Mr. Badar looks at me like I’ve grown a second head, then asks, “You don’t know?” The fact that he sounds a little frantic, his deep voice taking on an incredulous edge, ratchets up my anxiety. Especially since it reminds me of the look on Mekhi’s face when he reached for his phone a couple of minutes ago.
It’s the same look I see on Cam’s face as we sweep by him standing in the doorway of one of the Chem classrooms. And Gwen’s. And Flint’s.
“Grace!” Flint calls to me, bounding out of the classroom so he can walk alongside Mr. Badar and me. “Oh my God, Grace! You’re back!”
“Not now, Mr. Montgomery,” the teacher snaps, his teeth clicking together sharply with each word.
So definitely a werewolf, then…at least judging by the size of that canine I see peeking from beneath his lip. Then again, I guess I should have figured it out by the subject he teaches—who’s more interested in the astronomy of the moon than the creatures who occasionally like to howl at it?
For the first time, I wonder if something happened this morning that I don’t know about. Did Jaxon and Cole, the alpha werewolf, get into it again? Or Jaxon and another wolf this time—maybe Quinn or Marc? It doesn’t seem likely, since everyone has been giving us a wide berth lately, but why else would a werewolf teacher I’ve never met before be so panicked and single-minded in his determination to get me to my uncle?
“Wait, Grace—” Flint reaches out for me, but Mr. Badar blocks his hand from connecting.
“I said not now, Flint! Go to class!” The words, little more than a snarl, come from low in his throat.
Flint looks like he wants to argue, his own teeth suddenly gleaming sharply in the soft chandelier lighting of the hallway. He must decide it’s not worth it—despite his clenched fists—because in the end, he doesn’t say anything. He just kind of stops in his tracks and watches us walk by instead…just like everyone else in the corridor.
Several people look like they want to approach—Macy’s friend Gwen, for example—but a low, warning growl from the teacher, who’s pretty much marching me down the hallway now, and the whole group of them decides to keep their distance.
“Hold on, Grace. We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?” I want to demand an answer, but my voice comes out sounding raspy.
“Your uncle’s office, of course. He’s been waiting on you for a long time.”
That makes no sense. I just saw Uncle Finn yesterday.
Unease slides across the back of my neck and down my spine, sharp as a razor, causing the hairs on my arms to tingle.
None of this feels okay.
None of this feels right.
As we turn another corner, this time into the tapestry-lined hallway that runs in front of Uncle Finn’s office, it’s my turn to reach into my pocket for my phone. I want to talk to Jaxon. He’ll tell me what’s going on.
I mean, this can’t all be about Cole, right? Or about Lia. Or about—I yelp as my thoughts crash into what feels like a giant wall. One that has huge metal barbs sticking out of it that poke directly into my head.
Even though the wall isn’t tangible, mentally running into it hurts an astonishing amount. For a moment, I just freeze, a little shell-shocked. Once I get over the surprise—and the pain—of it, I try even harder to move past the obstruction, straining my mind in an effort to get my thoughts together. To force them to go down this mental path that is suddenly completely closed off to me.
That’s when I realize—I can’t remember waking up this morning. I can’t remember breakfast. Or getting dressed. Or talking to Macy. I can’t remember anything that’s happened today at all.
“What the hell is going on?”
I don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud until the teacher answers, rather grimly, “I’m pretty sure Foster was hoping you could fill him in on that.”
It’s not the answer I’m looking for, and I reach into my pocket for my phone again, determined not to get distracted this time. I want Jaxon.
Except my phone isn’t in the pocket where I always keep it, and it isn’t in any of my other pockets, either. How is that possible? I never forget my phone.
Uneasiness moves into fear and fear into an insidious panic that has question after question bombarding me. I try to stay calm, try not to show the two dozen or so people watching me at this very instant just how rattled I really am. It’s hard to keep cool, though, when I don’t have a clue what’s going on.