Burned

crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway, obviously waiting for Stevie Rae to read the poem.
    “Isn’t there somethin’ you need to go do?”
    “Nope. The rest of the kids is eatin’. Oh, ’cept for Dallas. He’s working with Dragon on some sword stuff, even though school ain’t starting again officially, and I do not see no need to rush things, so I do not get why he in such a hurry to go to class. Anyway, just read the poem, High Priestess. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
    Stevie Rae stifled a sigh. Kramisha’s poems tended to be confusing and abstract, but they were also often prophetic, and just thinking about one of them being obviously for her had Stevie Rae’s stomach feeling like she’d eaten raw eggs. Reluctantly, her eyes went to the paper and she started to read:
The Red One steps into the Light
girded loins for her part in
the apocalyptic fight.

    Darkness hides in different forms
see beyond shape, color, lies
and the emotional storms.

    Ally with him; pay with your heart
though trust cannot be given
unless the Darkness you part.

    See with the soul and not your eyes
because to dance with beasts you
must penetrate their disguise.
    Stevie Rae shook her head, glanced up at Kramisha, and then read the poem again, slowly, willing her heart to please stop beating so loud that it would betray the guilty terror the thing instantly made her feel. ’Cause Kramisha was right; it was obviously about her. Of course it was also obviously about her
and
Rephaim. Stevie Rae supposed she should be grateful the dang poem didn’t say anything about wings and human eyes in a dang bird head. Shoot!
    “See what I mean ’bout it bein’ ’bout you?”
    Stevie Rae shifted her gaze from the poem to Kramisha’s intelligent eyes. “Well, hell, Kramisha. ’Course it’s about me. The first line says that.”
    “Yeah, see, I was sure ’bout that, too, even though I never heard nobody call you that.”
    “It makes sense,” Stevie Rae said quickly, trying to drown out the memory of Rephaim’s voice calling her
The Red One
. “I’m the only girl red vamp, so it’s gotta be talkin’ about me.”
    “That’s what I thought, even though there is that whole bunch of freaky ’bout the beasts and stuff. I had to look up the gird-your-loins part ’cause it sounded nasty and sexual, but it ended up just bein’ a way to say you need to get real ready for a fight.”
    “Yeah, well, there’s been a bunch of fighting goin’ on lately,” Stevie Rae said, looking back at the poem.
    “Looks like you in for some more—and it’s some bad shit, too, you got to be real ready for.” Then she cleared her throat meaningfully, and Stevie Rae reluctantly met her eyes again. “Who is he?”
    “He?”
    Kramisha crossed her arms. “Do not talk to me like I’m stupid.
Him.
The guy my poem says you’re gonna give your heart to.”
    “I am not!”
    “Oh, then you do know who he is.” Kramisha tapped the toe of her leopard-print boots. “And he definitely ain’t Dallas, ’cause you wouldn’t be freaked about givin’ him your heart. Everyone knows you two got a thing. So, who is
he
?”
    “I don’t have a clue. I’m not seein’ anyone but Dallas. Plus, I’m way more worried about the parts that talk about Darkness and disguises and such,” Stevie Rae lied.
    “Huh,” Kramisha snorted through her nose.
    “Look, I’m gonna keep this and think about it,” Stevie Rae said, stuffing the poem into her jeans pocket.
    “Let me guess—you want me to keep my mouth shut ’bout it,” Kramisha said, tapping her foot again.
    “Yeah, ’cause I want to try to . . .” The excuse died under Kramisha’s knowing stare. Stevie Rae blew out a long breath, decided to tell as much of the truth as she could, and started again. “I don’t want you to say anything ’bout the poem ’cause I got a guy issue goin’ on, and havin’ it come out right now would suck for Dallas and for me, especially when I’m not real sure what’s goin’ on between me and this other guy.”
    “That’s more like it. Guy shit can be one hot mess, and like my mama always says, it just ain’t right to put your personal business all out there for everbody to see.”
    “Thanks, Kramisha. I ’preciate that.”
    Kramisha held up her hand. “Hang on. Didn’t nobody say I was done with this subject. My poems is important. This one is about more than your jacked-up love life. So like I said before, get the crazy cleared from your head