Fated

if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m not hard to find. I’m either in class, reading in the library, or eating lunch in the North hallway.”
    The second he says it, my gaze flies down the length of him. Slipping past a gray V-neck tee and dark denim jeans, not the least bit surprised when I land on the same heavy, black, thick-soled shoes I spied earlier.
    Then before he can say anything more, I’m gone. Trying to ignore the comforting stream of kindness and love that swarms all around me.
    These impressions as Paloma calls them, may come in handy in my life as a Seeker, but if I don’t get a handle on them in my life as a student, if I don’t learn to control them, they’ll have me labeled as a much bigger freak than I already am.
    Not that I should care what any of my classmates think—it’s not like they made such a stellar impression on me.
    I push through the double doors and into the light. Taking in the rush of activity—people hugging and saying good-bye, carrying on like they’ll never see each other again, before hurrying to catch buses, or meet up with the long line of cars that trail along the curb. A few of them unlocking bikes, fewer still choosing to walk, and I can’t help but regret my decision to tell Chay not to come get me. I don’t have it figured out nearly as much as I’d thought.
    Despite my newly honed skills and burgeoning magick, when it comes to navigating the rules of high school, I’ve never felt so lost and inadequate.
    I can skip down the Spirit Road, survive a brutal vision quest—but can I handle high school? Not even close. The thought makes me laugh.
    Though, unfortunately, the laugh wasn’t just confined to my head, and before I know it, I’m met with a chorus of: “Psycho!”
    The girls are back. Back in formation with Lita standing tall in the center, flanked by her sidekicks. She shakes her head in disdain, while the other two snicker. But as much as they’re committed to hating me, the boys remain undecided, their eyes narrowed as they take a full inventory. Willing to risk whatever wrath their interest evokes, simply because I’m a new girl in a school where everyone knows everyone.
    I take a deep breath, prepping myself for another round with Lita and company, when Cade saunters up from behind, addressing me when he says, “Sorry you had such a tough day. Milagro’s not used to newcomers.” Winking when he adds, “Go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow offers a fresh new start, as they say. I look forward to seeing you then, Daire Santos.” He starts to turn away, then stops just as quickly as though a new thought occurred to him. “It is Santos now, right?” His mouth tugs at the side. “You no longer go by Lyons?”
    He pauses, waiting for me to confirm it, but I don’t. Can’t. His words leave me stunned.
    Meeting my silence with a flash of his most practiced, most devastating smile, he leads the group away, as I stay rooted in place, left to grapple with his words—the fact that he knows more about me than he rightfully should.
    Knows more about me than I know about him, and it’s time Paloma caught me up—nothing but full disclosure will do.
    I watch him fade into the distance, disappearing into the student lot, where I assume he’s parked his truck. Just about to get moving again, when I’m stopped by a girl’s voice calling out, “Hey, Daire—you need a ride?” And I turn to find Xotichl, wondering how she could possibly know my name when I never told her, never told anybody. Not that anyone cares, they’ve already christened me Psycho, and I’m pretty sure it’ll stick.
    “So, do you?” She stops before me, as I hesitate, unsure what to say.
    While I could certainly use a lift, I’m not so sure I’m willing to accept the offer. She seems to know an awful lot about me, even about Cade’s interest in me—all without being able to see—and it kind of gives me the creeps.
    “I know where you live,” she says, which is not reassuring. “It’s not all that out of the way either. Well, maybe a little. But not to worry, I’m a really good driver.” She smiles. “I may be vision impaired, but all of my other senses are more than enough to compensate. In fact, if it makes you feel any better, you should know that I’ve only had one accident that I was charged with being legally responsible for. One out of five.” She shakes her head. “Not bad odds if I say so myself.”
    When she gets to that last part, the jig is up.