Finale

Patch was full-on grinning. He kissed me again, and I felt my mouth soften its resolve. “You look cute when you’re trying to be tough,” he said.
    Trying? I could be tough. I
could!
And Friday night, I’d prove it.
    Watch out, Marcie.
    I was a few miles from home when I passed a police car tucked out of sight on a side street. I hadn’t gotten fifty feet beyond the intersection when the cop switched on
his siren and wailed after me.
    “Great,” I muttered. “Just great!”
    While I waited for the officer to approach the window, I mentally added up my babysitting money, wondering if I’d have enough to pay off the ticket.
    He rapped his pen on my window and motioned for me to lower it. I glanced through the glass at his face—and stared. Not just any cop, but my least favorite one. Detective Basso and I had a
long-standing history of mutual suspicion and strong dislike.
    I lowered my window. “I was only going three over!” I argued before he got a word out.
    He was chewing on a toothpick. “I didn’t pull you over for speeding. Left taillight is broken. That’s a fifty-dollar fine.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    He scribbled on his pad and passed my ticket through the window. “Safety hazard. Nothing to joke about.”
    “Do you follow me around looking for ways to bust me?” I asked, half sarcastically, half under my breath.
    “You wish.” With that, he sauntered back to his patrol car. I watched him steer onto the road and cruise past. He waved as he did, but I couldn’t bring myself to make a rude
gesture in response. Something wasn’t right.
    My spine tingled, and my hands felt like I’d plunged them into ice water. I’d felt a cold vibe rolling off Detective Basso, chilly as a blast of winter air, but I had to have
imagined it. I was getting paranoid. Because—
    Because I only felt that way around nonhumans.

C HAPTER

13
    F RIDAY NIGHT I TRADED OUT MY SCHOOL CLOTHES FOR cords, my warmest merino wool sweater, a coat, hat, and mittens. The
football game wouldn’t start until dusk, and by then the outside temperature would have plunged. As I tugged the sweater over my head, I caught a flash of muscle in the mirror. Halting, I
took a closer look. Sure enough, there was definition in both my biceps and triceps. Unbelievable. I’d trained one week, and it was already showing. It seemed my Nephil body developed muscle
at a much faster rate than I ever could have hoped for as a human.
    Loping down the stairs, I kissed my mom on the cheek and hurried out. The Volkswagen’s engine protested against the cold, but eventually turned over. “You think this is bad? Wait
until February,” I told it.
    I drove to the high school, parked on a side road just south of the football stadium, and called Patch.
    “I’m here,” I said. “Are we still going with plan A?”
    “Unless you hear from me, yes. I’m in the crowd. No sign of Blakely yet. Have you heard from Marcie?”
    I glanced at my watch—the one I’d synchronized to Patch’s earlier tonight. “She’s meeting me by the concession stand in ten.”
    “Do you want to go over the plan one last time?”
    “If I see Blakely, I call you right away. I don’t approach him, but I don’t let him out of my sight, either.” At first I’d been a little disgruntled that Patch
wanted me to stay a safe distance from the action, but the truth was, I didn’t want to take Blakely down on my own. I didn’t know how strong he was, and let’s face it, I
didn’t even know my own strength. It seemed like letting Patch, who was far more experienced in this kind of tactic, handle the take-down was the smartest move.
    “And Marcie?”
    “I stick to her all night. After you grab Blakely, I drive her to your cabin near Sebago Lake. I’ve got the directions right here. I take the long route, giving you time to question
and incapacitate Blakely before we get there. That’s everything, right?”
    “One more thing,” Patch said. “Be careful.”
    “Always,” I said, and pushed out of the car.
    I flashed my student ID at the ticket booth, bought a ticket, and meandered toward the concession stand, eyes alert for Blakely. Patch had given me a thorough description, but as soon as I was
inside the stadium, mingling with the crowd, half the men in sight could have passed for Blakely. Tall and distinguished-looking with gray hair, a wiry build, and the intelligent but slightly nerdy
appearance of a stereotypical chemistry professor.