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“Oh, but I do.”
“Yeah.” Michael glanced over. “You do. Emotion and elements—they’re too closely tied, Chris. Control—it can snap like that.”
Chris sighed.
“Trust me,” said Michael. “What if you hurt that girl? What if you—”
“What if I hurt her?” Chris swung his head around. “You’re one to talk.”
For an instant, he thought he’d pushed too far, that Michael would come after him the way he’d gone after Gabriel.
But Michael just pulled the truck beside the garage and shifted into park, his jaw set, his hands tight on the wheel.
Chris knew he should apologize. He didn’t want to. “Look,” said Michael, his voice rough. “Just let this mess with Tyler and Seth blow over, and they’ll leave you alone again—”
“Are you crazy?” Chris glared at him, the rage so pure he could barely speak around it. “Do you know they tried to kill Gabriel? Seth had—he had his hands—he was going to—”
The cab door swung open. Gabriel stood there, a basketball under his arm.
He met Chris’s eye, then glanced past him at Michael. “Still being a dick?”
“Shut up,” said Michael. “Close the door.”
“Chris—want to play?”
“We’re talking,” said Michael.
Chris grabbed his backpack and swung out of the cab. “No, we’re not.”
Then he slammed the door, flung his bag by the corner of the garage, and caught the ball Gabriel passed him.
CHAPTER 10
Becca was standing in the kitchen when her mom came down at seven, wearing an old tee shirt and threadbare sweatpants instead of her nursing scrubs.
Becca stared at her. “What are you doing?”
Her mom yawned and headed for the refrigerator. “There were too many nurses on, so they canceled me. Did you already eat?”
“I found something.” Becca dug her nails into her palms. Her “dinner” had consisted of a glass of chocolate milk—she was so nervous the thought of eating made her want to puke.
Her mom started pulling food out of the refrigerator. “Isn’t this nice? Maybe we can rent some pay-per-view or something.”
“Um, Quinn and I were going to catch a movie, actually,” she said. “I’m supposed to pick her up—”
“What are you seeing?”
What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? Becca took a gulp of her chocolate milk. “I forget. Quinn picked.”
“Well, let me put some jeans on. I haven’t been to a movie in ages.”
Becca almost dropped her glass. “You want to go? Mom—it’s kind of a girls’ night out... .”
Her mom rolled her eyes. “I’m a girl, Becca. I haven’t seen you all week—”
“And whose fault is that?”
Crap. Becca winced, wishing she could suck the words back into her mouth.
