The Alchemy of Forever

arrogance—it was a well-played gamble. If I run, he knows it’s me, and he knows who to look for. My breath comes in little gasps of relief as I realize how close I came to playing right into his hands. He knows me too well.
    If I stay, but play it cool, give my best possible performance as a normal teenage girl—I could win. He’s already questioned me, and I must have answered well enough. If I can just wait it out, he might think I’ve already moved on or that I was never here to begin with.
    I congratulate myself on figuring it out. Cyrus may know me better than anyone on Earth, but I know him, too. It’s decided—I’ll stay, and hopefully, not too long from now, he’ll leave. In the meantime I can think about ways to convince him that Seraphina Ames was never here. If I plant a false clue somewhere . . . I’ll think of something.
    But one thing I know for sure: I’m done running.

twenty-seven
     
    Noah doesn’t look at me as I get into his car, and he spends the whole drive talking to Bryan about football. I know his feelings must be hurt. I feel bad about rejecting his offer of a walk yesterday.
    Bryan runs off as soon as we get to school, and Noah starts to walk toward the building without me. “Hey!” I call. He turns around, but doesn’t say anything. His face is expressionless. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” I tell him. “I was in a bad mood, but it had nothing to do with you.”
    He shrugs. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Kailey. If you want to just forget about what happened on Halloween, that’s okay with me. I get it.”
    I walk toward him till we are standing very close, then I reach out and take his hand. “I don’t want to forget about it. I couldn’t.” I gesture for him to lean down, and kiss him on the cheek. “Nothing’s changed,” I murmur in his ear.
    When I pull back, his face is relaxed again. He smiles. “You wanna hang out in the tree house later?”
    I laugh. “Sure. Or, y’know, we could even go out on a date somewhere. Like grown-ups.”
    “How about I take you to the cafeteria for lunch?”
    I’m amused. “Deal.”
    The overwhelming smell of formaldehyde hits me as soon as we enter the biology classroom, but it’s the sight of Cyrus, in another beautiful suit, that makes me sick to my stomach. Don’t let him get to you, I remind myself.
    As soon as the class has settled down, Cyrus speaks. “Yesterday we talked about the chemistry of consciousness, about the mysteries that mainstream science has yet to explore. Today I want you to keep those questions in mind as we perform a dissection.”
    There’s a collective groan from the class, and more than one audible “Ew!”
    “We’ll be dissecting rabbits,” he continues, “and I agree, it’s unfortunate that our subjects are dead. It would be much more instructive if they were still alive while we cut them open.” He pauses, taking in the shocked silence. “I’m kidding!” Nervous laughter fills the room.
    Cyrus hands out dissection pans, gloves, scalpels, and finally, the preserved rabbits. I regard my lab partner, a boy whose name I can’t remember—Mike or John or something equally common. He’s nice-looking in a generic sort of way, tall and athletic, with close-cropped blond hair and a dimple in his chin.
    “Before we do any cutting, I want you to notice the rabbit’s structure,” Cyrus instructs, wandering among the lab tables. “See its powerful hind legs—a rabbit is a prey animal, and its best chance at survival is to outrun its hunter. Sometimes escape is the best defense, better than any teeth or claws.” He smiles at me, and I beam right back. I refuse to be intimidated.
    “Okay, class, go ahead and make your first cut. We’re going to remove the skin, then examine the musculature.”
    My lab partner picks up the scalpel. “I better do this part,” he says gallantly.
    “Go right ahead,” I answer.
    He turns the rabbit on its back and gently tickles its belly with the tip of the scalpel. His face is pale and slightly greenish. I watch him take a few deep breaths and then hold out my hand. “Let me do it,” I say.
    He looks abashed but grateful as he hands me the scalpel. I make a smooth slit from the rabbit’s throat to its groin, then four additional cuts down each paw and hind leg. I’ve got the skin peeled back from the muscles before the rest of the class has finished their first cut. I’ve skinned plenty of animals in my life.
    Cyrus walks by,