Chemistry by Jodi Lamm Page A

that far gone. He and Phoebus have a joint together every once in a while is all—”
    “Phoebus?” My moment of clarity vanishes as quickly as it came. “What’s Gene doing with an asshole like him?”
    Peter laughs. “Ah, Phoebus isn’t such a bad guy. Sure, he’s a cocky bastard and he gives in to pressure a little too much, but he’s decent overall. He won’t steer Gene too far off course.”
    “Gene doesn’t need any help getting off course,” I say. “But tell me, how did you get involved with Esmeralda?” I’m desperate to know.
    “Well,” his eyes light up like he’s just seen an angel hovering over my head, “she’s my savior. She stepped between me and my abusers and shouted, ‘Leave him alone!’ And then she pulled out her little knife. ‘You’ll kick his ass before you even ask him why he’s here? He’s my boyfriend! I invited him!’ And did they ever back off after that.”
    “She doesn’t talk like that,” I say and immediately regret saying it. I’m giving myself away.
    But Peter doesn’t seem to notice. “She does, though, when she has to. She’s a dangerous kind of sprite, I’m telling you. You should have seen the way the others backed away from her little knife. They were scared of her. They adore her, and they’re afraid of losing her. She’s the brightest star in the Court of Miracles.” He grins at his own flowery speech.
    I can’t help rolling my eyes.
    “And everyone loves her,” he goes on. “She knows it, too. I once asked her whether anyone hated her, and she said she could only think of one person. She calls him ‘the priest.’ Hell if I know what she means by that.”
    But I know exactly what she means. I’ve heard how the other girls talk. They’ve given that nickname to only one person in our school: me. My heart is breaking because Esmeralda thinks I hate her, and she probably hates me, too. But why? We don’t even know each other. If only there were some way for me to tell her how I really feel without sounding like a creep. But there isn’t. So she’ll just go on thinking I hate her forever. And the only girl in the world I could possibly fall in love with will be lost to me before I’ve even had a chance.
    “So now she’s your girlfriend,” I say, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.
    “I suppose so.” Peter shrugs. “At first, I thought she’d saved me because she liked me, but I quickly learned otherwise. I couldn’t even kiss her without finding myself at the other end of her knife. And believe me, I wouldn’t want to risk getting stung by that girl. She guards herself fiercely. She’s crazy religious—thinks God will reunite her with her mother if she just keeps herself pure.” He chuckles. “Whoever told her that did the world a disservice, though, let me tell you.” Then he leans in and whispers, “I walked in on her in the shower once. It was embarrassing as hell, but man, I wouldn’t take it back for all the world.”
    And just like that, I disappear. I don’t even exist any more. Someone else is grabbing Peter by the collar and pushing him back into the trophy case. Someone else is hissing at him. “You went that far? You went that far after all she did for you?”
    Peter is too shocked to struggle. He gasps, and his eyes widen. “Jesus Christ, Claude,” he says between breaths. “It was an accident. I never laid a hand on her.”
    “Swear it!” I don’t care that I’m not behaving like a sane person any more. “Swear you haven’t touched her, and swear you never will!”
    “I swear! I swear!” He pushes me off. “I swear on the grave of Shakespeare if that’s what it takes. But, Claude,” he pauses to straighten his shirt and give me the most withering look he’s ever given anyone, “how is it any of your business?”
    I’m so close to madness I can almost taste it. I’ve got to regain control. I pretend to laugh. “Sorry. I get touchy when I drink.” It’s a lie. I haven’t had a