Page 144 of Burning Embers

I suppose it doesn’t matter. As long as no one knows the truth about my powers, I can be whatever I want.

And what I want is to be a normal teenager.

“Okay, class.” Our teacher claps his hands together once. “Why don’t you guys take the remainder of class to go over the lesson with your lab partner? There should be practice quiz questions on page one hundred and three in your textbook.”

I let loose a shaky breath as I swivel in my seat to face Izzy fully. I can’t help but note that her bone structure is delicate, almost elfin-like, while her lips are contrastingly full. The overall effect is candescent. Ethereal. Lust runs through my blood in a ravenous inferno.

I force my lips into a straight line and turn away from her, focusing on the textbook.

However, no matter how hard I try, I can’t read a single damn word on the page. The letters blur together, turning distorted and indistinct.

“What question do you want to start on?” she asks sweetly.

I open my mouth to respond just as the intercom above crackles and our secretary’s voice filters through the room.

“Mr. Holter, please send Ansel Harthorne to the office. I repeat, Mr. Holter, please send Ansel Harthorne to the main office. Thank you.” There’s a click and then silence.

Mr. Holter glances up from where he’s been grading our homework. Wordlessly, he jerks his chin towards the door, and I quickly gather up my supplies, knowing I won’t make it back here before the class ends. Izzy glances at me with concern, but I ignore her inquiring gaze as I hurry out of the classroom and down the long corridor.

Is this about my grades?

I try to think through my most recent assignments.

I may not have gotten one hundred percent on all of them—I’ve been a little preoccupied with thoughts of golden-haired angels—but I definitely aced them. Maybe this is about valedictorian…

My lungs stall alongside my feet when I reach the end of the hallway and see a familiar figure waiting for me, attempting to ward off the two men on either side of her.

“Don’t come any closer to me!” My mom’s voice is halfway between a screech and a cry.

Her blotchy face—a testament to how little sleep she’s been getting—swivels in both directions anxiously.

Shit.

“Mrs. Harthorne,” Mr. Montgomery begins in a soft, soothing voice, “no one here will hurt you.”

“You need to calm down,” adds Mr. Remington, frowning.

My mother shakes her head, strands of graying hair flying free of her braid.

“No. No. No. No.” She whacks her palms against her forehead with an agonized cry.

The sound of it forces my legs forward, and I run the remaining distance.

“Mom, what’s going on?” I throw my backpack on the ground and hurry towards her. She’s so much tinier than me that she barely reaches my chest. “Where is your nurse?”

“She just showed up here,” Mr. Montgomery explains as he runs a hand through his tousled black hair.

“We need to go, baby boy. We need to go.” Mom begins to tug at my sleeve, desperation carved into every frigid line of her face.

“Mom, what’s going on?” I repeat. I place my hands on her shoulders—ignoring how bony they feel, how thin—and push her back so I can see her face clearly. “Why are you here? Where is Shelby?”

Shelby has been my mom’s nurse for years now, ever since my father died. My mother… She didn’t take it well. She seems to believe that my father’s death was an accident and that the murderers were actually going after me.

And she’s right about one thing. My father’s deathwasan accident. The roads were icy, and he was driving too fast. End of story. There were no other cars involved, no one near the crash site, no sign of foul play.

Try telling that to my mother, though.

She seems convinced that someone is after me, hence why we moved here to the middle of Butt Fuck, Nowhere.

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