Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles 1)

“What for?”

“I felt like it. I thought I'd have the girls over for lunch sometime, so I had to practice.” The girls were her other teacher friends. She'd barely been in contact with them in months. I don't know what she told them, but she hasn't talked about them for a while now.

“Are you going to tell them?”

“I think it's time.” Cake will make it better; that's what she's thinking. I can read it on her face.

“Are you sure? What about Aj? She's been emailing me like crazy. I don't know what to tell her anymore.”

“It's time,” she says again. I don't press the matter and go to crash on the couch for a while. I have a few Dad-free hours and I want to enjoy them.

I hate myself for missing Peter, but I have to get over the fact that we're connected because the only thing that's going to break it is me dying. I don't really want that to happen, so I'm stuck. I wish we'd thought this out more. Like, is Peter just going to follow me around for the rest of my life? I know I'm not going to be able to be away from him for that long. Will he just be attached to my hip for the rest of my life, assuming that I live that long?

I can't seem to regret it, though. I haven't hated having him in my life, if I'm being honest. He gives me a break from thinking about my dying mother. He understands me in a way very few people could, and that has to count for something.

There's a knock at the door. I look at Mom, wondering if she's expecting someone. She shrugs and goes back to making frosting. I haul myself up and cross my fingers it's not the religious people. I'm kind of a lost cause at this point.

“Hello.” There's a Peter on my doorstep.

“You're wearing shoes.” Way to point out the obvious.

“Yes. May I come in?” It's so freaky seeing him in the daytime, wearing shoes and everything.

“What are you doing here?” I'm blocking the doorway so Mom can't see him.

“I've been waiting for you.” He talks softly so my mother doesn't hear. She's humming James Taylor in the kitchen. Loudly.

“How long have you been waiting?” I bite back a happy smile. Seeing him is like having the sun come out from behind the clouds. I'm warm and fuzzy and giggly all over. I feel like running through a field and weaving flower chains and eating cotton candy. It's sickening, but it feels damn good.

“All day.” He's kind of twitching, as if little jolts of electricity pulse through him. I want to ask if he's okay.

“You've been hanging around waiting for me all day?” I hate how much I like the thought of that. That someone would wait all day just to see me.

“Not the entire day,” he says and I think he means it as a joke. It's still hard to tell with him. I smile like a fool anyway.

“I've been waiting for you, too.” He looks down at his twitching fingers as if they don't belong to him.

“How can you stand it?” His voice isn't calm.

“Stand what?” I'm not exactly sure what he means. I'm not going to say anything about the things that are happening to me. I'm still not sure what they are, exactly.

“All of it.” He taps his head. “The emotions.”

“What emotions?”

“The ones you're feeling right now. I'm receiving them from you, like electricity flowing through water. I don't know how you stand it.” He rips his hands through his hair and I'm afraid he's going to smash the door.

“Calm down. Breathe.” It's what I usually say to Tex when she's freaking out. Then I realize that he can't. “Never mind. Um, focus on something beautiful, like a beach. Hear the waves rolling in and out and imagine you're on the beach.” I wave my hands over and back. It's from one of those relaxation tapes. I'd thought they were a load of crap, but it seems to be working. His eyes are closed. He isn't breathing, obviously, but he's stopped twitching so much. That has to be a good sign.

“You know this really isn't a good time,” I whisper.

“Who's at the door? Mom calls. Crappity crap. I hoped I'd never have to do this. While I frantically search for an escape other than pretending Peter is a mirage or just running away, she comes out of the kitchen. Too late.

“Uh, Mom, this is Peter. Peter, this is my mother, Claire.”

“Hello, Peter.” She draws out the end of the hello. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

“What do you mean finally?” She smirks and wipes her hands on a dish towel. I just mentioned him last night.

“I'm your mother. I see all, I know all.” She narrows her eyes and scrunches her nose at me. We're ignoring Peter, but he doesn't seem to mind.

“Ava-Claire,” she sighs, propping her hands on her hips. “You're being rude to Peter.” I snap my eyes back on him. He's still, except for those twitchy hands.

“It is nice to meet you, Mrs. Sullivan,” he finally says. She looks him up and down. Oh, I do not like that look. This cannot be happening.

“Ava said you go to Galdon Academy,” she says, naming the swanky private school a half-hour from Sussex. In hindsight, I should have filled Peter in so he could corroborate, but I hadn't known he was going to show up like this. He's staring at her like he's trying to see into her soul. For all I know, he can.

“Yes,” he finally says.

“How did you two meet? Ava-Claire didn't tell me.” Thanks, Mom.

“It was at a party. The one where Tex took all those compromising Facebook pictures.”

“Oh, yes,” she says. Peter and my mother are having a staring contest.

I'm trying really hard not to look at Peter. Blushing, I remember the only time Peter and I were at a party and what we did. I wonder if he remembers.

“So, Peter came over to hang out.” Maybe also to drink my blood. “You want to watch a movie?” I just want this tension to ease. I'll do anything. I finally look at Peter. He tears his eyes from my mother.

“That would be nice.” Before going back to the kitchen, Mom makes sure to meet my eyes and give me a warning. Message received. He looks out the window, as if fascinated by the rain that's starting to fall. I walk into the living room, hoping he'll follow. He does.

“Do you kids need anything?” She calls.

“No, we're fine.”

I search through my DVDs, looking for something I thought he might like. I really have no idea, but I know Legally Blonde, Sleepless in Seattle, and Pretty in Pink are out of the question. I'm frantic, trying to find anything that's remotely grown-up or mature or non-girly. No dice.

His smell fills my head, and I wish I could bottle it, or make it into one of those air fresheners shaped like a tree. Eau de Peter. No, it would be called something like Darkness of the Night. With a brooding picture of him with no shirt on, riding a horse or something on the advertisement.