 
# Teen Fury: Unleashed

### Teen Fury Book One

## Amanda Torrey

Teen Fury: Unleashed

Teen Fury Book I

Amanda Torrey

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Copyright 2012 Amanda Torrey

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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### Contents

Dedication

Also by Amanda Torrey

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter One From Teen Fury: Embraced (Sample)

Dear Reader

Books by Amanda Torrey

More From Amanda Torrey

# Dedication

To my mom, Carolyn Sullivan, for teaching me to dream and for encouraging me to bring my dreams to life.

# Also by Amanda Torrey

Teen Fury Trilogy (Young Adult Paranormal)

Unleashed (Book One)

Embraced (Book Two)

Atoned (Book Three)

Teen Fury Trilogy: The Complete Collection (Boxed Set)

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ADULT ROMANCE:

The Blackthorne Family Saga

Declan

Zander

Blaze

Kaden

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Healing Springs Series (Adult Contemporary Romance)

Not Over You

Stay

Two Is a Lonely Number

So Complicated

Can't Lose Me

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starting over series (a sub-series of healing Springs)

A Heart to Call Home

Loving a Wildflower

Wherever You Go

Imperfect Harmony

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The Immortal Contract (Adult Paranormal Romance)

# 1

No one has ever died from piercing green eyes and a chiseled jaw line. (Right?) I'm certain I'd have read the story if long lashes on a flawless male face were the weapon of choice for a stalker.

So if I'm uncomfortable with the strange new senior who keeps staring at me, I can blame coincidence. The resulting headaches are suspicious, but probably stress-related.

I search my reflection for signs of trouble, give a silent prayer that the guy in question has left The Shack, then put on my happy smile and exit the bathroom, where Jade waits impatiently.

"'Bout time, girlie. You'll never believe what new specimen of hotness is hanging in The Orange."

I shake my head and roll my eyes at my bestie. Always on the lookout for drama and romance. You'd think she'd have learned that Mr. Right (or even Mr. Right Now) would A) never come to White Rock, Massachusetts, or B) flee as soon as he realized how little excitement happens here. But she's on a mission, and she grabs my hand to pull me into the main dining area of The Shack, the favorite hangout of all the teens in town.

"I'll give you five seconds to see what I see. Over there."

I don't want to look, because I know who she's directing me to. And my headache is getting worse just thinking about him. So instead I study the glowstick-inspired décor around the room, appreciating the owner's sense of style.

She grabs my face and forces my eyes toward The Orange, so named because of the fluorescent color on the wall in that section. Generally, the people who think they're the coolest hang there, so the fact that he's with them tells me all I need to know about his character.

I swat her hands away and look to The Green, where the kids I mentor tend to find themselves. The section is empty except for one straggler, twelve-year-old Aaron, who spends more time here than at home. His shoulders slump lower than usual, and even from here I can see the ring of filth on his neck.

He must have been kicked out again.

Jade yanks on my arm, demanding me to pay attention.

"Did you see him? Is he not perfection? Just look at that black hair. Don't you want to rush over there and run your hands through it? Oh my god, and those shoulders. Yum." She bites her knuckle for emphasis but doesn't take her eyes off the guy in The Orange.

He looks in our direction and winks.

I roll my eyes.

"Jade, you need to write romance novels or something." I check the time on my cell. I have plenty of time to spend with Aaron before my other bestie, Corey, comes to help me work on building a website for the mentoring organization I'm trying to make more formal. If only I can get Jade to focus back on the work ahead.

"That would be fun. But right now I just want to drink in the vision that is before me."

"Well, drink quick because we have work to do."

I pull away and head over to The Green, where Aaron glances up through his thick lashes and pushes aside the napkin he had been toying with.

"Hey, Aaron. What kind of shake are you craving today?"

He shrugs, showing no enthusiasm, though I know he's hungry. He's never come here without a ravenous appetite and empty pockets.

"Come on, it's on me."

He lifts one corner of his mouth, and his eyes light up the tiniest bit.

"I guess I'll take a strawberry one, if you're making me."

I laugh and tap him playfully on the arm. He sits up a little straighter and tells me I'm lucky I'm a girl so he won't punch me back.

"Felicia, he's coming over here..." Jade whispers in my ear as I place my order at the glowing counter. The owner is working the register today and gives me a hefty discount. He knows I spend all my allowance here, mostly on the needy kids who have chosen The Shack as their haven.

"And I should care, why?"

"Because he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you pulled away from me. I think he's coming to talk to you."

"Or he's coming to order something to eat. That's what people do here, you know. Eat. Drink. Be merry."

"You're so flip. Go ahead and blow this opportunity. Whatev. Just don't cry to me when you're all alone with your books and your goody-goodyness." Jade reapplies her lip gloss and puts on her brightest smile as the mystery guy approaches. I can tell he's getting closer because Jade practically vibrates, which generally only happens when she's near her target.

I take the strawberry shake and turn toward the table. But there's an obstacle right behind me and I crash into it, spilling shake all down my arm and all over _that guy_.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there."

Why the heck was he standing so close? Ever hear of personal space?

I reach out to wipe the shake off his chest. Big mistake. His body is rock solid, and images of him shirtless rush through my head. I blink rapidly, trying to purge the thoughts from my mind. That's a Jade thing to imagine, not a me thing. "Don't be sorry. My bad. I was too busy wondering who you are to notice how close I was standing."

Wondering about me? He had been surrounded by the hottest girls in town, and he's wondering about me? Bull.

Jade steps in with a pile of napkins, which she places in my strawberry shake-covered hand. She hands some to hot guy, I mean, the new guy, and he thanks her with a smile that gleams under the LED lights.

The napkins stick to my fingers as I try to clean the mess. I focus intently on scrubbing the remnants off. Anything to keep from staring. I've never seen a smile quite like his.

I barely notice Sean, the owner of The Shack, calling Aaron to the window and sliding another glass of strawberry shake over to him. I think I managed a "thank you," but I'm so tongue- tied, I can't be certain.

Losing my communication skills because of a guy? So not cool. And so not me.

I gather my composure and excuse myself. I rush into the bathroom and scrub my hands, trying to cleanse myself of the shake and the memory of his chest on my fingers.

The hottest of hot water doesn't help.

When I return to the dining area, I make a beeline for Aaron, sliding into the booth across from him.

"Smooth move, Felicia. What's wrong, did Mr. Muscles make you nervous?" Aaron's voice is that of a taunting and annoying twelve-year-old, but I'm happy to hear some humor from him. He had looked so dejected before the shake incident.

"He was in my way. It was his own fault." I don't dare to look into the crowd, afraid of what I'll see.

I don't have to look up, though, because Jade's sing-song voice gets louder as she approaches, and it seems as though she's regaling the new guy with tales of me.

"So she doesn't dump shake on every guy who moves to town?" He's standing over me now, and my foot starts twitching under the table.

"Felicia, this is Zane. Zane, meet Felicia."

He reaches his hand out to mine, and I reluctantly return the gesture. He holds on a little longer than is comfortable, and I pull away and hide my now-burning hand on my lap.

"You look good in red."

So he's going to comment on my embarrassed blush? Really?

"You look good in pink." I look pointedly to his chest, where his black shirt has soaked up most of the spilled shake, but streaks of pink are still evident.

He laughs. And yes, it's contagious. Aaron kicks me under the table, and I tone down my nervous giggle a notch.

I have that strange feeling you get when you're being watched. I look to The Orange, where a group of girls lean forward, gesturing toward me with disdain all over their jealous faces. They look away when I look at them, but I can tell they're talking negatively about me. Oh well, not the first time. They are welcome to take their pretty boy back to The Orange where he belongs.

A sudden movement outside the window draws my attention, where I notice an unfamiliar guy standing. He looks to be about Zane's age, probably a senior.

At first it appears as though he's perusing the menu posted on the window, but when I look at him a second longer, I notice he's actually looking at me. And his fists are clenched.

A shiver runs down my back, and my once-burning hands suddenly feel icy.

Zane must have noticed my eyes wandering, because he follows my gaze and makes two tight fists at his side, then releases them and returns to his casual, carefree stance.

"Great, that psychopath transferred, too." He almost mumbles the words, but they come through loud and clear.

"He's a psycho?" Jade leans forward, intrigued by the prospect of new drama in our boring little town.

"Never mind about him. I want to hear more about you ladies."

I try not to look out the window again, but I can't help feeling the guy's eyes on me.

He soon enters The Shack, orders something at the window, and takes it to go. I shiver again when he leaves the building, somehow disappointed that he wasn't as forward as Zane. Then again, it's odd for one attractive guy to notice me.

Besides, who wants the attention of someone with a psychopathic reputation?

# 2

Corey rushes in about twenty minutes after he said he'd be here, which is about ten minutes after Zane excused himself and rushed out of The Shack. Corey slides into the booth next to Aaron. He mutters something about his mother needing him to run errands for her, then reaches across the table to grab my laptop. He opens it and taps in my password, then leans so close to the computer that I think he might be pulled into the thing.

"Thanks so much for doing this, Core."

"No prob. Now hush so I can write this code."

I smile at him, even though he can't see me because he's so absorbed. Jade bounces back to the table and gestures for me to move over so she can sit next to me.

I grab a piece of her cookie before she can swat my hand away. Aaron laughs at our playfulness.

"So while he's playing with the computer, can you focus on something besides the grant for a few? Something important. Something tall, dark, and insanely gorgeous?"

"I'll make a deal with you. You help me finalize my Mission Statement, and I'll listen for the rest of the night while you gush about Zane. Deal?"

And like a good friend, she agrees, although I know she'd much rather cut to the gossip.

"Fine, but only if you promise to stop obsessing about the grant for the rest of the day."

I started obsessing about this grant at the beginning of the school year, when Community Guarantee, the local family-owned bank, announced at our school they were looking to provide funding to the teen with the best idea for a new charity. Since I was already doing some informal work with some kids in town, I welcomed the opportunity to branch out and do stuff that I wanted to do with them, but couldn't afford with my allowance. Things like field trips, more community activities, stuff the troubled and abandoned kids I was mentoring would really get into. Not to mention, some money to put toward expanding the back room of The Shack so we could have a meeting place. That part was Sean's idea.

Corey had the idea of building an interactive website, and since he was hugely into computer programming and super-smart with that stuff, I knew he could do it.

"Alright, Leesh, where shall we begin?" Corey is the only one in the world I would let call me that. There aren't a whole lot of ways to shorten "Felicia," for which I'm grateful. He gave me the nickname when we were ten, so I've gotten used to it from him. But it would be so not cool from anyone else. "I've got the basic code all set; now we need to input your particulars."

"Why ask me? You're the expert." I toss the straw wrapper I've been playing with at him, but he doesn't notice.

"True, can't count on you to know anything about anything..." He smiles at me, and I prepare to launch a bunched-up napkin at him. When he throws his arms up in surrender, I decide to let him get away with his comment. For now, at least.

Corey drones on about the computer stuff, and I try to pay attention, but he loses me pretty early on. He notices my glazed look and throws a rumpled piece of paper at me, pulling me out of my fog world.

"What? I'm listening!"

"No, you're not, but that's okay. Just answer my question."

I try to fudge it but figure I'm caught. I have no idea what he asked me.

"It's simple, Leesh. What colors do you want for your background?"

Ahh, colors. That I can handle.

"Something really bright and welcoming to kids. But not so bright that it turns the adults away. Maybe greens and yellows, gender neutral."

He types his confusing codes into the computer, and I turn back to my Mission Statement. Jade has some great ideas, which I write furiously into my notebook. Even Aaron interjects a few helpful thoughts, though he's mostly consumed with playing a game on my phone.

We're just about finished with the first draft of the Mission Statement when I start feeling awful.

My lower back aches like crazy, and I have the worst craving for salt. But I had been craving ice cream. Mmm, salted ice cream! Okay, that sounds kind of ick, but maybe pretzels dipped in ice cream. That I could go for.

"Yo, Felicia. Tune in here, will ya? I was just getting to the best part."

"I'm sorry, Jade. I'm not feeling well at all. I think I might need to lie down; my head is killing me."

"Aww, hon. Want me to get you something? Advil? A cookie?"

"No thanks. I think I'm getting my, um, you know..." I glance meaningfully in Corey's direction so she knows why I'm talking in code. Not that it should really matter; he's so deep into computer world, The Shack could blow up and he wouldn't notice. And while it shouldn't be weird to talk about this stuff around him since he's my best friend and all, he's still a guy and it's a little weird to have that kind of conversation with him.

"No way! 'Bout time you join the world of miserable women everywhere!" I raise my eyebrows in horror and widen my eyes at her loud tone. She mouths "sorry," then leans closer to me and whispers, "Do you have stuff?"

"Yeah, I guess. My mom loaded my bathroom cabinet years ago."

Yes, I know, I'm the oldest girl in the world to still be waiting to get my period. But I read online that fifteen isn't really ancient for starting menstruation; it just feels like it. They say you usually get it around the same age your mom got it, but since I'm adopted, I have no way of knowing. And my mom, the one who has raised me since I was an infant, got hers when she was twelve, so she thinks I'm some sort of mutant or something.

I moan as a sharp cramp hits my kidney area. How on earth do girls go through this every month? I don't think I can function.

"Hey, Corey, we have to take off. Seems little miss workaholic is getting the stomach bug that's going around, or something. Better hurry and run so we don't get it." Jade sticks her tongue out at me.

When Corey doesn't respond, Jade slaps him on the side of the head.

"Whoa, what? What's your problem? I'm in the middle of something here." He rubs his head.

"We have to go. Felicia isn't feeling well."

Corey turns and looks at me with deep concern in his eyes. He's such a sweetie; I don't know why he doesn't have a girlfriend. He's the type of boy who will worship a girl and treat her like a queen.

"What's wrong? What can I get you?"

I rub my lower back.

"Nothing major. I just feel kind of sick. Headache, stomachache, that kind of thing." My vision starts to get blurry so I blink rapidly. "Mind if we get back to this tomorrow after school?"

"No prob." He hits a few more keys, then packs up his stuff. He tosses his backpack over one shoulder and leans over the table to kiss me on the top of my head. "Dude, you're burning up. Let me call someone to give you a ride home."

"It's okay, I can walk home. I think the fresh air and exercise might help."

Corey helps me out of the booth, carrying my computer in his free arm. Jade picks up my backpack and says something to Aaron, then follows us out the door.

This pain is horrendous.

The walk home is slower than usual, but my friends stay with me the whole way. They help me get up to my room, too, where I snuggle in with my favorite teddy bear and drift off to sleep.

Sometime later, my mom comes in and presses a wet wash cloth to my head, but I drift back to sleep and don't wake up until my alarm goes off the next morning.

I dream of snakes swimming through a river of blood. And the guy from outside The Shack standing on the bank of the river with his arms out toward me.

# 3

I feel remarkably better this morning. Not a single cramp, and my head feels good as new. It's like I imagined the whole thing.

After my shower, I pack up my books and rush downstairs. I grab a breakfast bar and a bottle of water, and just as I'm halfway out the door, Mom yells to me.

"Feeling better, sweet pea?"

"Yup, all better. Gotta run to school, gonna be late."

"Wait one minute! I need you to take the dog out before you go."

"I can't, Mom. I'll be late." I cringe at the slight whine in my voice, but can't take it back.

"You don't have to walk her, just let her pee. It's faster to do it than to argue about it."

"I'm so sick of doing _everything!_ " I slam my backpack on the front porch. "Come on, Lucy."

Lucy comes with her tail wagging, not bothered by my crappy attitude.

"Are you okay?" Mom leans against the doorjamb, arms crossed over her chest. She looks perplexed. To be honest, I'm feeling kind of perplexed myself.

Remorse rushes over me like the waves at high tide. I don't know why I made such a big deal about taking the dog out.

"I'm sorry for snapping. Guess I still feel a little headachy. Other than that, I'm fine."

"Maybe you should stay home today."

"Nope, too much to do. I have to find an advisor for my non-profit. The deadline is this week. Besides, I'm not sick, I just think I'm getting my period."

Her face lights up like it's freaking Christmas or something, and she claps her hands. But her face quickly turns pensive, and I know she's about to head into Mom therapy mode.

Lucy comes running after her quick trip to her favorite patch of grass. I pet her on the head before I close the door.

"I know you've said this has nothing to do with your father and me, but I can't help but notice that you've seemed different since he left."

I sigh loud enough for her to hear my annoyance.

So he's leaving my mom for some other woman. It's not like I'll be the only teen from a broken family.

"Sweet pea, I can see how this is affecting you already. You've been showing physical signs of stress ever since we told you." She reaches out to brush my hair out of my face. I intercept the mothering move, and she makes one of her famous "disappointed" faces.

"I wonder if you're getting your period, or if there's something else going on, sweet pea?"

"Who knows? Maybe I'm an alien from another planet and this is how we get when we're stressed."

Mom laughs at me, but I'm only part joking. No one knows the origin of my birth, just that I kind of appeared out of nowhere. The state never found any traces of my birth parents. And I definitely haven't been feeling like myself. It sure would be nice to be able to blame my misery on something other than me.

The third period dismissal bell does nothing to help my headache.

"I'll meet you at lunch. Have to ask Mr. Shaw about being my advisor for the grant thingy."

"Ooh, good choice—he's hot. For a teacher, anyway."

"Jade!" I swat at her with my folder, but she doesn't have the sense to be embarrassed. I, on the other hand, am afraid to turn around, hoping he didn't hear her remark.

Relieved to find that Mr. Shaw was busy across the room with other students, I approach him and take a few minutes to explain what I'm asking for. I assure him that the job is mostly a formality. I already do all the work; he's just there for liability reasons on the bank's behalf.

"I'll certainly give it a look-see, but I have to figure out what my schedule looks like before committing."

Think about it? What the heck is there to think about? All I'm asking is one tiny favor, and it's to help the kids! What kind of person has to _think_ about that? Maybe I chose the wrong person.

A sharp pain stabs into my head, and blood rushes to my face. My fingers tighten on the folder of info I'm presenting to him. I can't look him in the face, I'm so insulted.

The reasonable part of me wonders why I'm so mad. _Of course_ he'd need to think about it, to figure out what he's getting into.

"Th- thank you for your time." I fumble toward the door, eager to make my escape.

Until today, I didn't even know I had a temper, and now I'm getting snappy left and right.

"You okay, Murphy? You look a little red." Mr. Shaw is one of those teachers who refers to students by their last names. Like they can't be bothered to learn their first names.

"I'm fine," I mumble as I pull on the handle. "Thanks again. Please let me know if you have any questions."

I grab a tray in the lunch room, and make my way through the line at the salad bar. Today is Lunch Lady Surprise Day in the regular lunch bar, and there are some surprises I could do without.

I go straight to our regular table, and find Jade, Corey, and a couple of our other lunch time friends. Jade moves her tray over a little to make room for me. I smile and sit.

I'm pretty much tuning out the whole conversation at lunch, lost in my thoughts about the grant. I can't remember wanting something so badly. Maybe because I have parents who have always doted on me and given me everything before I even knew I wanted it. That good fortune is part of what drives me to want to give back to the kids who are less fortunate than I am.

The laughter at our table is getting kind of annoying, but I bite my tongue, not interested in insulting my friends. My lower back aches again, worse now than ever. Then, just as I take a swig of my water, I feel a gush _down there_ and am afraid to move.

I chance a look down, and my worst nightmare has come true. Blood seeps through my khaki pants, right onto the bench. Horrified, I poke Jade, who turns to me with a big smile. I gesture for her to look down. Her face immediately sobers, and she whips off her hoodie and hands it to me.

"Wrap this around your waist. We'll go to the nurse, and you can get cleaned up there. No one will notice, don't worry."

Corey, sitting on the other side of me, looks over to see what's going on. His face pales when he sees _my problem_ , then reddens with awareness. Without a word, he gets up. I think I scared him away, but he returns seconds later with a stack of napkins.

"Go ahead, I'll take care of it."

Seriously? He's willing to clean up my menstrual blood? "No way, Corey. That's insane."

"Don't argue with me, missy." He smiles, and his chocolate eyes twinkle.

Jade yanks my arm, and if I don't want to make a scene, I need to follow her.

"Sorry, Core." I frown at him, and he smiles at me.

Jade leads me through the crowded cafeteria, and I know everyone is laughing at me. My head burns, my vision blurs, and my inner rage increases with every passing second. My scalp itches, feels like something is trying to burst out of my head.

"Jade, they better shut the hell up."

"What are you talking about?"

"Everyone we pass. They're looking at me funny."

"Felicia, that's crazy. No one has any idea. No worries."

From behind, I hear a whistle. I turn to glare, and of course it's Jake Scott, quarterback for the football team and world-class jerk.

"I see you're having a bit of a problem, huh, Murphy?" How does he even know my name, let alone what is going on? And what is with the last name references today? "How sweet that you have your little whelp cleaning up after you."

That's it, I have _had it_. No one insults my friends.

"Listen, ass wipe. Do us all a favor and crawl back into the sewer where you came from. Shut the hell up already. Thanks." I can't help it, even though I seem to have become someone else, there's still the part of me that has to be polite.

"Felicia, what the..." Jade whispers and tries to pull me away.

I so don't want to back down.

Jake looks stunned at first, then recovers and starts laughing with his friends. I know he's not used to having anyone stand up to him, let alone a sophomore.

I feel more leakage, and Jade pulls my arm so hard, I'm grateful I'm not a zombie because I'd definitely be short one limb.

The nurse's office sways in front of me. Or is it me? I feel so lightheaded. My mouth is desert dry. I can barely see. Oh no...

# 4

I know I fainted as soon as I wake up, because the flickering fluorescent lights flash in my eyes, and I'm lying on the nurse's cot, Jade's face hovering nearby.

"Yo, Felicia. Welcome back to the world. You scared me, girl! But wait 'til you hear about the superstud upperclassman who carried you in and put you on the cot. Whoa, don't get up yet. I'll get the nurse. Man, he was frigging burning up with hotness. Actually, I think he might be that psycho from The Shack. Not sure, though. Way hotter up close. And he's waiting for you outside, wanted to make sure you were okay. Don't worry, I didn't tell him why you were here; he probably just thinks you caught a bug or something. Boys are so clueless. Anyway, stay right there."

I sigh when she walks away. Each time I tried to interject a comment or a question, she kept rattling on, as she is prone to doing when she's excited about something.

I ignore Jade's admonition to stay on the cot and drag my embarrassed butt over to the bathroom, which is only about a few steps from the cot anyway. The nurse is busy in the next cubicle taking someone's temperature. Don't really want her germy hands near me—no time to get sick.

Within seconds, Jade returns. She talks at me through the door, rattling on about the guy who "saved" me. Not exactly sure what I was saved from, but I do appreciate his help. I guess.

"I have no idea where he came from." She practically yells through the door, but in an exaggerated "whisper." "You should have seen him rush over. Just suddenly appeared. So. Weird. I think he's a senior. And did I mention he's h-o-t? And my god, he picked you up like it was nothing."

"Oh sure, call me fat." I'm totally being sarcastic. I am not the thinnest girl in the school, but I don't think anyone could really consider me fat. Normal, I guess.

"Whatever, Felicia. You know I wouldn't dare. But his arms... swoon!"

I laugh because I'm pretty sure Jade is the only person in this century to use the word _swoon_. She's such an old-school romantic at times.

"For real, though. Are you wearing some kind of pheromone perfume or something? Because the hotties are crawling out of the woodwork and heading straight for you. If you scored some magic love potion, methinks you should share with me."

The nurse offers me some spare clothes, and I'm trying to figure out a polite way to turn down the hand-me-down sweats. Jade informs me she already took it upon herself to call my mom to ask her to deliver clothes so I wouldn't have to suffer any more embarrassment today.

"Have I told you lately that you're the best?" I do my best to clean up, then return to the cot to wait. I keep Jade's hoodie across my lap so no one will notice the blood, now drying to a brown glob of icky.

"You can go to class, Jade. I'll just work on my algebra since I'm stuck here for a bit."

"No way, Jose. I'm waiting with you."

That's the kind of friend she is. Willing to give up algebra to keep her best friend company. We'll ignore the fact that she hates math.

My mom finally arrives after about fifteen minutes. I'm a little afraid of what she may have chosen for me to wear, but I'm not really all that fashion conscious, so as long as it came from my own closet, I'm good.

She fusses over me for a few, but luckily has to rush back to work. Though she's brimming with excitement, she does a good job of keeping it in for my sake. She kisses me on the cheek before she leaves.

The nurse gives me some ibuprofen and extra off-brand pads, and I throw my books in my backpack and head out.

I'm trying to zip the front zipper of my backpack when I bump into something so hard, I think it's the wall at first. But no wall smells so... manly. In a totally yummy way. Nor does a wall emit so much warmth. My face burns, and my throat closes.

My day is about to get a lot worse, if such a thing is possible. I just know it.

"Felicia, this is your savior. Sorry, savior, I didn't catch your name?" Jade lets the question hang in the air as she twirls her hair. She's such a flirt.

"Ryder. Glad you're okay."

# 5

It takes a minute to recover from my initial shock and manage to form some words.

Crap, he _is_ the guy from outside The Shack and inside my dream.

"Please forgive Jade, she can be so dramatic." Ryder smiles at me, and I have to give Jade credit—she wasn't kidding when she expounded on how attractive this guy is up close. His light-brown hair is the perfect length to be a bit shaggy, but not a mess. His face is sculpted like a male model. Perfect angles, but not sharp. His lips are completely kissable, and his eyes—oh my—I could get lost in the crystal-blue depths. I know for certain I've never seen him here before, other than from a distance outside The Shack. I'd remember. My body would remember.

I can't believe how fiercely I react to him. I mean, I've had crushes before, but my body has never burned for someone. And I don't mean rage this time. My hips move toward him, and my belly does flips. Ugh. As if I would ever have a chance with someone like him.

As if I'm even _looking_.

I step back, trying to breathe some stale high school air rather than the rugged, musky scent of Ryder. How can a guy manage to smell so good? I guess that's the difference between sophomore boys and seniors. Sophomores are still a little into passing gas (and laughing about it) and forgetting to change their gym socks.

Yes, think about gym socks. That will kill the attraction.

"Anyway, thanks for helping me out. I feel a lot better now. Have to get to class, though, before I miss too much."

"Hey, wait. Felicia, right?" I nod. Why does he want to talk to me? And wait a second, why is he even still here?

I blush deeply, praying he doesn't ask me what was wrong. I'd rather stuff myself in a locker than have to explain my problem.

"I'm new to the school and was wondering if you'd mind showing me around sometime." His gaze is smoldering. I didn't even know such a thing actually existed, outside of really good- looking actors.

I feel small next to him. And how did he get back in my space? I'm at eye level with the tightest male chest I've ever had the privilege of seeing up close. I can tell by the way his T-shirt drapes that he is solidly built. I can't look back into that gaze or I may spontaneously combust.

My mind drifts back to the equally brilliant chest on Zane that I had the horror of touching yesterday. Two hot guys in two days? What are the odds?

"Um, yeah, I guess I could. But you know they have an orientation committee that could show you around, right?"

"Actually, I have figured out the layout of the school. I meant I'd like to see the town. After school. With you."

Gulp.

Please God, don't let me pass out again. Please, please, _please_.

Jade giggles. I elbow her. Subtly. Or not. I have no idea. But her obnoxious behavior is enough to pull me back to reality.

"Sorry, I can't. I have so much going on. No time. But it's pretty easy to find your way around here—downtown is literally one street."

I can almost feel his disappointment. Or my mind is messing with me, which is far more likely. He could have his pick of any girl in the school—heck, he could pick any girl in the state—to show him around, so I really don't have to feel guilty that I'm not making time for him. Do I?

He says he understands and offers to help me if I need anything.

I, of course, dismiss that idea. "We should hurry and get to class. I don't want you guys getting in trouble."

The bell rings as I'm finishing my sentence. Ryder offers to walk me to my next class, to be sure I'm steady on my feet. I start to turn him down, but Jade—ever-helpful Jade—thanks him before I can. Then she pushes me forward, and I bump into Ryder again. He smiles and gently holds my elbow, as if to steady me.

As we walk, I look over my shoulder, ready to glare at my so-called best friend for pushing me into this situation. But her back is to me, and she's pulling Corey in the opposite direction. Even from here, I can see Corey's sad and concerned expression. I wonder why she won't let him come see me but figure she's trying to play matchmaker and doesn't want Corey playing interference.

The walk to class is silent. I know I should try to make conversation, but I am so unprepared for this situation. What am I supposed to talk about with the most intriguing guy I've ever seen off-screen? They don't teach you this stuff in school.

Besides, I'm still a little creeped out from his stalker-like presence yesterday. And the fact that he was there to catch me when I didn't even notice him in the hallway—odd.

Girls and guys are both checking out Ryder as we walk, but he doesn't seem to notice. I do notice the glares I'm getting from girls, especially some of the more popular ones. I'm sure they do not deem me worthy of Ryder's attention. Heck, _I_ don't deem me worthy. I don't have low self-esteem; I'm just aware of my place in society. I'm smart. I'm studious. I have drive. And will power.

Did I say "will power"? Because my will is telling me to power closer to Ryder's heat. Ugh. Fight the urge, fight the urge!

Just as we approach the biology lab, Jenny Jones sashays over to me, a snide look on her overly-made-up face. I pretend I don't see her, but she zooms in anyway.

"Hey, Felicia. I heard you had a little episode in the cafeteria." Oh no, she wouldn't dare. She leans in closer. "Such a shame, you poor thing. Everyone is talking about it." She did dare. Then in a loud whisper, "Your dad told me you hadn't gotten it yet. You must feel like such a freak."

She plasters on this fake look of compassion. She's so phony, it hurts to look at her. The fact that my dad is dating her mom kills me. If her mom is anything like her, my dad has lost his mind.

"Oh, did you see my new bracelet? Your dad is so sweet; he wants to spoil me. Trying to get me to like him and all."

Ryder moves closer to me, almost protectively. My head starts to pound again, and something sharp tries to pierce through my hair follicles. Ryder puts his arm around my shoulder in a way-too-familiar gesture. Jenny's face scrunches up, jealousy contorting her features.

Ha, take that, snotty one.

Ryder positions his body so his back is to Jenny, and grabs my cell from my hand. He types away, then hands it back to me with a smile.

"I programmed my number. Call or text if you need anything. _Anything_." He smiles again, and I melt.

I can't see around Ryder, but I can hear the clip-clop of Jenny's high heeled shoes storming into class. Score one for Team Felicia.

"Sorry about her. We've always kind of been frenemies, but things have gotten a little weirder lately..."

"No need to explain anything. I'm happy to help." He opens the door to bio for me. For some strange reason, I can't find a reason to complain, though I'm usually all independent and everything. "Use that number. I'll be waiting."

I manage to slink by him and make it to my seat without having my weakened knees give out on me. I grab my book and notebook out of my backpack, and when I glance up I half expect Ryder to be standing at the windowed door, staring at me, but he's gone.

After class, I open my locker and am greeted by a note saying, "Hope you're feeling better. Love, Me."

The note is accompanied by my favorite mango juice and a chocolate chip cookie. Have I mentioned that Corey is the sweetest guy in the world?

For some reason, his thoughtfulness makes me feel like a jerk.

# 6

Stepping out of school after last period is the highlight of my day. I breathe deeply, reveling in the fall atmosphere. Leaves are changing color, ready to put the trees to sleep for the winter. That's how I've always thought of the changing of the seasons. The leaves make a blanket for the roots of the tree, and the trees settle in for a snooze.

I'm changing my colors, too. Something has been off with me, and I don't think it's just hormones. I know some of my behaviors can be explained by my period, but I have this feeling in my gut that something else is happening to me.

I smile as one shy raindrop hits my hand. I pick up my pace when another hits. If I'm not careful, I'll be stuck in a downpour, so I might as well hurry home.

As I'm ready to cross the street, a motorcycle screeches to a stop at the curb. I stumble a little when I get a look at the scruffy face and the piercing green eyes, all too familiar. The strawberry shake guy from The Shack. I don't know how I managed to forget how attractive he is, but he kinda makes Ryder seem a bit drab.

"Where you goin' so fast? Felicia, right?"

"Home. Can I help you with something?" My voice squeaks, but at least words come out.

"Hop on. I know it sucks to ride in the rain, but you'll get home faster." His eyes plead with me, like I'd be doing him the favor.

I'm starting to think someone is playing a very big trick on me.

"Thanks, but my mom would kill me if I got on a motorcycle." I walk faster, and he moves his bike forward, keeping pace with me.

"Don't worry, she doesn't have to know. I can drop you off at the house next to yours."

The hair on the back of my neck stands alert. This boy has danger written all over him, and I don't think it's just the leather jacket and tight black jeans. All my parent's "stranger danger" warnings flood my brain. I tighten my grasp on my cell, ready to call for help if needed.

His interest in me isn't just a compliment; it's a bit scary, too.

"It's okay, really. I actually enjoy the rain. Might as well get my exercise in before winter hits." I smile, but my face feels tense. "See ya!"

Just as I think I'm going to escape, a shiny red Mustang pulls up. Before I even have time to process who's approaching, Ryder jumps out, glaring at Zane, and I wonder why he's so hostile. Zane leans back, looking more relaxed than he did a moment ago.

I almost scream when Ryder grabs my elbow, leading me to the passenger side of his car.

"What are you doing?" I demand through clenched teeth.

"Taking you home."

"I'm fine walking. Let go of me."

He stops, and puts both hands on my arms, forcing me to look up at him. The now drizzling rain drips down his forehead, slides off his nose and onto his lips. I watch every drop.

I can feel the other guy staring. I can also feel my body reacting positively to Ryder. Did I say Zane makes Ryder seem drab? I was wrong.

"Felicia, you were already sick today, there's no need to push yourself." He takes a deep breath. "Go ahead and call your mother to let her know I'm driving you home, if it makes you feel better. You can even give her my license plate number." His eyes sparkle a little when he says this, as if amused by some private joke.

I want to kick him in the shin, but I resist the urge. I glance at the groups of teens walking by us, wrapped up in their own drama and conversation, and decide I'm probably safer letting Ryder take me home since no one nearby would notice if something bad happened. I can't explain why, but my gut reaction is to trust Ryder over Zane, even though Zane's words about Ryder being a psycho are on autoplay in my head.

"Fine. But don't think you're going to get in the habit of telling me what to do."

Ryder opens the door for me, and hot guy number two takes off without a word, using his rear tire to shoot puddle water directly at Ryder. Somehow he manages to miss me, and I wonder if that was intentional or not.

We pull up in front of my house, and I'm grateful for the reprieve from the tense, silent ride. By now it's pouring, so I shout "Good bye" as I slam the car door and bolt toward my house. I don't know how, but Ryder is right behind me when I reach the porch.

"Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow." I open the door, expecting Ryder to take off. I did not invite him to come over. I want to get into dry clothes, do my homework, and finish my grant stuff. And sleep. I need a lot of sleep after today.

When I open the door, my lovely mother is standing in the entrance, wearing a party hat and blowing a noise maker, the kind usually reserved for drunken New Year celebrations and annoying kid parties. To my mortification, she's holding a homemade banner. It says, "Welcome to Womanhood."

Someone shoot me now. Please.

My body is on fire, and not in a good way. I close my eyes and breathe deep, wishing I could push past her and erase this entire day from my memory. And everyone else's memories, too.

To his credit, Ryder pretends he doesn't notice. He introduces himself to my mom, says he'll see me in school tomorrow, then leaves. I can't look at him, and I'll never be able to face him tomorrow in school. I've decided to run away and join a convent somewhere. Where they have no visiting hours.

I'll say I'm an orphan.

Mom pulls me out of my daydream by grabbing my hand and leading me to the kitchen. Standing around the table are my two aunts and my three female cousins. Aunt Sue is holding a cake.

My mother is the strangest creature on this planet. She feels the need to celebrate every excruciating detail of my life. This is one I would have preferred to skip over.

I plaster on a smile for their sake, though. Everyone is so enthusiastic, it kind of makes me want to rip my eyeballs out. But I figure the sooner I get it over with, the sooner I can retreat.

The doorbell rings, and my mom rushes to answer it. I stare blankly as Jade and Corey stroll in.

"I hope you don't mind, but I called your friends to join us. I know this is normally a celebration for women only, but we all know Corey is like one of the girls."

Mom laughs, but I see a glimmer of hurt in Corey's eyes before he recovers and smiles for me.

I need to figure out a way to stop this carefully planned life of mine from unraveling.

# 7

I didn't sleep at all last night. How could I, with anticipation about today's interview haunting me? I don't feel at all prepared, despite the hours I've spent with this project. Part of me is happy to get it over with, while another part of me needs a few more months to get ready.

I go over my mental checklist while I wash my hair in the shower. Mission Statement? Check. Advisor? I haven't heard back from Mr. Shaw, but I'll get to school early and check in with him before homeroom. I do have a back up, Mrs. Palsy, but she's a bit flaky and has a tendency to be somewhat controlling at times, so she's not my first choice. Agenda? Check. Website? Almost. Population Served? Check.

I take a deep breath and count backwards from fifty. This soothes my nerves a bit, but I still have raging, kamikaze butterflies in my belly. I guess they'll remain until after the interview, after the finalists are announced.

Please let me be one of the finalists!

I know it's kind of lame, but this organization means so much to me. The kids I've been mentoring are so full of zest, so spirited, so alive. They were dealt crappy cards from life's deck, but they are resilient. They have hopes and dreams, and need supportive people around them to let them know that anything is possible, that we have their backs.

With the grant, I could expand. Right now I mentor four kids from town, mostly by accident. If, ahem, _when_ I get the grant (I'm trying to use positive thinking), I can expand to include several more kids, and make the organization more than just a playgroup. I can bring other teens into our mentoring loop, giving the kids the opportunity to see what life could be like, and giving the volunteers the chance to be part of something bigger than what data plan they have.

The owner of The Shack is totally on board for letting us use his building for the organization. His son died when he was seventeen after a tragic football accident, so Sean has a special connection with us teens. He lets the kids spend a ton of time at The Shack, even though they can't afford to buy anything, but it would be better for his business if we could fix up the back storage room as a hangout. We'd be able to welcome more kids in, and have positive experiences for everyone.

I was abandoned, but I got lucky. Even though my parents aren't perfect, they love me and always have. These kids haven't been so lucky.

My mom calls up the stairs to me in her sing-song morning voice. I double-check myself in the mirror—this is the one day I am completely conscientious about my appearance.

Grabbing my bag, I skip down the stairs. The rest of the morning is a blur.

When the lunch bell rings, my stomach tightens. I am so not hungry. I feel like if I eat, I'm likely to vomit. Then again, if I don't eat, my blood sugar will be all wonky, so I wonder what's worse.

Why would they schedule appointments right after lunch?

I meet up with Jade and Corey outside the lunchroom. They are my little pep squad, trying to build my confidence and showing tremendous enthusiasm.

While Corey and Jade get their lunch, I grab a banana and a milk, along with a small package of saltines. Better than nothing, right?

We head to our table. As we walk by the group of "popular" (for no good reason, since as a group they are pretty jerky) kids, the group bursts into laughter. I tighten my grip on my mostly empty tray and try to keep walking.

"Hey, kid. Did you change her tampon for her, too?"

"Awkward." Corey mumbles under his breath. He keeps walking, his head down.

"Bet that's as close as you've ever come to a pussy, huh?"

"Oh come on, he's a computer nerd. I'm sure he has tons of porn on that hard drive of his."

"Yeah, but is it girl parts, or dick?"

How _dare_ they humiliate him like that? I don't care what they want to say about me, but Corey is the nicest person you would ever meet in your lifetime, and these morons should learn a thing or two from him.

Rage consumes me. My head fills with excruciating pain, like something is ripping through my scalp, successfully this time. Tears pour from my eyes, but I can only see red. I vaguely wonder if I'm leaking blood from my eyes, but I don't even care. I throw my tray in anger, the unopened milk carton bursting and splattering all over the expensive jeans of one of the girls I'm furious with. Corey and Jade each grab one of my arms, trying to pull me back, but I let out this god awful screech, and with strength I didn't know I possessed, I pull so hard I send my good friends sprawling.

I jump on the table, feeding off the frightened looks of the menaces before me. Nasty. Uncaring. Unfair. Bullies.

I want to rip their hair out. I want to torment them with my face. I want them to feel the fury. I want them to never treat another person the way they just treated Corey, the way they treat people on a daily basis. I want their reign in the court of high school to be over.

_I want their blood._

The room starts spinning. Faces blend together, until the only one I can see is Zane. He's standing nearby, leaning against the cafeteria wall. One hand is tucked casually in the pocket of his jeans, while his other hand holds a cup of coffee, which he sips casually. He has one eyebrow raised, looking at me with bemusement. He seems to be egging me on, encouraging me to dole out this punishment.

I shriek again, louder this time, right in the face of Jake Scott, the jerk who started this whole thing. I see him clearly, though he's taken on a red hue, like everything else. He closes his eyes and covers his ears, and I hope he's pissing his pants.

Just as my satisfaction builds, the world spins out of control. I can't see anyone any longer.

And then the world goes black. I'm drained.

# 8

Déjà vu.

When I open my eyes, I'm in the nurse's office. Again.

I look down to see if I've leaked, but no signs of period trauma appear.

"Felicia, thank God you're okay. I was so worried about you! You passed out when we were walking to our table. Luckily Ryder showed up right when you were falling. He caught you and brought you here." Jade pauses to take a breath. I rub my head. I passed out? "He's in the hall waiting. Want me to see if Mrs. Smith will let him come in?"

"No!" I object too quickly, but the last thing I need right now is Mr. Hot Stuff messing with my head. I have to figure out what happened, because what Jade's telling me isn't quite fitting with my recollection.

My hand goes to the top of my head, where something emerged from my head in the cafeteria. I know it sounds crazy, but when I was so angry, before passing out, I could hear hissing, feel writhing. On my head.

My hair feels normal.

"No worries, I have a brush. You got a little messed up in the fall and carrying sequence." Jade laughs, sounding kind of nervous.

"Do I have blood on my face?"

"No, silly. You didn't hit your face. You did spill some soda on you, maybe that's what you feel."

"Yeah, maybe." But I didn't have soda. I don't even drink soda.

I can't think of a reason why Jade would lie to me about any of this, and I can't think of an explanation as to how I would have snakes coming out of my head, so I chalk it all up to passing out and having a really weird dream.

"Jade, did anything strange happen before I passed out?"

She purses her lips and scrunches her forehead.

"Not really. I mean, you got really ticked at Jake and his crew for being mean to Corey. You started yelling at them, then zonked right out." She pauses. "I think you scared them. They aren't used to you being loud about anything."

Strong memories come back to me. Me pulling away from my friends, sending them sprawling. Jumping on the table. Screaming in the faces of Corey's tormentors. The memories feel so real. How could I have dreamed them?

Mrs. Smith comes in, yanking me from my reverie.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." She goes through a checklist of symptoms, none of which I have at the moment, so she gives me clearance to leave the nurse's office as soon as I'm feeling ready.

"I've already called your mom. She's concerned, especially since this is the second day you've lost consciousness. She'll schedule an appointment with a neurologist to be sure everything is okay. Most likely it's related to the onset of menstruation, but it's always a good idea to check these things out."

I _so_ don't have time for this.

"Wait, what time is it?" My heart races. Could I have missed my appointment?

"No worries, Felicia. You have plenty of time." Jade digs through her pocketbook, pulling out a hand mirror and her makeup. "Here, fix your eyes."

I make myself look presentable—barely—and tell myself I'm not going crazy.

As I'm rushing out the door, I bump into Corey in the entranceway. I smile at him, and he hands me a flower.

"For good luck, not that you'll need it."

I have nowhere to put the flower, so I stick it in my backpack, the cheerful head poking out. I kiss him on the cheek, grateful for his support.

He doesn't move. I'm seriously in a hurry and starting to get annoyed. He's not saying anything, just standing there, looking at me.

I clear my throat and look over his shoulder meaningfully, as in, "I have to go." But I don't want to be rude and say anything, so I wait.

He doesn't seem to get the hint.

"Corey, I'm gonna be late for my interview!" I snap.

I see the hurt flash in his eyes, but I'm too focused on getting to my interview to care all that much. He steps aside, wishes me good luck (in a much less cheerful manner), and then I stumble right into Ryder.

Heat tornadoes through my body. My legs weaken, and his warmth pulls me closer.

I look into Ryder's eyes, trying to determine his thoughts. Why he has come to be my savior, whether he seems to mind. I find no answers, just crystal-blue eyes that hypnotize me.

Behind me, I hear Corey clear his throat in perfect imitation of what I did to him.

"Leesh, your appointment, remember?"

My headache returns full force, and rage builds within me.

I turn around to face my best friend, who has his lips pursed and his arms crossed over his chest. A muscle ticks in his cheek.

"I know, Corey! I'm a big girl, okay?"

"Fine, just thought you were in a hurry." Corey glares at Ryder as he stalks off.

Ryder's deep voice rumbles into my ear. He speaks softly, and his breath sends shivers down my back. "Try to breathe deep. He's only looking out for you. Have mercy."

Have mercy? Who _says_ that?

I sigh. I can't believe I snapped at Corey that way. I _am_ in a rush, my appointment starts in less than ten minutes and it's all the way across the school, near the voc-tech wing. My mind ping-pongs, trying to make sense of everything. Corey didn't deserve that treatment, but there's nothing I can do about it right now, so I allow Ryder to walk me to the guidance office, where interviews are being held.

# 9

After checking in with the receptionist, I sit in the outer waiting room, flipping through my folder of information to be sure everything is in order.

My heart refuses to stop pounding, and my foot has developed the annoying habit of shaking relentlessly. I can't stop swallowing, although my mouth is getting dry.

Nerves, nerves, go away.

I leap up the second they call my name. I introduce myself to the committee, then take my seat among the three adults.

"Congratulations on making it to the interview stage, Ms. Murphy." The pretty lady in the business suit speaks directly to me, and her smile is warm and welcoming. "We were impressed with your ideas, particularly since you had already been implementing them before the grant was announced."

I feel myself blushing and look at the table, where I'm fiddling with the corner of my folder. I remember how important it is to project confidence, so I sit up straight in my chair and look her in the eye.

"Thank you for your kind words. I am honored and encouraged to have been chosen. I look forward to answering your questions today."

"Wonderful." She shuffles through some papers. "Can you please tell us a little about your goals for the group?"

"Absolutely. My goal is to build community for abandoned and troubled kids in our area, and to provide a safe place for them to spend their free time. I'd like to give them opportunities to feel part of a positive group, where they can participate in community service activities as a way to develop self-esteem and self-worth." I glance at all of the adults, whose expressions are inscrutable.

"I also want them to know they can overcome anything thrown their way. That they have the support of others who will accept them unconditionally."

"Can you give an example of what community service your group might perform?"

"Sure." I take a deep breath, then pull out a handout I had prepared. I pass three copies across the table. "As you can see, I have a list of activities planned. For example, the kids I am currently working with have asked to plant trees in the public common. We can also organize shelves at the food pantry, visit the nursing home, and we've even been talking about how to start a community vegetable garden. The owner of The Sugar Shack is willing to donate some land behind his building for the garden, if we can get the funding to create the garden."

"Impressive." The other adults nod in agreement.

The rest of the interview is a blur, but even though my hands are sweating and I can feel hives developing on my chest, I think I did all right.

"I think that's all we need for now, Ms. Murphy." She closes her folder and folds her hands in front of her, leaning forward on the table. She looks at the other adults, smiles, then looks back at me.

The adults ask me to step out into the waiting room for a few moments. I oblige, staring at the clock on the wall for what feels like an eternity, but in actuality is only three minutes (and twenty-six seconds, if you must know.)

When I'm seated at the conference table again, I wonder if they can hear my heart pounding.

"I want to be the first to tell you that you will be advancing to the final round. We admire the fact that you have already laid the groundwork for this organization, and are not motivated merely by the opportunity to use this project as credit for social studies."

I am speechless. And afraid that if I speak, I'll cry.

I manage a smile, which I hope they will read as "I'm psyched!"

"For the final round, we would like to observe you in the field, working with the kids. We'll be in touch to set up a time. Thank you for coming in."

I push my chair back, stand up, and lean forward to shake hands with the committee. "Thank you so much for this opportunity. I look forward to introducing you to the kids."

I'm walking on air through the halls, tuning out the banging lockers, the squeals of drama queens, and the shuffle of bodies. All that worrying about life unraveling was for nothing. Life couldn't be more perfect. I'm about to get everything I want. And why shouldn't I? I've worked hard.

I stop short, remembering how I treated Corey before my meeting. He's the one I always share things with first, the one who feels my joy as keenly as I do.

I start to text him, then hit "Cancel." Maybe I should let him have some time. Let him come to me when he's ready.

But is that the right strategy?

Honestly, I have no idea how to handle this. I've never, ever fought with Corey before.

# 10

"I still can't believe how freaking lucky you are." Jade kicks a pebble for emphasis. I look around to make sure no one else on the short cut is within hearing distance.

"What are you talking about?" But my stomach clenches because I know.

Jade bumps her shoulder into my arm, knocking me off balance for a moment.

"Don't play coy. You totally know what I'm talking about. Mr. Ryder Poo..."

"You're delusional."

"Ha, whatev. You don't think it's a little strange that he's always around?"

Well, yeah, I do find it strange, but so much is going on with me that I can't even explain to Jade. I guess the mini-flood of gorgeous guys only scratches the surface.

My thoughts immediately turn to Corey, who is conspicuously missing from our walk home.

"Do you know where Corey is?"

"Don't you dare change the subject. But no, I don't know. Guess he got caught up in his computer stuff."

Corey always walks home with us on Wednesdays. He's incredibly predictable.

I try to push Corey and his wounded look out of my head. I focus on the good that happened today—I'll deal with the other stuff when I have to. Or when I figure out how to.

"Hey, Felicia. As excited as I am about these guys, I wouldn't be doing my duty as best friend if I didn't warn you."

My stomach tightens. I stare at her, waiting for her to continue. She gazes at the ground, and I've never seen her look so unsure.

"I did some investigating, you know, because of what Zane said about Ryder."

"And? What did you find?"

"Absolutely nothing."

I exhale, unaware that I had been holding my breath.

"That's the problem, Felicia. I found nothing. No records, no Facebook, not even an old Myspace account. Absolutely nothing. That's kind of weird, don't you think?"

I bite my lip hard. Something isn't right.

"He seems okay. He's very protective."

"Yeah, and I hope he is. Just please, please, please try to avoid being alone with him until I can uncover something about him or his family."

"Ha. No plans to be alone with any stinky boy." I bump into Jade playfully, happy to shift the conversation away from Ryder, Zane and all of their insanity. "Speaking of which, have you heard from Cam yet?"

After getting the update about her flavor-of-the-week's rejection and what it says about his lack of taste, Jade and I say goodbye at the end of the shortcut, because she lives to the right and I have to go left.

I enjoy having the last few minutes to myself. Time to breathe and process the day's events.

When I get home, a flutter of excitement—then unexpected fury—hits me when I see a suspicious red convertible parked in my driveway.

Ryder.

Only he's not in the car. Which could only mean one thing...

I bound into the house, slamming my backpack onto the floor in the entranceway.

I can't even speak when I see my _mother_ sitting at the table with him.

He looks up at me and smiles. He lifts his coffee mug and sips from it, peering at me through long lashes as he drinks. I notice the book on the table between Ryder and my mother.

Oh no, she wouldn't.

Oh yes, she did!

"What are you doing with my yearbook?" I grab it away, snapping the hardbound cover closed.

My mom pulls back like I slapped her in the face. Good, she deserves punishment. What kind of mother would mortify her only child this way? I had _braces_ for crying out loud! Why would she be letting Ryder see this?

And what is he doing in my _house?_

"I was just letting your friend here get acquainted with the high school staff and some of the students, since he's new and all." She pushes away from the table, reaching for me. "Sweet pea, are you okay?"

I back away toward the doorway, clutching the yearbook to my chest. So many questions race through my head. Why is Ryder here? Why this sudden interest in me? Why is my mom so buddy-buddy with him?

I glare at Ryder.

"I told you I'm busy. Can't you listen?"

My mom gasps. Rudeness is about as acceptable as animal sacrifice in her mind.

"Don't be mad, sweet pea. He came looking for you, and I invited him in to wait. Figured you wouldn't be long."

"I would have given you a lift, but I didn't see you walking home." Ryder continues to sit, relaxed as a cat in a sunny window.

"I took the short cut home. Not that it's any of your business."

My mom wrings her hands, clearly uncertain how to handle my behavior. I don't even care about the consequences of my hostility—I just want my life back to normal. Predictable and mundane. Just the way I like it.

I make the mistake of glancing at my mom, who looks completely horrified. I start to feel bad for putting her in this situation. I suppose it wouldn't hurt me to be polite.

"I'm sorry you came here for nothing, Ryder, but I must excuse myself. I have lots of work to do." Sweetness drips from my voice.

I turn to go, and am stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I whip around, raising an eyebrow at my mom.

"Oh, hon. Ryder offered to bring your schoolwork home for you tomorrow. I was able to get you an emergency appointment with a neurologist—friend of your dad's from college. We have to leave early and testing may take a few hours, so you'll have the day off from school."

Is this supposed to make me happy? Does she even know me?

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm fine. I don't need a neuro. I'll be at school." This last part I direct toward Ryder.

"It's best to have you checked out, make sure you're okay. I insist."

I sigh and saunter off to my room. My mom gasps again, but I have a really hard time caring.

I throw my miserable self on my bed, listening intently for signs of Ryder leaving. I take out my notebook and start jotting down ideas for ways to showcase my group of kids. I'm on idea number five when Mom knocks softly on my door, then opens it without waiting for permission.

I don't look up. Just wait for her to speak.

"Felicia?"

"What?" I snap.

I can feel her withdrawing from me. She doesn't even step into the room. I need space from her and everyone else who is trying to suffocate me with their needs. I have things to get done, and can't deal with their emotions just now.

"Felicia, are you still going to tell me you're not bothered by the separation between your father and me?" She pauses, and I answer her with a glare. "Sure seems like something is going on with you. You've never snapped at me, let alone been rude to anyone."

"Yeah, well, things change, Mother."

Silence has a strange humming kind of sound. The tension in my room is so thick, I can barely breathe. I know I need to rein in my attitude, but something inside me is driving me to be... mean. And it kinda sorta feels good, so even though there's a part of me screaming for good behavior, there's another part reveling in this negativity.

That horrible pain returns to my head, and my scalp begins to itch. I feel my body temperature rise, and I know I'm about to lose my temper. My mom starts to walk into my room. I can't have her see me this way.

As the pain intensifies, I grab my head, desperate to make the feeling go away. My mother's voice drifts in and out, but I have no clue what she's saying.

I feel her getting closer, reaching out to comfort me. I also feel something sprouting from my head. I tighten my grip on my head and scream, "Get out!" My mom rushes toward the door. I sense her disappointment, can hear her sobs amplified through my throbbing head.

Three drops of blood land on my notebook. The pain recedes, and I feel normal again.

# 11

I have to make amends to my mom, but need to be sure I've got my act together first. I've never heard her cry before. Well, she cries during those sappy love stories or family dramas on TV, and maybe even the occasional sad song, but I never even heard her cry when Dad left. I have definitely never been the source of her sad tears.

I decide to veg out in front of my computer for a few. Something mindless before I apologize.

No new emails. Nothing eventful in the school news.

And then I check Facebook.

Jenny Jones's post is first on my news feed.

"OMG. So excited! Going to be a big sister! I wonder if it will be a boy or a girl? Let the betting begin!"

If someone thrust a knife into my back, it wouldn't hurt as much. If a plastic bag was tightened over my head, I'd be able to breathe easier.

If Jenny's mom is pregnant, there's a very good chance that my dad is the father.

I rip the keyboard away from the computer, throwing it across the room. Picture frames from my bureau tumble to the floor, leaving shards of glass littering the hard wood.

_How dare he do this to my mother?_

Does she know?

And if he's having a baby, his first biological child, where does this leave me?

# 12

My alarm clock screams at me, signaling the start of a new day. I groan when I remember my mother intends to drag me off to have my head examined.

The car ride with my mom is awkward. I keep choking on the words I know I need to say. She's trying to act like nothing's wrong, but I can't play along.

"Mom..." My voice trails off as my courage flees. Does she even know about dad and his girlfriend getting pregnant? Did he have the decency to tell her before little miss know-it-all?

I feel the stinging in my head, and try to think of something else. I play with the radio, hoping to tune into something that will subdue my snakes and ire.

"Did you want to say something, sweet pea?" Mom glances at me from the driver's seat. I turn up the radio.

"Guess not," she mumbles, but I pick up on the defeated tone.

The neurology appointment goes well—I get a clean bill of health. The neurologist, a tall, skinny guy with the whitest hair I've ever seen, tells my mom that I'm "A-Okay," and that there's no physical reason that he can see for my sudden personality change. He even says he likes my personality, so maybe she should keep me.

I kinda like the guy, until he mentions that my increased agitation and irritability may be due to hormone overload, late bloom, or something psychiatric, and maybe I should see a shrink or something.

Bye-bye approval rating! Is there someplace online to rate doctors? Give scathing reviews?

I slink out of the office, mortified at his insinuation. I've already suspected that maybe I'm going crazy, but hearing it from this cheerful old guy with the singing fish on his office wall makes my fingers curl into my palms.

I sit in the backseat of the car, needing space away from my mother.

She doesn't say much but positions her rearview mirror so she can look at me while driving.

When she turns off the radio, I know I'm in for another lecture.

"Felicia." I develop a sudden interest in my cuticles. "Felicia, this is serious. We need to talk. And since you're trapped in my car, we are going to have this conversation."

Out of nowhere, an image of Ryder fills my mind. His long legs, his sleek, muscular build. His wide shoulders, capable of lifting me with no effort. His luscious, kissable lips.

His annoying habit of appearing everywhere, even in my imagination...

Damn it!

Will my mind go to any dark place to avoid listening to my mother? Yikes.

Mom rattles on about my father, the separation, the obligatory "It's not your fault" talk, my behavior, my need to be responsible for my actions, blah, blah, blah. I hear what she's saying, but none of it really registers. I mean, yeah, many teens have lived through their parents' breaking up, but how many have had snakes move into their hair follicles? How many teens get to experience the oh-so-lovely joy of having blood drip from their eyes when angry?

I know many people have issues with rage, but how many have this driving need to avenge any wrong doing? How many attack their classmates in the cafeteria, then black out?

The words are nearly out of my mouth when my mom pulls up in front of my school. I realize more than an hour has passed since we left the doctor's office, and I haven't heard her voice droning at all for over half the trip. I guess she gave up on trying to get through to me.

"You only have another two hours left of school, but you were pretty clear about not wanting to miss any full days, so go ahead."

I smile at this unexpected little gift.

"Oh, crap. I don't have my backpack."

"If you'd rather come home..."

"No, I'm good." I jump out and slam the door before she changes her mind about letting me stay.

I acclimate myself to the mid-day schedule within minutes, and rush off to English class as soon as the bell rings. I do my best to focus on the class discussion about _The Odyssey_ , but I'm having trouble focusing. Partly because I can feel Jenny Jones staring at me, even though she's about three seats diagonally behind me. My luck that she's in so many of my classes. I don't know how she qualified for Honors.

The bell doesn't ring soon enough, but when it does I bolt for the door, in no mood to have her goad me. I'm sure she's wondering if I saw her Facebook status, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of a response.

Rushing out the door, I startle when I bump into Zane. I know it's Zane without even looking because his crisp scent stands out from all the over-cologned guys walking around the high school. Besides, I don't know anyone else who can make my blood rush like Zane does, even before he speaks. (I'm ignoring the fact that Ryder makes my insides do flip flops. He doesn't deserve my attention.)

Zane doesn't say a word, just drags me by the arm toward an alcove near the stairs. I say "drag," but believe me, I am not kicking and screaming trying to get away, even though he makes me feel a little unbalanced. I appreciate the distraction from Jenny and her shiny, gloating face.

He pulls me close to him, trying to squeeze us both into the small, slightly darkened space.

"That was quite impressive the way you went after that dude in the cafeteria yesterday." I look up at him, captivated by his cloudy green eyes and his long lashes that cast shadows on his high cheekbones. "Too bad your boyfriend held you back. You really could have taught that kid a lesson."

"He's not my boyfriend." I'm familiar enough with the sensation to know I'm reddening from my face all the way down my chest. Why that was the only thing I thought to respond to, I have no idea.

"Well in that case..." Zane leans down, touching his forehead to mine. Time stops, and I suddenly don't care that the bell is about to ring and I haven't even made it to my locker yet. A year's worth of detention would be worth this one moment with Zane, breathing his spearmint-scented breath. I know for sure I'm going to wake up soon from this ridiculous dream and go back to being ignored or ridiculed by all the guys in school, so I might as well revel in his attention.

His muscle tightens under my hand as I rest it on his bicep. I've never kissed anyone before, other than a little peck with Corey two years ago. There were definitely no sparks or fireworks with that kiss, but I sense something will explode if Zane's lips touch mine.

The bell rings, and I startle, then reality hits hard when I'm suddenly spun around and facing Ryder.

Wha-aat? When did he enter this dream sequence?

Ryder does not look happy to be starring in this dream. He clenches his jaw, and his normally crystal-blue eyes are a dark and cloudy gray.

He pulls me away, walking so fast I'm having a hard time keeping up. I try to look over my shoulder to see where Zane disappeared to, but I get dizzy when I look back. I realize too late that Ryder has delivered me to my next class, and I really needed to go to my locker before my last class. English I can cruise through notebook-less, but physics, not so much.

"I'll meet you here at the end of class." Then he's gone. What happened to the pleasant demeanor he had when I first met him? Now he acts like an overprotective boyfriend.

Why is he so darned interested in my whereabouts and my whoabouts?

"Ryder, hold up!" He doesn't even slow down.

I start to chase after him, then realize the hall is emptying and the latest of the late are piling into their classes. I hate entering class late. And Mr. O'Connor is a hard ass.

I sigh to myself, heading to my seat as unobtrusively as possible. I will have it out with Ryder the very next time I see him.

# 13

Mr. O'Connor's blathering gives me the perfect background for daydreaming.

Mmm, Zane, with his bad boy looks and his charming smile. Ahhh, Ryder, with his warmth and concern, and those incredible biceps. No, back to Zane, his lips begging to be kissed. But Ryder...

"Ms. Murphy. Can you answer this question for us?"

Normally I wouldn't mind answering the question, but how am I supposed to know anything besides the contour of Zane's shoulders?

All eyes are on me, and panic rises in my chest.

"Intensity of sound at a point is inversely proportional to the square of its distance from the source."

I whip around to stare at my savior. Sure enough, Zane is in my row, all the way in the back of the room. How is it possible I missed him entering the class?

A lock of hair falls over one eye, but that doesn't lessen the heat of his gaze. I mouth "thank you" before turning back and sinking into my seat.

"Thank you, Mr. Masters. You are correct." Mr. O'Connell turns to the board, completes his equation, then asks us if we have any questions.

I stare at the clock, wishing I could escape a few minutes early so I could avoid Ryder at the end of the period, but I don't dare after coming to class late and being unable to answer a simple question.

The instant the bell rings, I'm out of my seat and rushing down the hallway. Somehow I've managed to evade Ryder.

I push my luck and skip right out of school;, since my backpack is already home, I have no need to go to my locker. Jade has a newspaper meeting after school today, and Corey still isn't speaking to me, so I am on my own for the walk.

Sometimes it's nice to walk home alone, especially taking the shortcut. I enjoy strolling through the wooded area where I can listen to the birds and see the occasional squirrel scurrying about. Few people go this way, so it makes a pretty peaceful excursion.

The patter of sneakers on the pavement interrupts my thoughts. The teeny, tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I know without looking that Zane is approaching. My mouth goes dry. What is with these guys?

"Hey, you bolted pretty fast. What's the hurry?"

I manage a smile as I pull my hands into the sleeves of my hoodie. I'm suddenly chilly.

"No major hurry, I just have a ton of stuff to do."

"Oh, like figure out a way to keep your secret hidden?"

I stop short, and he steps around me, facing me.

"Why are you walking, anyway? What happened to your bike?"

"You said you didn't want to ride the bike."

"What's that have to do with you riding it?" My voice shakes a little.

"You know." He says this so matter-of-factly, I almost think I do. But I don't. He confuses me.

Zane steps closer, too close for comfort.

I take a step back, and he reaches into his pocket for his cell. He flips it open, then almost knocks me over with the picture he shows me.

"Check this out. It's about the sexiest, most powerful thing I've ever seen."

I feel the blood drain from my face. I can't even feel my extremities. My heart races, and I feel faint.

This can't be...

"Aren't you gorgeous in this state? Ahh, the Fury. You're unique, you know."

I need to get home. My feet stumble a bit, but they do the job of carrying me closer to sanity, one step at a time.

"Felicia, tell me this. Do you ever wonder about your mom? I don't mean the one you live with, but your _real mom?_ "

I stop short. Who the heck is he to say my mom is not real? My mother raised me from infancy, giving me every ounce of love she has, and then some. There is no mother more real and genuine than mine, no matter how strange she can be.

"You're lucky I'm not the slapping type." Venom drips from my tongue. I'm so angry at his insinuation, at his agenda. I'm frightened he has a picture of me in the cafeteria with snakes coming out of my head. Who else knows?

"No one knows, Felicia. But look how beautiful you are. Look closely."

I look, but I don't see beauty. All I see is a freak.

With a flick of a finger, he shows me another picture. A picture of a grown woman, dressed in an airy white gown. Her hair is flaming red, her eyes welcoming. She is gorgeous.

"Isn't she beautiful? Now check this out."

Another picture. One that further restricts my ability to breathe. A woman who looks similar to the first one, but with giant snakes (ones that make mine look like worms) writhing around her head. Bright eyes full of blood cut through the image, straight to mine. Something about this woman remains quite lovely, in spite of the nastiness of the snakes and blood. Her anger speaks to me. I can't explain it, but I feel it.

I reach out to touch the picture on his cell, then step back.

"You have issues, you know that?" I retreat from all of it—from Zane and his insane notions, from this picture that was obviously Photoshopped, from the idea that this guy who suddenly entered my life somehow knows something about me that no one else knows.

Zane runs a step ahead and turns to face me, blocking my path. My scalp itches.

"Listen. I know this is a shock. But you have to hear me out."

"I don't _have_ to do anything." I'm almost at the end of the path. I try to step around him. He is too fast, too big. Too overwhelming.

I bite back tears. I'd like a side of normal, please!

"I know your mother, Felicia. Your _real_ mother. And she wants you back. She sent me here to get you."

I snort.

"Mmhmm, I bet." I tilt my head to study his face, memorizing what insanity looks like up close. The good-looking guys always have these incredible flaws.

"I showed you the proof. You can't argue with what you saw."

"Yeah, I'm not technologically stupid. I know all about Photoshop. Now please be so kind as to move out of my way so I can get home. My _mom_ is expecting me."

"Your mom wants you back. Please just come with me for a few hours. You can meet her and decide if you want to get to know her or not."

A knot in my stomach moves up and lodges in my throat. Isn't this every adopted girl's dream, to be reunited with the woman who gave birth to her? I could have so many questions answered. Not that I'd want anything more to do with her after the Q and A period.

"Why now?" The lump near my vocal cords doesn't allow me to say much. I look into Zane's intense and crazy eyes, trying to read the truth in the depths.

"Let's just say your mother has had some regrets. Now that your Fury has emerged, she'd do anything to get you back."

"You make no sense."

"Anything, Felicia. She'd do _anything._ "

"Whatever. I have to get home."

I begin to walk again, the image of the snake lady burning my mind, tarnishing my well being. There isn't enough air in the atmosphere to help me breathe.

Zane isn't about to let me go easily. He has that frantic energy of a man on a mission, and I'm his target. I wonder what he has to gain from all of this.

Zane grabs my arm, spinning me toward him. I glare at his big hand on my arm, annoyed he is trying to dominate me.

"At least consider the possibility. I'll text you the pictures so you can process all of this."

He hits a button, and I hear my cell ding with the "new message" alert. I start to wonder how he got my number, then stop taxing my brain, since I have bigger concerns.

I start to walk faster, and though he keeps pace, Zane doesn't try to block my path again. The silence between us is heavy, and I can't wait to escape. And shower. I need to wash this day away.

We emerge from the path onto the busier, more populated Maple Street. Cars whiz by, going much too fast for a residential road. Just as I turn to head toward my house, a familiar car zips by, slams on the breaks, and pulls a U-turn, heading back toward me. Ryder.

Just what I need.

# 14

Before Ryder can even get his car door open, Zane pulls me close to him in some sort of psychotic embrace. I know the physicality has more to do with Ryder than with me, but my body reacts even though my brain is screaming "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

"Ahh, your bodyguard has found you."

"He's not my—"

Zane interrupts my defense by pulling me closer to him. Every bit of him touches my body, invading my senses.

I hear Ryder's door slam shut, sense him running toward us, even though I can't see him. Zane leans his head down to me, and I know he's about to kiss me.

I pull away.

"Hands off, Zane." Ryder's deep voice drowns out all the traffic sounds, despite the low volume. His tone holds warning, strong and lethal.

"Not putting my hands anywhere she doesn't want them." Zane slides his fingers down my arm, grabs my hand, lets my hand fall to my side. Slow and deliberate. He makes it clear that he's the cat, and I'm the mouse.

I blush deeply at his comment. Was he right? Do I want him to touch me?

Ryder practically growls.

Zane walks backward in the opposite direction of my house.

"Hey, let me know if you have any questions, babe. I'll be waiting to hear from you." Then he vanishes around a bend.

Ryder grabs my elbow—roughly, like the alpha jerk he tries to be—and pulls me toward his car.

"Do you mind?"

"From now on, I'll drive you home after school. I'll pick you up in the student parking lot."

What?!?!

Who does he think he is?

"Actually, Ryder, I've been walking home like a big girl since third grade. Thanks for the offer, but I'm all set." I pull my elbow away from him and stomp away from his car, from him, from the craziness. Homeward bound.

"Felicia, wait. You don't understand." He pauses. I keep walking. "Zane is dangerous."

I flip around, my temper triggered.

"Oh, and you aren't? You show up here out of the blue, then you integrate yourself into my life, my dreams, my everything!" I cover my mouth with a gasp, shocked at what I revealed in my tirade.

He smiles. Slow, deliberate. One eyebrow arched, a hint of a dimple showing in his cheek.

And stupid me is drawn to him like a flea to a dog.

I turn and speed-walk toward home before I do anything else I'll regret. This day has been too long already, and all I want to do is curl up in my jammies and take a nap before working on my grant project again.

Apparently Ryder has no problem leaving his car on the side of the road unattended. He keeps pace with me without even a hint of heavy breathing.

I rush up my front steps.

"Felicia, can I take you out tonight?"

Stupefied, I turn to him, keeping my hand on the keys in the door. He has one foot on the bottom step, his arm draped lazily over the rail. He looks up at me through thick eyelashes, bright eyed and eager, and for a minute I want to believe that he is some normal guy asking me on a date. But I'm starting to realize that something odd is happening in my life, and I'm just part of an agenda. I have yet to figure out what Ryder's agenda is, but I need to keep my distance before I fall.

"I really don't think so."

A text from Jade pops up as I push through my front door.

"Mall 2nite?"

Saved by the text.

"I have plans."

I slam the door behind me, leaving Ryder on the front step.

# 15

After scarfing down a quick dinner with Mom, I gather my things and wait for Jade to pick me up. Technically her mom will be with her, since she just got her permit, but Jade will be in the driver's seat, which is the coolest thing ever. I'm so jealous that she's six months older than me.

The horn beeps exactly five minutes after six, so I grab my purse and head for the door.

"Felicia, sweet pea."

I pause in the door, signaling my impatience with the classic eyebrow raise.

"Yes, Mother dearest?"

Crap, she looks serious.

"You know I hate to ask this, but you're not using drugs, are you? You can be honest with me."

I roll my eyes and head out the door. "Yeah, totally, Mom. We're going to shoot up now!"

The screen door bangs behind me, and I hop in the backseat of Jade's mom's car, ready for a fun night out. Desperate to do something normal.

When we finally get to the mall (Jade's mom makes her drive painfully slow), Jade and I head straight to the food court for a strawberry lemonade. This has been a tradition since we became mall rats at age eight.

Sipping through the big straw, I almost choke when I see who is walking towards us.

"Corey!" I thrust my cup at Jade, then run to Corey, throwing my arms around his neck. I've never been happier to see my best bud.

He hugs me back, then takes a small step away and clears his throat. He doesn't quite look me in the eyes. Guess all is not forgotten.

"Hey, I'm really sorry for being such a jerk. I don't know what came over me, but you totally don't deserve it."

He looks at me with warmth in his lovely brown eyes, and I know I've been forgiven.

"Yeah, I might as well get used to it. You know, they warn us about how evil you girls turn when you get the curse."

I slap his arm and he laughs, and everything is back to normal.

Walking aimlessly through the mall and catching up with my friends makes me feel so... ordinary. I can almost forget the crazy stuff that's been happening lately. I push thoughts of Zane and Ryder and snakes and vengeance and mothers out of my head and focus on the story Jade is going on and on about.

I swear I'm focusing completely on Jade, but without warning I hear a loud, piercing cry, and a low, rumbling, mean voice. I whip around, my head itching, my ears tuned in to find the source of these sounds. I tune out the songs of the merry-go-round in the middle of the food court, the mish-mash of all the socializing shoppers, the ringing of the registers, the hum of the ventilation system. For reasons I don't understand, I need to find the child who cried out.

Then I see.

I stomp away from Jade and Corey toward the most beautiful little girl, maybe four years old, her blonde curls sticking to her tear-streaked face. The man standing over her is yelling at her about a spilled soda that is dripping on the floor.

The man lifts the soaked napkin to her face, and she cowers away. I quicken my pace, ire consuming me at his treatment of this little girl. What gives him the right to treat his daughter so disrespectfully? Nobody deserves such humiliation.

I'm only feet away when the man lifts his hand. His smack echoes through the food court, bouncing off the high ceilings and hitting me straight in the gut. The girl grabs her reddening cheek and cries out. A small drop of blood forms on her quivering lip.

I go ballistic.

My snakes erupt full force. I allow them to grow bigger than before, proud of the fear on the man's face as I invade his personal bubble. Blood fills my eyes and runs down my cheeks, landing in my mouth. I taste the coppery saltiness, but my true focus is on this "man." I need to torment him as he has tormented his daughter. To fill him with the fear and dread he's cast onto this young girl.

His eyes widen, his mouth drops open, and I am on fire. I leap onto the table in front of him, pushing my face into his. He can't look away, can't get away. He is cemented to the spot. I want to hurt him, but something in me doesn't allow me to inflict pain, only torment.

I revel in his fear. I feed off it like a vampire consumes blood. A lesson must be taught, and I am the teacher. I'm all-powerful. No one can stop me. This is where I belong.

A hand grips my arm and drags me off the table.

"Take a deep breath, Felicia. You must."

Ryder. Of course. Because why wouldn't he be here? And why wouldn't he want to ruin my fun?

I'm suddenly aware of all the eyes looking at me, of the distinct lack of human sounds in the room. All is silent.

My snakes recede on their own, and blood rushes out of my head. Ryder holds me close to him, keeping me upright. I notice a skinny man standing behind Ryder, his hand on a night-stick type thing that hangs from his belt. He speaks into a walkie talkie clipped near his shoulder, alerting someone that I'd be taken to the security office.

I've never been in trouble before. What a way to start.

# 16

The wooden chair bites into my thighs as I bounce them up and down. I chew my fingernail until I reach skin. Ryder sits beside me, calm as a summer day.

The security guard called my mom instead of the police, but one look at her face and I'm wishing they had called in the big guns, instead.

"Thank you for coming in, ma'am. Your daughter here is getting herself into a quagmire of trouble."

"Thank you for calling me. I'm so sorry for what happened. I don't know what got into her, confronting that man like that." She turns to me. "Felicia Marie, what in God's name has gotten into you? You can't go around threatening people like that."

My mind swirls around her words. Threatening? I didn't exactly threaten—not with words, anyway.

Why is there no mention of the snakes? The blood? The high pitched screeches?

Ryder grabs my hand and rubs it, soothing my worries.

I retreat into my own private world while my mom explains to the guard that this is all very unusual for me, that I've been seeing a neurologist for acting so out of character, blah, blah, blah.

In my private world, there is no neurologist, only a big, strong hand cradling my smaller one. Dark skin contrasting with my pale whiteness. Warm calmness, no whirly-swirly thoughts, no extreme emotions. Comfort.

Mention of the "T" word pulls me back.

"Yes, I promise I'll bring her to a therapist. Just please don't press charges."

"We'll drop it for now. Be sure to get her checked out. You know, my nephew had a seizure disorder and started acting all crazy. You might want to have her checked out for that."

Mom thanks the rent-a-cop and walks to the door. I follow her, and it's not until I get to the car that I realize I'm still gripping Ryder's hand.

# 17

I fumble in the dark to open my laptop. Can't use my desktop until I get a new keyboard, and I don't feel like getting up, anyway. I tried sleeping, but with too many thoughts rushing through my head, I'm unable to settle in.

A quick Google search for "snakes coming out of head" doesn't return any helpful results. A few tattoo sites, some movie link I don't dare to click on, some Medusa sites, and dream interpretation.

"Fury." I type the word into the search bar and hold my breath.

I click through a few pages, and find the definition. Mythological goddesses of vengeance with snake hair. Lovely.

Not much description. But then I come to a website called "Sisters of the Lost Fury." I click to the "About" page.

_Though some consider the story of the lost Fury to be a legend, we at Sisters of the Lost Fury hold the belief that the lost Fury will one day be found, possibly among us. We believe She lives, and will return to help restore power to women everywhere._

Okay...

Then I click to their "Truth of the Lost Fury" link.

_When one of the Fury goddesses consorted with the god of Mercy, she became impregnated. Angered at what the fetus was doing to her body, and furious that she would be used in the typical breeding fashion, Megaera tried to abort the fetus. Mercy intervened, imprisoning her in an impenetrable cell. When the baby was born, Mercy was away on a mission, as he didn't expect the birth for several more weeks. Megaera was enraged that the sweet baby resembled her father so much and had no signs of a Fury. In a fit of rage, she tossed the baby from the Heavens, leaving her to a sure death._

_When Mercy returned, Megaera was missing. It is thought that a member of Mercy's kingdom was seduced into betrayal. A member of the Mercy community told Mercy of how Megaera tossed the baby, and though Mercy searched and searched, he was never able to locate the child._

_It was believed that no baby would have been capable of surviving such a fall, even the offspring of a goddess and a god._

_Mercy declared war against the Furies, resulting in a binding of their powers and virtual imprisonment in their own realms._

_The Sisters turned on Megaera, as they rightfully blamed her for what they deemed unjust punishment._

_But some people believe the infant survived, and that She will come into her Fury during her first menstrual period._

I read through the passage numerous times until I have it memorized. A baby thrown from the heavens? Will come into her Fury when she gets her first period?

Could this random site, buried on page eleven of a Google search, be telling the truth? Their depictions of a Fury don't match the photos Zane showed me, but they had the basics.

I slam the laptop cover down and toss it to the side of my bed. I bury my head under the blankets, wishing I'd wake in the morning and find out this was all a nightmare.

# 18

My mind refuses to focus on the teacher's lecture. I only get to stay in school until after lunch, anyway, since my mother was able to get me into an urgent-care psychiatric clinic today. I have so much to do—pass my classes, prepare for my working interview for the grant, finish the website. I have absolutely no time for a mental health crisis. I certainly have no time to go all mythological.

I hide my cell under my thigh to muffle the "incoming text" vibration. I absolutely do not need to have my phone confiscated. When I'm sure the teacher isn't paying attention, I sneak a peek at the text. A tingle runs through my belly when I see it's from Zane. He's been texting me all day, trying to get me to meet up with him after class.

Rather than responding, I've been liberally using the "delete" button.

He's more trouble than I need today.

Just before lunch I head to the assembly hall for some presentation on disability tolerance. They have a guy in a wheelchair come to our school every year to tell us that everyone can succeed if they put their mind to it. He should know—he is a wildly successful basketball player.

I review the newest text from Zane, then scroll up to see the picture I couldn't bring myself to delete.

The Snake Lady.

How could I have come from someone, something, like that?

I search her intense, bloody eyes. Was the website correct? Did she try to abort me, then throw me out of the sky? And if not, if that website is the product of someone's crazily coincidental imagination, then what made her abandon me? What was it about me she didn't like?

My mind races with excuses. Maybe she was poor and wanted a better life for me. Or she didn't get along with my father, and couldn't stand the thought of having a living memory haunt her every day. Or maybe I was kidnapped, and she searched for me every day and finally located me.

Or she just didn't love me.

Hot breath hits my neck as Corey slides into the seat next to me. Can't even have a moment of peace with my thoughts.

"I'll just take this seat next to the most beautiful girl in the room." His peanut butter scented words pierce through my senses. Irritation oozes from every one of my pores. I can't handle any more demands today.

"Give me some space, Corey, will you? Geez!"

I sense him tensing up, and feel the air shift as he moves away from me. I know every move Corey makes, know him better than he knows himself half the time. And I know with every nerve in my body that he is hurt by my insensitive snapping. Not only hurt, but angry.

I make the mistake of looking at my best friend, and the disappointment I see brings tears to my eyes.

He grabs his backpack from the floor, ignoring the people grousing behind us.

"You want space? Fine. I'll give you plenty."

Guilt and shame wash through me, but anger quickly replaces both. Don't I have the right to demand some time and space alone? Between Zane and Ryder, I haven't had two seconds of brain space to myself. And I have a lot to figure out.

Corey has always understood me without explanation.

The snakes stir in my head, and I'm worried they'll emerge full force, here in the middle of the auditorium. But one thought of Corey's hurt face, and the snakes fall limply inside my hair follicles.

What is wrong with me? I guess I should be asking what _isn't_ wrong with me...

Tears threaten to spill as I scribble on the cover of my notebook, my hair acting as a curtain to hide my misery from the crowd.

I smell Zane before I even feel him beside me. I sit up straighter, prepared for another battle. Hoping I can stand my ground against him.

He leans close to me, his legs spread in front of him, his knee scorching mine. I move my legs to the side, desperate to avoid physical contact.

"Look, if you need to get away, come with me. Your mom would love to see you, and I'll be happy to bring you to her."

"My mom sees me every day. And I don't need you to bring me to her."

"I know, I know. You are connected to your other mom. But don't you wonder about the mom who gave you life?"

"She gave birth, not life. My mom is the one who has given me a life. She didn't abandon me like an unwanted puppy."

Zane pulls back slightly, and I feel like I put a dent in his argument. Not a huge dent, but something in what I said shook his overblown confidence.

"Meet me later. I'd love to see you let your Fury fly." He leans closer, his whisper burning my ear. "You deserve it."

I pull away, though my movements are limited in the confines of the lecture hall chair.

"And I swear, you are never more beautiful." He grabs my hand, pulling it to his lips. I try to pull away, but his grip is strong. "I'm not like your body guard. I won't block people's memory of your Fury. I won't let people believe you're crazy. I'd embrace that Fury like you wouldn't believe." His voice gets huskier on that last sentence, and I feel something intimate pass between us.

My lungs burn with the need for air. My throat closes up, and I wonder if I've developed asthma. My mind races so fast, I can't hitch on to a single thought.

I need to get away.

When my hazy vision focuses on Ryder approaching, I know I must run. I can't fathom the thought of his presence at this moment.

My pen drops to the floor as I leap out of my seat. I clutch my notebook to my chest, then struggle to pull my backpack off the floor. The person in the seat in front of me swears at me when my backpack hits him in the head, so I mumble an apology and bolt for the door. I head the opposite direction of Ryder, and pick up speed as he strolls toward me.

The door slams behind me as the principal introduces our guest speaker. I feel bad for my hasty departure, but breathing is becoming more and more difficult, and my head tingles more than usual. My body temperature is rising, nearly boiling. I consider heading to the nurse, but duck into the bathroom instead.

At least I'll be safe in the girls' bathroom.

Thankfully, the bathroom is empty, because when I glance in the mirror after splashing my face with cold water, I notice the emergence of the snakes.

And I can't will them back down.

# 19

Panic would be an understatement. I try to push them in. I try to pull them out. (Ouch!) I even consider cutting them off, but I have nothing sharper than a pencil.

The more I think about the snakes, the more I see them, the bigger they grow. And the more trouble I am going to be in.

Mom texts me to let me know she's out front, and she'll meet me at the office to sign me out. She's early.

How can I leave? The snakes are getting bigger and thicker, stretching my hair follicles to the point of torture. My head pounds, my skin is getting paler in some spots, redder in others, and I can't traipse through the halls looking like a freak.

I lean closer to the mirror to study the insanity sprouting from my head. Their colors are not uniform, ranging from gentle purples to raging reds. Some of them are bland browns and blacks. Some are shiny and almost sparkly, reminding me of _Rainbow Fish_ , one of my favorite children's books. The snakes all have beady eyes, but they look at me as if we're old friends. Tiny forked tongues lick the air, gathering information I don't want them to have.

How is this happening?

I ignore my mom's second text, and lock myself in the stall to text Jade.

What can I say? How can I possibly expect Jade to help me out of this?

I cancel the text and think of getting Corey. But considering our fragile-as-of-late relationship just took a turn for the worse thanks to my hormotional snappiness, that option is off the table.

My chest strains from lack of air. Zane is my only solution, since he's the only one who knows about the snakes.

I'm stuck with an impossible choice. Trust Zane to help me, or be shipped off to a medical lab for testing. At this point, I'm not sure which would be worse.

I send a text to Zane, begging him to tell me how to return to normal. His return text is almost instant. "Don't rein it in. Let Nature take her course." I throw the phone to the floor in frustration.

No freaking way.

I sink my head into my hands, frustration driving me closer and closer to insanity. The snakes make a sizzling sort of sound, almost like they're telling me what to do.

The need to run through the halls to seek vengeance for all wrongs committed in this school tries to overtake me. Bullies ridiculing, mean teachers driving students to thoughts of suicide, the cranky lunch lady who gives the chubbier kids dirty looks. All of them deserve my wrath.

The list of wrongdoers doesn't end there. Corey not understanding me and the changes I'm going through. Zane pushing me to do his bidding, to follow him like a lost, desperate kitten. Ryder ordering me about like an overprotective boyfriend. My mom forcing me to go to appointment after appointment, trying to fix me.

Blood drips from my eyes. The snakes— _my_ snakes—are writhing madly, urging me on. Go, go, go!

I leap off the toilet, rage consuming me. Why have I been thinking that I'm the one with the problem? I'm the one in the right here. Justice will be delivered.

My heart pounds as male feet become visible on the other side of the stall door. I fling the door open, not caring who sees me in this state. Unscathed by the metal stall door hitting Ryder as I storm past him.

_Ryder?_

In the girls' bathroom?

"It's okay, Felicia. I can help you." His voice is calm and warm, a cup of hot cocoa on a miserable winter day. He holds his hands out toward me in a way usually reserved for wild animals. Or raging lunatics.

I turn toward the door, then whip around to face Ryder. The snakes bang together, hissing and tangling.

"Don't you have any sense of boundaries? This is a girls' bathroom. Unless there's something you're not telling me, you need to hop off."

"I'm here to help."

I snort. Help me. As if.

But my phone rings with my mom's designated ringtone, and my anger begins to abate. The ringtone is a song my mom and I have danced to in the kitchen so many times. Memories of her love consume me, and guilt nearly knocks me over. Ryder looks at me with those eyes of his, so caring, so concerned, and I feel the blood of my eyes drying up. The snakes growing smaller.

I'm ready to follow his instructions.

Ryder moves closer to me, and though my first instinct is to back up, I hold my ground, knowing in my gut I'm safe with him. For a brief moment I question his motives, but decide if he can help me return to normal, it's worth any price.

"Breathe deep. All the way into your belly. You're feeling lightheaded because you're only breathing in your chest. Make your belly rise with each breath." He moves closer, putting his hand on my arm. His touch soothes.

He moves to embrace me from behind. His warmth makes me feels safe and secure, like I'm wrapped in a cocoon. His arms are strong but gentle, and his scent relaxes me further. I continue to breathe deep, watching his arms and mine as they rise with each breath I take.

He turns so we are looking in the mirror. My snakes have almost disappeared. My color is returning to normal.

"You are part Mercy," Ryder whispers in my ear. His words are like velvet over my skin. "Grant yourself and your Fury some mercy."

He tells me about positive visualization and teaches me to meditate.

I don't know how much time has passed, but I finally look like myself again. And I'm not averse to how we look together, either, his arms wrapped around me, his head leaning close to mine. My head fits perfectly in his shoulder, but I resist the urge to lean back into him.

Ryder pulls away from me, and I leap forward to examine myself closely in the mirror. No signs of the Fury at all.

Excitement pours through me, making my stomach do flip flops and blood rush to my face. I turn around and rush toward Ryder to hug him, wanting to show my gratitude.

Ryder jumps back when I come toward him, making it obvious he does not want any further physical contact from me. His jaw tightens, and he looks away.

I try to step around him, wanting to escape, humiliated at my efforts to show him my thanks. He puts his arm out to hold the door shut, and as he's blocking my way, his words come back to me and I find myself with even more questions. And a perfect diversion from my attempts at affection.

"What did you mean when you said I'm part mercy?"

For the first time, he appears caught off guard.

"Just trying to help you control your Fury."

"How is it that you know so much about controlling it?" I pause, then gasp. "Do you have the same thing?"

His face gives me my answer. Of course he doesn't. He's not a freak like me.

I'm about to fire at him with my hundreds of questions- what is this mercy thing? How did I become this freak of nature? What is his connection to it all? And what did Zane mean when he said Ryder messes with people's minds so they just think I'm crazy and don't remember the Fury?

My throat closes around all the questions. Before I can squeak one out, my phone rings again. Mom's ring tone. I rush back to the stall to pick it up off the floor. I silently thank the phone gods and the makers of heavy duty cell protectors that I didn't break it in my tantrum earlier.

I answer on the fourth ring, just before it would go to voice mail.

"There you are- I've been trying to reach you for ages. I'm at the front office and they can't find you. Why aren't you answering the pages? Tell me where you are, I'm going to walk you out."

"It's ok, mom. I'll head to the office now."

"Well please hurry. We'll be late."

I cast what I hope is a scathing glare at Ryder, and he pushes the door open for me, holding it so I have no choice but to brush my body against his as I exit. As I walk through, a group of giggling freshman approach. They pause in their giggles to stare at Ryder, then at me. Their laughter resumes, but this time it has a purpose.

Yup, getting caught in the bathroom with Ryder is exactly the boost my reputation needs. Ha.

I growl low in my throat when I realize Ryder is following me out to my mom. I distract myself by checking my phone, but all thoughts are on him. And not all of the thoughts are rated PG.

# 20

In the car with Mom, I'm gripped by Ryder's scent still clinging to my clothes. I wish I had time for a shower, as thinking these thoughts of him will do me no good whatsoever. Especially when I know he's hiding something from me. "Baby girl, please talk to me."

Silence.

"Felicia Marie, if you don't tell me what's going on with you, I can't help you. I have no idea what is happening to you—are you doing drugs? Developing a mental illness? I have no idea. You need to talk to me."

"You want me to talk, Mom?" I position my body so I can look directly at her, adjusting my seat belt as I turn. "Fine, here you go. I've been really losing it lately, and no, it has nothing to do with you or Dad. I have snakes coming out of my hair follicles when I get mad. Blood drips from my eyes, so I literally see red. Think you can help me with that?"

My luck—we're at a stop light, so Mom can take a good long look at me. She says nothing. Mom has never run out of words for me. I expected some sort of reaction, but her intense look and disappointed silence are more difficult than anything I've experienced. Even the snakes.

When we continue driving, I curl up the best I can, looking out the window through the blur of my unshed tears.

The therapist seems nice enough, but I have no hope she'll be able to help me. Why even bother? The woman looks like she's just out of college, not a whole heck of a lot older than me. What would she know?

Since I won't talk, the therapist takes my mom into the hallway so they can meet privately. Mom leaves the room without even glancing at me.

I try to distract myself with an old edition of _People_ magazine, wishing for the days when I could so easily find distraction in the ups and downs of celebrity lives.

The white noise machine they keep at the door to protect privacy doesn't work very well, so I can hear every word they utter in their exaggerated whispers.

"I've been looking online, and I really think she might be developing bipolar disorder. Since we don't have any medical history from her biological parents, it's quite possible that one or both may have had the illness."

I imagine the therapist nodding, commiserating with my poor mom for getting a damaged child.

"Her symptoms seem to fit, from what I've read. Intense mood swings, unprovoked anger, Jekyll and Hyde-like behavior, lack of interest in activities she previously enjoyed, isolating herself from friends, and now..." Mom pauses. I hear tears in her voice. "And now delusions."

She sniffs, and my heart breaks.

The therapist puts in her two cents.

"Based on what you're telling me, and the fact that we can't get Felicia to open up enough to even ensure her safety, I think we need to strongly consider hospitalization. Just to get an idea of what we're dealing with."

What? Hospitalization? I'm not hurt. I haven't hurt anybody. I haven't threatened suicide. I'm not sick!

I throw the magazine onto the table, ready to go argue my case.

But what will happen when I fling open that door? Will they call the police to escort me out? Will they restrain me? Give me a shot of something to calm me down and make me go willingly?

How could my mom do this to her only daughter? Don't I deserve a chance? I don't need to be sent to the loony bin. Do I?

My snakes emerge without warning. I should whip open the door and let my mother and the therapist see for themselves. Then they'll know I'm not crazy, that I'm telling the truth.

But if I do, I'll have a new problem. They'll send me away, someplace worse than a hospital. Where I'd be poked, prodded, and dissected. Treated like an alien.

Frenzied, I search the room. A propped-open window allows the crisp autumn air to stream in. I test it, and it opens wide. The screen pops out easily, falling to the grass below with a gentle clang. The office is on the first floor, so I can easily escape. I climb out with no hesitation, only wincing once when one of the larger snakes gets caught on the other side of the window. I rush toward the dumpster in the back of the building, eager to hide before anyone sees my Fury.

Panic sets in as I ease to the ground, my back to the cold metal. I stare at my cell as if the answers will come to me. Everyone I would normally turn to is unavailable for one reason or another. And I'm pretty sure there isn't a hotline for these types of problems.

My fingers buzz with the vibration of Zane's incoming text. I open it almost eagerly. A video?

I play the video, curious to see what he's sending.

My snakes rush nervously into my head, even as my heart pumps faster, desperate to keep me alive in my shocked state.

Despite the lack of snakes in the picture, I can tell this beautiful woman is the Snake Lady, the woman Zane tells me is my biological mother. Her demeanor is calm and relaxed as she sings to a ragged, too skinny dog. She sends the dog to another room with a big bone, and turns to the camera.

"The horrid treatment of this lovely creature must be avenged!" Snakes burst from her head, and I wonder how she can keep her balance with those giant things dancing on her head. Blood puddles on the floor, pouring out of her eyes. Wing-like things protrude from her back, and the snakes grow, grow, grow until they are wrapped around her arms. Her teeth turn to points, and even though I know it's just a video, I begin to tremble.

Once I get past the initial shock, I'm able to see her in a different way. Her anger speaks to me; her need to avenge something so unjust feels _right_. I want to help this beautiful woman drive the perpetrators crazy, to crowd them until they are driven to insanity.

And then the video ends, and I'm left wanting more. More of this mysterious woman, this creature. More of this energy that speaks to me. This person I can relate to.

The video is followed by Zane's text.

"Ready to meet her?" A simple question, no right answer.

Before this week, I barely even wondered about my biological parents. I used my story to help the kids I mentor know they aren't alone, but I haven't felt any urge to know the people who abandoned me.

I've never been backed into a corner before, either.

My phone vibrates again. It's Mom.

I don't stop to think. I react.

"Pick me up." I give the address and send the text before I can change my mind. Soon they'll be looking for me, and I won't get far on foot.

Almost instantly, I hear the roar of Zane's bike engine, feel the rumble on the pavement beneath me. I hesitate for a second, then bolt for his bike, hopping on the back before he comes to a complete stop. He hands me a helmet and I struggle to secure it under my chin.

"Go!" I gasp as he hits the gas, needing to grab his waist to prevent falling off. Riding a motorcycle is every bit as terrifying as I feared it would be, but the alternative is scarier.

The scenery rushes by in a blur, and I have no clue where we're heading. All I know is that Zane's warm, muscular back is holding me upright, and he is my ticket to escaping the problems I can't deal with.

"Hold on tight, we're about to hit a rough patch." I can barely hear him over the wind and the engine, but I think I'm able to piece together his words. I tighten my hold just in case. His belly rumbles as if he's laughing. I wish I didn't have the helmet on, because the urge to put my ear against his back is nearly overwhelming. But I don't want to die for it.

My eyes widen, immediately watering with the rush of the wind. My butt hurts from the bumpiness of driving into the woods. I wince as a branch whacks me in the thigh. The fog around us deepens, pulling us into a surreal environmental landscape. I blink, trying to focus.

Extreme pressure pushes on my chest, on my throat. I can't catch a breath. Lightheadedness follows, and just as I'm about to fall off the bike, the ride smoothes, pressure is alleviated, and the fog disappears.

"I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

Zane laughs at my _Wizard of Oz_ reference.

We dismount from the bike, and as he takes the helmet off my head, he leans in close.

"Welcome home, Fury."

# 21

I can't say I didn't expect to be brought here, but I'm not confident this is where I should be.

Zane grabs my hand and pulls me up the steps—I swear there are a hundred. That's what it feels like to my shaking legs anyway. We enter into a foyer that can only be described as palatial.

We walk through the open foyer, through crowds of women, all with chin-length, cotton-candy pink hair. Their clothes are different, but they all have something burgundy in their outfit. Every shoulder is slumped, every gaze is downcast. No one acknowledges our presence, but I feel so out of place with my shoulder-length brown hair and normal clothes.

My dry mouth keeps me from speaking, not that I have anything of value to say.

Zane leads me down a long, narrow passageway, into a room filled with burgundy drapery and the unmistakable odor of burning incense. My head starts pounding. I've always been sensitive to smells, and this is overwhelming. Not unpleasant, but headache-inducing.

As we approach the center of the room, the Snake Lady (minus the snakes) gets up from her reclining position and meets us partway. Her gown matches the drapes and carpets, but her hair is the same bright red from the photos Zane showed me. The colors clash and bother my eyes.

I cling to Zane, the only thing about this room that offers me a small semblance of comfort.

The woman reaches her hands toward me. "Welcome, my daughter. My Fury. Oh, how I've missed you!" She pulls me tight to her chest, and I struggle to move my head to the side so I can breathe.

"Let me look at you." She pushes me away a bit, holding me at arm's length. "Oh, so lovely. A little drab without your Fury, but I know you'll be stunning when you come into your vengeance."

She laughs, and I notice how perfect, white, and shiny her teeth are. And not pointy.

"Don't you have anything to say to your mother?" A flash of lightning passes in her eyes.

"Um, hi."

I look to Zane, begging him to rescue me from this woman's grasp. She can't possibly expect me to accept her as my mother in the first five minutes of meeting.

"Ah, well." She drops her hands from my arms, then spins around and picks up a wine glass full of—surprise surprise—burgundy liquid. "I guess you don't need intelligence to be an effective Fury."

I clear my throat a little, feeling the need to defend myself, yet utterly speechless. I look to Zane, whose smile is wider than I've seen it. He's far too relaxed for my comfort.

"Oh, where are my manners?"

That's what I was wondering.

"Zane, run along and fetch my daughter some refreshments. You like wine, my dear?"

Mom would kill me if I even thought of taking a sip of alcohol. I shake my head.

"You prefer the hard stuff, then? Zane, fetch us some tequila. We'll have a celebratory drink, together at last."

Zane winks at me as he leaves the room.

"Oh no, I don't..."

"Nonsense. Everyone does. I'm no fool." She approaches me again, studying my eyes. Like she's searching for something. Her look tells me I'm letting her down. "You don't have to pretend, I know how teenagers are. Think of me as your mom, but also as a friend. We'll be best friends, I know it."

Doubtful, but I don't say a word.

Zane comes in, carrying a tray. He pours a shot glass full of the yellowish liquid for the Snake Lady (I really have to learn her name), then distracts her and hands me a previously filled shot glass with similar looking liquid. He winks at me as he hands the glass over, and mouths, "Trust me."

The Snake Lady snatches the shot glass from Zane, spilling the tiniest drop over the top. She stares at me as she raises the glass, her eyes prompting me to do the same. I sniff the liquid before bringing it to my lips, the sugary scent promising delectable sweetness.

"To the newest Fury in town. May you have years of sweet, sweet vengeance." Snake Lady downs her drink in one sip, and I attempt to do the same, choking a little on her words and the liquid.

"See? I knew you weren't as innocent as you tried to portray yourself to be."

I blush. I hear Zane snicker a little. Did he fool me? Did he give me alcohol, despite my objections?

"You. Over there." Snake Lady gestures toward the corner, where a slightly hunched figure jumps, presumably to do Snake Lady's bidding. As she comes closer, I notice the figure is more of a young girl than an old servant as I expected. Something about her posture suggests she's older than her years.

"Yes, ma'am." She directs her eyes downward.

"Make yourself useful, will you? Bring my prized daughter and me some of those freshly baked biscuit cookies. And some for the boy, too."

The girl scurries off, a blonde curl escaping from her upswept hair. She tucks it behind her ear as she leaves the room.

My tongue feels like it has grown three sizes too big for my mouth. I want to defend the girl, but my newfound muteness continues to strike.

When the blonde girl returns with a tray of cookies, the Snake Lady seats us around a too-small table.

"Leave us." The girl rushes to her corner.

Heartsick over Snake Lady's treatment of the girl, I finally find my voice.

"Miss, I'd love if you'd join us." The girl stiffens and doesn't turn to look.

"Nonsense. The maid will stay where she belongs. This table is reserved for royalty. And Zane, of course, since he's my most faithful student."

The girl hunches her shoulders again. She reminds me of a scared and abused puppy.

My snakes tickle my head.

"How can you defend an abused dog, yet treat a human that way?" I push away from the table. "Zane, take me back home, please. I'm done here."

"Sit down, Felicia." Her words are sharp, slicing through the thin veneer of her kindness. "What are you going to do, return to the woman who is trying to make you think you're crazy, rather than gifted? Oh, maybe to the man who deserted you and his wife and impregnated another woman? Those people don't deserve you. You belong here. You never belonged there."

"Those _people_ are my family. My parents."

Her laughter bounces off the walls and hits me deep in the gut. She takes a swig of her burgundy drink, staring at me.

I turn to walk out the door. This woman disgusts me.

"Felicia, stay." I keep moving toward the door. "Fine, would it make you happy to have the girl join us? I can spare a cookie or two. Come on back here."

Another crossroad. Leave or stay. Be lost or be saved. Take the hard way or the easy way.

Too bad I don't know which is which.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the girl waiting expectantly for my answer. Hope radiates from her expression. To leave now would be cruel, since she's been invited to join the table. Something tells me this is not something she has experienced in a long time, if ever.

I turn around and plant a smile on my face. I gesture for the girl to join us. She hurries over, but averts our gazes. She looks distinctly uncomfortable to be sitting near us.

"My name is Felicia. What's yours?"

She looks at Snake Lady, her tongue darting over her lower lip before she nibbles her swollen lip with her teeth.

Snake Lady laughs.

"She doesn't have one. Hasn't earned one. She's about as useful as an old shoe." The girl looks down, her cheeks reddening at the insult. "Oh, in your world even the lowest of the low have names, right? Call her whatever you'd like."

My mouth drops open at her ridicule, and my brow crinkles. I want to say something, I really do, but I'm so out of my normal element that I can't. Or don't.

Instead I grab the plate of cookies and hold it out to the girl. I'd like to pretend that whole exchange never happened.

She doesn't grab a cookie, so I put one on a napkin in front of her.

"Here, this one looks yummy. I'll try one, too." I smile at her as I lift my cookie and bring it to my mouth. She looks at me through hooded eyes, and I direct my gaze toward her cookie, encouraging her to pick it up. She does, and I smile.

"Zane, can I borrow your cell? Mine doesn't have any bars."

"There's no need for that, my Fury." Evil Snake Lady speaks up. I glare at her before I remember that I'm kinda sorta at her mercy and maybe should try not to get myself into too much trouble.

"I hate to be rude, but I need to let my mom know I'm okay. She'll be freaking out since I disappeared."

"Ah, dear. There's no need to worry about those earthly people any more. We're done with them."

My stomach clenches, a ball of fire lodges in my throat. What does she mean?

"Honestly, you don't have to pretend you want anything to do with them. A man who could leave his wife for some sleaze? Besides, I hear he's having a baby of his own; what would he want with you now?"

I push away from the table, the chair flinging behind me, thumping on the carpet. The tray of cookies spills onto the floor, and the girl cowers away.

My snakes pop out, and I want to attack this horrible excuse for a person.

"Well isn't this the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

Zane nods in agreement. How dare he respond to anything she says?

I turn to leave. Screw this place. I'd rather be tested for scientific purposes.

"Oh, honey, don't go. There's so much you can do with this gift! So much we could do together. Technically I'm banned from using my gift on the humans, but no one knew about you when this agreement was made. You could still do it. Think of the power, the beauty of helping innocent victims be avenged."

I try to whip the door open, but the knob won't turn. I pull harder, grimacing at the cackling laughter behind me.

"Obviously she hasn't been taught to honor her mother. Take her to her room, Zane. Let her get comfortable. Maybe we can make some progress later."

I try to direct my snakes to bite Zane as he grabs my arm and leads me out the door, but they don't listen. What good are they if I can't use them for self-defense?

"Zane, you've got to get me out of here. It was a mistake to come. She's freaking crazy." He ignores my feverish whispers as he escorts me down the hall.

"Here's your room, beautiful." He kisses the top of my head, oblivious to the snakes dancing there.

I grab the front of his shirt, desperation making me cling to the one thing I know in this world.

"Wait, don't leave me here. Take me back. Please."

He untangles my fingers from his shirt and closes the door, putting an end to my pleas.

I stumble back. Lost. Unsure. So not used to this feeling.

The door won't open. I push, I pull, I yank as hard as I can. It's locked.

The room I'm in is pretty and comfortable looking, but it's still a prison.

# 22

Days have passed, and I'm starting to think I'll never, ever leave this room again. My so-called "mother," whom I've learned is named Meg, short for Megaera, has taken to visiting me at all hours of the day and night. She won't release me from the room, but she brings me food every time she comes. Her idea of a lovely visit is encouraging me to release the Fury that I'm trying to keep hidden. Maybe if she thinks the snakes died she'll let me go.

To her, encouragement is insulting everything and everyone I hold dear. She isn't always overt; she often tries to manipulate me into thinking she's the one person who truly cares for me. God, I hope that's not true.

She also has serious issues with any kind of mercy. Especially in me.

Today she's especially angry about mercy.

"I never should have slept with that man. I thought it would be a fun challenge, but it's really ruined my only Furious offspring, hasn't it?"

More puzzles. Is she trying to say my biological father was some kind of merciful person? Maybe a judge?

"You really are dense, aren't you, girl?" My snakes nearly emerge at that, but I breathe deep like Ryder taught me, and they go to sleep. "Your father. The man who impregnated me. He is the god of Mercy, of all things. What a mistake."

She saunters out of the room.

Is this what Ryder was trying to keep from me? How does he know? What else is he keeping from me? And why?

I think back to the webpage I discovered. Their story is coming to life, and I wonder if it was more accurate than I thought.

More alone than ever, I throw myself on the plush bed and sob until I have no tears left. Until my eyes are raw, but not bloody. Until my soul weakens, my head throbs, and my throat feels like I swallowed sandpaper.

Until I forget that my life is a product of my own bad choices.

# 23

I wake to an early dawn and realize today is the day the grant committee is supposed to observe my activity with the kids.

My knuckles bleed from banging on the door. My arms burn, but I need someone to hear me, someone to release me. My screams bounce back at me as if I'm the only one left to hear them.

I'm about to crumple to the floor when Zane whips the door open.

"Do you have a death wish?" His eyes flash at me, then he looks over his shoulder as he shuts the door. "Unless you plan to use your Fury for justice, I suggest you keep a low profile. Meg is getting more and more pissed every day."

" _She's_ getting pissed? How do you think _I_ feel? My supposed 'mother' is keeping me against my will, treating me worse than a prisoner. I'll never do anything for her."

Zane paces the room. "Listen, I'll get a note to your mom to let her know you're okay. I know you're worried about her worrying."

A tiny blossom of hope blooms in my chest, but it's not enough. If he really wanted to help he'd bust me free from this jail.

He pulls a pouch of crackers out of his pocket and hands them to me. "I know she's been forgetting to bring food regularly. Sorry about that."

I snort but take the food anyway. I sit on the bed and devour the crackers, tears making their way out of my pathetic eyes. How could I have been so stupid?

All my hopes, all my dreams, all my good intentions. Gone. I'll never get the grant; they'll think I'm a total loser for running away and leaving the kids waiting for me. My mom will never forgive me, will never see me as anything other than mentally ill or emotionally unstable. I'm sure my friends will shun me for good. How could they possibly understand what I've done and why? My straight-A record will be plunged into failure. No grant, no first-choice college. Then again, none of that will matter if I never make it out of this prison alive.

The bed creaks as Zane sits beside me, his arm warm across my back. He pulls my head to his shoulder, and when all of the sobs and tears have run through me, he's still there.

"She's really not as bad as you think." I stiffen at his deep voice vibrating through my body. "I know you find that hard to believe, but I have known her a long time, and she's been very good to me."

I stay silent, waiting for him to make me believe.

"My mom was raped in the mortal realm, in your world; that's how she got pregnant with me." He ignores my gasp, seemingly lost in his history. "Meg protected my mom from further harm and tortured the rapist until he was so insane he could never hurt another woman. She then took us into her realm, here, for safe-keeping. We've been protected and cared for since before I was born. She saved us both. I'll be loyal to her until the day I die."

There's nothing I can say. He knows a part of her I've never known. All I see is a selfish woman who will stop at nothing to get her way. Who abandoned me as an infant, then wanted me back when she thought I could do something for her. I do admire her for protecting Zane and his mom, but I have to wonder at her ulterior motive.

I pull away from Zane so I can look him in the eye.

"Please help me get out of here. I need to go home." Now it's his turn to be silent. I grab his hand, warm and strong. "How would you feel if you had to be away from your mother? If she was worrying about you?"

He pulls away from me, pushing his hand through his hair as he walks to the door. He opens the door, but looks at me for a long moment before he speaks.

"I'm sorry, Felicia. I can't."

Right after he leaves, I go to the door. I pull, not expecting any different results.

The door flies open. Zane left it unlocked.

# 24

The halls are winding and confusing, reminding me of one of those mirrored maze houses at the carnival. Everything is shiny and perfect like the art gallery Mom and I like to visit. I see pink-haired women every few feet or so, but I hide in the alcoves or behind a pillar until they've passed, and with their constant vigilance of the floor, they don't notice me, anyway.

I finally tip-toe my way out of the palace and into the fresh air. I want to collapse in relief, but push myself to get to the woods, to cover. I'm not sure how I've gotten to this point without detection, but I'm not about to push my luck.

Before I can acclimate myself to the forest, Zane appears before me. Without a word, he pulls me to his chest. I look at his face, gratitude mixed with worry. Did he intend to leave the door unlocked, or is he now coming to get me? His fingers dig into my upper arms. He leans down and kisses my lips—hard, piercing. I keep my lips clenched tight, despite my body urging me to open to him.

His kiss softens seconds before he pulls away from me. His voice is deep and husky as he says, "I didn't see you here."

"I won't say a word."

I watch him walk away, his broad shoulders hunched forward as he drives his hands into his pockets. I half expect him to look back, but he never does.

I shush my pounding heart and get back to work trying to find my way out of this horrid place. Screams echo in my head, and I'm not sure if they are real or imagined.

I continue wandering through the woods—one tree blending into the other. I can't find the fog, which is the only thing I can tie to our arrival here in this world. If I could find the fog, I could go into it and pray that I arrive at home.

My body starts betraying me as I search for the way out. My legs get wobbly, unwilling to support my weight. My head spins, and the trees start moving in on me. I lean against one, trying to catch my breath, focusing on the bark biting into my shoulder. My blurry vision tricks me into thinking I've found the fog, but the howling wind begins to sound distorted and I know I'm about to lose consciousness.

I fall to the ground, my hands digging into the pine needles and soil. I need to regain my strength. If not, she'll find me. And I may not get this chance to escape again.

I pull myself up, roots digging into my knees, my palms scraping against the bark of the tree. I'm standing, but my head feels three sizes too big for my body. I fall again, and this time the darkness closes in on me.

Warm, strong arms cradle me in their embrace. A steady heartbeat thumps against my ear, and I savor the sweet sound. I know without opening my eyes that Ryder has come for me, if only in my oxygen-deprived, sleeping brain. His scent fuels the dream, and I allow myself to relax into his embrace. I run my fingers up his downy-soft arm hair, feel the intake of his breath and the gentle tensing of his muscles as my fingers trail along his arm.

"Good, you're awake."

My eyes fly open and I take in the dimpled chin of my rescuer. He's carrying me. I struggle to get down.

"Save your strength, Felicia. I'll put you down when we're out of here. I don't want you collapsing."

"How did you find me? Where are you taking me?"

"We'll talk later. Let's try to get out of here without interference. I'm taking you home."

Home. To my mom. To my friends. To my world.

"Go ahead and lean back. It will be easier to carry you."

I don't argue. My head still feels too big anyway.

With one eye open, I see the fog ahead. I guess Ryder does know something about this world.

Only a few more steps and we'll be in the whirly, swirly mist, and, I hope, on the way home.

I know something's wrong when Ryder's entire body tenses, and I instinctively try to get down. I'd feel much stronger and better prepared on my own two feet.

"Leaving so soon, my dear one?"

Megaera's voice cuts through my still foggy brain, piercing my hopes and driving my body into intense stress. I can no longer feel my extremities, and I'm pretty sure I'll fall if Ryder puts me down.

"Step aside, Fury."

My heartbeat quickens when Ryder speaks against Megaera. Does he know how insane that woman is? What will she do to him? What will she do to _me?_

Her laugh is musical, beautiful, deeply contrasting with the ugliness inside.

"You dare to tell me what to do? Are you aware that you are trespassing on my land? What business do you have here, boy? And what do you think you are doing with my daughter? Release her at once."

Ryder doesn't say a word as he tightens his grip on me. I suppose this is his nonverbal way of telling me he has no plans to let me go.

"Step aside, Fury. She has chosen to leave."

Megaera moves to grab me, and as she reaches for me, I bury my head in Ryder's chest. In one swift movement, Ryder whips me down and places me protectively behind him. He pulls the front of his shirt down just a bit, and I know from Meg's panicked expression she doesn't like what she sees. I try to see what he's showing her, but even standing on my tip-toes, I can't see over his shoulder. When I try to move around him, his arm forms a barrier I can't pass.

Whatever he showed her was powerful enough to make her step back, grimacing. Ryder strides forward, pulling me behind him. My knees feel stronger, more capable of pulling my own weight.

"She'll be back, and you'll have no power to take her."

We step into the mist, and as we begin to spin, I hear her words echoing. Words I don't quite understand.

Words I try to block out. I will never come here again. Ever.

# 25

"Sweet pea, you need to understand that I wouldn't have sent you to the hospital. I was telling the therapist I wanted a second opinion. I'm sorry if you thought otherwise."

Mom smothers me with her hugs and kindness. She's been fussing over me since I got home this afternoon, bringing me fluids and treats. She's afraid I was perishing while not under her care. Unfortunately, that's not far from the truth.

I gobble up the attention willingly. Kinda crazy how much I missed her.

"And no need to worry, I spoke with that nice lady from the grant committee. I told her you were ill, so at first they rescheduled the working interview until you feel better. When time was passing and you weren't back, they decided to go ahead and interview the kids you work with and check out the website to base their information on."

A knot forms in my chest, making my heart pause. The website wasn't done. Corey and I were supposed to get together to work on it, but we had that fight and I ran away...

My mom sits beside me and puts her arm around me.

"Corey finished it for you, lovey."

Relief is quickly replaced by guilt. Of course he did—he's far more loyal than I am.

"That boy loves you so much, for better or for worse. He and Jade were here every single day, waiting for you to return. They were like private investigators, interviewing everyone they could think of, trying to retrace your steps, searching everyplace they thought you might have gone. But you vanished without a trace. We were all so worried about you."

I drift away from my mom as she speaks; first emotionally, then physically. My head hits the pillowed arm of the couch, and the questions that hang in the air, unspoken, trail off.

Mom reaches over to push the hair away from my face.

"You go ahead and rest. I'll call your friends to let them know you're home safe, and we'll talk later."

I drift off to sleep, comforted by the floral notes of my mom's perfume and the promise of her unconditional love.

# 26

I awake to a high-pitched shriek and a soft body pushing me deep into the cushions.

"You're home!"

Jade adjusts herself so I can sit up and hug her back.

"Boy, do I have questions for you. Don't even think I'm letting you get away without telling me _everything_. For now I will respect your mom's wishes not to make you talk, but as soon as you're feeling even the tiniest bit better, you are all mine!"

"I'm always all yours, bestie." I blink the tears out of my eyes. No way will I cry. "Hey, how are things going with Bryce?"

"Ha, that didn't quite work out. Remember before you left how I met that guy at the mall? He and I are having a little text romance."

I smile, glad some things never change.

"And how's—"

"Corey's fine. He wanted to be here, but he has a big tech thing tomorrow." She can tell I don't believe her, but she keeps the excuse alive. "You know how he gets so caught up in that stuff. Doesn't even come up for air. But did you see the website he built for you? It's amazing."

"I haven't had a chance to check it out, but if you see him, please tell him how grateful I am."

"You can tell him yourself at school tomorrow. You are going, right?"

Though part of me would like to avoid the walk of shame, I know I have to face the rumors and the make-up work eventually.

"I'll be there."

"I suppose I might as well tell you now so you can be prepared."

Panic tickles the hair on the back of my neck. What now?

"Jenny's project has finaled, too."

"I didn't even know she entered. What is her brilliant idea?"

"You may need a puke bucket for this one..." Jade pauses for dramatic effect. "She'd like to start a program for providing pedicures to dogs at the local shelter. Something about boosting their self-esteem to make them more adoptable."

I have no words.

Since when does Jenny Jones have even a molecule of philanthropy in her? It's starting to feel like she wants my whole life to be her own. Maybe I should send her my leftovers from lunch, too.

I'd like to think she doesn't stand a chance, that my kids deserve the grant, but who knows?

Time for me to pick up the pace and get my name back in the game. I've lost too much credibility already.

# 27

I can't say I mind Ryder's presence guiding me through school. Without him, I'm not sure I'd find my way around. He's even smart enough to keep quiet, which I am immensely grateful for.

When I get to English class, having my own personal bodyguard even wards off the evil Jenny. One look at his glare sends her perfect nose and model-like body striding into class with nary even the tiniest offensive statement.

When class is over, I fall into step with Ryder once again. I say nothing, he says less. But it's working, at least for today.

"There you are." I gasp when Zane pulls me by the arm. I pull away and rub the tender spot.

"Do you have to squeeze so tight?"

"I need to talk to you."

His eye is swollen, black and blues and purples spreading across his face. Did he get punished for helping me escape? I feel sick at the thought. Even bruised, though, his handsomeness isn't lessened. If anything, it makes him seem more attractive.

I move away from him, keeping my words inside.

He grabs me again, determined, full of purpose. Before I can reclaim my arm, Ryder is pulling Zane off me. I never noticed how much bigger Ryder is than Zane.

"Enough. She doesn't want to talk to you."

Zane's laugh is guttural.

"If that's true, she can tell me herself. You have no idea the level of communication we've reached." Zane raises his thick eyebrows. I turn my head.

I hear a grunt and a thump and turn back to see Ryder holding Zane against the wall. Ryder's forearm presses against Zane's throat, and by Zane's bulging eyes, I'd say he's having difficulty breathing. Ryder doesn't look like he's going to ease up.

The intensity of Ryder's expression and the violence of the action turns my stomach, but I don't have it in me to try to stop them from their own idiocy. Nothing I do has been working lately, anyway. I'm an empty vessel, simply existing. Broken.

"You pushed her too far, too fast. She's _still_ not recovered."

Ryder's words knock me off balance. I guess everyone else can see I'm broken, too.

I wander off, incapable of caring.

"Stay away from her."

And then Ryder is by my side again. I feel his anger, but he doesn't say a word. Within seconds, the energy surrounding me is calm and peaceful, as usual with Ryder.

At lunch time, Ryder gives me a break and sits at another table. I make use of the quiet time to scribble out a note to Corey, trying to apologize for my nastiness toward him lately. Words don't come easily, and my every effort seems too little, too late.

I tear the paper out of my notebook and take pleasure in crumpling it into a ball.

I try to text him, but I can't get past "I'm sorry." He deserves more than that.

Jade is noticeably absent from lunch, and all my so-called friends are avoiding me, walking by like they don't see me. One girl I kind of know (she's a friend of a friend of a friend) looks at me and gives me a meek smile before turning away, and I look at my phone as if I'm too busy for a social life, anyway.

Jade texts me with an apology, saying she had to make up a test for algebra during her lunch period. I send back a simple "no prob."

I feel eyes on me and look up to see Corey sitting three tables away from me. He quickly looks away, plunging my hopes into deeper darkness. Yup, he's still mad, as he should be.

I could go over and thank him for doing the website. That would at least give me a reason for reaching out to him, aside from the fact that he's been my best friend for ages.

I grab my stuff and head over to his table. Yeah, I'll thank him for the website, tell him how amazing it is. Maybe we can go back to normal and he can forget about my bitchiness. He knows I'm not normally like that.

My heart pounds as I approach Corey's table. My mouth goes dry when I notice he's not alone, and he's not with any of our usual friends. He's with a girl. A fellow computer geek he used to date. The one he thought was overly conceited and always smelled like onions. The one we spent hours drawing pictures of and pretending she was a vampire and we were the slayers. The one he was so mad about, he cried in front of me.

Yeah, that one. The one who broke his heart for the first time.

And now he prefers her company over mine.

I'm not too thick to get that message.

Ryder walks me home but is quieter than usual. His peaceful demeanor quells my inner turmoil a bit, for which I'm grateful.

When we get to my house, he touches my arm, then pulls back like he was burned. What's with that? I want to say something, but I'd probably be mortified to hear the answer.

"Felicia, I have to be gone for a few days. I know you'll be safe, but please be careful."

I want to ask where he'll be going, but words won't come. I just want to sleep.

"No prob. I survived just fine before you became my personal savior." I mean the words as a joke, but he looks offended.

"I guess you have." He smiles, which I actually prefer to the withdrawn Ryder I've seen today. Not that I can complain about someone else's moods. "If you need me, I'll try to get back. I have a meeting that I need to attend, and it could take a while."

"Don't worry about me. Seriously. I'm not going anywhere near the Fury world, trust me."

"Good. Remember that. No matter what."

"Do you need a pinky promise to feel better?"

He smiles bigger this time.

"Nah, I trust you." He turns and walks away, and I am struck by the fact that I don't remember ever having to watch him walk away from me, he's always the one watching me.

A heavy weight settles in the bottom of my belly; and it takes a moment for me to realize I miss him already.

My mom is still walking on eggshells around me, like she's terrified I'll go all snake-crazy again and she'll have to drag my butt to another doctor.

I coast through the evening, pushing the food around my plate, half-heartedly doing my homework, answering Mom's questions with one word answers. I have no idea how to make things better.

The one ray of hope I have is getting the grant for the kids. Then I can at least bring light to someone's life, since I'm doing a great job of darkening everyone else's.

I finish the letter I'm writing to the grant committee, then seal it in the envelope before I can change my mind. I figure a letter written on real paper will go farther toward looking sincere than a quick-send email. And at this point, I need every advantage I can get.

Before I tuck myself into bed at a whopping 7:00 P.M., I rearrange my bulletin board of pictures. I flip all the smiling, happy pictures of Corey, Jade, and me around, the emptiness of the backside of the photo reflecting the way I feel inside.

I turn off my cell and drift to sleep. I once again dream of snakes, but this time, the snakes are limp and dead. And I'm free.

# 28

My mom wakes me by handing me the house phone. I almost forgot we had one of these things.

"What's the matter, did I wake you?" Zane.

I try to squeak an answer, but my vocal chords are still asleep. I consider throwing the phone, but am determined to start this day on a positive note.

"Why are you calling so early on a Saturday?"

"Because I have a surprise for you."

"I'm not so sure I like your surprises."

"You'll love this one. I'll pick you up in half an hour."

"Whoa, hold up." I sit upright in bed. No way am I going anywhere with him. Not after the last time. "I don't really think so."

"Felicia, your mom wants you back. She's willing to do anything to get you to stay with her."

"Are we seriously having this conversation?"

"Hear me out. She knows she was wrong last time. She just doesn't know how to raise kids."

I snort.

"Come on, give her one more chance. She'll give you all the freedom to come and go as you please. You can be your own woman; no one will treat you like a kid."

"She treated me like a prisoner, not a kid."

"You don't even have to go to school if you don't want to."

"I like school. I like my parents' rules. And I am rather fond of my life, just the way it is." This isn't a total lie. I had always been happy until snakes started growing out my head.

"You know you want your mother in your life. Give her one more chance. I'll be there to make sure she keeps her word. Don't forget who helped you last time."

It's true he kind of helped me, but I don't know if I really would have escaped if not for Ryder showing up.

"I do have my mother in my life, thank you very much. Got to go." Click.

I have no time for his drama.

After my shower and a quick breakfast, my mom informs me that my dad is coming for a visit. I haven't seen him since I got back. He was obviously too busy to check on his recently missing daughter.

When Dad arrives, I'm surprised at how cold I feel toward him.

"Hey, baby girl. I've missed you."

I let him hug me, but keep my arms by my side as he squeezes me tight.

"We have a lot to catch up on."

We do? I've learned all I need to know on Facebook.

All I can say is, "Mmhmm."

"Jenny tells me you have been pretty quiet in school. Having a hard time lately, huh?"

He's getting my life updates from _Jenny?_

"I'm fine."

"That's good. I was almost getting worried."

Almost? I feel the snakes tickling my scalp. They haven't emerged since I left the Fury world; I was kind of hoping they were dead.

"Come sit next to me. I have some big news for you." Dad pats the cushion next to him. I remember days where we'd sit together and watch the Science Channel, loving our time together. Where did that guy go?

I don't want to hear his news. I want to sit with him and Mom and shout the answers to Wheel of Fortune and beg Mom for her homemade ice cream and roll my eyes at Dad's dumb jokes and live the way we have for the past fifteen years. If he tells me his news, we can never go back.

I sit beside him, my back stiff. Our knees almost touch, so I pull them away slightly.

"So... you'll be happy to know you're going to be a big sister." Just like that.

The weight of his news sinks to the bottom of my stomach, taking my spirit, my soul, and my wishes-for-normalcy with them.

Does he really expect me to be happy?

"What do you think, baby girl? Are you excited?"

I stare at him, feeling every ounce as blank as my expression.

_Why yes, Father, I'm thrilled you're replacing me._

Or how about, _I'm overjoyed at the prospect of you starting a new life with a new woman less than one month after leaving my mother._

Or my personal favorite, _What were you thinking, getting that whore pregnant and ruining all of our lives?_

"Hey, why don't you come over to my place tonight? We haven't spent any time together lately. We can have a movie night with Jenny. It will be fun."

"No thanks. I have to watch paint dry tonight."

"Felicia Marie, try to be reasonable. You're going to be sisters."

I leap off the couch. Animosity oozes from every molecule of my being.

"I have no sisters," I growl. "Apparently my father was abducted by aliens."

I stomp out of the room, rage consuming me, but managing to keep the snakes inside. My eyes are filling with red, but I hope he doesn't see. I'm pretty sure he doesn't notice anything beyond his own self-interest, anyway.

I whip around to yell at him again.

"Do you even remember that you're already married? To my _mother?_ "

"I know this must be hard for you—"

He gets off the couch and steps toward me. I hold my hand out to keep him at bay.

"Oh, I bet you know."

"But hon, the divorce is uncontested and will go through fast. Under normal circumstances I'd want to wait a little longer, for the sake of decency, you know. But I want my baby born within a marriage. Surely you can understand this. I only want what's best for my child."

His child. Of course. Why wouldn't he want what's best for _his child?_

Tears stream into my mouth before I realize I'm crying. I wipe them away and notice pink streaks on the back of my hands. The snakes flutter against the inside of my head, but even they lack the will to emerge.

Apparently deep depression is the solution to countering rage.

I swallow and take a deep breath.

"You're right, of course, Dad. Do what's best for _your child_. Don't let my irrational feelings interfere with your life."

At that moment, Mom walks in, sees my face, and purses her lips. She must have heard at least the last part of our conversation.

"I think it's time for you to leave, Charles." Mom seldom uses that tone, but when she does, you don't want to argue.

Though I refuse to look directly at him, I sense his discomfort. Once upon a time, Dad knew how to comfort me. I think those aliens really did a number on him.

Mom reaches for me, and I let her wrap her arms around me for a moment. When Dad starts to speak again, I shrug away from her and run to my room. As I'm climbing the stairs, two at a time, I hear my mom saying, "Let's not forget Felicia is your daughter, too."

My eyes are drier than the desert when Mom comes to console me. I think my tear ducts are broken from overuse.

The bed creaks from her weight. I move over slightly, keeping my fleece blanket wrapped tight around me.

"I'm sure that didn't go quite as he planned."

"Hmph."

"Come here." Mom yanks on my blanket, encouraging me to sit up. I do so begrudgingly, staring at my friendless wall. "It may not seem like it at this moment, with all that's happening, but your dad really, truly loves you, Felicia."

"Hmph." I roll my eyes this time.

"Word of the day?"

I gift her with a "whatever" stare.

"You don't even want to hear my word of the day. Besides, I don't have enough quarters for the Swear Jar."

Mom's soft giggle warms me. Her arm around me brings me back to the comfort of a preschooler.

"You can't imagine the awe on your dad's face when we first found you. He was so enamored, I couldn't get his attention for weeks. When we found out you were free for adoption and that we had been approved..." She pauses, tears clogging her throat. "Felicia, there was no material strong enough to anchor that man to the ground. You filled him in ways nothing else could."

"Well hey, things change."

Mom positions herself so she's in front of me, her eyes piercing mine.

"Your dad may be lacking a sensitivity gene lately, but the way he feels about you has not changed. He'd move mountains for you if you'd let him."

I look at her before responding. She's been through so much, between dad's midlife crisis and my adolescent craze. And yet here she is, strong and steady.

But she still doesn't get it.

"That's part of the problem, Mom. I shouldn't have to let him."

Mom surprises me by chuckling.

"You have so much to learn, sweet pea. Men don't always act the way we think they should, the way we fantasize."

"Real men do."

She smiles, her focus drifting. She seems to be studying the orange shag rug near my bed, and I wonder if she's left this world. Within seconds, whatever spell she's under breaks and she makes eye contact again.

"I can't make you believe your dad loves you. But I know with every fiber of my being that he does." She smoothes the hair on the side of my forehead and sighs. "And I know it's not my job to convince you. Dad is messing up right now, and he has to make it up to you. I just hate to see you hurting."

The tears in Mom's eyes make tears spring to mine. Luckily, they are the clear kind.

"Mom?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Are you okay? I mean, I know you seem okay, but isn't it hard for you to be replaced so quickly? It's gotta hurt."

She doesn't answer, and I think maybe I crossed a line. Mom and I have always been close, but our conversations usually center around, well, me.

She straightens her back and gives a wry smile.

"Yeah, it hurts. Of course it does. But Dad and I haven't been healthy together for a while. I'll always love him, and I'll always want what's best for him, and I do believe he wants what's best for you. And me, too. But I look at life now and I see so many possibilities I didn't see before. It's a new time for me, Felicia. I'm getting kind of excited about this adventure." She smiles genuinely.

I can't help but smile back.

"And you know what? I feel younger. Don't look at me like that. I feel young and alive and eager to do things I haven't done."

"Don't even go there, Mom."

She slaps my thigh.

"Not like that, silly. Although..."

We laugh, and it feels good. Our light laughter quickly spirals into the uncontrollable kind, where we are gripping our bellies and I can barely breathe, and tears are streaming down our faces. The laughing switches to crying, and we hold each other and connect on a level that only the luckiest of kids are able to connect with their parents. Then the laughter resumes, and I want to hear more from this livelier, younger-feeling version of Mom.

I wipe my eyes on my blanket, and she wipes hers on the back of her hand, noting the black streaks left behind.

"I have mascara everywhere, don't I?"

"Yup, you look a little raccoony. I hope Prince Charming doesn't come to the door when you're looking like that."

She breaks into laughter again, which is highly contagious, by the way. My stomach hurts from laughing. My cheeks are going to crack from the pressure.

When we finally calm down, Mom lies on the bed next to me. I plant my head on my pillow, too.

"What kind of things do you want to do?" Am I holding her back? Being a single mom with a teenage daughter can't be easy.

This kind of conversation is easier while staring at the ceiling.

"Ah, where to begin?" I hear the smile in her voice. "I'd like to go to the movies. Dad always thought it a waste of money. Maybe it is, who knows? But I want to try. Haven't gone in years."

"You haven't?" How had I not noticed this?

"I'd also like to ride a bike. A real bike, not the stationary kind. I want to take it on bike trails, maybe a boardwalk along a beach somewhere."

"Please tell me you're not going to get a spandex bike outfit?"

"I was thinking of getting one just to wear around, anyway. You know, to parent teacher conferences and such?"

"You frighten me. Now please wipe that image from my head—what else do you want to do now that you're a free woman?"

"Travel. I want to take you places. You know how Dad hated to go far, was always homesick. I want to drive cross country. Or get on a plane and find some random destination. Or go to the country for a weekend. Doesn't matter to me what we do. I just want to do _something_."

I leap out of bed and get out my old atlas from third grade. We spend the next few hours making lists of the sights we want to see, the places we want to go. Plans for the future.

It feels so normal, I completely forget about the craziness my life has become.

When I get ready for bed, I feel good for the first time in days. Maybe weeks.

Is it possible to hope for the future when you've been broken inside? Maybe life hasn't knocked me out of the game quite yet.

# 29

When Monday morning arrives, my head is buzzing. Not with snakes, but with excitement. I kept my phone off all weekend, and having no contact with the social world did me some good. My snakes only tried to erupt one time yesterday, and that was while watching the news. (A story about a child rapist getting a teeny, tiny jail sentence. Hardly seems fair considering what the child will have to face the rest of her life.) I used the deep breathing techniques Ryder taught me, and it worked well. My mom didn't seem to suspect a thing.

But then I have to go and turn my cell on before school. Message after message filled with promises from Zane, pressure from Jade (to hang out with her, to call her, to be a friend and stop ignoring her), to taunts from Jenny ("how awesome that we are both finalists for the grant! I'll probably win; I am on a winning streak lately. But your idea is so cute! I hope something good comes of it for you." Bite me.) Nothing from Ryder, and for some reason that burns in my chest. Nothing from Corey. Not that I expected anything, but I couldn't dim the hope.

And a voice mail message from my father. Apologizing. He sounds sincere. And then he mentions that he and Jenny are going out for ice cream tonight and would I like to come.

My fury erupts full force. My phone's battery pops out when I throw it against the wall. I whip my middle school soccer trophy at my mirror, splintering my reflection into hundreds of ugly pieces. Strength flows through me, enabling me to toss my bed as if it were nothing. I viciously tear everything off my walls, ripping every poster into pieces. My throat starts to feel raw from the screams I try not to let escape.

I slide to the floor, gripping the sides of my head. The pain is sharp, splintering.

It subsides as quickly as it came. I survey the room, shocked at the damage I've done. Fits of this magnitude are not in my repertoire. I need to clean up, fast. Before my mom sees.

Because if she sees the damage I've done, what I'm capable of, surely she'll want to leave me, too.

# 30

I watch the wipers as they force the rain to flow in unnatural directions up the windshield, and I feel a sort of kinship with the rain. Mom decided to drive me to school today so I wouldn't get soaked on the way there, but I wouldn't have minded. I deserve any cosmic punishment sent my way.

Mom stops trying to engage me in conversation after the fourth attempt. I don't mean to be morose, but I can't get those voicemail messages and my reaction out of my head. My thoughts are spinning in a nonstop cyclone, and I can't slow them down long enough to make any sense of my life.

I can't even summon energy to care about the grant. Who am I to think I could create any good in this world, anyway? I'm a monster.

I drift through my day, avoiding anyone who might want to talk to me. I haven't seen Ryder all day, and the tiny part of me that still cares about anything feels a little twinge at his absence. He said he'd be gone a few days, but I guess I assumed he'd be back by Monday.

When I see Jade turning a corner in the hall, I duck into the bathroom before she can see me.

By the time lunchtime rolls around, my stomach is twisted in knots and I know I won't be able to eat, so I hide in the library instead.

I'm perusing the darkest dystopian novels on the shelves when Zane comes strolling toward me. I turn to walk away, but he puts his hand on my arm and I'm immobilized.

A spark shoots through me, and it's the first time I've felt alive all day.

Memories of Zane's kiss come unbidden, and I'm reminded of the fierceness of his lips when they claimed mine before I escaped Meg's hell. My belly tingles at the thought, and I'm suddenly swept away in the realization that Zane's kiss has a potency that can help me forget life for a while.

Oh, how I need to forget life.

Surprise registers on Zane's face when I grab the front of his T-shirt and pull him to me, not thinking of anything but the spark he can light in me and how desperately I need it. His lips are hard at first, but then soften, and he moans deep in his throat as I press myself closer to him, closer than I've ever been to a guy in my entire life.

I'm powerful, in control. When I shift my hips, Zane growls and tightens his grip on my arms. I wrap my arms around his neck and his hands move to my waist.

The whole thing is enchanting. The way I always imagined a passionate kiss would be. Not that I pictured it happening in a slightly secluded aisle in the school library, but everything else about this experience is perfect.

I bite Zane's lip when he starts to pull away from me. When his eyes drift over my shoulders, I look back, then jump away from Zane when I see Jade standing there, clutching a lunch bag and looking irate.

Crap.

"Oh, so sorry to interrupt." She doesn't sound sorry, she sounds pissed. "I was feeling bad for you, so I searched the whole school to find you so you wouldn't have to be alone. Didn't realize you already had company."

Jade glares at Zane.

"Here, I brought you lunch." She flings the bag at me and stomps off.

The bag falls to my feet, which is where my pride seems to be dragging along, too.

I don't get why she's so ticked at me. I don't get mad at her when she's caught up in one of her boy-crazy stunts, nor would I ever dream of getting in the way of her and a hot guy and a make-out session. She should understand that I'm going through a ton of stuff and can't deal with any extra drama right now.

I should talk to her. I don't plan to apologize, but I should at least thank her for thinking of me and bringing me lunch, even if there's no way I could eat it.

I start to walk away, tripping over the lunch bag. Zane pulls me to him again, interrupting my pursuit.

"Let her go cool off. She'll be fine."

I know better, I really do. She won't be fine. Her anger will build if I stay here with a guy when she made her irritation known. It's a violation of girl code to not run after her.

But before I can say a word, Zane's lips are on mine, and the world falls away. Living has never felt so good.

# 31

Somehow Zane managed to get me to agree to a date with him for tonight. He kind of coerced me with his kisses and muscular embrace, but I'm excited nonetheless. I haven't been on any real dates, so this is a special first.

Jade won't answer my text, so I can't get her approval on what clothes to wear. I settle for a casual outfit with my good-butt jeans, but I take extra time to do my makeup. My hair looks especially shiny after I brush it a million and one times, and with my lip gloss and the glow in my cheeks (brought on by thoughts of Zane), I think I actually look kind of pretty.

Since my mom would never agree to let me go out with a guy she hasn't met yet, I wait for her to leave for a movie night out with her friend before I even get ready. When I'm sure she's not coming back for something she forgot, I leave the house and practically skip downtown, where Zane and I are supposed to meet.

Will Zane be waiting for me, watching me approach him with a sparkle in his eyes? Will he have flowers for me? Is he starting to feel something more than "like" for me? He must feel something since he's so attentive... He could score with any girl, girls who are far less moody than I, yet he gives me all the attention.

I swallow my disappointment when I arrive before him. I double-check the time. I'm a few minutes early. I hope I don't look overly eager when he gets here. I consider taking a walk around the block to give him time to get here before me, but the sun is setting and I think I'll get too creeped out roaming around alone.

I find a bench to sit on outside the ice cream shop. The aroma of freshly made waffle cones is killing me, reminding me that I haven't eaten all day.

My phone keeps me company while I wait. He's now officially late.

I consider going to The Shack, but veto that idea when I realize I'll look like a social pariah.

I watch people passing by, laughing among their own groups, no one noticing me at all. Thank goodness. I feel slightly moronic sitting here alone outside a popular townie date spot, playing on my phone. I'm extremely appreciative for 4G at this point. At least I can surf the 'net while I wait.

An hour passes, and my foot won't stop twitching. Did he stand me up?

Dumb question. The smart question would be, did I really think he could be that into me? I'm sure someone better came along.

Screw this, I'm not sitting around forever waiting. Even if he shows up now, he doesn't deserve my time.

I push myself out of the chair, the metal legs scraping the pavement. I so don't want to walk home in the dark, but who am I going to call? My mom doesn't know I'm gone, and she's not home anyway. I've alienated all my friends. I only have myself to rely on at this point.

A high-pitched, familiar giggle invades my private world.

Jenny.

And then the memory of my dad's message rushes back to me, and I'm horrified to realize they were planning to go out for ice cream tonight.

I duck into the tiny local book-store, hiding my face, praying they didn't notice me. I've never felt more pathetic. My belly churns, acid rushing into my throat.

Why didn't I plan to meet Zane at The Shack? That's one place I know my dad wouldn't step foot in. He's not a big fan of teens in general, but the idea of fluorescent-colored walls and loud Top 40 music really freaks him out.

Minutes pass, and I assume they would have made it into the ice cream shop by now. The loud drumming of my heart-beat abates, and I'm left to deal with the reality of my predicament.

Since there's no one to call and my urge to escape has increased eight thousand percent, I straighten my shoulders and head back into the street.

I start walking, cursing at myself for believing this thing with Zane was real.

I walk a little faster when someone pulls up beside me next to the sidewalk.

"Leesh, what are you doing?"

Corey.

Words don't come easily. A giant lump lodges in my throat. I've missed him so much, hearing his voice brings tears to my eyes. I so want to hug him.

"What are you driving?" I try to go for the casual approach.

"My uncle gave me his old Vespa. You need a ride home?"

"Is it legal for you to drive this thing? You don't have a license."

"Would I do anything illegal? Hop on. Quickly before we get caught." He doesn't quite smile, but I suppose that would be too much to expect.

I gladly climb aboard, and he drives me home. The ride is slow and I feel every bump in the road, but being next to my best friend warms my heart. Corey seems different, though, and I can't put my finger on how. The silence is awkward and unnatural for us, but I can't think of anything to say and he seems to have no desire to converse anyway.

Corey pulls up in front of my house and lets me climb off the bike. He stares straight ahead.

"Thank you so much. You saved me a walk up that ridiculous hill."

"No problem. Take care."

Dismissive, estranged, like he is an uncaring stranger.

I chew on my lip and try to think of a way to get him to look at me. Before I can turn around, he revs his little motor and scoots away. Out of my life. Again.

And yes, I know it's all my fault. But that doesn't stop my heart from shattering into even tinier pieces.

# 32

First thing the next morning, I notice my usual friends still avoiding eye contact and my presence as though I've suddenly developed leprosy. Suits me just fine, since I have no desire to make small talk anyway.

Jenny and her snotty group snickering at me as I walk by isn't exactly unusual, though she doesn't even attempt to hide it today.

I start to get really suspicious, though, when Mrs. Smith pulls me into the nurse's office to "check in" on how I'm feeling. She has pity written all over her face, and I unconsciously feel the top of my head to make sure the snakes aren't showing.

"I'm fine..." my voice trails off, confusion wrinkling my brow. I do need to get to history class, so she'd better make this quick.

"I don't want to overstep my bounds, and I know I'm not the counselor, but I've been worried about you with all your visits lately, and when I saw the student newspaper, well, I just wanted to check in to make sure you're okay." She chews on her bottom lip and twists the wedding ring on her finger. Why is she so nervous?

And then her words hit me. The student newspaper comes out today. Jade's work, her passion. Her advice column.

I excuse myself and rush down the hall, where I snatch a copy from the table in the front lobby. I turn to page five, and there it is. The reason for the pitiful looks being sent my way.

* * *

**F riendship Betrayals: Friends Letting Friends Down**

* * *

_D ear Peer Advisor,_

* * *

_I have a friend who has been my best friend for years, but suddenly chooses to blow me off. She doesn't answer my texts, won't call me unless she needs something, is having massive mood swings which she refuses to explain to me, and is hanging out with boys who are no good for her, rather than her friends who have been here for her all along. I don't know what to do anymore. I want to help her, but can't take the hurt she's causing. What should I do?_

* * *

_S igned,_

* * *

_H eartbroken in High School_

* * *

Dear Heartbroken,

Believe me, we've all been there. All you can do is let your friend know you're there for her, and maybe someday she'll be able to see outside her own troubles to discover there are people who love her and care for her standing there, waiting.

It can be frustrating to give yourself freely to a friend, only to have her turn her back on you when you want to help, or when you need her for something. But don't let it affect how you feel about you. I'm sure you're a great friend, and if she thinks for one second she can replace a best friend with a boy friend, no matter how hot he is, she is wrong.

There are people in this world who are able to look past their own troubles to see the beauty of the friendships around them, and then there are the people who choose to embrace the darkness and pretend the world revolves around them.

Don't be a hater, but don't continue to put yourself on the line if your friend isn't reciprocating.

And friend, if you are reading this and you're thinking you may be the one who has turned your back on your friends, do yourself a favor and smarten up. Boyfriends come and go, but best friends are there forever. And sometimes the boy you're meant to be with is right in front of you, but you overlook his sweet sensitivity for the allure of danger another may represent.

* * *

Well if that wasn't the most thinly veiled "advice" column written...

My knuckles whiten from my death grip on the paper. My fingers push through, creating holes in the scathing words of my so-called friend. Anger lodges in my throat, burning like acid down my esophagus, into my gut.

_How could she do this to me?_

Did she think the entire school wouldn't know who this is about? She didn't even try to mask anything. Everyone knows we've been best friends since elementary school.

And everyone knows I've been playing a dangerous game with Zane, the bad boy.

I think the only reason my snakes haven't shot out of my head yet is because I'm so deeply hurt. But that hurt is starting to turn to rage, so I know I need to get the heck out of here.

Or I can put on my happy face and head to history. Show them my dignified side.

Self-pitying thoughts fill my head. A true best friend would know that I'm going through some intense stuff. She'd suspect something isn't right with my life. She wouldn't assume I was being bad; she'd dig for the root of what's changing me.

Maybe Jade was never a good friend, after all.

I duck into the bathroom, splash water on my face, and smooth out my hair. I apply a fresh coat of lip-gloss, practice my smile in the mirror, and prepare to join the world. Alone.

# 33

I make it through history with the fakest smile I've ever worn. The gossipy looks seem to be disappearing, or maybe I just don't care to notice anymore. I spend the whole period jotting down notes about the Black Plague, wishing I could create a plague of my own.

Vengeance.

The word thrills me. Sends a shiver up my spine, makes my toes curl in my shoes. Tickles the inside of my mouth, begging me to speak it aloud.

Ah, the things I could do to the people in this school.

My snakes prod against my hair follicles, but for once they don't bother me. I close my eyes and take some deep breaths, but this time I'm promising my snakes they can come out to play later.

When I have a plan.

Just before the bell rings, I look down at my notes. I'm startled to see I've drawn a perfect rendition of what I imagine myself to look like when I'm Furious.

Soon the world may see, as well.

# 34

The final bell of the day is music to my ears. I stride toward the front door, not even bothering to stop at my locker. I sense Zane nearby, and irritation fuels me forward. That jerk off stood me up, and I'm not about to let him get away with treating me like dirt. The old me would have allowed him to wipe his feet on me, but this new, empowered, furious me is not going to look like a fool.

He's surrounded by friends, popular jock-types and pretty girls who swarm around him, using any excuse to touch him. The tiny voice inside my head tells me this is why he had no need to show up for our date, but the mutant part of me screams that he had no right to mistreat me in that way. Why go through the effort of convincing me to meet him for a date if he had no intention of showing? And he never even bothered to call or text, either.

He looks up as I approach. I have no idea how I'm going to disengage him from his groupies, so it's a good thing he excuses himself to come to me.

"I'll be back—the girl's got me on a short leash." He winks at the blonde to his right, and she smiles sweetly at him, then glares at me as he walks away.

I mimic her sweet smile before I turn away. I hear the patter of his sneakers on the hallway floor as Zane catches up.

"FYI—the only way I'd ever have you on any sort of leash is if it could be wrapped tightly around your neck."

"Oh, babe, that's the most adorable thing I've heard all day."

"Guess those girls over there are only good for the visual element, huh? No pretty words from them?"

Zane's lips turn up, and my stomach does a flip-flop. I focus on my anger, not willing to let him off so easily. He's gotten by on his charm and looks for too long.

He grabs me and pulls me close to him. I try to pull away, really I do. But his damn body is magnetic, and I am powerless.

But no, I need to remember that he left me stranded in town. I risked the trust of my mom, my own safety, both physical and emotional, and maybe most importantly, my pride. And he couldn't even bother with an apology.

I dig my nails into his arm until he releases me.

"What the hell!" He rubs his arm, and I smirk. Score one for team Felicia.

"Don't touch me without my permission."

"Okay, okay. You've never had a problem with being near me before."

"Ha. You are so full of yourself, aren't you, Zane?"

He full-on attacks with his most charming smile, and I look away before I'm disarmed. He has some sort of power over me, and I don't understand it. It's not like he's done anything nice for me. He certainly hasn't protected me the way Ryder has or helped me with everything the way Corey has.

"I know why you're upset." Zane's gentled voice brings me back to the present.

I look at him with one eyebrow raised. This ought to be good.

"Do you now?"

"I do. And I'm sorry. I had some shit come up, and I tried to get in touch with you but I had no service. I'd love to make it up to you."

"Really? No service? All night and all day today?" I cross my arms over my chest, wishing I had unloaded my heavy backpack at my locker. His eyes peek out through thick lashes, and I'm almost convinced. He looks sorry, but then again, he's the grand manipulator. "You know what, don't even worry about it. Just leave me alone. I never asked for you to come into my life, anyway."

"Felicia, wait. I'm sorry, I am. It's not easy for me to apologize. I wish I could tell you why I couldn't make it, but I'm not supposed to discuss it."

"Not supposed to discuss? What is it, some sort of military secret?" I laugh, but he looks serious.

"Kind of."

I roll my eyes.

"Whatever, Zane. Make up whatever stories you need to. Just tell them to someone else."

"They aren't stories. You have to know that my reason for not being there with you had to be hugely important. Nobody in his right mind would stand you up on purpose."

I admit, his words warm me. Just a little.

"You'd better get back to your buddies over there. They won't like me keeping you."

"I don't care about those fools. I was killing time while waiting for you. They are pretty amusing, aren't they?"

"Oh yeah, totally amusing. Tell that to all the people they bully." My blood pressure is rising, so I know I need to get off that topic. "Anyway, I've got to get home. I have a ton of work to catch up on still."

"I'll give you a ride."

The look I send him is meant to communicate, "No way." I simply say, "No thanks."

"Come on, let me." He looks like such a little boy. "It's the least I can do. You have to let me make things up to you."

I have no interest in getting on that motorcycle again. But when we walk out the door and I see Jade and Corey walking together, I change my mind. They're side by side, lost in conversation—probably about what a horrible friend I am. No way do I want to follow them home like the arctic fox, looking for scraps from the big, mighty polar bears. My pride can only handle so many blows in one day.

"Actually, a ride would be great." I don't wait to see his gloating grin; I lead the way to his favorite spot in the student lot.

The motorcycle vibrates under me when he revs it up. He waits a minute while I struggle with the helmet, then zips out of the lot, past my ex-friends and their negativity, and up the hill. When we get to the stoplight, I feel Zane tense. I look over his shoulder, and in the rearview mirror I see a blur of red. Ryder's car.

He's back? I didn't see him in school all day. My mood lifts at least three notches. I didn't realize how much I've missed Ryder. He's going to be pissed when he sees me on Zane's bike, but I'm sure he'll understand my need for escape.

I start to ask Zane to pull over so I can get off the bike, but my eye goes to Ryder's passenger and it suddenly feels as if I've swallowed lava.

WTF? Why is Jenny in his car?

Ryder pulls up behind us, and I can tell Zane is hesitating. Panic pools in my belly, clogs my throat. My head pounds. Any other girl in the school, I could understand. But Jenny?

"Go!" I squeeze Zane's middle, urging him forward. I hear Ryder's car door open and close. He's coming for me, and I don't think I can look at him without crying. The betrayal is too fresh.

"You sure? It's still red."

"Go!"

He cuts a sharp left turn, and I try to block out the sound of horns blaring and the sight of a car nearly driving off the road to avoid us. I don't have time to care. Zane heads toward my house, but I shout for him to keep going. I can't deal with Ryder pursuing me at my home.

"Take me somewhere else. Anywhere."

Zane needs no other encouragement. He zooms away down a side street toward the outskirts of town. Ryder follows close behind. I don't know how he caught up, but I know we need to go faster.

We approach a wooded area, and I feel like I'm falling off the bike when Zane whips to the side, down a bike path. Ryder's car can't fit.

I'm not so sure I should be in a wooded area alone with Zane, but for now it seems like the only option. I need some time away from everyone, just a few minutes to compose my thoughts.

The path turns foggy, and panic hits me like a huge block of stupid over the head.

"Let's stop here for a few. We lost Ryder, let's take a break."

"Don't worry, I want to bring you somewhere I know we'll have privacy."

Did I send the wrong message? I thought I was clear about not wanting him to touch me. Then again, I hopped on his bike and begged him to take me away somewhere. What have I done?

"Please don't go into the fog. I don't want to go there."

"Hang on, babe. It's going to get a bit bumpier. But don't worry, no one needs to know you're there."

_No. Don't let him take you there._

My inner voice pokes and prods, reminding me of the horror that took place last time I trusted Zane.

_Corey hates you. Jade made you the laughing stock of the school. Ryder is with your arch enemy._

"Zane. Promise me you won't bring me to her."

"I know a way to get you to my room. She'll never know you're there. Trust me."

I wiggle out of my heavy backpack and fling it to the side of the path. Maybe it will be there later, maybe not. I don't care right now. I tighten my thighs on the seat to keep from falling off as I reach up to unbuckle my helmet. I long to feel the wind whipping through my hair.

I toss the helmet to the side, where it bounces with a thunk, thunk, thunk. I lean against Zane's back and feel his laugh.

We drive into the fog, and I send a silent prayer that I can trust him this time, that he really is bringing me somewhere safe and he won't let Meg know I'm there. I have no other choice at this point.

Fear nearly paralyzes me when we emerge on the other side of the fog, and I find myself in the place I least want to be. Correction, I least want to be in my town, so I guess this is an okay temporary substitute.

Zane leads me through a side door, and in under a minute, we're in his room.

Needing to ease the panic that threatens to bubble out of me, I waste no time and pull Zane close. He doesn't object. He reaches behind me to close the door, then devotes himself to chasing my fear away and making me feel alive again.

His kiss is a magical dose of anti-anxiety medication, and all my bad feelings vanish. But as he deepens the kiss, I start to hesitate. Because as amazing as it feels to be kissing him, I'm terrified that Zane will figure out that I'm wishing I were with Ryder instead.

# 35

"Did I do something wrong?" I rub my swollen lips, confused as to why he pulled away so abruptly when things were so intense.

"Goddess, no. You're perfect. It's just..." He runs a hand through his hair as he paces across the room. I feel cold, alone, even in his presence.

"Just what?"

He turns back to me, staring, probably wondering what on earth he was thinking, getting intimately involved with me. Especially when he could have his pick of any beautiful, more experienced girl.

He strides toward me, puts his hands on my shoulder, and bends down so his eyes are level with mine. I look away.

He's about to tell me why he made a mistake.

"Babe, if we continue, I won't be able to stop. And I don't think this is really what you want right now."

So not what I was expecting to hear.

I hadn't really thought about how far things could go. I was just going with the flow, living in the moment; whatever other cliché you'd like to insert here.

Kind of hard to make decisions like that considering I don't even know who I am right now.

"I'm sorry. I..."

"You don't have to say anything." That's good, because I have no words.

I nibble on my lip instead. When he walks away, I sneak a peek at him. I would love to know how he manages to look so composed when my legs are still trembling.

Coming here was a very, very bad idea.

"Zane, can you take me back now?"

"In a bit." Is that a dismissive tone in his voice? Then softer, "Let's relax for a little while."

He sits on the bed and pats the spot next to him. I join him, and he pushes me down gently, but it feels more platonic than passionate.

This comfortable feeling reminds me of Corey, and my heart aches.

"So what happened that night? Why didn't you show up?"

He pauses, and I wonder if he'll tell me anything or brush it off like everything else.

"The night I was supposed to meet you, there was a big council meeting to determine Meg's place in the Outer Realms. I had to be there, both to support Meg and to comfort my mom. The thought of having Meg imprisoned was too much for my mom to handle. She's not a strong woman, and I think it has everything to do with the rape."

I don't know what to say, so I run my fingers over his arm in what I hope is a comforting gesture.

He gives me a gentle squeeze.

"What was this meeting about?"

"Can't say."

"Oh, this is the secret mission thingy?"

I take his silence as affirmation.

"Tell me about your mom. Sounds like she hasn't had it easy."

He rolls over, pinning me to the bed playfully.

"Actually, I have better ideas."

I open my mouth to protest, but he captures my objections and brings my blood to a boil. I've never felt this kind of need, and it's not entirely comfortable.

Out of nowhere, an image of Ryder invades my head. His tenderness with me, his sweet smile. His protectiveness.

I can't shake his image, which turns this make-out session with Zane into kind of an ick-fest. Not that kissing Zane is icky, far from it, but having another guy's face in my mind makes me feel disloyal to both.

"I'm sorry, I can't."

Zane's hand rests on a slip of bare skin at my waist, where my shirt is riding up the tiniest bit. His body stills at my words, and he hovers over me with his passionate eyes before he pulls away.

"Could you please take me home now? I still have a ton of homework to catch up on. And if I'm much later, my mom will freak. She already has no idea what to do with me lately, no need to add to her list of complaints." I'm babbling. And he's not saying a word.

I sit up and rub my arms, trying to ward off the sudden chill in the room. There's an iciness between us that I wouldn't have thought possible with the heat we were creating moments ago.

But when he turns around with a smile on his face, I'm disarmed again. I can't keep my balance with this boy.

"Wouldn't you rather stay here? You wouldn't have to worry about homework or rules. Not too many, anyway. Nothing like that world." The disdain in his voice is palpable.

"I can't stay here. My family would miss me. There's nothing here for me."

"They are not your family, Felicia."

I leap up from the bed and stand defensively near the door. His venomous tone shocks me. Where did the kind and charming Zane go?

"Your mother is here. I'm here. What more do you need?"

I laugh, sure he's joking. Of course he's joking. His hardened eyes and set jaw tell me otherwise.

"Zane, take me back. Now. Or tell me how to get back and I'll go on my own."

All traces of the sweet boy confiding about his mother and his loyalty toward Her Evilness have vanished, and all that's left is a cold, calculating, possibly evil version of him. His cold laugh runs through me like a spike, and the poison spreads throughout my heart and mind.

I did this to myself.

I was, once again, so stupid.

I rush for the door, but not surprisingly, the knob won't turn.

My Fury unleashes instantly. I leap toward him, but he doesn't cower. If anything, he looks relieved, happy. Does he have any idea what I'm capable of in this state?

My snakes feel bigger than ever, and their hissing sounds musical to me. Power courses through my body with every beat of my angry heart, and my sole mission is to hurt Zane the way he's hurt me. I smile as I shriek, but when Zane smiles back, I go ballistic. I spring forward, closing the distance. My sharpened teeth ache to bear down into his flesh, to pierce through to his bones until he cries.

Visions flash through my mind, and I know instinctively they are Zane's memories, meant to highlight his weaknesses for my Fury to exploit. A woman, probably his mother, rocking in a rocking chair, staring blankly out a window into the distance. A little boy standing near her, crying for her attention and being ignored. An older version of this same boy, maybe ten years old, cooking a meal and bringing it to the mother in her room. Another flash to a child around three, crying because his mother shouted that he reminded her of his father, then seconds later the flash shows me the same boy in the bathroom cutting his hair in his best attempt to change his appearance.

The torture in his memories brings a sharp pain to my head, then to my heart. How can I torture someone who has been tortured his entire life, through no fault of his own?

My Fury refuses to submit, so I turn to the door, pulling the handle and ripping the door off its hinges. Fury strength makes this effortless, and I toss the door to the side as if it was nothing more than a piece of cloth.

I'm reveling in the sense of freedom this strength gives me, not even trying to temper it until I can get safely to the woods. Zane doesn't try to stop me.

Turns out he doesn't have to. Snake Lady does that for him.

"Excellent work, dear." I think she's talking to me, but then she looks past me to Zane. "You've done well. Now you can go release your mother from her cage. Give her an extra sweet for me, will you, darling?"

I whip my heavy head around to stare at Zane. His eyes are full of guilt for a split second before he shutters them, planting his usual gloating/proud expression in its place.

He leaves the room, walking by me without another glance.

Leaving me to the mercy of the Snake Lady.

# 36

"I need to go home." My voice is different. Deeper, grainier. Like the bottom of a pond.

"You are home, my dear." She flutters past me, all grace and decorum. My Fury urges me to slaughter her, to bring torture to her soul, but the human part of me is still there, not allowing me to act on the impulse.

"This will never be my home. I have parents who love me. Friends who support me, and I need to fix things with them." My vision is becoming blurrier, and I feel like I'm under water. "I have a future at home."

"Yeah, yeah, all of your little teenage dreams." She waves a hand dismissively in the air, then looks me up and down. She smiles. "You can have so much more here, my daughter. My pride and joy."

"I am _not_ your daughter!" Fury builds again, and I push past the pain in my head and advance toward her. Menacing. Only she's not intimidated by my attempt; she is proud.

"Perfect." She claps her hands like a pleased child on Christmas morning. She's gloating. I want to push her until she jumps out the window. "You're learning so quickly. I knew my hopes for you were not unfounded."

"I'm leaving. You can't keep me here against my will."

"Oh, can't I?"

I turn to the door, but she's suddenly blocking my way again. How did she move so fast? I didn't even see her pass me.

"Face it, darling. Your 'mother' is a weak human who couldn't even keep a man as... odd... as that husband of hers."

"Don't you dare talk about my mother that way!"

"Your 'father' left you and his wife for a whore, and now that they're having a child of their own, there's no need for you."

Pain splinters my head, and I lean against the wall to try to keep my balance. I close my eyes, willing her to go away, to stop this torment.

"Your friends can't stand who you've become, and you have no future in that realm. A Fury can't fit in anywhere but here." She pauses to study me, and I open my eyes to see fake sympathy softening her facial features. She puts her hands on my slumped shoulders, brushing aside one of my now-limp snakes. "But here, you can reign under me and have all you dream of."

I breathe deep, channeling Ryder and his words to me. I can control this; I can be my true self. She can't control me, only I can.

I allow my snakes to grow taller again. My teeth grow to sharper points, but I'm in control.

"If you wanted me so badly, why did you abandon me?" I narrow my bleeding eyes and watch her walk away from me.

"Oh, darling. If I had only known what I was giving up, I would have kept you."

I move toward the door again, but she's still faster than I am. My strength is depleting—I can feel it pour out of me. The snakes are begging me to allow them to seek vengeance, to feed on the fear of someone, anyone. I can't allow it, so they feed from me instead.

The room spins, and I grab the wall again in an effort to steady myself. I can't lose consciousness here. I need to get out.

"I'll give you a chance to get settled in. Zane will be busy for a while taking care of his mother, so you'll be fine in his room for a bit."

"No." My words sound distant, garbled.

The room is closing in on me, making me spin out of control.

The last thing I hear is the far-away laughter of a woman who thrives on the pain of others.

# 37

My arms are numb, tingly as if they've been asleep too long. I try to move them to regain circulation, but they are attached to something. I open my eyes to find cuffs around my wrists, attached to a chain, which is connected to Zane's bed post.

I try to scream, but my throat is parched and my mouth feels full of cotton. I lick my dry lips, needing moisture, but none is to be found.

I yank on the chains to no avail. I have no energy, no strength.

Since my human strength does nothing for me, I attempt to summon my Fury, but all I can muster is a tiny stirring in my head. Even when I try to think angry thoughts, all I wind up with are self-pitying ones, which do nothing to encourage anger.

I watch out the window as day turns to night. Where is Zane? He has to help me. I saw guilt in his eyes earlier. And he's helped me before.

Then again, he's far more loyal to his mother than he is to me, and he helped Meg get me here. How likely is he to go against her when she holds all the power in her hands?

I maneuver my body so I'm sitting upright, relieving some of the tension from my arms. The blood starts to flow a little easier to my hands and fingers, making them feel less heavy and slightly more human.

Thoughts of my mom and dad haunt me. I know my absence will cause another sleepless night for my mom, and she deserves so much better than this. I'll miss more school; my friends will think I'm a bigger loser.

I need to get out of here.

I pull on the chains again, frantic, desperate. The movement only results in sore wrists and more dizziness.

The one good thing about my current state of dehydration is that even with the deep sadness I feel, no tears will slip down my cheeks.

I drift off to sleep, which is the only thing I can do in this situation. And I send a prayer that I'll be able to figure a way out of this mess.

# 38

Commotion outside the door jolts me awake. I can't feel anything below my aching shoulders at this point, and I'm not even able to swallow.

"Step aside."

Ryder?

Oh, sweetness. I never thought I'd feel so grateful to hear his voice. I struggle against the chains, making as much noise as possible.

"I don't think so, dude." Zane's voice causes me to freeze mid-yank. "Why don't you just turn around and head back where you came from, before Megaera finds you here."

"You can move on your own, or I can help you."

"Ooh, aren't you the tough guy? What makes you think Felicia wants to go with you? She's in my room, pretty comfy. You know I couldn't bring her here if she wasn't willing."

It's not like I asked to come here. Not exactly, anyway.

Suddenly a side door I didn't notice before bursts open. I'm surprised to see the blonde servant girl, the one I met the first time I came here. My eyes widen as she approaches with a key.

She unlocks the cuffs from my wrists. It takes me a minute to be able to lower my arms—my shoulders are too stiff and sore. She massages my shoulders gently, and like the Tin Man being oiled, I'm able to bend freely.

"Go quickly." Her speech is clear, but rushed. Her eyes dart around the room, and her fear is palpable. "If you get to Ryder, you'll be able to leave with him."

I don't question a thing. I thank her with my eyes, and squeak out a hoarse, "Thanks."

I'm almost to the door when I turn to smile at her one more time. This girl is my savior, and I wish I could hug her and take her with me.

"By the way, I didn't get to tell you before, but my name is Sadie. I gave it to myself."

"Sadie." It comes out as a squeak, but she beams. I can't imagine going through life without a name.

I gesture for her to come with me, hoping she can see that I would be willing to take her in. But fear returns to her eyes and she shakes her head vehemently.

"Go, quick. Save yourself." She grabs a bottle of water from a small refrigerator against the far wall and tosses it to me. I gulp down a few sips, the hydration refreshing my sandpaper tongue.

The sides of my mouth crack as I lift my lips into one last smile. I rush through the repaired door in time to see Ryder pushing Zane against the wall, his forearm against Zane's throat. Man, what a familiar sight.

He pushes Zane down to the ground and rushes to grab my arm.

"Where are your clothes?" He growls the words, and when I look down, I can see why. Somehow I wound up in Zane's T-shirt, which hangs down to my thigh. I really wish I had taken a minute to notice what I was wearing and to find my clothes. Shoes would be nice, too.

Ryder clenches his jaw, seemingly gritting his teeth, and his grip on my arm tightens a bit.

I look at Zane, who is standing now and smiling widely.

"Care to come back to my room to change?" Zane gives me a lustful look and sends his grin my way.

I blush.

Ryder moves his hand into mine, and I gasp a little when he pulls. He looks down and sees my chafed wrists, and his face turns a bright shade of red.

"What are these marks from?"

"Can we just go, please?"

The look he shoots at Zane scares me a little. I'm totally PO'd at Zane, but I don't want him hurt. Part of me still believes in his vulnerability, that he is nothing more than a puppet with Meg pulling the strings. Nor do I trust that Zane wouldn't hurt Ryder. He's made it obvious he's not afraid to play dirty.

I touch Ryder's chest with my free hand, wanting to reassure him that I'm okay and that we should hurry and get out of here.

He looks at me, his gaze hardened in a way I haven't seen directed at me before. He shakes his head in such a small gesture that I almost question whether he moves at all, then he turns to Zane.

"I trust we won't be seeing you again."

Zane laughs.

"She came here of her own free will, and may decide to do so again. There's not a damn thing you can do about that, is there, Ry?"

"Next time Lord Mercy will come himself. We'll see how sure of yourself you are then."

Though Ryder's tone is menacing, "Lord Mercy" doesn't sound like much of a threat to me. But Zane's face pales the slightest bit before he recovers his trademarked cocky expression.

Ryder pulls me closer to him and leads me out, not slowing even as I trip in my bare feet while trying to keep pace with his long strides.

Not a word is uttered the entire way to the foggy area in the woods.

"This is probably a bad time to ask this, but do you think there's any way to get my clothes? My cell is in my pants pocket."

Ryder glares at me.

"You won't need your cell where you're going."

"We're going home. To my home. Ryder!"

He doesn't answer, just pulls me into the fog.

When we emerge, we're not in White Rock. Far from it.

I think he pulled me into a postcard. Ahead of me lies a castle-bigger and brighter than Meg's. All around are lushly landscaped grounds, vibrant flower gardens, and peaceful Koi ponds with gently flowing waterfalls. Everything is illuminated by the full moon and a tasteful selection of landscape lights that twinkle when we walk by.

I peer into the shadows of his face. Questions clog my brain, making me speechless.

"Time for you to meet your father."

# 39

The room Ryder brings me to is too fancy for me to feel comfortable. Luxurious fabrics, expensive-looking paintings, shining surfaces. He dumps me here without a word, then sends an oldish lady to bring me clothes. I take them gratefully, trying not to grimace at the style.

The willow green blouse fits like it was tailor-made for me. The pants are comfortable and soft. So not something I'd ever find in a mall, but when I look in the mirror, I see a spark in myself that I haven't seen before.

Ryder arrives at my door, looking as if he walked out of GQ. He's dressed more formally than normal; not in a suit, but with a collared shirt and khaki pants. Gorgeous isn't the word for him. He nods his head slightly, then offers me his arm and looks away.

I reject his arm, annoyed that he can't even look at me. I wonder if he sees anything good in me at all, or if I'm an obligation only.

Ryder picks up his pace, forcing me to stumble a little in the shoes they gave me. Every step of his screams irritation, but he doesn't say a word out loud.

I'm about to confront Ryder on his attitude toward me, but a door swings open and a rather large man steps out, arms outstretched toward me.

This man is old. His long, white beard makes me think "father figure," but his eyes are hardened, deadly.

Until he smiles. Then every feature of his face softens, and he feels familiar and warm.

He pulls me into his embrace, and though I don't exactly hug him back, I don't pull away, either. He smells of spices and fire, and a little touch of something sweet. I feel his chin resting on my head, and just when I start wondering how long this awkward hug will last, he puts his hands on my shoulders and holds me at arm's length, observing me carefully.

"Ah, yes. I see the Mercy within you. It's all over your face."

Okay...?

"You share some features of your biological mother, but you take more after me." He laughs, a deep, belly laugh full of joy.

I feel instantly connected with this man who sired me. But I have a million questions, none of which can be spoken yet.

At least he doesn't creep me out like Her Hissiness.

I'm led to a giant dining room table, where I'm seated next to Ryder and Lord Mercy. The meal is served family style, and all of the people who helped to set the table sit down with us. Robust conversation ensues as platters are passed around the table, and it feels more like a family than a hierarchy.

My belly feels hollow, but not for want of food. I ache for my usual meal with my mom, long for our crazy conversations and her off-beat sense of humor.

My eyes fill with tears, so I toy with the food on my plate, unable to take a bite.

"Child, what troubles you?"

I look to my side. Lord Mercy places his fork on the edge of his plate and leans toward me so he can hear my choked voice.

"Nothing, I just, I don't—" I sniffle and take a deep breath in an effort to compose myself. "I am worried about my mom worrying about me."

"I understand that worry. She has raised you to be a fine young lady."

"Thank you." True story, but I'm not feeling so fine lately.

"Felicia, I hope you'll consider making this your home, at least for a little while. I can offer protection from your biological mother, who will stop at nothing to get you to use your unfortunate talents for her cause."

My home? Here? Away from everything I know, everyone I love?

How can he even suggest such a thing?

And my "unfortunate" talents? Isn't that discrediting part of who I am?

"You don't have to answer now, give it some thought." He picks up his fork and resumes eating. "It doesn't have to be a bad thing. We can bring your earthly mother here, give her a comfortable place to stay. She'd be able to move freely among the realms, after some basic training. You can take advantage of your time here to build your strength and to learn how to control your Fury. You are half Mercy, after all."

His smile helps settle my nerves. He's not trying to hold me prisoner; he's trying to help me. And he's not trying to keep me from my family. My head settles a little.

"I'll think about it."

I manage to take a few bites of food, which is enough to abate some of my nausea. When Ryder walks me back to my room, he directs me to a small alcove with an old-fashioned phone.

"You can call your mother here."

My mom picks up on the first ring, and I can tell she's been waiting by the phone. I should have been home hours ago, and there's no doubt she's worried.

"Hi Mom. I'm so sorry it took so long to call you."

"Where are you? I've been calling your phone for hours and I must have sent you fifty texts. Why aren't you answering? Are you okay?"

This is as good a time as any to rehearse my acting skills.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. My battery died and I don't have the charger. I'm at Sarah's house. We have a huge project to work on and I got carried away, totally forgot to call sooner." I cross my fingers, hating myself for lying to Mom. But this isn't exactly something I can explain over the phone. I start to wonder what will show up on caller ID. My heart beats faster.

"Do you need me to pick you up?"

"Actually, is it okay if I stay here tonight? We figure we can work into the night, then I can go to school with her in the morning." I bite my lower lip, hoping she'll say yes. I have no Plan B.

She doesn't respond right away, which amps up my anxiety about ten thousand notches.

"Did her parents say it's okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine with it. They're cool like you." I smile so she can hear it in my voice.

"Ha, ha. I know how 'cool' you think I am." Worry has faded from her voice. "All right, I'm trusting that you're telling me the truth, since you haven't lied to me before. I'm sure you're not duping me... there are no cute boys with you, right?"

I look at Ryder and can feel myself blush deeper than I ever have. So deep, the heat spreads to my chest and probably down to my toes.

I swallow before answering.

"Ha, you're funny." Please let that be enough of a response to convince her.

She laughs. I exhale the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Go ahead and have a good time. Get lots of work done. And please come straight home after school tomorrow."

"Mmhmm." I have no idea what will happen tomorrow, but I guess I'll have to figure that out sooner than later.

"And next time you make sure you call me if you're going somewhere. I don't like worrying about you."

"Sorry, Mom. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Tears well up again.

"Are you okay, Felicia? I can come get you if you want. I know you haven't been feeling great lately."

"No, no, I'm good. Just tired from a long day."

"Well don't feel like you have to stay up all night working on the project. Nothing is as important as your mental health."

We say our good-byes and I love you's and I return the phone to the receiver.

Ryder walks me back to the room I'm staying in, practically jumping out of his skin when I accidentally bump into his arm.

I've had enough of his cold and withdrawn attitude. My insides are tangled and my emotions are on edge, and if I don't say something to him, I will snap.

He opens the door for me, where I'm greeted with a roaring fire in the fireplace and the covers of the four-poster bed turned down, begging me to climb in.

Before he can pull the door to a close, I put my foot in the way.

He looks at me with those piercing eyes of his, one lock of hair falling over his brow.

"What's your problem?"

He doesn't answer, just looks into the hall, away from me.

"Ryder, tell me what is wrong with you. Did I do something to you? Are you upset that you had to come get me? Just tell me."

He looks back at me. The silence continues way too long, but I hold my ground.

"Hmm, maybe the fact that you were sleeping with the enemy?"

I gasp. So not what I was expecting. And so not true!

I cover my mouth with my shaking hands.

"How could you fall for a guy like that?"

"I didn't..." My cheeks are burning. I want to defend myself, but acid is building in my esophagus and I can't focus on anything but the pain and the humiliation.

"You came out of his room wearing his shirt. How stupid do you think I am?"

How dare he make assumptions? Did he also miss the fact that I was chained up in the room?

Anger replaces humiliation, and I'm wishing my Fury would erupt now, but that part of me seems to be worn out still.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you sounded jealous."

Ryder snorts. I've never seen him so undone.

"It's okay, I know better. You can't even stand to be near me, so why would you be jealous? Obviously your interest in me has to do with whatever is going on here and nothing else." My eyes fill with tears, and I want to slam the door and pretend this conversation never happened. "You can't even stand to touch me."

Ryder pushes his way into my room, slamming the door shut behind him. I jump back, startled at his sudden, palpable anger.

My eyes grow wider, and I try to mask my fear. Ryder grabs my arms and pulls me to him. I breathe in his unique scent and try desperately to ward off the flutters in my belly. Being this close to him, with him so full of passion, throws me off balance.

I marvel at the intensity in his face. The swirly shades of blue, creating a storm in his normally calm eyes. A muscle in his cheek tightens, and his lips harden into a straight line.

"I've wanted nothing more than to touch you." He breathes hot fire on my face.

My mouth waters, my lips part. I can't explain my physical reaction to him, but I know it's way more intense and powerful than anything I've felt with Zane. I want him to kiss me more than I want to breathe.

He pulls away, letting my arms drop. I stumble backward a little, unaware that I had surrendered my weight to him.

The ice wall is resurrected between us once again.

I try to steady my breath, try to calm my racing heart.

His back muscles ripple, even through his shirt, as he runs his hand through his hair. His slumped shoulders scream defeat.

I have this need to comfort him, to apologize for my hurtful words. I haven't been the nicest to Ryder, and he's been nothing but good to me. I can't explain my frequent hostility toward him, even to myself. But I can try to put him at ease.

I force my legs to function properly and walk toward him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. I feel so alone in the world, and he's my only friend.

Before my hand makes contact with his shoulder, Ryder jumps forward as if I shot a hot spark at him.

"Go." I mean to order him out, but the word comes out as nothing more than a pleading whisper. He doesn't respond.

"Go!" I shout, rushing ahead to push him out with both hands. My effort accomplishes nothing—he doesn't budge.

As I try to physically move this mountain, his muscles bunch under my hand and he stiffens. After what seems like forever, he shuffles out the door, closing it with a soft click.

The only thing I have to be grateful for at this moment is that he didn't bother to turn around on his way out the door, because I'd die if he saw the tears rushing down my face. I've had enough mortification for ten lives.

# 40

Crying myself to sleep is getting old and seems wrong when I should try to enjoy this night surrounded by luxury. It's weird, too, because I can psychically feel Mercy's presence here, which only makes me miss my adoptive father, my real dad.

I drag myself out of bed, but since it's still the middle of the night, I wrap a blanket around me and sit in front of the fire. Images playing in the flames soothe me, relaxing my brain.

Unbidden, memories rush into my head as if I'm living them for the first time.

A picnic with my parents, where they are laughing and enjoying each other's company. My dad trying to impress us by making matching dandelion crowns for my mom and me, but the crowns come undone as soon as we put them in our hair.

A trip to the zoo, just me and my dad when my mom had to go away to see her sick mother for a weekend. The warmth and strength in my daddy's hands. The ice cream dripping onto my chin, and his smiling eyes when he helped me wipe away the mess.

Bed-time rituals, when my mom and dad would take turns each night helping me brush my teeth, then they'd both come to my room to read me a story. Dad would always read one extra story for me, even though the clock would tick past my bedtime.

I rub the spot over my heart without realizing at first what I'm doing. I want to dull the ache that burns there.

I fall asleep in front of the fire, comforted by memories of my parents, particularly of when my dad still understood me and still loved my mom. And me.

Morning comes too soon, but at the direction of one of Mercy's staff members, I stumble my way down to the dining room where breakfast is served.

Mercy greets me, taking extra time to study my reddened eyes and puffy face. The tell-tale signs of my misery encourage him to be extra sympathetic and gentle to me, or maybe that's just the way he is. How would I know?

Ryder's absence weighs heavily on my mind. Is my presence keeping him from sharing a meal with his community?

I look around the table at the various people eating. Quiet, reverent conversations create a gentle buzz around the table. I wonder if it's like this every morning, so different from last night's robust dinner. People seem more subdued, but still fun.

Could I fit in this world? Could I make a home here? It's every girl's escape fantasy come true, and yet...

How could I leave my home?

Not having to deal with the messes I've created appeals to me, but would I ever truly escape them?

"If you're done pushing that food around, would you care to play a game of chess with this old man?"

His voice, though gentle, jolts me from my inner thoughts.

"I'd love to." I smile. "Though don't be surprised if I'm no challenge."

He chuckles, then leads me to a table with a built-in, crystal chess set. Each piece is flanked with diamonds, and I'm afraid to touch such valuable-looking stuff.

Mercy sets me at ease, joking with me as we begin our play.

I'm better than I thought at chess, which I can thank Corey for. He taught me everything about the game, including some strategy.

"So you've found Ryder to be helpful to you."

More of a statement than a question, and I have no idea how to reply.

"He's one of my best men, in spite of his youth, and it came in handy that he's young enough to attend high school with you. None of my other guards would have a chance of protecting you there without causing quite a stir."

"Oh, he caused plenty of a stir." I didn't mean for that to slip out, but the thought of Ryder blending in is laughable.

"I mean, with the girls and stuff."

Horror and mortification stains my cheeks. Why can't I shut up?

"Check."

I move my queen into a protected spot. Yes, focus on the game.

"I imagine Ryder is quite popular with the girls. It can be hard to keep them away from him here, too. But he has the best work ethic of any young man I've known. He worked hard to earn his place in this realm of Mercy." He pauses, leans forward, and looks in my eyes before making his next move. "It's not easy to be inducted into this world."

"What do you mean?"

"Inductees must pass tests."

Not sure if I want to know, based on his tone of voice, but I find myself asking, anyway.

"Any man who wants to join my army needs to know what it is to be granted Mercy. He must be brought to his knees, must suffer, must really want Mercy. Then he can appreciate it fully and will be able to grant Mercy to others."

"Sounds ominous."

"It is. Every man endures a different kind of pain."

I shiver, then make a move.

"Ryder suffered greatly before coming to this realm. He made a series of bad choices in his human life, was involved with the wrong crowd. He lost most of his family and nearly lost his own life."

I look up at those words. They don't coincide with my knowledge of Ryder, not the slightest. Ryder is stable, well put together. Not the type to be making bad choices with the wrong crowd.

I want to know more.

Mercy leans back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of him. He's studying the board, deciding on his next move, but luckily for me he also continues his story.

"Ryder came here as a young boy, around twelve years of age. He had already made a mess of his life. Not all of it was his fault; he was the product of two drug-addicted parents. He was trying to make ends meet to support his younger siblings, but he took a turn down the wrong path to do it.

"When one of my soldiers found him, he had been saved by a stranger, who had scared away the gang of boys who were initiating him into the gang. He was already beaten to a pulp, but still defiant.

"It didn't take long for him to be encouraged to come here. We could offer protection for his young siblings and he could be given the opportunity to earn land and powers."

I don't know what to say. Ryder, a gang member? At age twelve?

That is so far from the image I have of him. I can't even wrap my head around it.

"Oh, he was a defiant scrap of a boy, but we all saw something in him. His loyalty, for one. The things he was willing to do to help his family. Most kids don't see outside of themselves. But Ryder—he loves his family more than his own life."

Mercy makes another move, and the pieces look blurry through the hazy cloud brewing in my eyes. I blink, not wanting to show more weakness.

"Did his parents clean up?"

"Sadly, no. They both died. That's partly what drove Ryder into the gang life. He wanted to keep himself and his siblings out of foster care, afraid of being separated from each other and from the only life they knew.

"This story has a happy ending, though. He passed the tests, sought Mercy from my testers, who put him through incredible amounts of torture before he relented. He now knows fully what it means to be granted mercy, and his siblings are quite happy living in their own wing in our home here. Ryder is earning more and more lands and opportunities for himself and was the only one I trusted to care for you. My daughter."

The words cut deep. I can't catch my breath. He thinks of me as his daughter, and I can't reciprocate. I already have parents.

I struggle through the rest of the game in silence. I try to smile at him, not wanting him to feel my misery when he's being so kind to me.

And I want to be on the right footing with him in case I decide to make a new life here, as he's offered.

And I really, really, really want to see Ryder. Where is he?

# 41

The day passes in a blur, and there's still no sign of Ryder. I'm surprised how much I miss him being around. I want to erase the conversation we had, make him forget me in Zane's shirt. The last thing I want is for Ryder to think I'm capable of doing what he thinks I did.

Sleep grabs me and pulls me into its peaceful depths as soon as I hit the pillow that night.

But peace doesn't last.

My dreams quickly turn into nightmares. Death surrounds me, those I love die tragic, horrible deaths. First my friends, then my family. I find them all in pools of blood. I get to my mom, hoping I can save her from meeting the same fate. She reaches out to me while in the grips of a giant snake, squeezing her until she can no longer breathe. I hold my hand out, needing to pull her to safety, trying to wrestle the snake from around her thin body. Her eyes bulge, and the skin around her lips turns blue. I'm almost too late!

I grab a knife and stab at the snake, but the sharp pain cuts directly to my head. The snake laughs at me, and that laugh is Meg's laugh, and I know that my mom's death is all my fault, because that snake is part of me, and part of Meg. And now a part of my mom's life cycle. The cause of her death.

I jolt out of bed, screams caught in my throat, sweat dripping from my body. It takes me a minute, but I soon realize I'm safe, that the images in my dream were not real.

My stomach clenches when I remember that my mom was expecting me home today after school, and I never gave her an excuse or an alibi.

I rush to the door, yanking it open. I need some water, or maybe something stronger to drown the pain.

I'm almost to the kitchen when I run into Ryder. He's pacing the halls and looks like such a tortured soul that I feel like I'm violating his privacy just by looking at him.

He notices I'm there almost immediately.

Awkward silence fills the halls as he stares at me like I'm some mental patient escaping from the asylum.

I try to walk past him, but he grabs my arm. A spark shoots through me, and I hate myself for it. I'm so not going to be one of those girls who falls for the guy who can't love her back.

I jerk my arm away, but rather than letting me go with dignity, he pulls me to him, looking at me soulfully.

And then he hugs me.

"I'm glad you woke up."

"You are?" I can't imagine why.

"Listen, you can't possibly know how much I want you to stay here." He puts his finger over my lips when I start to protest, and I have the oddest urge to nibble on that finger. "You have no idea, Felicia. And though I've tried to tell myself that the peace I feel when you're here is only because of the joy you've brought to Mercy, and that my loyalty to him is what makes me feel better that you're here, I know I'm lying to myself."

I look up at him and have the sensation of my insides being ground up into teeny, tiny, mushy pieces. Like applesauce. I blink my eyes, trying to get rid of the image of apples, because why am I thinking of applesauce when Ryder is telling me that he wants me here with him? For selfish purposes, even.

"Don't look at me like that, Felicia." His voice has become husky and deeper. His body heat reaches out to me, filling me. His fresh, clean scent makes me want to move in closer so I can breathe deeper.

"You need to go home. You need to run. This thing between us, it isn't meant to be."

Vice grips rip my gut, and every warm, happy feeling I've ever felt toward him oozes out, poisoning my blood.

My mouth drops open, and I feel my brow wrinkle in confusion.

He grabs both of my arms, and I stiffen.

"I know how much you need your family. The family who raised you. I also know how much they miss you, how they worry. Your mom deserves better than to have you run away from her. She's probably up right this minute, tortured by the fact that you're not there."

"I know all this! Stop it!" I close my eyes tight and turn my head away, hoping to somehow shield my soul from his words.

"No, you need to hear me. I want you here. With me. I want to protect you, to keep you safe here, in this world. And I want to get to know you more."

I blink rapidly, swearing no tears will fall. He cannot see me cry.

"Felicia, I want you."

I can't breathe. I need air.

"But I can't ever have you."

"Who says I want you to want me? Or that I even want you?"

He smiles. How can he be so damn sure of himself?

Then I notice the sadness around his eyes.

He lets go of my arms and turns away.

"There are no fairy tale endings here, Felicia. You need to go home."

# 42

Ryder pulls me to a small alcove at the end of the hall and sits me down on the window seat. It's too dark to see anything but my own reflection, but I imagine a view fit for a princess.

I move over so he can sit beside me, though I can't for the life of me figure out why I would want him so close.

Why hasn't he let go of my hand?

"I could bring your mother here to tell her, if you want."

"Tell her? I can't! She'll think I'm—"

"She'll think you're the best thing that's ever happened to her, like she always has."

"We can't bring her here."

"You think it's better to keep letting her think that you've run away? Or that you're crazy?"

He's right, I know he is. But I'd rather tell her I'm pregnant or failing classes than tell her my truth. I think she'd be less disappointed in me if I told her I'd robbed a bank.

"She is your mother. I don't know if you know how lucky you are to have her."

"Of course I do." He looks at our hands, our fingers entwined. My mind goes to the conversation I had with Father Mercy, and I remember that Ryder didn't have the same childhood experience I had. He's never known parents who loved him more than anything else.

But will my mom love me if she knows what I've turned into?

"I have to tell my mom myself." I sit up straighter, knowing I'm doing the right thing. Ryder is right. I can't keep her wondering, worrying. She'll either support me or she won't, but either way, I've got to find out.

I love her too much to keep hiding from her.

"I'll bring you. But you don't have the same protection there as you do here. I'll have to stay with you, especially now that Megaera is heating up. She has felt your power surge, and it will be hard to call her off now."

"What is up with her? I know she can't really want me because she's suddenly had maternal remorse. She abandoned me at birth; didn't even make sure there was anyone there to raise me. It wasn't a loving gesture. What does she want?"

Ryder stands up, and the loss of contact with him creates an emptiness inside of me. I worry I've pushed too hard with my questions, and now he'll pull away.

"You need to know."

He says it like he's trying to convince himself.

He kneels in front of me, and I hold my hands in my lap to fight the urge I have to run my hands through his hair.

He looks over his shoulder before turning back to me with urgency.

"Years ago, a task force was put together to bind the powers of the Furies. As you know from your research, there are three sisters. Your mother is considered not as threatening, and her 'less than' status has made her worse than her more threatening sisters."

"She's the least threatening?"

Ryder nods.

"Please don't introduce me to my aunts."

"Meg rebelled against her family by cavorting with men and was particularly proud of seducing Mercy. But after she tossed you away, Mercy went on a rampage. Since he was head of the Committee at that time, and holds more power in the realms than the Furies ever did, he had a great deal of say in keeping gods and goddesses in line. A task force was convened and the Furies had to either voluntarily stop exacting justice, or they'd be locked up in a certain hell dimension. Since the Furies are mainly responsible for the prisoners in that particular hell ending up there in the first place, they swore to abide by the pact."

I shudder and rub my bare arms, trying to will the goosebumps away.

"When Meg discovered you're still alive, she realized there was a loophole. If she can get you to fall in line with her, she can use your Fury for her cause. This was a loophole no one was able to foresee, since everyone thought you were dead."

"And now that I'm alive?"

He takes a deep breath, studying something over my shoulder. When he meets my gaze again, the intensity of his stare runs through me.

"There's danger in letting your Fury loose."

"What do you mean? I might hurt someone?"

"Someone might hurt you." He stands and resumes his pacing.

"Who might hurt me? How?" He remains quiet, stoic. I leap to my feet, following him as he paces. "You have to tell me."

He turns abruptly; our bodies collide. I jump back before he can burn me any deeper than he already has.

"I've already told you more than I'm supposed to."

"That's not fair. Am I supposed to figure it out when the danger happens? What then?"

"You already know there is danger in letting your Fury loose. Learn to control it so it, and she, can't control you."

"You are incredibly frustrating."

I grate my teeth and chew on the side of my tongue in an effort to keep quiet.

I don't need convincing that the Fury is dangerous to my existence. The adrenaline rush from the power surge is unlike anything I've ever felt, and I'm sure it could become addictive.

# 43

"I'll go get your mother, bring her here so you can talk to her."

"Are you insane? She'd totally freak. I need to tell her in person." I swallow. "If I can figure out how."

Ryder puts his hands on my shoulders. His warmth penetrates my shirt and burns me inside.

"Be yourself."

"Oh, she'd love to see the snakes for herself, I'm sure."

"That's not who you are. That's a part of you you're learning to contain. The Fury doesn't define you, it isn't your essence."

"And what if it _is_ my essence? What if the Fury is what I'm meant to become in some sick, twisted way? What if any good that ever existed in me has been absorbed by this monster?" Tears fill my eyes and I blink them away, turning so he can't see.

"Felicia, your mother knows you better than anyone. No matter what you tell her, no matter what she sees, you will still be Felicia. And you are full of good."

His footsteps echo down the hall, and I assume he's leaving me.

Then his voice is next to my ear and his arms wrap around my waist. His warm breath tickles the tiny hairs on my neck. My knees buckle and he holds me close.

"The Fury is yours to control, and it's your destiny to choose. You are full of Mercy, more than anyone else in this realm, other than maybe Lord Mercy himself. You have gifts that no one even understands yet. You yourself are a gift."

And then he releases me and disappears, and I'm left to wonder if my time tonight with Ryder was one big fantasy. But his scent lingers on my shirt and in my hair, and I know he was really here.

# 44

Ryder helps me sneak into my room before dawn, then departs without a word. His gaze reassures me and fills me with confidence, so even though my stomach is filled with little people bouncing on a trampoline and my mouth is full of cotton and my heart absolutely _bleeds_ , I have a tiny bit of faith that things will be okay.

After getting dressed in a school-appropriate outfit, I saunter down the stairs and into the kitchen just as I would any other morning before school. I try to be nonchalant, but my mom is sitting at the table with my yearbook, a phone book, a notebook, black shadows under her eyes, and new lines around her mouth. I want to vomit.

I dash into the kitchen and she jumps up before I utter a word, tears streaming down her face. She pulls me into a tight embrace, and it's not long before I feel her tears seeping through to my shoulder.

"Mom?"

I want her to believe I've been here all night, but something tells me she's not going to buy it. I consider lying like my friends would. I could tell her I came in after she was asleep. But her haggard look tells me she was up all night waiting, and I've already done enough damage to our previously close relationship.

"Sweet pea, are you okay? Where have you been? I've been calling everyone and no one has seen you in days!"

She studies my face, then my body, searching for injuries.

"I'm fine, Mom." My voice squeaks.

"Where on earth have you been? The police haven't even been able to find a single clue, other than that those two boys are gone, too. Did they hurt you? I'll kill them!"

"No, I'm okay. Really. Ryder helped me get back here, actually." Crap, I hadn't even considered the fact that the police would more than likely become involved.

She stares at me, studying my face to figure out what I'm hiding. Her fists unclench at her side.

"Felicia, I need you to tell me the truth. Jenny called me."

"What did she call for?" I'm taken aback by this revelation. Why was she interfering?

"She was worried." I snort, and my mom gives me one of her looks. "She said Ryder was giving her a ride home because Jenny's boyfriend had her cornered in the school, trying to force her to do things she wasn't ready to do, and Ryder defended her. But she said something in him changed on the way home, and after he dropped her off, he raced away. When she heard you were missing, she was worried he might be involved, since you two have apparently been inseparable at school."

He defended her. From her boyfriend. Then gave her a ride home. That explains so much and is so much more like Ryder than what I was imagining.

But oh, no—that last part makes Ryder look really bad in my mom's eyes, I'm sure.

"Did he do anything to hurt you? Tell me the truth. You won't be in trouble."

"No, Mom! Absolutely not. Ryder is a perfect gentleman." Almost too perfect, but I don't elaborate.

"I know there's a whole lot you're not telling me. We are going to sit at that table until you decide to 'fess up."

"You're right. We need to talk."

She must have been expecting a fight, because she slumps like a deflated balloon as we head over to the table.

I close my eyes and try to relax, imagining a sunny place with fluffy white clouds and an ocean breeze.

"You know how I was found as an infant, and no one could figure out where I came from?"

My mom nods, and her puffy red eyes are cloudy again.

"Sweet pea, is this about trying to find your birth parents?"

"I found them."

She's silent for a moment. Shocked, I bet. Far from what she was expecting.

"Oh, honey. I would have helped you! Your dad and I both would have helped you. We've tried to find them over the years, but with nothing to go on, it was an impossible search." She pauses, then stiffens and straightens, her hands flat on the solid surface of the table. "Wait, how did you have any clue where to start? Are you sure you didn't meet a scam artist, someone trying to fool you, to prey on your vulnerability? Give me their names. I need to research these people."

I place my hand over hers and notice for the first time how her hands are starting to take on the look of an aging woman.

"There's more I have to tell you, and you're going to freak out."

"Honey, I'm so glad to have you back and safe, nothing could drive me away. I love you more than anything." She stops, her throat clogging. "Please believe that."

I watch the path of her tear as it winds along the lines of her face, ending at the corner of her mouth. She squeezes my hands, and I fear they may crack, but I don't pull away because I owe my mom everything.

"Remember that thing with the snakes?"

Confusion ripples over her expression, but then she nods, and I know she's thinking I belong in therapy again. Maybe even on meds.

She waits for me to continue.

"My biological mother is a Fury."

"Is that slang for something?"

"No. Hold on." I cross the room to grab her laptop, then bring it to the table. After a few clicks, pictures of Furies light up the computer screen, and though they are not super- accurate depictions, they are the best I have at the moment.

"Honey, that's a mythology website. Mythology is not real, it's all based on myth." The words trickle out, and she sounds a bit removed from them. Distant.

"That's what I thought, too. But, Mom, when I was having those fits of rage, this happened to me. I had snakes growing out of my head. And bloody tears. It's crazy, I know. But it's real. I tried to convince myself otherwise, but then I met the woman who threw me away. She's a Fury. True story." I cross my heart and hold my fingers up in a "scouts honor" salute, just like I did when I was young and innocent and she could believe in me.

She stares at me, and I babble to fill the silence.

"Trust me, I wish I could be normal and tell you I've been out on a drinking binge or smoking crack or something, anything else. But this is a part of me, something I didn't even know existed."

I pace around the room, taking in the eclectic mix of country and contemporary style, the mismatched curtains, the worn furniture. All the imperfect details that make this _home_ , a home filled with the creative joy of my mother. The fading, finger-painted hand-prints taped to the cabinets, the edges yellowing and curling in the corners. The basket of paper flowers I gave my mom for Mother's Day many years ago, collecting dust on the counter. Remembrances I haven't noticed for years.

"I want you to be a part of this, Mom. I want you to meet my biological father, and maybe he can help you understand this."

Still silence. I try to read her face, but she's always been way better at reading me. Emotions dance across her features, subtle as a light breeze on the surface of a placid lake, and I can't identify them.

"I have to tell you, though. The biological mother is crazy. Insane. I don't want you to meet her. But my biological father is kind of cool. He's a Mercy, which basically means what it sounds like. Total opposite of Fury, I guess. And I'm both."

I drop into a chair. She still hasn't said anything, and I'm all babbled out. Maybe I should have had Ryder bring her to me, instead. It would have been a crash course in understanding, but obviously I'm no professor.

I draw hearts on the table with my finger as I search my mind for a way to prove this to her. I could allow my Fury to emerge, but I'm not angry and am a little afraid of what I'd do, since the Fury has been getting stronger and stronger and I'm not exactly myself when it's free.

"Mom? Please say something."

She doesn't, but she glides over to me, pulls me up from the chair, and hugs me so tight I think my eyes are going to pop out. I hug her back tighter.

When she finally pulls away and I can breathe again, the shining in her eyes stuns me.

"I always knew you were special."

# 45

"You believe me?"

"Don't look so incredulous. Of course I believe you. You're my daughter. Whatever is going on now will make sense eventually."

"Will it?"

She leads me to the living room couch, then pulls me onto her lap. I feel ridiculously out of place in this position; I'm practically as tall as she is and haven't sat on her lap in years. But I snuggle into her like a newborn kitten and soak up the comfort I've been missing since this whole thing started.

I'm not sure how long she holds me like that, but I'm sure I'm late for school. Amazing how much that would have bothered me a month ago.

A knock on the door startles us and I jump up to see who's there. Mom follows close behind.

We let Ryder in, and he nods to my mom in familiar acknowledgment. She smiles, but seems more reserved than normal.

"Coffee?"

"That would be great."

Ryder follows my mother into the kitchen and neither of them acts as if there's anything strange about him showing up during first period of classes.

After a moment of hanging back in the living room, I join them at the table. My mom prepares a mug of hot cocoa for me. The chocolaty goodness sets me at ease immediately.

Mom and Ryder sip at their coffee in silence.

"So tell me about your role in all this, Ryder." Her stern look of steel drives into him, and I'm shocked at my mom turning into mama bear so abruptly.

He appears unscathed by her tone. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"I was sent by Mercy to protect your daughter."

"Protect her from what?"

"From the threat of her biological mother. And from showing her own emerging Fury to the world. That's a secret that needs to be guarded for her own protection."

"What threat does her mother pose?"

"She wants to use Felicia's Fury to exact justice and vengeance on humans, since she's no longer capable of using her own."

I'm amazed at the lack of emotional response in this exchange. My mom grills, Ryder answers. Nothing held back, no beating around the bush.

"And her father, this Mercy fellow. Does he pose a threat?"

"No. He's grateful to you and your husband for taking Felicia in and raising her so well. He never would have cast her out the way her mother did, but he also knows that she now belongs with you. He does offer her a place in his realm if she chooses."

My mom leaps up, pushing back so fast her chair goes flying, clattering across the ceramic floor tiles.

"My daughter will not be going anywhere."

"Mom, chill. No one said I'm going anywhere."

"Mercy only means to offer protection. If Felicia is to stay here, I will stay, also."

"How do you protect her? You're a boy still."

"It's true that I'm young. But I'm a Knight of Mercy, fully inducted and trained, and I'm able to assist Felicia in maintaining control of her Fury. I can also help with clouding the minds of anyone who sees her Fury erupt, in case of accidental exposure."

"What?" I interrupt, blood rushing to my face. "So Zane was telling the truth? You really did erase people's memories of the snakes and stuff to make them think I was crazy?"

My mom crosses her arms over her chest. Ryder sits back and runs his hand through his hair, his calm demeanor eroding.

"Not exactly. I cloud their memory so they don't recall the snakes and such, but I allow them to keep the integrity of the memory for two reasons. One, because it's the philosophy of Mercy that people learn from their mistakes, and that includes having to live with the consequences of their behavior." He pauses, looking more unsure of himself than I've ever seen him.

"And two?" My mom and I speak in unison.

"I believe the causes you've chosen to fight for are worthy causes. I didn't want to make anyone forget that you stood up for what you believed in."

Warmth rushes through me at both his words and the through-the-lashes look he gives me. I've never seen him so vulnerable, and before I can fully enjoy it, he erects the wall around him that makes him appear so strong and steady.

"So what's next?" My mom bends over to pick up the chair she knocked over, but Ryder gets to it before she can. He holds the chair away from the table, gesturing for her to sit, then slides the chair—and my mom—closer to the table.

"What's next is I get to school before I get any further behind."

"Is that a good idea?" Mom looks at Ryder, which royally annoys me.

"Hello? Remember me? Felicia, the good student? The one who has already done enough damage for one school year? I am capable of making my own decisions still, you know."

Ryder's imposing form hovers near me as I gather a notebook from the desk in the dining room. The gentle shuffle of my mom's slippers warns me that she's approaching.

She hands me my backpack, still heavy and now covered with dirt stains. I pick a brown pine needle out of the zipper and send her a sorrowful look of thanks.

Tears well in her eyes, and she brushes some loose dirt off the backpack.

"The police found this in the woods." She croaks out the words, but I feel like I'm the one who's choking. "Looks like everything is in there."

I swing the pack over one shoulder and reach out to hug my mom.

"See you after school."

I wiggle out of her embrace and swallow my emotion. I can't imagine the horror Mom must have endured when they found my backpack in the woods, and no sign of me. I did that to her, and it will take a long time to help her move past it.

Ryder follows me in silence. At least I'll get to school with one friendship intact, even if Ryder isn't exactly a friend.

"Wait, sweet pea. I forgot to give you this."

Mom hands me a folded paper. I open it up and smile at the crayon drawing of a great big sun, a small child in a bright red shirt holding hands with a brown-haired girl, and flowers almost as big as the people sprouting from the grass by their feet. Sloppily written words spell out, "I love you and miss you, Miss Felicia. Please feel better soon so we can play."

I fold the picture quickly and shove it in the pocket of my jeans. This kind of thing could be my undoing. I've been so caught up in my own drama that I haven't even considered what the kids have been going through, nor have I realized how much I missed them.

My heart grows about four sizes, feeling tight and out of place in my chest.

"Remember, honey. You are important to many."

I close the door behind me, wondering if it's possible to feel any lower than I do now.

Ryder opens the car door for me and I climb in without a word.

The drive to school is silent, and my stomach rolls over at the thought of entering that building, where I'm the convict awaiting my execution.

Time to mend some broken bridges. I cross my fingers, sending a silent prayer that it's not too late.

# 46

In true tragic fashion, the first person I see when I turn the corner to head to my locker is Jade. She looks different—her clothes are tighter than normal and her hair is a lighter shade of strawberry blonde. I can feel her change in attitude before I even approach her, but I can't tell if it's positive.

"Hey." Not the most creative segue, but I figure I have to start somewhere.

She responds by slamming her locker shut, the metallic sound echoing down the nearly empty hall. The bell is about to ring for third period, and most students have already found their way to class. Her eyes never meet mine as she stomps off, her high-heeled boots clunking down the hall.

Ryder reappears next to me, his arm barely touching mine, yet sending a shock up my arm and down my spine. He's usually so good at avoiding contact, I assume he's trying to offer comfort. Who would have thought he'd end up my anchor in this tumultuous friendship storm?

He doesn't return my smile when he delivers me to my class. I feel him watch as the door closes behind me, though.

Mr. Shaw smiles when I enter the classroom, taking my seat in the middle of the second row. I barely have time to register Jenny's snarky grin when I'm called to guidance. I scoop my books into my arms and make my way down the hall, kinda sorta missing Ryder's escort.

"Felicia, it's so lovely to have you back." Mrs. Evans stands when I enter her office. She gestures to an overstuffed chair across from her. I sit on the edge, clutching my books as though they were my security blanket.

"How are you feeling?" She peers over the bifocal glasses perched low on her pointy nose, her owl-like eyes studying me as I gather my thoughts.

"Fine?"

"I know things haven't been easy for you lately." She leans closer and clasps her heavily ringed hands in her lap. "Should you need anything during the day, my door is always open."

"Thank you." I look at the clock over the door, wondering why she had to pull me out of class when I've already missed so much. Aren't they supposed to care about my education?

"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about, in person." She fidgets with an onyx ring, pulling it off, sliding it back on.

I try to look interested in whatever she has to say.

"It's about the grant."

"I know I've missed some of the deadlines, but I promise I'll have everything in before the final deadline on Monday."

"Actually, they declined your request for an extension. Since most of the other applicants didn't proceed through the second stage, and since you were—" She clears her throat, "unavailable, they awarded the grant to the most qualified student still in the running."

She pauses, and I think maybe she's waiting for a response. I'd honor her wishes if I weren't suffocating under a stack of bricks, the weight of disappointment cracking my ribs and preventing air from reaching my lungs.

"I'm so sorry, Felicia. We all thought you'd get it. But the entire committee asked me to urge you to reapply next year."

Next year. Not this year. To her, applying next year probably makes perfect sense. But to the kids who could benefit from the grant? Next year may be too late. Next year they will be a year older. Next year they may be less optimistic, less interested in positive change. Next year, next year, next year!

"Thank you for your time." My cheeks might crack from smiling so brightly. I breathe deep as I walk out her door, ignoring her apologies and well wishes and welcome backs. My hair follicles itch, and I'm tempted to let the Fury fly, to give freedom to the beast within.

Young Dylan's face pops in my head, and I flash back to the first time I saw him hanging outside The Shack, looking hungry and forgotten. How his tentative grin burst into a bright smile when I invited him in and bought him a triple chocolate milkshake. The thrill I got from helping him when I know I'd seen the kid around town often, never with an adult in sight.

Ryder meets me in the hallway, and though I'm still smiling, his gaze turns darker and he grabs my arm with urgency and pulls me into the stairwell. He rubs my arms as though he's trying to bring feeling back to my limbs. A giggle erupts when I see how serious he is, how caring, how concerned. He doesn't even know how I've failed.

His forehead wrinkles when my giggle turns to a chuckle, then an all-out, drop-down, belly-hurting chortle. He pulls his hands away like I've somehow managed to burn him, which makes me laugh louder. A snort escapes from my nose, and I'm not even the slightest bit embarrassed. Someone walks by us, looking curiously at the scene I'm causing, then runs up the stairs when my laugh turns deeper, darker. I'm the school psychotic, and who knows what crazy stunt I'll pull next?

"You done?"

I burst into more laughter, holding my belly with my free hand, then grabbing my cheeks because they burn. I can't remember when I last laughed this much, but I know it probably involved Jade and Corey.

Next, Peter's scarred face enters my mind. He comes to The Shack regularly now, but it took weeks of coaxing and bribing him with strawberry shakes and Sean's homemade pretzels to make him feel safe enough to stick around for a board game session.

My laughter dies as quickly as it was born.

Ryder stands stoic, and I'm sure he's afraid to say anything that might set me off again.

"Okay, I need to get to class." I walk away, and he follows. "Hey, thanks for the laugh therapy."

A look of confusion flickers across his face, but he doesn't say a word.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to walk to class on my own. I need a little time to regroup."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Here, I got you a replacement phone. Text me if you need me."

I nod and thank him for the thoughtfulness. My fingers are going into withdrawal from the lack of texting; I never thought I could go this long without communication with my friends. Then again, I'm sure my phone isn't plagued with missed calls or texts.

I duck into the bathroom to splash water on my face before my next class.

The face looking back at me seems older than I remember. I suppose that's from the lack of sleep and too much stress, but to be honest, my looks are the last thing on my mind.

As I twist the dial on the paper towel holder, I notice a heart with a Z drawn in the middle. Probably some girl crushing on Zane.

My stomach twists at the thought of him, and though I hate to admit that I could have even one ounce of positive feeling toward him, I have to come to grips with the fact that I'm worried about him. I haven't seen him in school, and I'm more than a little suspicious that his black eye was brought on by letting me escape last time.

I push my way out of the bathroom, into the pseudo reality of my high school. Zane's a big boy—a fighter—and Meg does have some affection for him, so I'm sure he'll be okay.

The kids I mentor, however... I'll never know what a difference the grant could have made in their lives. No matter how kind and giving Sean is, he can't allow the kids to spend all their out-of-school time at The Shack in the dining area.

A headache lodges itself firmly in my temple, and I try to rub it away with no success.

Walking by the library on my way to class, I notice Corey sitting by himself near the window. My mood brightens a little—I could make my apologies to him now when he can't easily escape me.

He has to forgive me. He's _Corey._

I smooth my hair, toss my shoulders back, and stroll through the door. He doesn't look up, which is good because if he doesn't see me, he won't try to escape.

I trip a little on my untied shoe-lace, dropping my notebook. After I pick it up, I notice Corey looking at me, a big, friendly smile on his face. He stands up, his posture welcoming. I pick up my pace, ready to hug him and go back to normal.

Before I reach him, _that girl_ passes me and runs into his arms. He closes his eyes when he hugs her, and I slump, hugging my notebook tight to my chest. Wishing I could disappear into the bookshelves, invisible.

He kisses her lips, takes her by the hand, gathers his things, and leads her toward the other exit. Corey, leading? Kissing? Guess I'm not the only one changing.

I just never thought I'd see the day when Corey wouldn't see me. The one boy who knows me better than I know myself.

Tears well in my tired eyes, but I blink them away and chastise myself for my weakness. I bite my cheek until I'm reminded that there is pain more intense in this world than emotional pain.

I make it through English, scribbling notes and doodling in the margins. The drone of the teacher's voice allows me to enter a sort of Zen state, and though I'm sure my SATs won't reflect this as a good thing, the fact that I haven't entered a mental institution yet today is a direct result of the Zen.

The ringing bell at the end of fourth period brings me back to the world, and I move through the swarms of people in the hall like a fish swimming upstream. I don't belong here any more than an elephant belongs in a dog crate.

I'm heading into the cafeteria as Mrs. Evans taps me on the shoulder, beckoning me to follow her back to her office. My stomach growls in protest, reminding me that I haven't eaten since last night in Mercy world. Not that I feel like nourishing this dysfunctional body of mine, but I also would rather avoid passing out and having to explain another episode to the school nurse.

I sit in the same overstuffed chair I was in an hour ago, wondering what more she could possibly have to say to me.

"Felicia, thanks for coming in." She says this with a serious face, like it was my choice to stop by for a visit.

I raise my eyebrows, waiting.

Mrs. Evans shuffles through some papers on her desk, then pulls out a file that I presume is mine. She pulls out a manila envelope and hands it to me across the desk.

"What's this?"

She leans back in her chair and swallows hard. She fiddles with the corner of the envelope, and I find it a bit amusing that she looks so nervous, like she's the one sitting in the comfy chair waiting for the bad news to be delivered.

Then again, maybe it's not bad news. Maybe I'm misreading the situation. Maybe the grant committee reconsidered.

"I'm very sorry to have to do this the first day you're back from your leave of absence, but first-quarter warnings have been given out, and I need your parents to sign yours."

Warnings? That I'm failing? Blood rushes out of my extremities, and my feet feel like blocks of ice.

I want to defend myself, but what is there to say?

I haven't turned in a single homework assignment in weeks.

She hands me the envelope, and I think I even signed something verifying that I received them. I may have mumbled "thank you" as I shuffled out of her office, my feet barely working.

I walk to the caf, amazed at how my body could continue to function when I think my heart actually stopped beating. Can you be dead and still function in high school?

As much as I'd like to run home, I know I have to finish the day. And my growling stomach takes no pity on my lack of joy in life.

After handing my money to the lunch lady at the register, I carry my tray to the far corner where no one is currently sitting. The loser corner. Exactly where I belong. Not like any of my so-called friends would welcome me if I crashed their table.

I bite the cardboard pizza and chew each bite fifteen times, until the crust turns to mush. This manages to keep my mind off everything else. Then it's time to take another bite, and all the misery of the day comes back to me until I start counting the next.

Eight, nine, ten...Jenny enters my line of vision. Eleven, twelve, thirteen...I don't want to get to fifteen because then I'll have to swallow and I'll have to imagine how much worse the day could get if Jenny continues on the path toward me.

Fourteen, fifteen...where's Ryder, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect me?

"Leesh! There you are!"

"Don't call me that." I take a bite of pizza. One, two, three.

She flops down on the bench across from me. I don't remember inviting her. Four, five, six.

"Isn't it so great about the grant?"

This gets my attention. Is she seriously going to try to make it a wonderful thing that my dreams were destroyed?

Shoot, I lost count. I pick up at nine. Ten. Eleven.

"I have soooo much I want to do with the money."

I swallow on thirteen. What is she talking about?

"Those puppies are going to be the most confident, wonderful dogs in the world after they have their pedicures! I might ask for your help setting things up- you're way better at that sort of thing than me."

Jenny got the grant?

Jenny's stray _dogs_ are going to get _pedicures_ , and my troubled kids are going to get the shaft?

"Well, they made me change it to grooming and getting rid of fleas and whatever, but the most important part, I think, is the pedicure."

The snakes twist and turn just below my scalp. They are hurting me, digging into my skull, making me want to scream. I breathe deep like Ryder taught me, trying not to give in to something so evil, so reminiscent of my biological mother. But the snakes could so easily stop the annoyance, could end the prattling of the snotty little bitch sitting across from me.

My face burns with anger, but Jenny doesn't notice because she's admiring her manicured nails as she goes on and on and on.

I stand up, climbing over the bench and keeping my hands on the table. I might be able to rip her to shreds before she even notices. My sharpening teeth tear into my tongue as I clench my jaw, but the pain reminds me of giving Jenny what she deserves.

Screw the deep breathing. I'm going to unleash the Fury.

Jenny looks up as I'm about to release the snakes, and I'm startled by her suddenly flirtatious eyelash-batting and coy smile.

Then I feel Ryder's arms around me, gently pulling me away. She's still trying to get his attention.

Maybe there was something more to him driving her home than I've been led to believe. Maybe she has a reason to continue turning on the charm every time he's around.

I spin to face him, blood gathering in my eyes as I prepare to let everyone see my sharp teeth, eager to see the fright when my snakes reveal themselves.

He leans close to me, resting his forehead on my forehead, and his calming scent floods my mind and dries my bloody tears. My breathing begins to match his, and the snakes subside.

I collapse into his arms, the strain of the Fury too much. I don't lose consciousness, but I'm only partially aware of Ryder leading me to his car, buckling me into the passenger seat, and delivering me safely to my room at home.

# 47

I snuggle into my comforter, the clean, lavender scent comforting me, reminding me of my mom. This room usually feels like home, but right now I'm disconnected from everything around me, floating through space, hoping to find someplace safe to land. Someplace to be accepted.

Mom slips into my room and whispers goodnight at some point. I pretend to sleep. Ryder left hours ago and gave me the distance I desperately needed, for which I'm thankful. Controlling the Fury was harder this time than ever before, and I'm a bit ashamed at how desperately I wanted to release it, even knowing the consequences.

The pillow beneath me is wet, right where tears would have fallen if I thought for a second I could possibly have any left.

My eyes close, but my mind refuses to turn off. Images flash through my mind as if they're happening again, over and over and over again. Jade's rejection. Corey's ignoring. Zane's disappearance. The grant committee denying my application. My dad's new life. Jenny's achievement. My mom's sorrow. Failing grades. The monster within me.

The thoughts refuse to cease, no matter how hard I dig my fist into my temple.

I came here to fix my life, but somehow I made an even bigger mess of it all. If I had stayed away, I wouldn't be so deep in this quagmire of depression.

While I was in Mercy world, I never came close to letting the evil inside me show its ugly face. How stupid of me to think I could come back to this life and act like I wasn't a totally different person. Heck, I'm not even sure I can be considered a person, period. Obviously life will never be normal. Not in this world, anyway.

_Unfixable_.

I kick my way out of my comforter and dig my old cat stationary from the junk drawer in my desk. Even though I haven't used it since, oh, third grade or so, I figure the notes I need to write should be in my own hand-writing. Those I've loved deserve more than a text or email from me.

With more resolve than I knew remained, I write my notes, remarkably managing to stop sobbing after the second note. All dried up, just like my future; my potential.

I climb back into bed when I complete the final note. The clock tells me it's only nine, so I need to wait until my mom goes to bed before I can walk away for the last time.

And though I know I'll bring pain to the people who read my notes, especially my mom, I also know I'll bring greater pain and danger if I stay.

# 48

My heavy breathing is the only sound I hear, though I know the woods are full of animals. The air is strangely still; not a single leaf blows as I try to find my way to the portal that will bring me to Mercy.

I send up a quiet thanks for the full moon that lights the path. I'd like to avoid crashing into the trees, unless that will get me where I need to go.

Why couldn't the powers-that-be have made this simple? A door in a tree that could bring you to the realm you wish to go to. I'll have to talk with them. Whoever they are.

The trees all seem to blend together as I try to make sense of where I am. I should have asked Ryder to help, but then he may have tried to stop me. He'll know soon enough anyway. I'm sure Mercy doesn't keep secrets like this from his top bodyguard. Or knight. Whatever.

I wrap my arms tighter around my middle, trying to ward off the chill of the late autumn air, wishing I had worn something thicker than my hoodie. The crisp smell of potential snow prompts me to move faster, my cold booted toes scuffling through the golden leaves on the forest floor. I'm having a hard time feeling my extremities, and the steam from my breath tricks me into thinking I'm in fog more than once.

"Well look what we have here."

I jump, and suddenly understand that old cliché of having your heart in your throat.

The Snake Lady.

I try to speed up, tripping on hidden roots in my haste. I have zero desire to have an encounter with her of all people.

Her slithery voice is right next to me. How did she catch up so fast, so silently? Ignoring her doesn't make her go away.

"I know why you're here, darling."

"You do?" My voice is breathless, wispy. Weak.

"Of course. I am your mother, aren't I?"

Tears gather in my eyes at the thought of my mom. She'll be hurt when she finds me gone, but I have to protect her from all of this. From me.

"You don't know me at all."

"That's what you teenagers always think." She sighs. "We should have a Fury charged with avenging the poor mothers who are so abused by their ungrateful teenage daughters. That could keep us busy."

I keep charging forward, ignoring the tiny, bare branches and the scratches digging into my face.

"You'll never get there, you know. Not without help."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You're not strong. You're not educated in the ways of the realms. You are at the mercy- get it? The Mercy? Yes, you are at the mercy of," giggle, "me."

I whip around, tempted to let my own Fury loose, but more determined to not give her what she wants. I take a deep breath as I stare at this horror show of a biological mother.

" _I'm_ not strong? Really? Have you looked at yourself lately? Just look at the way you live, neutered by gods more powerful than you. Preying on the weakness of others to make yourself feel more elevated. Yup, you're my hero, dear egg donor."

I turn away from her before her huffing and puffing and speechlessness turns into something more dangerous.

I know I'm in the right place. I just wish I had asked Ryder how to access Mercy's world.

Nails dig into my arm, and my heart thunders. Can she hear it? Can she sense my fear? Can she sense that I'm about to...

Meg flies back against a tree, and I'm startled to realize it was my arms that pushed her. Where did _that_ strength come from?

_It is within you._

I hear Ryder's voice in my head, and though I can't remember when he whispered those words to me, I know they are his. And mine.

"Oh, Felicia, baby. Darling." She wipes the front of her shirt and strolls casually toward me.

I know I should run, but I'm not going to lose myself in the woods again. I know I'm in the right spot. I feel the energy coursing through me. I just have to figure out a way in.

"Darling, you can have everything you ever dreamed about. The power, the ability to help others. All yours. You'd live a life of luxury with me. You don't have to trifle with these human emotions, these obligations."

That part sounds good. But no, living with her I would never be free. I'd be a slave to her and to my negative emotions. No way.

"Come with me." She extends her hand, the moon glinting off her manicured finger nails, which seem to be lengthening as she gets closer. "Mommy will make everything better."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Burgundy is so not my color." I spin around again, giving her my back. Over my shoulder I whisper, "You will never be my mom. You're nowhere near good enough."

I hit the ground a fraction of a second later when she hurls herself at me and knocks me over. Roots dig into my gut. I can barely breathe. Her weight bears down, and her snakes surround me. The hiss, hiss of the creatures disorients me, and all I can see is a red blur.

"I tried to play nice, but look what you made me do." Her voice is different now, kind of electronic.

I can't get enough air to respond. My vision begins to fade, and if I don't get oxygen soon, I'll pass out. Or die.

"One way or the other, you're coming with me." A snake hisses right in my face, then sinks its venomous teeth into my cheek.

My scream bounces off the trees and hits my ears full force. Pain courses through my face, burning through my neck, down my arms, into my body. I stiffen and try to pull my arms out from beneath Meg's weight so I can press my cheek, hoping to ease the pain. I can't wiggle free.

I will not let her win. If I'm going to die, it will be on my terms. She lost the ability to control my destiny when she threw me away at birth.

And she dares to call herself a mother?

"Where are your protectors now, my dear?"

My Fury bursts free as soon as I visualize it. This thing on my back has got to go.

With new strength and the power of my anger (not to mention my desire to live), I cast her off my back and turn in time to watch her crash into a tree, her snakes tangling in the bushes.

"I'm no damsel in distress. Something you might know about me if you hadn't thrown me away like unwanted garbage."

She leaps up almost immediately, but I feel myself and my snakes growing stronger than ever before. One of her snakes bleeds, its darker blood mixing with the bloody tears that run like a river down her cheek. I'm surprised this creature has tears to cry, but then again, I know personally that Fury tears have nothing to do with sorrow.

"That's my sweet daughter. I knew you had it in you. But you've wounded my favorite girl." She caresses the snake in her hands.

I don't wait, I don't even think. I charge her, knocking her off balance, catching her off guard. My teeth lengthen in my mouth, cutting my cheek. The sharp points long to rip her to shreds, show her a bit of the pain she's caused. Maybe I'll start with finishing off her favorite snake.

I have Meg pinned to the ground, and my snakes flirt with her face. They plead with me to let them bite her, to give the psychic command. The pain in my cheek throbs, reminding me that she didn't show any self-control toward me.

I let out a shriek so high-pitched it would break glass. I'm in her face, breathing her excessively perfumed scent, staring into her poisoned eyes. The power I yield intoxicates me. I could drive her as crazy as she's been driving me. My screams can control whatever soul she has housed in that empty body of hers. Maybe I can get her to rip her own snakes out of her head. Or to jump off a cliff to punish herself. The choice could be hers, and I wouldn't have to feel a bit of remorse.

I stop shrieking only long enough to refill my lungs. The second I stop, she shifts back into regular human form. Beneath me lies a woman who looks vulnerable. Not scared, exactly, but... human.

She smiles at me, a grin vibrant and full of pride. I've allowed myself to become what she wanted me to be. I've answered her prayers. I've made her proud. Not by contributing to society in a positive way, not by helping with chores, not by getting good grades. Not by providing food for hungry kids, not by sending a positive message to children who have fallen through the cracks.

But by embracing this evil inside of me. By allowing myself to dole out justice.

My snakes laugh in my head. Embracing the bad is way easier than working my butt off to change the world.

_Felicia Marie Murphy_.

Mom's voice fills my head. Is she here? Will she see me on my quest for justice?

Will she be disappointed in me?

I pause for a moment, and Meg regains the advantage. She rolls me over on my back, holding my fisted hands over my head with her steel grip. Her snakes swirl around me, and the pain in my cheek hits me again. I don't want to endure another bite.

"You've made the right decision. You have so much potential. I'll even let you pick your first assignment."

"Like hell you will."

I overpower her again, and this time my snakes wrap around her body, holding her steady.

"Good girl. In my time, we weren't allowed to touch our victims. I love how things have evolved!"

"You won't love it when I've destroyed every cell in your body."

"Ah, but you can't, my darling. That's part of the whole 'immortal' thing. But I love that you're trying. Tells me a lot about you." She smiles, turning my gut into ground hamburger. "You are everything I dreamed you'd be."

I grate my teeth, accidentally catching my cheek, and my mouth fills with coppery blood. I don't mind, because my blood is the one reminder I have that I'm human.

My snakes tighten around her middle, and I smile a little when her eyes bulge the slightest bit. She's afraid; I sense it. I'm not controlling the snakes—they're acting of their own volition.

Or is this what I'm choosing to let myself believe? To hold onto the idea that I couldn't possibly be capable of doing what I'm doing.

The voice in my head grows louder and louder. And then it's a medley of voices. Mom's, Ryder's, Jade's, even Corey's. They plead with me to stop.

I close my eyes, willing their influence to go away. If the snakes kill this woman, maybe I can go back to my regular life. Maybe I can find a way to kill the Fury in me, too. Maybe things will go back to normal.

When I open my eyes again, I notice blood bubbling out the sides of Meg's mouth, dripping down her human-like grin. The snakes squeeze tighter. My mind is black. All I can focus on is making the pain go away. Forever.

# 49

I can't do it.

My snakes ease up and I turn away, my shoulders slumped. The snakes retreat into my head, and my teeth return to normal. My vision clears, too. I hear Meg trying to cover the fact that she's gasping for breath, and when I whip around again, she's leaning against a tree. She straightens when I walk toward her again.

"I grant you Mercy."

At my words, she begins to shriek, the scream meant to drive people to harm themselves. Her human form disappears beneath the horror of her full Fury, but she doesn't frighten me. I have taken the higher ground.

"Your screams don't affect me, egg donor."

Meg grips my arm with her sharp nails. She bores into me through red eyes, daring me not to switch.

"I won't do it again, Meg. I'll never be like you, no matter how strong my snakes grow or how much I'd like to make you pay for what you've done."

Her pitch gets higher. It hurts my ears, but I'm not about to let her know. I channel the techniques I use with the kids when they act out for attention and hope it works as well.

"No matter how much you try to deny your legacy, you won't be able to hide it forever. The Fury will consume every part of you that is merciful. The Fury is stronger! This is your calling, whether you like it or not."

"You can hurt me all you want. You can take me prisoner, lock me in a cage." My snakes don't bother to stir; they must know I mean business. "But no matter what you do to me, I will never use my Fury the way you want me to. And I will never _choose_ to have anything to do with a pathetic excuse for a woman who could throw her baby away and only want her back when she has something to offer."

Her grip loosens, and for a minute I think it's because she has finally taken my words to heart.

And then Ryder is standing by my side. I didn't notice his approach, but the look on his face tells me Meg is in some serious trouble, and she knows it, too.

# 50

"I could kill you now for breaking the treaty."

Ryder holds a long, golden sword in his hand. What is he doing with that? And how can he possibly kill her if she's immortal?

Meg pulls her hand away from me as if she'd been burned. Her show of fear is hidden immediately, though, as her human form projects arrogance once again.

"I merely offered her a choice, which is more than you people have done for her."

"Felicia has chosen." Ryder holds the sword over his head, preparing to strike.

"Ryder, no!" I put my hand on his sword arm, hoping my touch will soothe him and not freak him out like it often does. "I've granted her Mercy. Let her go."

"Sorry, sweetling." Father Mercy? Here? "She has indeed crossed the line by entering this realm. She requires punishment."

"You can't kill her." I'm surprised how strong my voice sounds.

Ryder meets my gaze and lowers his sword.

"Guards, capture her. You know where to bring her." Mercy's voice bounces off the trees, and a number of armored men step around him.

How did I not notice them sooner? As soon as the guards grab her by the arms, the fog I've been looking for appears like a not-so-hidden doorway. Right in front of me.

"Hey, how'd you do that?"

"I'll teach you later." Ryder gently strokes hair off my forehead. A chill runs through me at his touch, and he mistakes the shudder for a temperature-related chill. He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. The warmth is nice, but his scent wrapped around me is delectable. He leans closer to my ear. "I'm sorry, I should have shown you before."

"That's okay. I wouldn't have paid attention, anyway. I thought I knew what I wanted."

I rub the arm that Meg dug into, and Ryder grabs it from me. He pushes up my sleeve and growls when he sees the bloody, bruising wound. He notices the bite on my face, and his expression turns grim.

"Get Megaera out of here. Before I take care of her myself." His voice rumbles through the forest, and the guards secure their hold on Meg.

"Baby girl, don't let them do this to me again. I don't belong in a cage." When I don't respond, her pleas get louder. "It's their fault you went away when you were born. It was never my choice! Please, baby, have mercy on me!"

Oh, she'll use that, huh?

I walk up to her, startled by her show of weakness and by the hope I see glimmering in her eyes. I know manipulation when I see it.

"I won't let them hurt you, Meg. I think it will do you good to take some time to think about how you've treated people, even those loyal to you." I think of the blonde girl who wasn't given the privilege of a name; the society of people who haven't been allowed their own identity. "It's karma's turn to dole out some justice, don'tcha think?"

I turn away as Meg begins to fight the guards. I've had enough violence for one night. Or one lifetime.

"Please take me home."

Mercy nods at Ryder, presumably giving him permission to escort me. I'm relieved that I can walk out on my own two frozen feet, and glad for once that Ryder is the silent type.

I'm drained.

I don't have a plan, and I'm too tired to concoct one now. The only thing I want to do at the moment is curl up on my cozy couch with my comfy microfleece throw and sleep the night away.

# 51

As soon as we pull up to the front of the house, Mom bolts out the door and runs toward me, her frizzy hair flopping wildly in the wind. I've never seen anyone more beautiful.

"Mom." We hug as if we've been separated for years rather than hours. Her sobs hurt my soul, and I wither a little when the full weight of what I've done—leaving again—bears down on me. She must have read my note.

I open my eyes to see Ryder standing close by, near enough to offer support, yet far enough to give appropriate privacy for our reunion. He meets my eyes and lifts one side of his mouth in a half smile. I smile back, hoping someday he will realize how grateful I am for his constant protection since the first day he came to White Rock. He looks away first, busying himself with his cell.

Mom kisses the top of my head and holds me at arm's length.

"I couldn't sleep, so I got up to make some tea and found your letter. I was just coming out to find out whose butt I needed to kick to get you back."

Tears gather in my eyes, and my gut clenches.

"I'm sor—"

"Don't say a word, sweet pea. You're back, and that's all I care about. How could you ever think I would love you less because of who you are? Do you think that just because you have snakes coming out of your head I could forget the wonderful person beneath them?"

I kind of hope the neighbors aren't listening. They'd lock us all up.

"I'm serious, Felicia. I will remember who you are even if you forget. And I will never stop helping you to remember, for the rest of my life. That's a mom's job."

I hug her again, breathing in her sandalwood and rose scent and sending up a silent prayer to whoever decided my fate. I have never felt so lucky.

The sun rises, turning the sky pink and blue like cotton candy swirls. Even though it's still pretty cold out, the warmth fills me. I don't know how long we've been standing here on the front walkway, but I'm startled when I see Jade running down the sidewalk, barreling toward me. My mom releases me in time for Jade to throw herself into my arms.

"Don't you ever leave my life again!"

"But I've been a terrible friend. To you, to Corey. I've been so self-absorbed, I thought—"

"Oh hush, you. You think you're the only one who's been self-absorbed? I didn't even know you found your birth parents. I judged you too quickly, and I'm the one who is sorry."

There's a lot more I need to confide in Jade, but I have to find a way to work it into a conversation.

"Besties again?"

"Forever." I steal a page out of my mom's book and make Jade pinky promise.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I steal a peek at the text while we walk into the house to warm up over a cup of hot cocoa.

"Who is it?" Jade peers over my shoulder, just like old times.

"Corey." My throat tightens around his name. The familiarity of having Jade and Corey in my inner circle again makes my heart bleed a little. So much time lost, so many mistakes made. So much forgiveness being granted to me by the people I've loved the most, the longest.

His words are simple, as is the norm with Corey. He asks me if I'm feeling better, and can he come help me plan the next outing for my mentor group. He has a good idea he'd love to share.

I sigh, filling my lungs with all that is pure.

But how did he know I'm back?

I immediately look to Ryder, and by the smug grin on his face, I assume he played a part in this reunion. Of course, my protector. In all ways. He must have alerted Jade and Corey that I needed them.

But even if he facilitated, I know the strength of our friendship, our foundation, is what ultimately makes it possible for us to repair what was broken.

Still, the fact that Ryder took this step to help me heal means more to me than I'd like to admit.

My mom places mugs of hot cocoa with melting whipped cream on the table. As Jade jabbers to my mom about her latest crush, I move to Ryder, who looks alone in the doorway of the kitchen. I want him to enter my world fully, to let himself be part of my everything. But as usual, he is one step removed.

"Go ahead and join your friend. You missed each other."

I look in Jade's direction and smile. She would understand why I need to have this moment with Ryder.

"I've decided to go to school today." I say. "No use delaying the inevitable."

He nods, his hands tucked in the pocket of his jeans. I swear he's never looked more vulnerable.

"I figure I should talk to my teachers about doing extra- credit work. Now that Meg is out of the picture, I can really focus on school and my friendships."

His silence is deafening.

"I guess now that Meg isn't a threat to me, you'll probably return to your own world..." I let my voice trail off, hoping this is not the case.

"Yes."

My shoulders slump, but I hope he doesn't notice. Why did I expect a different answer? I knew in my heart all along this was a job for him. He never even suggested otherwise, so I can't blame him for my feelings.

It was my own stupidity to fall for a guy who can't fall for me.

I swallow the tears that threaten to choke me, needing to project an air of confidence. I flip my hair over my shoulder and try to act as though I'm not affected by his one-word answer.

He puts his hand on my chin, lifting my face so I'm forced to look him in the eye. I blink rapidly.

"But if it's okay with you, I'd like to see you still." He clears his throat. My heart swells, and I seriously think my chest might burst open. "You'll need to train."

Of course. To train.

Damn it all. Why am I letting him make the decisions for our relationship? After everything that's happened, the one lesson I've learned is that I can't let life happen to me. I need to be the driver.

"Ryder." I take a step closer to him. He doesn't back up. I'm totally invading his personal space, and it feels good. "I can already feel you forgetting me. And I've decided that I can't let that happen."

The need for him to kiss me overwhelms my better judgment. I know my mom and my best friend are in the room, but if I don't kiss this boy I will live with regret forever.

I push him back into the privacy of the dining room, and he doesn't fight my advances. This fuels my hope, drives me to be braver and bolder than ever.

I push him gently against the wall, silently daring him to stop me. He doesn't.

But he doesn't make any effort to kiss me, either.

"Felicia, believe me when I tell you I want more." His voice is strained, tight, like he isn't getting enough air. Good. If he's about to reject me, he might as well suffer. "But I have loyalties to your biological father. I can't cross that line, can't disrespect his wishes."

I step back, any trace of hope fleeing like a butterfly in the fall. He grabs my arm, and when I face him again I see something dark in his eyes. Remorse? Regret? Desire?

My mom's voice interrupts our scene.

"Excuse me just a minute. But I believe I am the parent here."

I jump away from Ryder, shame filling me at my actions. And with her in the other room...what was I thinking?

"I would like to say that I, as the mother, approve fully of a relationship between the two of you. And if Mercy has issues with it, he can take it up with me. This is not going to turn into a tragic Romeo and Juliet scenario."

Oh my god, she heard us? Embarrassed heat spreads over my whole body.

Ryder grins and reaches out to shake her hand. She shakes her head at him and makes him hug her, then raises her eyebrows toward me, signaling for him to go to me.

And he does. I'm grateful my mom has disappeared again. And that's my last thought, because when Ryder pulls me to him and lowers his lips to mine, everything around me disappears.

Until the doorbell rings, and a familiar voice joins my mom's.

Zane.

And a boatload of tension.

# 52

If life were a movie or a novel, I'd have slapped a big old "The End" right when Ryder kissed me. But since his lips never fully captured mine, I guess the story is not fully told.

So when Zane steps into the room, not only do I notice Ryder's body tightening, but I feel my own anxiety build, too. I'm not sure if Ryder moves to block me, or if I subconsciously move to hide myself from Zane, but the end result is the same. Ryder clutches my hand, and I am partially obscured from Zane's view.

Despite my strongest efforts, I can't keep my curiosity at bay. I don't want to see Zane, but I need to.

His hands are tucked deeply into his pockets, and with his head lowered he looks like an injured puppy. Who in her right mind can kick a puppy while it's down?

"What are you doing here?" I have to give myself a little credit; my voice only squeaks a tiny bit.

Ryder squeezes my hand. I squeeze back, trying to remind him that my breakable fingers are still in his grasp.

Zane looks at me through his long, dark lashes. I feel Jade standing next to me, and from the way she's looking back and forth between the guys and me, I know I have a barrel full of explaining to do.

"You have every right to kick me out."

Ryder speaks before I can. "Then why don't you play the part of the gentleman for once and get the hell out before I have to help you leave."

Zane chuckles, and stands a bit straighter.

"So I see you've won the girl. You sure didn't waste any time moving in."

I squeeze Ryder's hand and grab his arm with my other hand to keep him from going after Zane.

Zane holds up a hand in surrender. I chance a glance at my mom, who looks slightly amused, yet ready to jump in if needed.

"I didn't come here to fight, I swear."

"Why are you here, Zane?" I reiterate.

"And who did you bring with you?" Mom interjects.

Zane steps further into the room, and for the first time I notice he's not alone. The sunlight streaming in through the living room window makes Sadie's blonde hair glow, and the smile on her face is almost as bright when we make eye contact.

I break away from Ryder and squeeze Sadie tight.

After a moment, I introduce Sadie to my mom and Jade. My mom reaches out to shake Sadie's hand, but Jade hangs back, arms crossed over her chest. Is that distrust I read on her face? Hard to tell when she's suddenly so closed off.

I move over to Jade, looping my arm through her elbow. No way am I letting anything get between us again.

Zane rubs his hands together, abrasively cutting through the awkward silence.

"Sorry to drop in like this, but when I was kicked out of Meg's house, I brought Sadie with me."

"You got kicked out? Why?" I thought Zane was Meg's number one.

"She has nowhere to go, so I thought you could maybe help her out." Apparently he's going to ignore my question. "You know, since she's your little sister and all."

The sharp intake of breath is a collective one. Everyone looks shocked, except Sadie. She reddens and studies her feet, shuffling one foot as the rest of us stare at her.

I try to speak, but marbles fill my mouth. My tongue refuses to cooperate.

Ryder stalks toward Zane, his hands balled into fists at his side. I can't move, and apparently neither can anyone else.

"What are you talking about, Masters?"

"Ha, I like the sound of you calling me master. Has a certain ring to it."

"Quit your games. What are you talking about?"

My mom regains her senses before the rest of us. She steps right in the middle of the testosterone storm, causing each of the guys to take a step back and to calm their snarls.

"Let's take this into the kitchen. I'm sure we'd all love to hear more."

Mom rubs my back as she passes me on her way to the kitchen. She turns and gestures for Sadie to follow her, and Sadie goes without question, head bowed.

Jade and I follow Sadie in, and I think Jade is actually holding me up. I don't know how else I'm staying vertical.

Is this another manipulation? Or is Zane disclosing the truth? And which would be worse?

Ryder helps my mom pull extra chairs in from the dining room to the kitchen, and Jade gently nudges me into a seat. My feet are numb, unable to keep me upright.

Mom pours fresh cups of cocoa for Sadie and Zane, then sits and leans forward over her own mug.

"Go ahead and drink. The cocoa is still warm."

Mom sips as we all stare into space.

I search Sadie's face for answers. I didn't see any of myself in her before, but when I look closely, I notice her bone structure is similar to mine. And is it my imagination, or are her eyes the same shape as my own?

She looks at me and smiles, interrupting my not-too-subtle perusal.

"I wanted to tell you. When you rescued me. When you treated me like a person. I wanted to tell you that we're blood."

"So you're Meg's daughter?"

She casts her eyes downward again, flinching when Meg's name is spoken.

"By birth, anyway. Only I didn't have the advantage of being cast out. She kept me so she could punish me for having the nerve to be born without the Fury."

My hand shoots out to cover hers.

"I'm so sorry you had to live with her. To be treated that way is horrible, but by your own mother. I can't imagine..."

Mom and I make eye contact, and I realize that even though I was thrown out of the heavens and could have been killed, I'm the lucky one.

"You were her pride and joy, once she discovered that you had a Fury and that it had emerged. She punished me more for being so useless to her."

Guilt floods me, and it must show because Ryder's hand comes down hard on the table and he states, "It's not your fault, Felicia. Don't you dare go down that path."

"Of course it's not your fault." Sadie's eyes fill with tears, and all I want to do is protect her.

"Well, my mind is made up. You will stay here. I'll empty out my sewing room, and you can have your own room." Mom pushes her chair away from the table and leans over Sadie, hugging her from behind.

Sadie flinches at first, but settles into the hug, putting her hand on Mom's arm. A tear runs down her face, and before I know it, all of the women in the room are wrapped up in a group hug and the guys are looking uncomfortable.

"I don't want to impose. I'm sure I can find someplace—"

"Don't even try to change her mind. Won't work." I smile at Mom.

"Really, it's no imposition. I haven't sewn in years."

"Yeah, when did you ever sew?"

"I'm sure I did before you came along. Can't remember when I have since...didn't I make you a Halloween costume one time?"

"You were going to when I was five, but we ended up buying one because you said you didn't know how to use the machine."

We erupt into laughter, and Sadie joins, fitting in perfectly. And when our laughter turns raucous, I realize she has my laugh.

# 53

When Jade's mom calls because the school phoned to ask why Jade was absent, my mom decides it's time to wrap up the pow-wow and send us off to be educated.

Ryder insists on driving me and Jade, and my mom invites Sadie to stay with her for the day until they can figure out a way to get her signed up for school.

When we're on the way out the door, Zane steps out of the shadows of the dining room, asking if he can have a moment to speak to me. Alone.

Ryder starts to get all huffy and puffy, but I tell him I'll be fine and I'll meet him in the car. I know he doesn't like it, but he respects me enough to head to the car anyway. He only glares over his shoulder three or four times.

Zane reaches out as if to grab my hand, but I pull back because I know his touch will poison me as it has in the recent past. I am done with him. He's no good for me, and I don't want to fall into his trap again.

Zane looks down, and I wonder if I'm seeing shame on his face or if he's just that good an actor.

"I..." He shoves his hands almost violently into his pockets. "I wanted to..." What is this? A speechless smooth talker?

"Zane, you have to hurry. They're waiting for me and I'm already late."

"I know, and I'm sorry." He looks up, making eye contact and sending zings to my belly. "I hope someday you can believe that I'm sorry for all of it."

I don't know why, and I know it probably makes me stupid, but I believe him.

"And I hope you know that nothing, um, happened that night. I had a servant change you into my shirt to mess with Ryder's head. I had a feeling he'd show."

I nod, grateful for his admission, even though I knew nothing physical happened.

"What are you going to do now?" I have to know that he'll be okay, even if he won't be part of my life.

"Not sure. I think I'll stay around here. I already have the place I've been staying in for me and Mom. I might finish school so I can get one of those earthly diplomas you all care so much about." His smile is barely there, but I notice the ghostly trace of his laugh line anyway. "If I'm stuck in this realm, I guess I might as well make the most of it."

"Not a bad plan." I try to be hopeful that he'll reform himself, but the thought of having to see him every day cuts me. Couldn't he choose another town to start over in?

I glance out the door and see Ryder staring at us, tapping the steering wheel.

"I've gotta go. Take care. And thank you for bringing Sadie here with you. That means a lot."

I start down the walkway but stop when he calls my name again. Something about my name in his voice always gets me.

"Felicia, wait one sec." He walks toward me, and I hear the car door open behind me. "I'm letting you go, but I need to know if you hate me."

And they say school is complicated? Even AP classes can't touch this challenge.

Something in his eyes sparkles, and I wonder if he's even capable of caring as much as he appears to. Is this another way to manipulate me, or is he truly near tears? Why does he care so much how I feel about him, anyway?

Ryder is approaching. I hear the thud of his boots on the walkway, so I invoke every last bit of Mercy within me and leap into Zane's arms for one last hug. His stunned look as I close in on him doesn't go unnoticed, but I owe it to myself to offer this closure, to put an end to his suffering, no matter how false it may be. I can only be myself, and my Self is telling me that forgiveness is the only thing I really have to offer Zane. I know I don't owe it to him, but I owe it to me.

Ryder's footsteps have ceased, and Zane takes advantage of the extra time to hold me a little tighter than he should. I pat him on the back to signal the end of the embrace, and surprisingly he releases me.

There are no words left to be said, so I rush down the walkway and grab Ryder's hand, entangling my fingers in his while pulling him toward the car. He looks at Zane over his shoulder, but rubs my thumb with his.

He continues to watch Zane as he gets in the car after holding the door for me, then places his large, tanned hand on my knee possessively.

We have a lot to work on when it comes to taming this tension and possessiveness, but for now I settle in and enjoy the comfort as Jade gives me the wagging eyebrow expression from the backseat.

# 54

The return to school is largely uneventful. Strange how someone's personal life can spin out of control, yet the world can maintain the natural order, day after day.

On the short ride to school, Jade filled me in on what the rumor mill had been spitting out about me. She also shared with me how she and Corey had fun making up their own far-fetched stories just to see what would stick. Her personal fave was the one about me being abducted by aliens (close!) and being tested on for science. (I shuddered a little when I heard her describe this one!)

Even lunch goes smoothly. I sit with Ryder, Jade, and Corey and his new/old girlfriend, and though she doesn't speak to me, at least she doesn't show any animosity. I send him a text when she isn't looking saying, "Look out, geek, you're glowing!"

He blushes when he reads it, then sends me a text in return saying to watch my back or he'll send me back with the aliens.

Laughing has never felt this good.

Ryder and I are on our way out of the cafeteria when I hear the old familiar quarterback bully, Jake, picking on some shy little freshman. My snakes tickle my scalp, but I don't get the overpowering headache or the urge to drive Jake insane (though I'd sort of like to drive him off a short pier, but that's a very human feeling, I think.)

I walk up to him, and though Ryder tries to hold me back, I give him a look that says, "I've got this."

The fact that he lets me go without a fight and stands back to let me do my thing warms me. He trusts me.

I straighten my shoulders, convince the Fury to go to sleep, and intervene.

Jake doesn't know what to do with himself when I tell him to buzz off, and quite honestly, the looks on the faces of his groupies when I approach makes me want to giggle. Guess they haven't completely forgotten the last episode. Only I'm determined that this one will end better, that I'm stronger and more likely to make a positive impact. I have no intention of ending up in the nurse's office again, thank you very much.

I invite the freshman to hang with my group and am thrilled when I turn to see Jade and Corey and a bunch of our other friends standing with Ryder, gesturing for the kid to go to them. I hear them introduce themselves, and I take a deep breath.

"You know, Jake. You might want to rethink this whole bullying thing. It doesn't look good on you."

I spin around and start to walk away, but whip back when I hear Jake's voice shaking a little.

"We were just goofing off, you know. He didn't mind."

"Really, now?" Oh, how I'd love to go all Fury on him. His so-called friends move away from him when I approach, closing the distance between us.

I focus my thoughts on doing no harm.

"Actually, I can guarantee that he does mind. That all the people you torment so you can feel good about yourself _mind_. I'm sure you wouldn't say a thing to anyone without your lackeys around you, and don't think for a minute that anyone buys your tough guy act. If you were as strong and tough as you pretend to be, you wouldn't have to prey on defenseless, unassuming underclassmen."

I look back at Ryder, whose grin tells me he's proud of me.

"And by the way," I can't resist the urge to say one last thing. "If you're really as tough as you pretend to be here, maybe you could try to win one of those football games for a change?"

His friends try to hide their giggles, but a few escape and Jake's wounded expression and the look of betrayal he shoots at his so-called friends tells me I won't be hearing anything from him for a while.

And all while letting the snakes rest. Go, me!

My joy comes to an abrupt halt when I hear my name called over the loud-speaker. In trouble again?

# 55

Ryder walks me to the guidance office and waits outside while I surrender myself. I miss his arm around my waist before his warmth even wears off.

Mrs. Evans smiles and gestures for me to enter her office. The storm in my belly intensifies when I see the woman from the grant committee sitting in the comfy chair. She stands and extends her hands to me, holding one of my hands between both of hers.

"Thank you for joining me, Ms. Murphy." Her teeth shine when the light hits them.

"Please, call me Felicia."

"Very well. Thank you, Felicia. Please, have a seat."

I manage to sit, though I'm not sure how I don't collapse with my legs shaking so much. What's going on here? Am I being chastised for having the gall to apply for the grant when my behavior has been so...questionable?

"I'll just get to the point so you can return to your classes."

I nod and swallow.

"I'm not supposed to address the candidates about their performance, but I have to let you know that I am so disappointed in how things turned out. The work you have done is so important, and I was deeply saddened that you didn't win the grant."

Take a ticket and stand in line behind all the other people who are disappointed in me, lady. I actively work to keep my composure. I've embarrassed myself enough over the past weeks. If I can survive this one last (I hope) blow to my self-esteem, I can get on with my future and leave the mistakes in my past.

"I was adopted." Her words jolt me back to the present. "That's part of why your work touched me so deeply. Don't get me wrong; your work would be important even if I hadn't been born to a drug-addicted mother, but something about your passion for your cause really struck me when I read your application and listened to you speak during the interview. You've put so much of your time and devotion toward helping those kids, and it shows. You weren't just going for the grant so you could get social studies credit. Your organization means something to you."

I won't lie; holding back tears is getting harder and harder the longer she talks. I want to finish this day so I can head down to The Shack and see those smiling faces. True, I have to break the news that we didn't get the grant, but I have other ideas for how to raise the money, and I want to have everyone on board.

"I would like to donate some money toward your organization from my personal funds. It won't be affiliated with the bank, and I'm sorry that you won't get the promotional advertising, but I also have some friends who were moved by what you're doing and would like to donate, as well."

Hold up. Rewind. Did she just say...?

"I hope that's okay with you?"

I can't hold back—I let out a squeal that would make any middle-schooler proud. I jump out of my seat and wrap my arms around the poor woman's neck. To my surprise, she hugs me back, and when I finally release her, she's beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you so, so much. Oh my gosh, you have no idea what this means to me. What this will mean to the kids!" I take a step back, wanting to pinch myself to see if I'm awake, but not wanting to embarrass myself any more than I have. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. More sure than I have been about many things."

"I applied for non-profit status, so you should be able to use the donation on your taxes."

She laughs.

"A true business-woman, you are. Don't worry, tax credit or not, donating money is the least I can do. In fact, I wonder if you'd mind if I donated some time to your organization?"

"Would I mind? I think that would be perfect. We can always use strong women as role models for these kids."

We wrap up our conversation, exchange email addresses, and I float out of the office on a cloud.

# 56

Ryder helps me carry in the dozens of cupcakes I baked for the impromptu party I'm throwing at The Shack. Word traveled fast. Dozens of kids surround us as we fumble to place the trays on the table without spilling any. We're celebrating what I consider to be a giant win, even if it wasn't the path we thought we were following. The money being donated will help us add on to The Shack so we can have our dedicated space, and will enable us to reach out to more kids in our surrounding communities.

I'm wiping frosting off little Dylan's face when the front door bangs shut, startling me. I look up to see my father standing there, looking a bit sheepish. What is he doing here?

He looks about as comfortable as a water molecule on a campfire, so I excuse myself from the kids and head to the doorway. Ryder steps in to take my place in the center of the room.

I approach my dad slowly, cautiously, arms crossed in front of me. I don't know how to handle him after our last encounter. I hate that we're reuniting on this crowded stage.

All eyes are on me. Or are they? Am I just being super sensitive? I sneak a peek out of the corner of my eye. People appear to be wrapped up in their own personal dramas in The Orange, and the teens in The Green are so enamored by Ryder, they barely notice I've stepped away.

Dad reaches forward as if to hug me, but I look away, pretending I didn't notice. He rubs his hands on his slacks instead, as if that's what he intended all along.

"I'm sorry to come here like this. Your mom told me you'd be here, and I didn't want another day to go by."

"It's okay. I can only talk a minute, though."

"Of course, hon. I just wanted to apologize to you."

He might as well have sprouted a second nose and started speaking alien. My dad, apologizing? I hang on, waiting for the next word, waiting for him to fumble and turn it into something atrocious. Maybe he's sorry I am so emotional and hormonal or sorry that I can't be happy for him.

"I've been so absorbed in what I want, that I forgot to look at what I already have. Call it a mid-life crisis or a curse of stupidity, I don't know. But I do know that the day your mother and I received you is single-handedly the best day of my life. Nothing can ever replace you or the feelings I have for you, my daughter."

Tears fill my eyes faster than I can blink them away.

"I hope you can forgive me, Felicia Marie. And I hope we can start over, that you can teach me how to be as giving as you are."

And just like that, I'm able to release all of the anger and bitterness, cast aside every ounce of jealousy I had toward Jenny and the new baby, and fully embrace the merciful nature that is my true birthright. I hug him the way I did when I was five, and he lifts me off my feet and twirls me around and we laugh and smile and I feel like I have my dad back.

I know he hasn't changed, and he's likely to make similar mistakes again. But I know I have to forgive him and move on, work on accepting him for who he is and what he brings to my life, and maybe even find a way to be happy for him.

Still working on that last part, though.

I invite Dad to join the gathering, and he ceremoniously donates a rather large check to the cause. He has a tear in his eye when he tells me he didn't fully understand what I was doing here every day, but that he couldn't be prouder. I'm happy I have Ryder's arm around my waist, because though I know I can stand on my own, it feels really great to be able to lean on someone I fully trust.

I suppose life is about as perfect as it's going to get. My family may be dysfunctional, but I think it's pretty functional in its dysfunction. I've got my best friends back, money to help the kids I care about most, and I know it won't take long to bring my grades back up.

Life is looking pretty good from where I'm sitting, at a table surrounded by sugar and friends and the promise of a great future.

# 57

Ryder jerks back abruptly, knocking me off balance.

"Stop doing that!"

"That's the point, Felicia. You have to pay attention."

"I _was_ paying attention. You were too fast."

"You think Meg is going to move slowly if she comes after you?"

"She can't. She's in Mercy's prison. He won't let her go for a good long while."

"She's escaped before. Don't ever underestimate her."

I sigh, then grab at my side where another cramp is coming on. This training thing is really messing with my body. Making me notice muscles I didn't know I had.

"Are you okay?"

Yes, I'm fine, but I hesitate to tell him because he has that really cute expression he gets when he's worried about me. And if I play it right, he'll come over to comfort me soon...

"I'll be all right. Just give me a minute." I throw in a little wince for good measure.

True to nature, he's at my side before I can blink, wrapping his arms around me and leading me to a chair. Will I ever get tired of smelling him? Electricity passes between us, an undeniable connection I've never felt with anyone else before.

My face turns upward toward his. We still haven't finished the kiss we started in my dining room yesterday, and it's all I've been able to think about. But since I've been making all the moves, it's really important to me that he show that he wants to kiss me.

He doesn't disappoint. His blue eyes darken to gray as he lowers his face to meet mine. My heart beats faster, and I know the increased blood flow is not from the workout. My legs shake a little, and I pray he doesn't notice.

I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. I've kissed Zane a whole bunch. But for some reason this feels like I think my first kiss should have felt.

Ryder's muscle bunches under my hand as he comes closer, closer. My other hand makes its way to his cheek, and I trace the side of his lip for a fraction of a second before he finally—finally!—makes my dream come true.

Oh, no. He definitely does not disappoint.

"I have to tell you something." I hate to interrupt the make-out session, but I don't want to start our relationship on deceit.

He keeps his forehead resting on mine, and I notice his heart pounding through his shirt. His breath tickles my face.

"My cramp wasn't really that bad. I just wanted you to touch me."

I close my eyes and wince, hating how desperate I sound, fearing his reaction.

He's all seriousness when he replies, "I know."

I jerk away and slap him on the arm.

"What do you mean, you know?"

"I know you, Felicia. But that's okay, it worked out well for me, too. Watching you move the way you were moving was pretty torturous for me. Having to dodge away from you is the exact opposite of what I really want to do."

"And what is it you really want to do?"

He kisses me again, long and slow.

And it takes me a while to realize he never answered the question.

# 58

Ryder in a tool belt—now there's an image I never want to erase from my mind.

The contractors are nearly done with our new "mentor space" in the back of The Shack. We've had to do most of the work during The Shack's off-hours so as not to chase away business. Sean has been amazing during this whole process, but I never want him to regret donating this space for us to use.

Turns out Ryder has a knack for construction, so he's been helping the contractors any way he can.

I can't resist the urge to sneak up behind him when the other workers leave for their fifteen minute break. He doesn't startle, but slowly turns around and pulls me in for a deep kiss.

"I could get used to this." I trace a finger along his bare bicep. His muscle tightens and he pulls me closer.

"I could get used to this." He cups my face in his hands and kisses me gently on the lips.

Then he pulls away, suddenly removed from this world.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" I curse to myself for not grabbing a mint before coming for a kiss. Is the pizza smell lingering?

I start to get nervous when he doesn't answer.

"Ryder. Are you okay?"

He snaps out of his trance, kisses me, then steps away, removing his tool belt and tossing it on the work bench nearby.

"We have to go."

"Why? I thought we'd be able to finish this section before we leave. We're on deadline now, don't forget." I smile to soften my commanding tone.

"We have to go. I'll tell you in the car."

There's something in his voice that makes me stop asking questions. I grab my backpack, he takes my hand, and we hurry out to the car.

He seems hyper-alert, glancing in his rearview mirror every few seconds.

"Please tell me what's going on. I'm freaking out."

"I have to get you to Mercy's place. You can stay there for a little while. You'll be safe there."

I sit up straighter and turn as much as I can to face him, pulling on my seat belt so I don't choke.

"I'm not going anywhere. Why the sudden need to get me out?"

He stops at the stop sign, puts the car in park, and turns until his left arm hits the steering wheel.

"Megaera has escaped. And Mercy is worried that she's coming for you."

Icy cold heat rushes through my veins. The past several months have been so comfortable and stress-free, I almost forgot she was a threat.

"I can't go, Ryder. The mentor room is almost ready and I have to plan the grand opening celebration. Besides, prom is in just a few weeks." My voice shakes. "I thought you wanted to take me."

"I want nothing more than to dance with you, Felicia. But I have to keep you safe."

"That's what we've been training for. So I'd be prepared. And you're here, so you can help me." I try to smile at him, but my lips feel frozen.

A car behind us beeps, so he turns back in his seat and pulls away from the intersection. To my relief, he continues past the road we'd need to travel down to get to the woods and the fog, pulling up to my house with hands firmly gripping the wheel.

"I'd feel much better if you were at Mercy's. We could bring your mom and Sadie if it makes you feel better."

"Ryder, no. I'm not going to let her push me out of my own world. We'll figure out how to deal with her. Together."

He leans over and I meet him halfway. His kiss soothes, warms, reminds me of all the good in the world.

"She won't feel like she has anything to lose. She's on the outs with the council of gods who put the restrictions on her, so she may act worse than before. You have to be prepared."

"I will be. With you."

One more kiss, then he dashes to my side of the car to open the door for me. He grips my hand as we walk up my front steps.

"I'll be nearby. If there's anything unusual, just call for me. I'll be here first thing in the morning so we can start training earlier. Can't waste any time."

I smile at him, because he's so darned cute when he's paranoid. I know the threat is real, but I don't want to live in fear. I have hopes that the Snake Lady won't come after me, and even higher hopes that if she does, I'll be prepared. I'm stronger now than I was before. I don't need to run and hide.

I tell Ryder everything will be okay. I even try to believe my own words. The one thing I can't tell him—won't tell him—is that my headaches are getting bad. The urge to release the pent up Fury is getting harder to control.

But he doesn't need to worry any more than he already does. And I'll deal with the nausea and the pain and the dizziness on my own.

Because the last thing I want to turn into is a person he can't love.

# Chapter One From Teen Fury: Embraced (Sample)

When I spin around in this girly, frilly prom dress, I almost feel like a normal girl and not some vengeful, paranormal freak with snakes that emerge from my head when I'm angry. And to my best friend, Jade, I'm still just a girl. I intend to keep the secret as long as I possibly can. Maybe forever.

Jade shakes her head at the fluffy confection of a dress and sends me back to the fitting room with a red dress I never would have chosen—too sexy for me. But I know she won't relent until I show her how obnoxious the look is for me, so I squeeze into the slinky thing in spite of my reservations.

I struggle with the zipper and try not to inhale too forcefully, not wanting the sequined seams to split.

Jade's shriek deafens me, or at least I wish it did so I could block out the high-pitched happiness.

"Yes, yes, oh my God, yes!"

"You're funny." She ignores my dry reply and continues to gush, thrusting matching high-heeled shoes at me.

"Are you nuts? You know I can't walk in these things."

"Plenty of time to practice. Besides, Ryder is so tall that if you wear these, you might be able to actually reach him for a kiss without having to stand on your tiptoes."

Okay, this makes me smile. Thinking of kissing Ryder always improves my mood.

I fiddle with the front of the dress.

"It's way too low in the front."

"Like that's a bad thing?"

"For you, maybe not. But my girls prefer to be more modest."

"I'm sure Ryder-poo won't mind having a little glimpse..."

Now I'm blushing, and my reflection proves that my skin now matches the red of the dress.

"I don't think red is my color."

Jade studies me, her arms crossed in front of her. She chews the inside of her lip as she ponders my concern.

Without a word, Jade leaps out of the fitting room area and returns with the same style of dress draped across her arm, only this time the color is a soothing sea foam. Me likey much better.

When I step out of the fitting room, I know we found the right dress. Jade is actually speechless.

"How exciting is this? Who would have thought that we'd both be sophomores with gorgeous senior boyfriends? I'm so glad you decided to go to the prom. I would have died without you." Jade hugs me tight, and I allow myself to revel in the normalcy of this day.

My shoulders are sore from all the training Ryder and I have been doing, so I pull away from our hug with a slight wince. Ever since we found out that Meg, my biological mother and also a real life Fury (turns out that mythological stuff isn't all make-believe), escaped my biological father's prison, he's been paranoid that she's coming for me. Can't say I haven't worried about the same thing, since she so desperately wants me to use my Fury for her benefit. Now that she's on the outs with the other gods for breaking their agreement, we're all a little more afraid of what she'll do.

But Jade knows none of this, because how do you tell your best friend this story without having her think you're insane?

"What's with the serious face? We just found the perfect dress for you—this is cause for celebration!" Jade dances around the small fitting room area, always the free spirit. "You had me nervous. Only one week until prom. 'Bout time you made some time for the important stuff."

"Getting The Shack ready for the opening of the mentor activity room is important stuff, Jade."

Jade rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at me, but I know she also values the work we're doing for the troubled kids in town. She's been an active participant in getting things ready, especially promoting it in her newspaper column. Donations have been pouring in thanks to her publicity.

"Are you okay?"

Jade grabs my arms, and it's a good thing, because I feel wicked faint. Keeping the Fury contained is hard work. The thing gets stronger every day, and the urge to unleash it is powerful. But Ryder has taught me many strategies for keeping the snakes inside, and I have no desire to have bloody tears ruin this beautiful dress. I take deep breaths and concentrate on my happy place. Ryder's arms.

"I'm okay, just getting hot in here. Can you please unzip me?"

Jade helps me out of the dress, and I pay at the counter as I struggle to stay upright. My head pounds; the pressure against my head hurts my eyes. I barely register the cashier gushing about the dress and how fortunate I was to be able to buy something off the rack so close to prom time.

Jade must notice that I'm fading away, because she grabs the bag for me and ushers me out to the fresh air.

I haven't passed out in ages, not since the Fury first emerged. I have no intention of doing so now. Ryder will be swinging around to pick us up in a little bit, and I want to spend some more girl time with Jade before he arrives. I so don't want our moments to be spent with her worrying about me and me worrying about falling face first onto the pavement.

The pressure behind my eyes and in my scalp builds in intensity. Moisture gathers in my eyes, and Jade's face swims in front of mine. Are bloody tears gathering? Have snakes broken free from my hair follicles? I feel too disconnected to know for sure. I'm not angry about anything, so I don't know why the Fury would emerge.

My thoughts spin round and round like a tilt-a-whirl at the carnival. My stomach protests, and nausea hits me. I start to fall—down, down, down—sure that I'll hit the ground, certain that a cracked skull is my destiny. What will happen if my skull cracks open? Will the snakes slither free? Or will they continue to be part of me?

Strong arms steady me from behind. Jade is still in front of me, looking over my shoulder.

I know by her expression it's not Ryder holding me up. I close my eyes and can't help but lean back, and as soon as I breathe in, I know who is keeping me from a concussion. I just don't know what he's doing in my presence.

* * *

From Teen Fury: Embraced by Amanda Torrey. Now on sale at all ebook retailers. For more information, please visit www.amandatorrey.com

# Dear Reader

Dear Reader,

* * *

Thank you for joining me on Felicia's journey. I hope you enjoyed the ride! Though this chapter ends on a positive note, there is more trouble in Felicia's future. When Meg escapes from Mercy's prison, a civil war brews and Felicia is caught in the middle. Will this lead to trouble in her relationship with Ryder? What happens when her father's new baby is born? Has she truly learned from her mistakes?

I hope you'll check out Teen Fury: Embraced to see what happens next in Felicia's crazy rollercoaster life.

I love to hear from readers. Please visit my website: www.AmandaTorrey.com, or find me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and other social networking sites. (Links to these can be found on the home page of my website!) Be sure to visit the Contest Page while you're there! And if you feel inclined, reviews are always helpful!

I look forward to getting to know you.

* * *

Yours in Reading,

Amanda :)

# Books by Amanda Torrey

Healing Springs Series (Adult Contemporary Romance)

Not Over You

Stay

Two Is a Lonely Number

So Complicated

Can't Lose Me

starting over series (a sub-series of healing Springs)

A Heart to Call Home

Loving a Wildflower

Wherever You Go

Imperfect Harmony

Teen Fury Trilogy (Young Adult Paranormal)

Unleashed (Book One)

Embraced (Book Two)

Atoned (Book Three)

Teen Fury Trilogy: The Complete Collection (Boxed Set)

The Immortal Contract (Adult Paranormal Romance)

* * *

The Blackthorne Family Saga

Declan

Zander

Blaze

Kaden

# More From Amanda Torrey

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