“Well then I guess it’s good there’s nothing between us then, huh?” I say.
It hurts to even say the words, but I’m not willing to risk my life to be with someone who doesn’t care one way or the other about me.
“Exactly,” Rye says.
I nod as though I want to be the one to confirm that the obvious attraction between us doesn’t exist rather than let him be the one to say it. Even as I nod, I know it’s not true. There is something between us. Something real. I felt it at the carnival and I can feel it now.
Rye is looking at me with that unreadable expression again, and as his eyes meet mine, I feel a pain inside of me as though my insides are being twisted. Is it happening? Is even liking him enough to slowly kill me?
No, this is called a broken heart, Sailor. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s the self-inflicted pain of letting yourself get your hopes up only to have them shot right back down again. You let yourself believe this god could like you, and now he’s confirmed he doesn’t, you’d rather pretend he does and that’s hurting you instead of just accepting the truth. You’ve got a teen crush that isn’t reciprocated. What’s that book called? Oh yes. He’s Just Not That Into You.
I stand up so abruptly I sway slightly on my feet. Rye jumps up beside me and steadies me.
“Easy there. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, forcing a smile. “I just realized I’m late for class. Catch you later.”
I practically run away from him before I can say or do something stupid. I don’t look back at Rye. I can’t because I’m afraid of what I might see. I might see the same crushing disappointment on his face that I feel. Or worse, I might not. He might just be totally unfazed by it all and prove he doesn’t even care about me.
I don’t bother going to class. I’m already too late to slip in with a simple sorry. I would have to explain where I’ve been and I don’t have it in me right now to come up with a convincing lie. I’m afraid I’ll open my mouth and just burst into tears and embarrass myself. Instead, I head for the girls’ bathroom. I lock myself in one of the stalls. I wipe down the lid of the toilet and sit down, my face in my hands.
I try to tell myself this isn’t so bad. We’ll find a way to be together. For a moment, I allow myself to believe it. In all the books I’ve read, there’s always an obstacle that stands in the way of true love. Sometimes it’s another person. Sometimes it’s a misunderstanding gotten out of hand. This time, it’s a curse.
The hero always finds a way to defeat whatever is standing in the way of getting the girl, and they get their happy ending.
Except this isn’t a book and Rye isn’t going to find a way for us to be together, because he doesn’t want that. In real life, smoking-hot gods don’t end up with useless girls who can’t even begin to live up to everyone else around her. Gods end up with goddesses. And humans end up with humans. That’s just the way the real world works.
I tell myself I’m okay with that, but I’m not. I’ll have to learn to be though because nothing about this is changing anytime soon. I tell myself to forget about Rye. I’m just inventing more problems for myself. My focus has to be on finding the dagger and killing the horsemen.
I just about finished lecturing myself when I hear the bell and I stand up. A few girls come in, laughing and moving toward the mirrors. I sidestep to avoid them and move into the now full hallway. Instantly, I spot Sunday and Grace and I make my way through the crowd to them.
“Skipping classes already, huh?” Sunday grins as I join them.
“Something came up,” I say. “I can’t for the life of me fathom why you guys bother with high school though. I mean, is it really a priority for a god to know Shakespeare and calculus?”
Grace laughs softly.
“Nexus insists on it. She says it’ll draw too much attention to us if we don’t act like normal teenagers.”
“How very Twilight,” I joke.
“So, what was more important than Ms. Prince’s riveting history class?” Sunday asks.
I’m saved from having to think up a lie when Ya-Ya and Jinx join us.
“Sailor, be honest,” Ya-Ya demands. “Do I have eyeliner smudged beneath my eye?”
I study her perfect eyeliner and shake my head.
“No,” I say.
She swats at Jinx, who ducks and laughs.
“You’re going to pay for making me think I was a mess, Jinx,” she says.
She chases Jinx. Just ahead of us, the janitor, a sweet, gray-haired old man in blue overalls, is mopping up a spilled milkshake. He looks up abruptly as Ya-Ya and Jinx run past him.
“I’m glad you two have the time to mess around,” he says.
It takes me a moment to figure out what’s wrong with his voice. It’s a woman’s voice. A woman’s voice I vaguely recognize.
“Nexus?” Jinx says, looking the janitor up and down. “You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel there, aren’t you?”
As Nexus responds to Jinx, a yellow bubble forms around us and the noise from the hallway fades out.
“Listen up, this is important,” Nexus says.
“I’ll go grab the others,” Sunday says.
“No, there’s no time for that. You can explain it to them later. I don’t want to spend any longer in this body than I have to, thank you very much,” Nexus replies.
“Why didn’t you just come to us as yourself?” Grace asks. “You could have used a glamor to fit
