Illusions

Laurel’s jaw dropped. “No!”

“Please? It would be awesome.” He was raised up on his knees now, his hands clenched excitedly. “I would totally do it if I could.”

“No.”

“Come on!”

“No!”

David poked her ribs. “You’d be pretty. Like a sparkling angel.”

“I’d probably just look radioactive. No thanks.”

He grabbed her now, pinning her under him and tickling her sides till she gasped for air.

“Stop!”

He pulled his hands away and flopped down beside her. “You’re amazing, you know,” he said, pushing a lock of hair off her forehead.

“So are you.”

He scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “Whatever. One of these days you’ll get tired of me and toss me aside.”

He was smiling, but there was a tiny note of seriousness in his voice. “I’m never going to get bored of you, David,” Laurel said softly.

“I sure hope not,” he replied, burying his face in her neck. “Because if you ever do, I’m afraid regular old human life would bore me right to death.”

* * *

Laurel looked for Tamani as soon as she got to school on Monday. She wondered what he had been doing all weekend — especially in light of their new discoveries. And she was anxious to find out if he could get her the light globe. It would take a few days to make the phosphorescent, but she was hoping to be able to try out her new theory on herself in the next couple of weeks.

Just in time to use a piece of her blossom.

She had discovered the tiny bump forming when she got out of the shower and felt a familiar tingling where her hair fell against her back. It was fairly early, but summer had been warmer than usual, and Mother Nature seemed anxious to make up for it in the fall. The air had chilled and the leaves were already starting to turn. Fog season had commenced and the early mornings were downright murky. And Laurel was as affected by the weather as every other plant in Crescent City.

Still, Laurel had been expecting her blossom early, but the bump had never started growing in September. She’d stood and looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Here we go again,” she whispered.

Not that she had any reason to whisper. Her blossom was a secret she kept from the world, but not from her family. After last year, when her lies had almost cost her life — and Chelsea’s — Laurel had adopted honesty as her best policy. And considering how many people she already had to hide from, it was nice to just be herself in her own home. Her parents knew everything — about her and her faerie identity, that Tamani was in school now, even about Yuki.

She hadn’t mentioned how she felt about Tamani, and she may have downplayed the significance of Yuki being a faerie, but her parents didn’t need a detailed analysis of everything that happened in Laurel’s life. They were smart people; they could draw their own conclusions.

Laurel didn’t see Tamani anywhere among the teeming students, but David was waiting for her at their lockers.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, pulling him to her in a warm embrace.

He caught her cheek in his hand, his thumb pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes and raising her chin. Laurel smiled, anticipating a kiss.

“Hey, Laurel.”

Laurel and David turned to see Tamani waving as he walked past, grinning — probably with satisfaction that he had successfully interrupted their public display of affection. Laurel watched as he walked away and realized that hers and David’s were not the only eyes marking his progress.

Yuki, standing across the hall, was also watching, her eyes fixed on him with a strange, almost wistful expression.

“Weird,” Laurel said under her breath.

“You’re telling me,” David grumbled, his eyes on Tamani’s back.

“Not him,” Laurel said, gripping David’s arm firmly. “Yuki.”

David’s eyes flitted over to Yuki, who had turned back to her locker and was pulling books off the top shelf.

“What about her?”

“I don’t know. She looked at him funny.” Laurel paused. “I should go talk to her — I’m still supposed to befriend her. A nice, happy word for ‘spy on,’” she added in a whisper.

David nodded and Laurel started to walk away. She paused to squeeze his hand, then hurried off toward Yuki. “Hey, Yuki!” Laurel said, cringing at the tinny brightness of her tone.

The shy way Yuki ducked her head told Laurel that she’d heard it too. “Hi,” she responded politely.

“We haven’t talked much,” Laurel said, trying to find something relevant to say. “I just wanted to make sure you’re adjusting okay.”

“I’m fine,” Yuki said, sounding moody.

“Well,” Laurel said, feeling like the biggest dork ever, “just let me know if you need anything, all right?”

Something flashed in Yuki’s eyes and she stepped to the side of the hallway, away from the stream of students, and pulled Laurel with her. “Listen, just because Klea decided to come to you for help doesn’t mean I actually need it.”

“I don’t mind,” Laurel said earnestly, placing one hand on Yuki’s shoulder. “I mean, I was so lost when I was a sophomore. I can only imagine you feel the same.”

Yuki glared at her now, and Laurel felt her mouth go dry. Yuki shrugged her hand away. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. I don’t need your guidance and I certainly don’t need your pity.” Then she spun, her light blue skirt swirling out around her legs, and headed down the hallway.

“Gee,” Laurel said to no one in particular, “that went well.”

This chain of events played itself out, with hardly any variation, the next day, and again two days later. “I swear, she hates me,” Laurel whispered to Tamani later that week as Mrs. Harms droned on about the War of 1812. “I didn’t do anything!”

“We need to work on your people skills,” Tamani said, grinning.

“Is it really worth it? Do you think she’s going to just spill her guts to us?”

“You ever heard that saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”

“We don’t know that she’s an enemy.”

“No,” Tamani agreed, “we absolutely don’t. But either way, we should keep her close.”

“What am I supposed to do? I offered her my help and I told you how well that went.”

“Come on,” Tamani said, his voice soft, but a touch chiding. “Wouldn’t you hate someone who came up and was all patronizing like that?”

Laurel had to admit he was right. “I don’t know what else to do.”

He hesitated and glanced at Mrs. Harms, then leaned a little closer. “Why don’t you let me try?”

“Try… making friends with her?”

“Sure. We have a lot in common. Well, more than she knows — but we’re both foreign and new to Crescent City. And,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “you have to admit I’m handsome and charismatic.”

Laurel just stared.

“Plus, I’m saying hi to you in the halls now.” That was certainly true. About three times a day and usually timed for maximum kiss interruption.

“Indeed you are,” Laurel said blandly.

“So I build a friendship with you, and with her, and a few weeks down the line the roads could converge, that’s all I’m saying.”

“It could work,” she agreed, inwardly grateful for the excuse not to have more awkward conversations with