Nine Lives

Twenty: Jack

I sit on the cement wall, twisting the ivy around my fingers. Its small thorns impale my finger, a burning itch, but I'm too deep in thought to pull away.

Alice just vanished. We left class together, side by side, but I couldn't shake the terribe feeling someone was watching us. It was like a nagging. I knew a pair of eyes was stalking us, but every time I turned to looked, all I saw was a cluster of students.

"Everything okay?" she had asked me, her emerald gaze concerned and wary.

"Yep. I'm fine," I lied. She shrugged and kept walking. I'd spun to get something from my locker and when I turned back, she was gone. Disappeared into the crowd.

My head aches with confusion. In the past week, I've discovered and learned and went through things no regular human should've; my mom's condition got worse, she's grasping straws and I'm on the brink of being an orphan. That would suck. The nearest orphanage is at least thrity miles away. Thirty miles away from my school. Thirty miles away from my life. Thirty miles away from Alice.

I've learned that a mysterious girl I like can turn into a cat. That she can't kiss me, nor I her. That she can live more than once. It's too hard to grasp.

I lift my head up, readying to stand.

"Hey Jack," a soft voice says. Shy green eyes look at me intently.

"Oh. Hi. What happened today? You just disappeared on me," I say, trying not to sound too nervous and angry. But I was scared. I didn't want her to get hurt. Or worse. I knew someone was watching us, plotting something. And Dahlia. I have this dark feeling that she isn't insanely happy that I like Alice.

"It's nothing," she replies a little too quickly. "Just talking to a teacher about homework." She winces, like the words hurt to say. She was hiding something from me, thinking she was protecting me from cold truths by covering it up.

"Hey, it's okay, you can tell me anything." I take her hands, but she shoves away. Her eyes dart back and forth, lighting up in a crazed way, like a cornered animal.

"It's nothing," says Alice, her voice cracks. It sounds thin, as if she could shatter apart at any moment. She could. If I kissed her. If I leaned in, brushed away her hair, and touched her pink lips . . . No. I can't think like that, for Alice's sake.

I sigh. "Alice I--"

"Please. Stop!" A pain look crosses her face, one of anguish and sadness. She nervously jiggles the dark silver ring around her thumb. "It's nothing and I don't want to talk about it."

"Sit down," I tug away the ivy, making a spot for her.

Her expression when she looks at me is so complex. One of amusement, fear, and loss. It's practically unreadable. The way her dark eyebrows knit together. How she glances up, yet her head remains down. Like a caged animal, pacing with anticipation, ready to defend herself. Yet, the smallest hint of a smile curls around her lips.

"What's the ring for?" I ask, finally finding the courage to question it. She fingers it, rubbing the dark metal. It's just a plain band. Nothing exceptionally special or expensive, it seems.

She sighs, surrendering her secrets. "Every Shifter has one. It's our symbol, I guess. We never take them off. No one's told me why, I just obey. I'm already cursed enough, I'd rather not find out what the ring can do." I shrug, trying to understand.

"So you find bein' able to shape-shift into an' animal a curse?" The idea seems so ridiculous, I laugh. It must be amazing to go wherever you want, whenever you want. Be able to leave unnoticed and be free.

"Must I remind you that I cannot fall in love? Can't be wrapped in my lover's arms, embrace 'em? Love or be loved?" Her eyes beg for some sort of understanding, for me to know how desperate she must feel.

"Also," she adds. "I can't die. At least for a little while. My gift is watching others die around me. Except, that probably won't happen 'cause I used up most of my lives." She says the last part quieter, like a thought she didn't mean to say it aloud.

I smile. "How?"

She grins. A soft grin, barely there, but her eyes light up. "Well, the first time I was three and . . . Wow. This is embarassing," she stops, staring down to the ground, "my father wasn't paying me much attention. I was playing in the garden, just chasing a ball around the yard. But it fell onto the road . . ." She pauses, like the memory is too vivid. It's playing back in her head. "And being an innocent and ignorant three-year old, I went after it. The car came so suddenly, I only saw it when it was too late."

"I'm sorry," I say. It comes out extremely insensitive though. She's alive. She's breathing. That's all I care about.