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“Relax,” she says, sensing my mood. “I’ll leave that stuff to Lita; she does it better than I could anyway. What I meant was, we need to talk about the prophecy.”
“You know about that?” I study her carefully.
“Have you read it?”
I hesitate, unsure how to answer. I settle on, “I’ve run across it once or twice. Still, I need to know whatever you can tell me. Specifically. Word for word. Leave nothing out.”
“Then wait for me after school and give me a ride home. I’ll fill you in then,” she says, her gray/blue eyes veering away, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see me.
I sigh. Rake a hand through my hair, not wanting to wait, but not left with much of a choice, I agree.
* * *
The second I bail out of independent study I find Xotichl already waiting for me in the hall.
“I parked kinda far,” I tell her, as she falls into step alongside me. Her red-tipped cane weaving before her.
“Good.” She grins in a way that lights up her face. “Then you’ll have plenty of time to tell me your side of the story. Everything. Start to finish. Leave nothing out.”
I look at her, trying not to hate on the fact that yet another person has joined the ever-growing club of people who know about me. What I am. How I came to be. Not to mention, there’s no way I’ll tell her everything.
“I doubt it’s any different from what Daire already told you.” I reach toward her, about to help her navigate the curb, then pull away just as quickly. Xotichl does fine on her own. She doesn’t need me to guide her.
“There’s only one way to know for sure.” Her face is determined, jaw set, mouth grim. For a tiny girl with a perceived disability, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
She’s also incredibly kind.
She was the first person to talk to me—scratch that—she was the only person to talk to me for what pretty much amounted to my first two years at this school—until Daire came along.
She’s also the only one Cade’s never been able to get to. And it’s left me a little in awe of her.
I help her into my truck, see that she’s settled, then I climb into my side. Starting the engine and backing out of the space when she says, “I’m still waiting…”
I yield to a few passing cars, then merge onto the street. “You really don’t want me to go through the whole thing again, do you? There’s really no point. Besides, the deal was I drive you home and you tell me what you know about the prophecy.”
She considers for a moment, one tiny finger tapping the point of her chin. Enjoyin
g my frustration, milking the moment for as long as she can. “Fine,” she says, but only when she’s sure I’ve suffered enough. “You win. I guess I learned everything I need to know from Daire. After all, she was pretty thorough.”
Thorough? How thorough?
I grip the wheel tighter, work my jaw so hard it clicks in protest. Unable to relax until Xotichl says, “Listen, she’s totally devastated, I’m not gonna lie. But it’s not like she blames you. She knows you did the right thing. Besides, I’m pretty sure she won’t stay devastated for long, she’s a pretty tough cookie, you know.”
While her words are meant to comfort, I’m not sure it’s any better. Is she insinuating that Daire’s already getting over me—already moving on?
I shake free of the thought. It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. I saw the way she looked at me today in the parking lot. Same way I looked at her. Besides, isn’t that exactly what I told her to do? Stop thinking of me—stop loving me—for as long as it takes?
God, I hate my brother.
I swipe a hand through my hair, pushing strands away from my face. “Can we just move on to the prophecy?” I say, more than ready to hear it, even though I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like it.
She bobs her head back and forth, not entirely ready to give up on the game. Sighing in surrender, she says, “I read it in the codex.”
I nod impatiently, not really sure what that is but eager to get on with it.
“It’s an impressive book. Everything an ancient and mystical tome should be. With curling vellum pages and elaborate illustrations, it’s like something you’d probably see in a fantasy movie.…” She pauses, probably just to torture me. She’s a sweet girl, one of the sweetest I know, but she loves to play her little games. “Not that I could actually see the illustrations, though I could read their energy. Anyway, there’s a lot to it. Loads and loads of pages, all of which are written in a special code that takes forever to decipher. I wish you could see it: its energy is so vibrant, so alive…”
My thumbs tap the wheel, as I bite back the urge to demand she just get to it and tell me already.
