Fated

cute, sweet, and obviously lives to breathe the same air as Xotichl—what could possibly be the problem?
    “I’m in a band … left high school early only to drop out of college…” Auden shrugs, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
    “How old are you?” I ask, having assumed Xotichl was a junior like me, but maybe she’s older. Maybe he is too. This town has no shortage of illusions, that’s for sure.
    “Seventeen—” He starts to continue, but Xotichl butts in.
    “For the record, he’s a prodigy. Left Milagro at fifteen to go to the university. He’s being ridiculously humble,” she says, ruffling her hand through his hair.
    “I was a full semester into it when I decided it wasn’t for me. I love music.” He shifts in his seat, looks at me. “I didn’t want to study music, I wanted to create music. Music and Xotichl—that’s my life—it’s all that I need.” He lifts his hand from the wheel, pulls her closer until their shoulders bump together.
    “It’s all true, except the last part. He loves music more than me,” Xotichl says, squealing with delight when he leans in to kiss her, the sudden move causing the car to swerve slightly out of the lane before Auden rights it again.
    “Never! You know it’s not true, take it back!” he says.
    The two of them going at it with banter so cute, it’s all I can do to stay quiet and stare out the window. There’s just too much love in the room. Or car. Or station wagon. Or whatever. All I know is I’ve had a rough day, and while I’m happy to know that not everyone is as miserable as I am, I’m more than ready to be free of them.
    “Daire’s had a bad day,” Xotichl tells him, pushing him back toward his side. “We need to tone it down, show a little sensitivity for her mood. She had an unfortunate run-in with the Cruel Crew.”
    “Aw, the Three Faces of Evil,” Auden says, voice sympathetic when he adds, “That bites. Hope you kicked some Cruel Crew ass? You look like you could take ’em.” He peers at me again. “Well, the minions for sure, but maybe not Lita. You’re on the skinny side; Paloma got you on the same vegetarian diet she’s got my flower on?”
    I squint, wondering why Paloma is telling Xotichl what to eat. I thought that sort of thing was reserved just for me.
    “I’ve been seeing Paloma for a while, now,” Xotichl says, answering the question I didn’t yet voice. “She’s nothing short of a miracle worker. You’re so lucky to have her.”
    I nod, neither confirming nor denying. I love Paloma. She’s helped me, cured me of the hallucinations, given me the keys to a world I never imagined existed. Though I’m not always sure that’s a good thing. Truth is, I was happier before the visions took over, before I got involved in any of this. My life was way less complicated back then.
    A moment later, Auden pulls before the big blue gate, and Xotichl is turning in her seat, saying, “Auden’s band, Epitaph, is playing tonight at the Rabbit Hole and I—or rather, we —want you to come.”
    The Rabbit Hole.
    Paloma did say I’d have to return at some point, though I’m not sure I’m ready just yet. If the way I handled day one at Milagro is any indication, I have a long way to go ’til I’m ready to take on something like that.
    They’re waiting for an answer. And knowing I need to say something, that Xotichl will not move on until I reply, I mumble, “I don’t know … I’ll have to check with Paloma…”
    “Of course,” Xotichl says, already turning away. “First set’s at eight—see you then.”

twenty-eight
    I head into the house. Doing my best to keep quiet in case Paloma’s with a client, I drop my bag onto my desk and flop onto my bed, reviewing the day’s events, but only for a moment, before I push them away.
    All things considered, it was a bigger failure than even I thought it would be.
    Paloma was confident.
    Chay reassuring.
    While I tried to keep my hopes somewhere within the realm of realistic, if not reasonable.
    Still, as skeptical as I was, I truly thought I’d glide under the radar. I never imagined I’d be labeled a freak right from the start—only to go on to prove it to the one boy who was nice to me, even offered to lunch with me (in an indirect way).
    Though it’s not like it matters. The link to his brother, the fact that they’re twins—identical at that—instantly places him in the no-fly zone, no matter how cute he may be.
    I kick off my