Cold Kiss

walk to Gabriel’s, I almost feel good.
    Almost. Because now I have to see Gabriel, and after our confrontation in the hall earlier, my feelings for him are snarled so messily, I’m not sure they’re ever coming untangled. I never knew you could want to curl up on a boy’s lap at the same time you wanted to hit him really hard on the head until he got a clue.
    I’m not even processing what will come after I leave Gabriel’s apartment, not yet. It’s too big, a mountain of grief and regret and more than a little fear, and I figure it’s probably better to climb it when the time comes rather than imagine climbing it now.
    I know Mom reminded me about school, but I’m pretty sure I won’t be getting out of bed tomorrow unless someone uses a cattle prod. And, like, a rocket launcher for backup.
    It’s cold and clear as I walk, and the moon is just as full as promised, a cool silver coin laid on the dark cloth of the sky. I huddle into my coat as I turn the corner onto Gabriel’s block, breathing in the smokiness of dry leaves and dying earth, and center all my power in my chest, where I can feel it.
    I asked Mom about it after dinner. Robin had gone up to her room, and I was clearing the plates from the table.
    “How do you … focus?” I said, and turned around to face her. She was frowning. “The power, I mean. How do you keep it under control?”
    For a moment, I was sure she was either going to explode or turtle up the way she always used to. Instead, she stood there with a dish of leftover rice in one hand and studied my face.
    “There’s not a simple answer to that, babe,” she said finally, and put the bowl in the fridge before coming to stand next to me. “It depends on what you want to do.”
    I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, because there was no way I was going to explain why I needed my power to be completely under control tonight.
    When I didn’t answer, she tilted her head sideways and bit her bottom lip. “It’s a matter of wanting something enough, I guess. Being able to clear your mind of everything else and concentrate specifically on making something happen.” She glanced at the kitchen table and scowled. Robin’s cat was standing there, licking a plate very delicately. “Like this.”
    She drew in a deep, slow breath and looked at the cat, very steadily, and for a second I swore her eyes got darker, deeper. She raised her right hand slowly, palm up, and the next thing I knew the cat was levitating over the table, eyes wide, hissing.
    She set him down with a little bit of a thunk, and smirked. “Is that what you mean?”
    I couldn’t help laughing, and for a second it all poured out—surprise, fear, love, grief. I probably sounded a little hysterical. But I managed to nod. “Yeah, sort of.”
    It wasn’t really all I needed to know, but it helped. I’d been doing it ever since, concentrating, focusing, letting myself feel the power inside, smoothing it into a tight, neat ball with no rough edges, no jagged pieces. I want to be able to throw it exactly where I need it to go.
    I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be by the time I climb the stairs to Gabriel’s apartment. I have to be. Time’s up after tonight, at least for another month, and that’s not even on the same planet as possible.
    Gabriel answers the door after I knock once, softly. It’s eleven o’clock, and despite the muted hum of a TV I can hear in the apartment downstairs, it seems dangerous to break the night stillness.
    “Hey.” He stands back to let me in, and slips my backpack from my shoulder as I walk past. It’s heavy with everything I need, and I don’t mind the gesture, since he just sets it on the table by the door. “So.”
    Awkward isn’t even the word for the moment, although he seems to have accepted that I’m taking Danny to the graveyard and doing this thing on my own. He’s not bristling anymore, anyway, and I’m grateful for that.
    He leans against the wall, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, and I can’t help thinking it makes him look like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch me. I cram the small part of me that wants that into a box and hide it deep in the back of my head. I have to.
    “Are you ready?”
    I want to say I hope so, because that’s the raw truth, but instead I nod, as slow and as calm as I can. “I am.” I can stop lying for good tomorrow.
    “How are you going to get him over there?”
    “I have a spell.”
    He