Crave (Harlequin Teen)

I opened my mouth to reply then heard footsteps approaching from behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder and nearly cursed out loud. It was Mr. Smythe, Dylan’s uncle and a descendant. He was within hearing distance.
    “Don’t know what you mean.” I faced Anne again. I tried to tell her with my eyes that I got it, though.
    Apparently I wasn’t obvious enough. “Oh, come on. Remember the Warty Boys last year, Arthur? Time to draw out the ole Excalibur again, take care of some toads and all that.”
    “Nope, sorry, you lost me.” I gave her a huge, slow wink this time. Come on, don’t be thickheaded and blind.
    Her eyes widened then narrowed. “I should have known all you football jocks are just selfish jerks. See you later, snob.” She stomped off so believably angry-looking that I actually wondered for a few seconds if she’d understood. Once she was past Mr. Smythe on the sidewalk, though, she turned back and mouthed, “Thank you.”
    “Planning on being late for my class, Mr. Coleman?” Mr. Smythe said as he drew closer.
    “No, sir. Headed there now.”
    “And are you going to have to deliver any notes for me again?”
    Translation: Would he have to send me off to do more emergency grounding? Sitting beside Savannah every other day wasn’t always the easiest thing in the world. Every now and then, I lost control in class and my power spiked. When it did, Mr. Smythe had to pretend to send me to the office to deliver a note, so I could actually release the excess energy.
    “Going to try not to, sir.”
    “Good.”
    I took the three cement steps in one bound up into the building and hurried to my desk. While I shoved my books under my desk, I snuck a peek at Savannah. And nearly flash burned my books.
    Despite the makeup, she looked like someone had backhanded both her cheeks. No wonder she’d left her hair down today. She was obviously trying to hide the fact that she’d been crying recently, and hard from the looks of it. Even her nose was swollen and pink. Someone had done this to her. From what Anne had said, the someone was a guy. Another stalker maybe, but who?
    I’d have to call Anne tonight and find out who the new stalker was. Wonder what time she gets home? Hopefully not too late. I’d need as much time as possible to load up the protective charms. Anyone who made Savannah cry didn’t deserve to speak to her again. Ever.
    Her Charmers bracelet jingled, distracting me. She was playing with her necklace. No, wait. She was doing something else with it.
    She took off Stanwick’s senior ring.
    I froze. I wasn’t sure if even my blood moved right then. There was only one meaning behind a girl taking off her boyfriend’s senior ring. She was going to break up with him.
    Pure joy rushed my blood straight to my head, making me want to whoop out loud. Yes! I knew Stanwick wasn’t good enough for her, knew he couldn’t make her happy for long.
    Then I saw her face. She looked ready to cry again. Aw, man, I was a jerk. Here I was ready to do a touchdown dance, and she looked like someone had just killed her dog.
    I would break Greg’s face for hurting her like this.
    Then her sleeve fell away from her wrist. Were those…bruises? In the shape of fingers, too.
    Blinding rage filled me, and it was all I could do to keep my energy level contained and not burn the building down around us all. Stanwick’s face would more than pay for those bruises on her. If he’d done it, that is.
     
    Confirmation on my hunch came sooner than I’d hoped for. Anne and I got out of volleyball and football practice after school at the same time.
    As we walked parallel with each other toward the front parking lot, separated by a few feet so we wouldn’t appear to be walking together, I asked, “Stanwick?”
    Like me, she kept her gaze straight ahead. “Yep.”
    “Just him?”
    “Yep. He scared the crap out of her at lunch on Monday. She’s been hiding in the bathroom during breaks ever since.”
    He must have given Savannah those bruises on Monday.
    “She took off his ring in history.” I was almost to my truck now.
    “That’s my girl. Still…”
    “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m on it.” Judging by her smile, Anne didn’t know about the bruises. Was Savannah keeping secrets from her best friend now?
    Had Stanwick hurt her before?
    “Keep it low-key and don’t embarrass her. Try not to go all Neanderthal,” Anne said.
    “Who, me?” At my truck, I shot her an innocent look I was sure quickly