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hundred. There s no way to access the others.
 We re not giving up. It might not have anything to do with anything, but it could be
important. I say.  Leave Risk Sixty. That has all the letters of Valkyrie in it, doesn t it?
Issie, open up a blank document.
She does. I make her write it:
Leave Risk Sixty
Then we cross off the letter in  Valkyrie.
Leave Risk Sixty
 So that leaves oh, exist, Devyn says. His lips do this weird sort of half raspberry
noise.  Valkyries exist. That s not that helpful.
 Crud. My hopes seems to fizzle out.
Nick squeezes my hand.  No. There s still the other one. Don t give up.
We don t give up, but we don t get anywhere either. Eventually Devyn goes home to
research and give his parents my blood. Nick goes out patrolling with Is for backup.
Instead of curling up with a mirror and turning all fetal, I write letters to Georgia Board
of Pardons and Parole, e-mail the information forward, wish I could do more for human
rights. In the back of my head are these worries thundering about, static, insistent: what
the blood test will mean, why the pixie guy in the woods was nice to me, what Nick will
do if I am pixie now because, let s face it, were are pretty bigoted against pixies, and
seeing what I ve seen, I can t really blame them.
 Do not think, I order myself.  You have thought this over and over again. It is self-
indulgent. Just research.
So this is what I m doing, scrunched up with Gram s laptop googling  how not to turn
pixie, when my grandmother struts through the door, all in uniform, all tall and brave
and fearless all unlike me.
 Hey, she says, kicking the door shut behind her.  You still moody, still& .what s the
word? Emo?
 Emo is a derogatory word. I close the laptop, running my hand across the cold, blank
surface.
She laughs.  Why? Because it s short for emotional? There s nothing wrong with being
emotional. There s a lot of good emotions out there, you know.
The phone rings. Gram grabs it.  Hello?
I wait. Images of Astley flash into my head. I force them out by thinking of Charleston,
dolphins breaking the surface of the water, warm air, flowers.
 No. I just got home, Josie. What s up? Gram asks.
I plug in the power cord to recharge the laptop and then find my grandmother, who has
wandered into the kitchen, still talking on the phone.
 I m going to take a shower, I whisper.  I ve got a date tonight with a pixie-hating
werewolf. I have to smell human.
She makes a fake, exaggerated sniff and then an overacting mimic of grossness.
 Nice, I bounce back.  You re such a nice grandmother.
She waves me upstairs. Dismissed.
My cell phone rings when I m in the shower and since I m a total slave to technology, I
answer it.
 Zare?
 Hey, Nick.
 What are you doing?
My good arm drips water onto the little ping rug that s right in front of the toilet. It
deepens the color.  Um& ..
 Are you taking a shower?
 Yeah.
He doesn t say anything. I don t say anything. His breath is so loud that I can hear it
over the water. I m naked. He knows I m naked. This is freaking me out. I eye the
towels and finally say,  I m not blue anymore.
 Is that because you re red?
 Huh? How do you know I m red?
 Because you re blushing. He laughs.
The water splashes hot against my ankle, which is still under the stream of it. He doesn t
say anything. I don t say anything. I am wasting water. I don t care. Bad Zara. Bad
pseudo-environmentalist, pseudo-human Zara.
 You aren t actually standing in the shower with the cell phone, are you, because that s
dangerous. He coughs.
I press my lips together for a second and ruin the mood.  You don t trust me at all, do
you?
 I do, he answers too quickly.
 Yep. Uh-huh. Right.
Even though the shower s making so much noise I can still hear his breath rush out,
exasperated.
The drain sucks the water down.
 You know, he says.  I really, awesomely, amazingly love you.
 You say the perfect boyfriend things. I step out of the shower, grab a towel.
He laughs.  I say the perfect boyfriend things, but what about what I do? I mean, you are
always complaining about the whole macho alpha dog thing.
 Well, yeah, there is that and you whole secret love of snausages.
 You promised to never mention that! he says all mock upset.
 No, I promised to never mention the whole fire hydrant thing.
 Zara! He cracks up.
 Or the barking at the vacuum cleaner.
 Do not go there, he warns, but he s still laughing hard.
 Despite your vile nature we still have a date tonight. And you are still going to that
dance with me.
I imagine him clutching his warm stomach as he laughs. I close my eyes.  You think
you can get Dev to ask Issie, too?
 I ll try.
 Cool.
Nick picks me up later. He doesn t even knock on the door, just comes right in like he
lives here or something, which he practically does.
 I m kidnapping your granddaughter, he shouts to Betty. She s in the kitchen cleaning
up dinner dishes. I am off dishwashing duties because of the whole injured arm thing.
Score!
 Good. Keep her awhile. She s on my computer so damn much her fingers are curling
into perpetual typing shape. She steps into the living room, smiles, wipes her hands on a
bright yellow dish towel.  You two have fun. Don t be back too late.
I rush across the room and kiss her cheek. She pats mine and says,  You are a sweetie.
Nick runs across the living room and does the same thing, giving her an overly
exaggerated smack. The he grabs her up in this big wolf hug and twirls her around.
 And you are just fresh, she laughs, swatting him with the dish towel.  Now scoot.
We hop in Nick s MINI Cooper, which smells faintly like dog. I try to pull on my buckle
and my hand is so cold that I can t quite get it locked. Plus, the whole hurt wrist thing
makes it awkward. Nick reaches over and does it for me. His fingers touch my fingers.
All of my internal organs swirl and melt and tingle. His lips are beautiful. I am
staring& I am staring at his lips. I should kiss him. I lean up and in. His lips open a little [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]