Juliet Immortal

holds out a plastic bag he’s fetched from the back and we throw the used cloths inside. “But if that psycho messes with you again, find me,” he says. “I’ll be in schoolstarting tomorrow. You go to Solvang public, right? Or do you go to the private—”
    “I go to SHS. Mom says she’d rather save her money for college than waste it on private school. But really, don’t worry about Dylan. I just want to forget tonight ever happened.”
    “I don’t,” he says, voice soft, cautious. “If it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have met you.”
    Our eyes meet again and suddenly the car seems too small and his words too big. It would be so easy to bridge the distance between us. A word, a touch, it wouldn’t take much to take this new friendship in another direction. Ben is interested, maybe he even feels what I feel, this connection that defies explanation.
    But even if he does, it doesn’t matter. Ariel isn’t ready and I’m not able. This … whatever it is has to stop. Now.
    “I’m overrated. Ask my mother,” I say, making a joke, avoiding the possibility he’s thrown between us. “Speaking of my mother …” I glance down the road, but the blue house from Ariel’s memories isn’t in sight just yet. “I should really get home.”
    Nurse will be worried if I don’t contact her soon. I need her help locating the soul mates I’ve been sent for. She always knows where to find them, even in the most densely populated areas. In a small town like this she’ll no doubt have already mapped the route from my new house to both of theirs.
    “Right. Hint taken.” Ben sounds hurt, but I pretend not to notice, pretend my chest isn’t aching the way it did when I slid off his lap. He starts the car, pulls back onto the road. “I was supposed to be home an hour ago anyway.”
    “Why weren’t you?” I ask, filling the silence for the last few feet of our journey.
    “A friend and I had a fight. She’s just … confusing,” he says. “I don’t know. I needed to drive. Think.”
    “Little fight or big fight?”
    He pulls into my new driveway, shifts into park before pinning me with a hard look. “There was no blood. Or broken windows.”
    “So not a real fight at all.”
    His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “No, not a real fight. It’s no big deal. We’ll be cool by tomorrow. I can’t afford
not
to be cool with her. She’s the only other person I know at SHS. You gotta have friends, right?”
    “I don’t have many,” I say, distracted by the light in the kitchen and the music drifting through the open window. Melanie is waiting up for her daughter, probably wanting to know all the details about her date. Wonderful. I smooth my hair away from my face and pray I’ve gotten enough of the blood off.
    “That’s weird.”
    “What’s weird?”
    “That you don’t have many friends. You seem socially functional.”
    “Oh, I guess … I’m … just …”
    I’m not Ariel. I’m an imposter, a girl from seven hundred years ago who’s a little less damaged than this girl with the scarred face
.
    But only a little
.
    “You’re just what?” he asks.
    “Shy.”
    He smiles his real smile, the crooked one that is somehow more beautiful for its imperfection. “You don’t seem shy. At all.”
    He’s right. And Ariel isn’t really shy; she’s just … broken.I’ll have to work harder at impersonating her. The fact that she’s never met Ben lulled me into relaxing my guard. I have to be more careful. Small, subtle changes in conduct that add up to a better life for her are the best way to get my job done without arousing concern about out-of-character behavior. I should know better than to let my own personality show too much.
    I should know better than to make any of the mistakes I’ve made since jumping into this car.
    “Well …” I shrug. “I guess the way we met broke the ice.”
    “Carjacking. Perfect icebreaker.”
    “Yeah. After that, shy seemed silly.”
    “I’m glad.” Ben leans into the backseat again, grabs a wrinkled black sweatshirt, and presses it into my hands. “Here, this is a little stinky, but you should put it on. You’ve got blood on your shirt.” He leans closer, the concerned look creeping back onto his face. “A … 
lot
of blood. Are you sure you’re okay?” His fingers reach out, whispering along my shoulder, making me flinch. Because it hurts even more now. His gentleness.
    His eyebrows draw together, but he doesn’t pull