own.
“Nothing’s changed,” she whispered, his face only a hair’s breadth from hers. “I made my choice.”
His hand stilled, but she sensed the slightest tremor at his fingertips. She watched him swallow once before smiling wanly and pulling back.
“Forgive me. I overstepped.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Same thing you do every day,” Tamani said, shrugging. “The less change to your routine, the better.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Laurel, forcing herself to look him in the eye.
He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s me who has to deal with it, not you.”
Laurel looked at the floor.
“I mean it,” Tamani said, shifting subtly, putting more distance between them. “You don’t have to watch out for me or try to be my friend in school. I’ll just be around, and it will be fine.”
“Fine,” Laurel repeated, nodding.
“You know those apartments down on Harding?” Tamani asked, sounding casual again.
“The green ones?”
“Aye. I’m number seven,” he said, his smile playful. “Just in case you ever need me.”
He headed towards the front door and Laurel watched him for a few seconds before reality crept back in. “Tamani, stop!” she said, leaping off her stool and sprinting to the entryway. “Do not go out of my front door with no shirt on. I have very nosy neighbours.” She reached out to grab his arm. He turned and, almost instinctively, his hand rose to cover hers. He stared down at her fingers, so light against his olive skin, and his eyes traced the length of her hand, her arm, her shoulder, her neck. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again his expression was neutral. He smiled easily, gave her hand a squeeze, then released it and let it fall from his arm.
“Of course,” he said lightly. “I’ll go out the back.”
He turned towards the kitchen, then paused. He lifted his hand and touched the necklace he had given her – her baby faerie ring, which hung on its silver chain. He smiled softly. “I’m glad you still wear this.”
Chapter Three
School was almost unbearably awkward for the next few days; Tamani’s presence in Government drove Laurel crazy and his presence in Speech drove David crazy. The fact that apparently there were still trolls hanging around Crescent City would probably have disturbed Chelsea more if she weren’t so happy to have a second faerie at Del Norte High. But though he was always around, Tamani mostly ignored Laurel and her friends. And while Laurel appreciated the occasional wink or secret smile, even those served to remind her of the dangers that could be lurking round every corner.
But with the return of homework and tests and research papers, Laurel found herself slipping into her usual school routine – trolls or no trolls, Tamani or no Tamani. She knew from experience how exhausting it could get, living in constant fear, and she refused to simply endure high school. She wanted to live her life, and though Laurel hated to admit it, her life didn’t have a lot of room for Tamani.
She wasn’t sure whether to feel sad about that, or guilty, or exasperated. Whether or not there was room in her life for Tamani, Laurel knew that there was precious little room in Tamani’s life for anyone or anything but Laurel. He lived to protect her, and he’d never failed her. Annoyed her, frustrated her, hurt her, maddened her – but never once failed her.
Sometimes she wondered what he did when she wasn’t around. But, especially in the afternoons, when she would lay snuggled up on the couch with David, she thought she was probably better off not knowing. She and David didn’t discuss it – she’d told him what was happening, of course, but they had long since come to the mutually tacit conclusion that where Tamani was concerned, silence was golden.
The itchy feeling that she was being watched was almost continual now. Laurel tried not to dwell on how often it was real, and how often imagined. But she often hoped it was real, particularly when a suspicious-looking vehicle drove by her house.
Or when her doorbell rang unexpectedly.
“Ignore it,” David said, looking up from his crisp, neatly tabbed notes as Laurel slid her messy ones off her lap. “It’s probably just a sales guy or something.”
“Can’t,” Laurel said. “Mom’s expecting a package from eBay. I’ll have to sign for it.”
“Hurry back,” David said with a grin.
Laurel was still smiling when she opened the door. But the instant she saw the familiar face her smile melted away and she tried to recover by pasting on a new one. “Klea! Hi! I—”
“Sorry to drop by unannounced,” Klea said with a smirk to rival the Mona Lisa’s. She was – as usual – dressed from head to toe in formfitting black, her mirrored sunglasses drawn down over her eyes. “I was hoping I could call in a favour.”
That seemed strangely direct, coming from Klea. Laurel’s mind went to Tamani’s words last week about the calm before the storm. She hoped she wasn’t watching that storm roll in. “What kind of favour?” she asked, grateful her voice sounded steady, strong.
“Can we talk out here?” Klea asked, nodding towards the front veranda.
Laurel followed her hesitantly, though she knew no one got this close to her house without sentries tracking their every move. Klea extended one hand towards a girl who was standing silently next to the wicker chair farthest from them. “Laurel, I’d like you to meet Yuki.”
It was the girl Laurel had seen with Tamani on their first day of school – the Japanese exchange student. She was wearing a khaki canvas skirt and a light, airy top decorated with red flowers. She was a little taller than Laurel, but the way she stood made her seem very small – arms folded, shoulders slumped, chin tucked against her chest. Laurel was familiar with the posture; it was the same one she assumed when she wished she could disappear.
“Yuki?” Klea prompted. Yuki raised her chin and lifted her long eyelashes, settling her gaze on Laurel.
Laurel blinked in surprise. The girl had elegantly almond-shaped eyes, but they were a shockingly pale green that seemed at odds with her dark hair and complexion. Very beautiful, though – a striking combination.
“Hi.” Feeling awkward, Laurel thrust her hand out. Yuki took it limply; Laurel quickly let go. The whole encounter was weirding her out. “You’re our new foreign exchange student, right?” Laurel asked, her eyes flitting to Klea.
Klea cleared her throat. “Not exactly. Well, she is from Japan, but we may have falsified some paperwork to get her into your school system. Calling her a foreign exchange was the easiest way.”
Laurel’s lips formed a silent O.
“Can we sit?” Klea asked.
Laurel nodded numbly.
“You may recall, I solicited the possibility of your assistance back
