghost.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“How? They look like people. They sound like people. Unless they walk through the furniture, there’s no clue. Do I have to stop talking to strangers? Ignore every person who walks up to me? That’ll look normal.” I gave my head a sharp shake. “Babbling again. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry you got caught up in that.”
“You think I care?” He put one hand on the wall and leaned down to me. “You’ll work it out. Other necromancers do. You just need to figure out the tricks of the trade.”
“Before I get locked up?”
“Much more of this on-the-run stuff, and you might be going into restaurants, talking to yourself on purpose, trying to get locked up someplace with a bed and a hot shower.”
I managed a smile. “Right now, I’d settle for hot food.”
“How about hot chocolate?”
“What?”
“On the way here I saw one of those fancy coffee places, some Starbucks knockoff. Big armchairs, a fireplace…Didn’t look too busy. This isn’t exactly a five-dollar-coffee town.”
I pictured curling up in a chair, in front of a fire, sipping a huge, steaming hot chocolate. I smiled.
“It’s settled then,” he said. “We’ll get brownies or cookies to eat. A real nutritious dinner. Now I think it was this way…”
We set out.
The coffee shop had been on the street with the bus stop. We tried to get there—and out of the freezing cold—as quickly as possible. After cutting through a couple of parking lots, we saw our next potential shortcut: a playground. When I started to cross the street, Derek stopped me.