“He doesn’t remember anything. Not the crash, not me taking him home, he doesn’t remember about half of the dance, Laurel.”
“Will that wear off?”
Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I don’t think it will.”
In a panicky moment, Laurel understood. “You think I gave him something?” Laurel said, as loud as she dared.
Chelsea’s face immediately softened. “No, of course not!” She hesitated. “But I think someone gave him something. And let’s just say I don’t think it was his parents.”
“You really think his memory loss is . . . unnatural?” Laurel asked.
“It doesn’t make sense for it to be anything else. Saturday night on the drive home he was coherent and answering questions. He knows less today than he did an hour after it happened.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”
“I wasn’t sure at first. But we were talking on the phone last night and he seriously doesn’t remember anything from about ten o’clock Friday night till Saturday morning. It’s too big a window of time. My brother Danny got a major concussion last year and there are only a few minutes that he doesn’t remember. Nothing like this.”
Laurel sighed. She didn’t know which would be worse—if it was Tamani who did this, or if it was Yuki.
“Laurel?” Chelsea’s voice was quiet now.
“Yeah?”
“You told me last year you’d do everything you could to protect Ryan. I’m calling in that promise now.”
“I can’t undo it,” Laurel said. “But you have my word I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
They both got to their feet and headed back toward the main hall, which was filling with students. Laurel stood in front of her locker, trying to decide what to do. She caught Tamani’s slender profile out of the corner of her eye and carefully tracked him through the halls, trying not to make it too obvious she was watching him.
Instead of stopping at his own locker, Tamani paused in front of Yuki’s, stepping in close to her. Laurel managed a quick peek at Yuki’s wound, but there wasn’t much to see. The cut had been right at her hairline, so it was mostly hidden anyway. On top of that, she—or Klea—had applied some kind of makeup to the wound that made it look like a regular human scar. Laurel had to admit, it was clever. The Mixer in her wanted to take a closer look, but . . . it just wasn’t possible right now. Especially with Tamani blocking her view.
He reached out and touched Yuki’s head, just below her cut, and then traced his finger down her face. Anger roiled in her stomach and Laurel had to turn away. She didn’t know for sure which one had given Ryan a memory elixir, but it had to have been one of them.
Laurel felt strong hands slide up her hips and David’s barely scruffy cheek pressed against hers.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile.
“Are you—”
“Please don’t ask if I’m okay,” Laurel interrupted. “I’m fine.”
“I was going to ask if you were . . . hungry,” David said, grinning.
Laurel rolled her eyes and Chelsea smacked David’s shoulder good-naturedly.
“Did Klea stop by again?” David asked, opening his locker.
“Not since eight o’clock yesterday when you asked last,” Laurel replied.
“That’s weird, isn’t it?” David asked.
Laurel had to admit it was. Klea was being way too hands-off about the whole thing. “We have a problem,” Laurel said, sobering. They all looked up as the five-minute bell rang. “Abbreviated version,” Laurel amended. “Somebody gave Ryan a memory elixir, and it wasn’t me, so I’m either angry or afraid, and maybe a little of both.”
“You want me to talk to him?” David said, folding his arms across his chest and shooting Tamani a glare.
“No,” Laurel hissed, pulling him back around, knowing Tamani would already have noticed anyway. “I can talk to him myself, thank you.”
“Fine,” David said darkly.
“Besides, we don’t know it was him,” Laurel said.
“Oh, please,” David argued. “What was it he said right before he left?” David affected a Scottish accent. “There is still work to be done tonight.’”
“He could have meant anything,” Laurel said, running her hand down David’s arm. “Please don’t jump to conclusions.”
David pursed his lips. “Fine,” he said. “But if you change your mind, just let me know.”
“I will,” Laurel said sincerely, tugging at the front of his shirt for a kiss. “We’ll talk later.”
David turned and headed down the hall just as Tamani said good-bye to Yuki and started walking toward Laurel. At the last second, Tamani looked over his shoulder, as though he were glancing back at Yuki—but this move changed his trajectory just enough for his shoulder to slam into David’s. David snapped around, hands spread wide.
“Hey!”
Everyone in the hallway stopped and stared.
Everyone but Tamani, who continued walking. But he held up one hand, still clad in his black, fingerless glove. “Sorry, bro,” he said, his accent sounding strangely American. “My bad.” He neither stopped nor met Laurel’s eyes as he strode past her, on his way toward their classroom.
“Will that wear off?”
Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I don’t think it will.”
In a panicky moment, Laurel understood. “You think I gave him something?” Laurel said, as loud as she dared.
Chelsea’s face immediately softened. “No, of course not!” She hesitated. “But I think someone gave him something. And let’s just say I don’t think it was his parents.”
“You really think his memory loss is . . . unnatural?” Laurel asked.
“It doesn’t make sense for it to be anything else. Saturday night on the drive home he was coherent and answering questions. He knows less today than he did an hour after it happened.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”
“I wasn’t sure at first. But we were talking on the phone last night and he seriously doesn’t remember anything from about ten o’clock Friday night till Saturday morning. It’s too big a window of time. My brother Danny got a major concussion last year and there are only a few minutes that he doesn’t remember. Nothing like this.”
Laurel sighed. She didn’t know which would be worse—if it was Tamani who did this, or if it was Yuki.
“Laurel?” Chelsea’s voice was quiet now.
“Yeah?”
“You told me last year you’d do everything you could to protect Ryan. I’m calling in that promise now.”
“I can’t undo it,” Laurel said. “But you have my word I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
They both got to their feet and headed back toward the main hall, which was filling with students. Laurel stood in front of her locker, trying to decide what to do. She caught Tamani’s slender profile out of the corner of her eye and carefully tracked him through the halls, trying not to make it too obvious she was watching him.
Instead of stopping at his own locker, Tamani paused in front of Yuki’s, stepping in close to her. Laurel managed a quick peek at Yuki’s wound, but there wasn’t much to see. The cut had been right at her hairline, so it was mostly hidden anyway. On top of that, she—or Klea—had applied some kind of makeup to the wound that made it look like a regular human scar. Laurel had to admit, it was clever. The Mixer in her wanted to take a closer look, but . . . it just wasn’t possible right now. Especially with Tamani blocking her view.
He reached out and touched Yuki’s head, just below her cut, and then traced his finger down her face. Anger roiled in her stomach and Laurel had to turn away. She didn’t know for sure which one had given Ryan a memory elixir, but it had to have been one of them.
Laurel felt strong hands slide up her hips and David’s barely scruffy cheek pressed against hers.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile.
“Are you—”
“Please don’t ask if I’m okay,” Laurel interrupted. “I’m fine.”
“I was going to ask if you were . . . hungry,” David said, grinning.
Laurel rolled her eyes and Chelsea smacked David’s shoulder good-naturedly.
“Did Klea stop by again?” David asked, opening his locker.
“Not since eight o’clock yesterday when you asked last,” Laurel replied.
“That’s weird, isn’t it?” David asked.
Laurel had to admit it was. Klea was being way too hands-off about the whole thing. “We have a problem,” Laurel said, sobering. They all looked up as the five-minute bell rang. “Abbreviated version,” Laurel amended. “Somebody gave Ryan a memory elixir, and it wasn’t me, so I’m either angry or afraid, and maybe a little of both.”
“You want me to talk to him?” David said, folding his arms across his chest and shooting Tamani a glare.
“No,” Laurel hissed, pulling him back around, knowing Tamani would already have noticed anyway. “I can talk to him myself, thank you.”
“Fine,” David said darkly.
“Besides, we don’t know it was him,” Laurel said.
“Oh, please,” David argued. “What was it he said right before he left?” David affected a Scottish accent. “There is still work to be done tonight.’”
“He could have meant anything,” Laurel said, running her hand down David’s arm. “Please don’t jump to conclusions.”
David pursed his lips. “Fine,” he said. “But if you change your mind, just let me know.”
“I will,” Laurel said sincerely, tugging at the front of his shirt for a kiss. “We’ll talk later.”
David turned and headed down the hall just as Tamani said good-bye to Yuki and started walking toward Laurel. At the last second, Tamani looked over his shoulder, as though he were glancing back at Yuki—but this move changed his trajectory just enough for his shoulder to slam into David’s. David snapped around, hands spread wide.
“Hey!”
Everyone in the hallway stopped and stared.
Everyone but Tamani, who continued walking. But he held up one hand, still clad in his black, fingerless glove. “Sorry, bro,” he said, his accent sounding strangely American. “My bad.” He neither stopped nor met Laurel’s eyes as he strode past her, on his way toward their classroom.
