Every other day(28)

“I can’t believe you three let Bethany walk out of here,” I said. “Skylar told you about the woman at the school, didn’t she? And her suit-wearing henchmen?”

Elliot rolled his eyes heavenward. “Skylar,” he said crisply, “exaggerates.”

“Does Bethany exaggerate, too?” I shot back.

“Bethany can take care of herself,” Elliot said. “And her dad isn’t exactly the kind of guy you say no to.”

The expression on my face must have betrayed what I thought about that, because Elliot’s voice took on a defensive tone.

“If there were some shady characters at the high school, and if they were looking for a cheerleader who’d been bitten—trust me, they won’t get within a mile of Beth’s house. Her dad does some of his work at home, and the place is under surveillance, twenty-four seven.”

“Shady characters?” Skylar repeated incredulously. “What are you, eighty?”

“Skylar,” Vaughn said softly, and to my surprise, Skylar shut her mouth. A moment later, I could understand why she’d done it, because Vaughn turned his gaze back to me, and I realized that he was the type of person who never had to raise his voice, never had to so much as narrow his eyes.

“You need to call your parents,” he said, and I got the feeling that it wasn’t a suggestion. “For whatever reason, you seem to be having an unusual reaction to your condition. We don’t know how fast it’s going to progress, and I’m out of my league when it comes to treatment.”

I met Vaughn’s eyes. We both knew that the problem wasn’t that he was out of his league. The problem was that there was no treatment. No cure. There was nothing that Vaughn—or any medical professional—could do. If I’d been fully human, I would have been a dead girl walking, and as far as Skylar’s brother knew, that’s exactly what I was.

You think I’m dying. I didn’t say the words out loud, but I didn’t have to. I could tell just by looking at Vaughn that he knew—and that he wasn’t going to back off until I called home.

“I’ll call my dad,” I said, “but I’m not going to tell him, not yet. Not over the phone.”

I hoped Vaughn wouldn’t press the issue, and he didn’t. Instead, he just handed me the phone. After a pregnant pause, I dialed our home number, banking on the fact that my father rarely left work before nine. I got the answering machine and hung up.

“He’s still at work,” I said, handing the phone to Vaughn, who turned around and pressed it right back into my palm.

“Try his cell.”

I narrowed my eyes, and Skylar snorted. “Try having five of them,” she told me. “I can’t tie my shoes without someone telling me I’m doing it wrong.”

Sensing that I wasn’t going to win this one, I dialed my father’s cell number. I wasn’t at all surprised when it went to voice mail, too.

“Hi,” I said, feeling nine kinds of awkward leaving a message, when the two of us spoke so rarely face-to-face. “It’s Kali. I’m calling because I got a little sick today, and my friend’s older brother thought I should call you. I guess he’s a doctor or something.”

I paused, wondering why I was doing this. My dad probably wouldn’t even listen to his messages.

“Anyway, I’ll be home soon.”

Another pause, another reminder that this was the most I’d said to my father in months.

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone and handed it back to Vaughn. “He wasn’t there,” I explained needlessly. “I left a message.”

I half expected Vaughn to hand the phone back and suggest I call my mother, but he didn’t. Maybe Skylar wasn’t the only person in her family with good instincts.

“Elliot can drive you home,” he said instead. “He’ll stay with you until your dad gets there.”

Elliot looked like he was on the verge of replying, but Vaughn silenced him with another one of those looks. Before I knew what was happening, Skylar’s brothers were helping me to Elliot’s car, even though I could have walked on my own just fine.

Elliot opened the passenger door for me, a gesture completely at odds with the tight set of his lips and the dagger eyes he was shooting at Vaughn. I climbed in and managed to thank Vaughn for his help. As Elliot rounded to his side of the car, Skylar poked her head in my side and pressed a folded white square of paper into my hand.

“It’s this thing,” she said, which was, quite frankly, less than illuminating. “I can’t get it out of my head. I think it might be important.”