Only Everything (6 page)

The four girls looked me over with disdain. I might not have been able to read their souls, but after shadowing Veronica this morning, I was certain of one thing: The girl was a two-faced bitch. She gossiped about everyone, even her friends, going off about one girl’s fake tan the
second
said girl walked away from her. She’d slammed some poor freshman’s locker closed to get to her own, told an adorable guy his girlfriend was cheating on him with absolutely no sympathy, and even crushed a ladybug under the toe of her pointy boot—on purpose. If I
could
read her soul, I was fairly certain it would have that murky, purple-black quality usually reserved for dictators and torturers. Normally, I would have been bent on finding a girl like her a good match, knowing that love’s healing powers would tame her a bit, make her more sympathetic and kind. But she already had a beautiful boyfriend, and she was still a raving bitch. That type couldn’t be saved. Not even by true love.

Oh, how I wished Harmonia, Nike, and Selene were here with me. Our combined beauty would have intimidated Veronica into submission in a blink.

“Well, I’m Darla,” Darla said finally.

“I’m True,” I replied.

“Don’t
talk
to her,” Veronica hissed, rolling her eyes.

She’d rolled her eyes so many times today I was surprised her skull could still hold them.

I lifted my chin and pushed past her, trying not to limp. “I’m hungry.”

There was a line of people waiting in front of steaming silver vats of food, but none of it looked appealing, so I went right to the produce section and grabbed an apple and a banana. There was a tray on a shelf, so I put my things on there and looked around for something to drink.

“Hey! That’s my tray!” a boy with many, many pimples whined.

My brain felt like it was slamming against my temples. It was the first time a mortal had ever dared protest something I’d done, and in my current mood, I could have lifted a finger and reduced him to ash for it. One more power I would miss. Instead I pointed at a stack of similar trays near the door.

“There are others,” I told him. Then I reached past a tiny girl with blond curls and took a carton of milk and a brown roll.

“You’re cutting the line,” she said.

“Get over it,” I snapped.

I gave the woman the meal card Mrs. Leifer had issued me that morning and took my food outside, wincing with every step. Other students had claimed tables and were starting to eat. I concentrated on a sad-looking girl sitting alone and tried to read her feelings.
Come on. Give me your name. Your heart’s desire. Something. True love is just the thing to turn that frown upside down.
I gritted my teeth, held my breath, and focused. The only sound was that of my blood thumping in my temples. And now the pain radiated down my neck and into my shoulders. Perfection.

“Hey, True.” Charlie Cox walked up next to me with a tray full of food. “Lunch at a new school. Sucks, doesn’t it?” he said quietly.

“Does it?” I asked, distracted by the throbbing.

“Always,” he replied with a tentative smile. “So . . . wanna sit together?”

Kindness. Interesting. That was new.

“Sure,” I said.

Then the three virile boys from the office that morning—Trevor, Josh, and Brian—walked up behind him.

“Where’re you going? You’re sitting with us,” Josh said, hooking his arm around Charlie’s neck in a friendly way.

“Oh.” Charlie looked perplexed. Maybe even alarmed. “I guess we’re sitting with them.”

We walked over to a table under a lovely elm tree and settled in on the benches. My feet pulsated, so I took the opportunity to tug the boots off. The cool air rushed over my bare toes like a soothing balm. A pair of girls shot me a disgusted look, so I stared them down until they went away. The sun pierced my eyes, and I held one hand over them for shade.

The Virile Trio took out their cell phones and started texting. I bit down on my tongue. All day it had been like this. People texting their friends across the classroom, in the halls, at their lockers, standing
right in front of each other
. Why not talk to the people around you? Look them in the eye? Connect on a human level? No wonder the true love connection was faltering. Texting “I love you” was simply not the same as saying it out loud while staring deeply into your beloved’s eyes. . . .

My heart ached, and I touched Orion’s arrow. Three couples. That was it. I would see him again once I matched three couples.

“So. What do you think of Lake Carmody High?” Charlie asked.

I bit into the apple and eyed him carefully beneath the cover
of my fingers. I already knew he was single, and he’d been in a couple of my honors classes that morning, where I’d seen a few different girls appraising him. Clearly they liked this scruffy, twenty-first-century-artist look he had going. Plus, he was the only human human I’d met today, the only one who’d offered me even an ounce of consideration.

I could work with Charlie Cox. If only I could read his soul and find out exactly what he wanted in a girl. If only I had my gold-tipped arrows. Ever since I’d left the house that morning, I’d been missing the heft of my quiver and bow on my back. Now I squirmed, my spine actually tingling with longing.

“Not much,” I answered. “What about you?”

Charlie’s eyes trailed along the table toward the VT. “It’s . . . weird. These guys? At any other school I’ve been to? Would have kicked my ass by now. Or at least tried to shove me into a locker.”

I nodded knowingly, thinking of Orion. “The alpha males. They’re born with the primal need to assert themselves. To show everyone around them who’s in charge.”

Charlie laughed and took a bite of sandwich. “I’ve never thought of it that way, but okay.”

“They seem to genuinely like you, though,” I mused.

“I know! That’s the weirdest part. No one has ever asked me to sit with them on the first day before. Four schools in ten years and not once,” he said.

I smiled, touched. “Is that why you asked me to sit with you?”

Charlie shrugged. “I know how it feels. And it doesn’t feel good.”

“Thank you,” I said earnestly.

He grinned. “Anytime.”

I decided I liked Charlie. That kind of empathy is rare in the
teenage population. It illustrated a depth that I, as someone who had been around for countless millennia, appreciated. I sat back and gazed around the courtyard, munching on the apple and trying to discern if any of these girls were worthy enough to deserve him.

“Where’d you move from?” he asked, popping open a bottle of iced tea.

“Maine,” I said flatly.

That iced tea looked good. Refreshing. I picked up the bottle and gulped down half of it. Charlie stared. I placed it down and sighed. My head throbbed a bit more dully.

“Um, that was mine,” Charlie said.

“What is with everyone and this
mine
thing?” I asked. “ ‘That’s my desk, you took my pencil, mine, mine mine.’ Doesn’t anyone on Earth share?”

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I realized with a start that I might have said too much. Normally, I was not one to complain, but this day—and this headache—were frustrating me to no end. It was so difficult, getting used to these new rules. Normally I simply visualized what I wanted and it would appear before me. My brothers and sister, my friends back home . . . we’d never wanted for anything, and we’d never had a problem with anyone taking something from us, because we could always conjure another.

Except for our loves, of course. We always took issue when someone tried to steal our loves.

Suddenly a plain girl with gorgeous auburn hair paused at the end of our table. “Did you take my scarf?”

I sighed as I reached back to untie it. “See what I mean?” I handed the scarf to the girl, who stared. “What? I don’t have fleas.”

She ran to her friends to whisper. A tall, handsome boy with shaggy brown hair and the letters
QB
on the arm of his jacket shot
me a disturbed look before ushering her through a door marked
THE CAFÉ
, her friends trailing behind. A stiff breeze blew my hair into my face. Mental note:
Tomorrow, braids.

“Ooookay,” Charlie said. “Can I have your milk, then?”

“Sure,” I said, taking another bite of apple. Why did he even feel the need to ask? “I can always get another.”

A car motor gunned and we both looked up. Idling at the bottom of the stairs leading from the courtyard to the parking lot was a sleek black car. A pretty girl in tight jeans jogged down the steps and over to the driver, who got out and laid a serious kiss on her. He wore an oil-stained baseball cap, and even from here I could tell his fingernails were black with grime. He picked up his girlfriend and sat her down on the hood of the car, where they went at it like dogs in heat.

I grimaced. Those two, I had not matched up. I would have remembered.

“Ever wonder what people are thinking?” Charlie sounded mildly disgusted.

My eyes narrowed. I used to always
know
what people were thinking. But now I would have given anything for the smallest inkling.

“All the time,” I said.

Charlie shook his head and picked up the sandwich again as Veronica, Darla, and their hangers-on arrived with trays piled high with greens. Darla shot me the smallest of smiles, then sat down next to Charlie, angling away from us. Veronica slid into a chair next to Josh, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in for a kiss. Then she glanced over at the couple on the car.

“God. Do we really have to watch that?” she asked, scrunching her nose.

“I know,” Darla put in, pushing her salad around with her fork. “And she used to be so normal.”

“Katrina Ramos? Please,” Veronica said dismissively.

Darla’s cheeks turned pink. “Well, she was
semi
-normal. We used to have a lot of classes together. She was nice.”

Veronica scoffed and widened her eyes. “And look at her now,” she said derisively.

“Come on, V. You gotta cut the girl some slack after what happened,” Josh said. For a long moment, everyone at the table was silent.

“Why?” Charlie piped up. “What happened?”

Darla leaned toward him. “Her dad died last year. In a car crash,” she whispered. “This huge pileup on 78. It was on every news channel for days. After that, she just kind of . . .”

“Turned slut?” Veronica suggested.

The guys laughed. Darla shifted in her seat. Charlie watched Katrina and her boyfriend for another few seconds, and I could tell he felt for her. The boy definitely had heart.

“Charlie, I’m going to find you a girlfriend,” I announced, pressing the tip of Orion’s arrow into the pad of my finger.

“What?” Trevor said with a laugh.

Charlie paled.

“Yeah . . . what?” he squeaked.

“I’m going to find you a girlfriend,” I repeated, taking another swig of iced tea. “I’m really good at matching up couples. It’s a special talent of mine.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Who
is
this freak?” she whispered to Josh.

“You think I need a girlfriend?” Charlie asked, fiddling with the ripped top of the milk carton.

“Everyone needs love,” I told him. “It’s a universal truth.”

Charlie chuckled.

“She’s right about that,” Josh announced, kissing Veronica’s cheek.

“Don’t you want a girlfriend?” I asked, perplexed. “Or is it that you want a boyfriend? Because either way, I can help.”

Trevor almost choked. Brian eyed Charlie curiously. Loud music blasted through the windows of the black car. I winced, touching my fingertips to my temples. Almost everyone in the courtyard stared. Charlie’s ears turned pink.

“Girlfriend. I’m a girlfriend kind of guy,” Charlie specified. “And, um, sure. I guess.”

“Then I’m going to get you one.”

Charlie shifted in his seat, and his shoulders hunched. It was like he was trying to grow smaller. “Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice here?”

I tilted my head. “Because you don’t.”

He glanced along the table. Veronica and Josh were now feeding each other cucumber slices. Down in the parking lot, the dirty guy was nuzzling his girlfriend’s neck while that awful guitar music assaulted everyone’s eardrums.

“Okay, fine,” Charlie said. “Why the hell not?”

“This should be interesting,” Veronica said under her breath.

I ignored her. “Good,” I said to Charlie. I smiled and took a cookie off the plate in front of him. Charlie watched me bite into it, crestfallen. I rolled my eyes, broke off half, and handed it back to him.

“Now tell me everything there is to know about you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Katrina

I had Ms. Day for English again. This was a good sign. Ms. Day was one of the only teachers who had been nice to me after my dad died last year. Most of the others could barely figure out what to say to me. But Ms. Day, she’d offered to help me with makeup work a few times—an offer I’d always turned down—and had even given me a Christmas present—a gift card to Barnes & Noble. “Escapism is good for the soul,” she’d said. Until this summer I’d had no idea what that meant. But even knowing the teacher was a non-nightmare wasn’t stopping my nerves about handing in my paper. In five minutes everyone was going to know I’d done the summer homework. In my old honors classes, this wouldn’t have been a big deal. Everyone else would have done the homework too. But in these classes, people laughed at you for doing the work. They stared. They whispered.

I hated that.

It doesn’t matter,
I told myself.
This is not about them. Fresh start, fresh start, fresh start.

As I came around the corner into the literary arts wing, I tripped, and my stack of new, uncovered textbooks slipped out of my arms.
Of course everyone in the hall applauded. Originality was not big at my school. My face burned as I bent to check on the poor freshman I’d collided with. She was still crouched at my feet, the laces of her shoe in each hand.

“I’m so sorry!” I said. “I didn’t even see you!”

“It’s all right,” she replied, tying her shoelace. She stood and shoved her big glasses up on her nose. She had dark skin, brown eyes, and black hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail. “I get that a lot.”