open my own door. Maybe he was worried it would fly off its hinges and flatten me or I might sprain my wrist trying to open it. Or maybe he was just brought up with good old-fashioned manners.
Xavier didn’t switch on the ignition until I had put my seat belt on and stowed my bag safely in the backseat. Gabriel had told him I was susceptible to pain and injury and that my human form could be damaged. Xavier was taking it all very much to heart and pulled out of the parking lot with an expression of intense concentration.
But even Xavier’s careful driving wasn’t able to prevent what happened next. As we were turning onto the main road, a shiny black motorcycle shot out from nowhere and cut across us. Xavier slammed on the brakes, sending the Chevy lurching forward and narrowly avoiding a collision. We veered to the right, hitting the curb. I was flung forward, my seat belt catching me and throwing me painfully back against the seat. The motorcycle screamed away down the street, leaving a cloud of exhaust in its wake. Xavier stared dumbfounded after it, before quickly turning to make sure I was all right. Once he was satisfied that I was unharmed he was able to unleash his anger.
“What the hell was that?” he fumed. “What an idiot! Did you see who was driving? If I ever find out who that was, so help me God, I’ll introduce his head to a pole.”
“It was hard to see his face under the helmet,” I said quietly.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Xavier growled. “You don’t see too many Yamaha V Star 250s around here.”
“How do you know the bike model?” I asked.
“I’m a boy. We like engines.”
Xavier drove me home, glaring suspiciously at passing cars as though the incident was likely to be repeated. By the time we pulled up in front of Byron, he seemed to have calmed down a little.
“I made lemonade,” Ivy said as she opened the front door. She looked so domestic in her apron that both of us had to smile. “Why don’t you come in, Xavier?” she asked. “You can do your homework with Bethany.”
“Uh, no, thanks, I’ve got some chores I promised Mom I’d do,” Xavier hedged.
“Gabriel’s not here.”
“In that case, sure, thanks.”
My sister ushered us both inside and shut the door. Phantom charged from the kitchen when he heard our voices and knocked against our legs by way of greeting.
“Homework first, walk later,” I said.
We spread our books out on the dining room table. Xavier had to finish a psychology report, and I had to analyze a political cartoon for history. The cartoon was of King Louis XVI standing beside a throne and looking very pleased with himself. I was supposed to be interpreting the significance of the objects around him.
“What do you call that thing he’s holding?” I asked Xavier. “I can’t see it properly.”
“It looks like a fire poker to me,” Xavier said.
“I highly doubt that Louis XVI poked his own fires. I think it’s a scepter. And what’s he’s wearing?”
“Mmm… a poncho?” Xavier suggested.
I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll get top grades with your help.”
In truth, the homework I had been assigned and the grades I would be awarded for my effort, didn’t interest me in the slightest. The things I wanted to learn didn’t come from textbooks; they came from experiences and interactions. But Xavier was concentrating on his psych report, and I didn’t want to distract him any further so I put my head down and peered at the cartoon. My attention span turned out to be unnaturally short.
“If you could take back one thing you’ve done in your life, what would it be?” I asked, tickling Phantom’s nose with my fluffy-tipped pen. He caught the pen between his teeth, thinking it was some kind of furry animal and trotted off victoriously.
Xavier put down his own pen and looked at me quizzically. “Don’t you mean: What is the independent variable in the Stanford Prison Experiment?”
“Yawn,” I said.
“I’m afraid some of us aren’t blessed with divine knowledge.”
I sighed. “I can’t believe that stuff really interests you?”
“It doesn’t. But I have no choice, Beth,” he said. “I have to get into college and get a decent job if I want to succeed — it’s reality.” He laughed. “Well, I guess it’s not your reality, but it sure as hell is mine.”
I didn’t have an answer for that. The idea of Xavier getting older, of having to work the same job day in and day out to provide for a family until the day he died, made me want to cry. I wanted his life to be easy, and I wanted him to spend it with me.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He slid his chair closer to me. “Don’t be,” he said. “I’d much rather be doing this…” And he leaned across and kissed my hair, his lips moving along until they found my chin and finally my mouth.
“I’d much rather spend all of my time talking to you, being with you, discovering you,” he said. “But just because I’ve walked into this crazy fantasy, doesn’t mean I can just abandon my other plans, much as I might want to. My parents still expect me to get into a top college.” He frowned. “It’s important to them.”
“Is it important to you?” I asked.
“I suppose,” he replied. “What else is there?”
I nodded — I knew what it was like to have to live up to family expectations.
“You have to do what makes you happy as well,” I said.
“That’s why I have you.”
“How am I supposed to study if you go on saying things like that?” I complained.
“There’s more where that came from,” Xavier teased.
“Is that what you spend your spare time doing?”
“You got me. All I do is write down lines to impress women.”
“Women?”
“Sorry — one woman,” he rectified as I scowled at him. “One woman who is worth a thousand women.”
“Oh, shut up,” I said. “Don’t try and dig yourself out of this one.”
“So gracious.” Xavier shook his head. “So forgiving and compassionate.”
“Don’t push it, buddy,” I said, putting on a thuggish voice.
Xavier hung his head.
“I apologize… jeez, I’m whipped.”
I continued with the history task while he finished writing his report. He still had a stack of homework left, but in the end I proved too much of a distraction. He had just completed his third trig problem when I felt his hand wander over to my lap. I slapped it gently.
“Keep studying,” I said when he looked up from the page. “No one said you could stop.”
He smiled and scrawled something at the bottom of the answer sheet. The solution now read:
Find
“Stop goofing around!” I said.
“I’m not! I’m stating a truth. You’re my solution to everything,” Xavier replied. “The end result is always you.
19
Into the Woods
I was nervous about meeting Xavier’s family on Saturday. He’d invited me several times already, and it had become impossible to refuse without looking as though I wasn’t interested. Besides, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet them; I was just terrified about how they might react to meeting
