“What are you talking about?” Tiffany snaps at me. “She’s going into treatment! She said her mom lived years—”
“She was just trying to make it seem less bad than it was.” It doesn’t even feel like I’m lying because it’s true—I’ve lost Salma.
“Her doctor told her over break that she’s beyond treatment,” I add in a low voice. “She knew she had only weeks left, and she wanted to spend them with us.”
Tiffany starts to cry, and Zach puts an arm around her shoulders. “Why… why wouldn’t she say anything?” asks a despondent Trevor, his eyes shiny.
“She’s not big on goodbyes,” I say gently. “But if she didn’t really care about you guys, it wouldn’t be this hard for her.”
We’re all quiet for a while, and it occurs to me that Salma could be watching us even now. As I look around for her, I let my gaze settle on a black car crossing through the gate and heading up the driveway, no doubt to pick up one of our classmates.
“What the hell?”
Trevor’s question seems to rouse all of us from our separate thoughts. He wipes his eyes with the back of his sleeve, then he reaches for the crutches and pulls himself onto his feet. He swings forward, toward a tall man with gray curls who just got out of the back seat of the black car.
I grab Trevor’s bag and carry it with me as I trail after him.
“Sir, what are you doing here?” he asks the man. Is that his father?
“Director Minaro reached out. She said you were hurt, so I took the first flight out. I was hoping… we could talk. I said some things I’m not proud of—” He stops speaking when he notices me listening, and Trevor turns to look at me, too.
“Sorry,” I say. “I just wanted to bring you your bag.”
“Thanks,” says Trevor, and he slings it across his shoulder.
“I’m Richard Cross, Trevor’s father.” Mr. Cross extends a hand to me, his coat sleeve exposing a Rolex.
“Lorena Navarro,” I say, and he frowns like the name is familiar. “Daughter of Viviana Navarro,” I supply.
“Right, of course,” he says, beaming a winning smile. “Any winter break plans?”
“Just trying to decide what I want to do after graduation,” I say, an idea striking me on the spot. “I’m taking a gap year and looking for an internship.”
“Well, if you’re interested in the world of finance and investments, you can check in with my firm,” he says, and he hands me a business card.
“Thanks,” I say, pocketing it. Then I turn to Trevor and give him my phone. “Save your number?”
“Sure.” When he’s done, we hug.
Tiffany and Zach come over with Trevor’s suitcase. They hug Trevor goodbye, too.
“Anyone need a ride?” asks Mr. Cross.
“We’re good,” I say, and we watch the car as it drives off. I wonder if Trevor is going to tell his dad about the vampires or if he’ll wait until he has proof.
I look down at the business card in my hand.BLACKFIRE INVESTMENTS. RICHARD CROSS, CEO.
I think of the Legion of Fire’s logo: Black flames and red smoke.
“Hey… can we talk?” Tiffany asks me, and Zach takes this as his cue to amble back to where we left our bags.
“Sure,” I say, squinting at her because the sun is too bright and my eyes are puffy from so much sobbing.
“Why didn’t William erase our memories of the vampires before he went back into hibernation?”
“He left that choice to me,” I say, since I can’t mention Salma. “And you were right—I did put you all in danger. I don’t want to do that again.”
“Are we actually in agreement then?” she asks.
