Nightwalker

Twenty-Two

Riordan

The school library quickly emptied out as the end of day bell rang.

I'd used my first period class to catch up on subjects I've been neglecting. I wasn't even halfway through the missed schoolwork that I accumulated from skipping class.

Cyrus' school library was open until the evening. That was one of the few things I cherished about private schools; they often operated as highly-monitored universities.

I had a few hours to work my way through assignments before the library closed for the night.

I unzip my bag and grab all my notebooks out one by one, my eyes never leaving the book Marvallia gave me resting in the laptop pocket.

Tempted to take it out and crack it open, I trace the tips of my fingers along the roof of the book as if I were trying to give myself a paper cut.

I needed to stop.

I needed to focus on what I came to the library to do.

Reluctantly, I zip my bag back up with the Marv's book still in it.

Riordan- 1, Distraction- 0.

Was it really a distraction, though? Learning about myself and learning more about this recent development with my hands? It doesn't feel like a distraction—I needed to know this.

You also need to know Trigonometry II.

My head hurt trying to focus on math. With Sean being possessed, Christian about to meet his fate, and Soren popping up everywhere, it kills me not being able to focus on them instead.

"Working hard I bet?"

Ugh. No, not really.

I turn around in my chair to see Phoenix looking down at me with his arms crossed.

"What're you doing here?"

He looks around as if I'm the dumbest person to grace the Earth.

"Last time I checked we're in the schools common library...you know...meant for everyone?"

"Yeah, you still didn't answer my question."

He throws his head back while grinning. "You're implying that I'm too dumb to be caught here."

"Wow, he really does have a brain." I mutter hoping being snippy would ward him off. I look back at my notebooks and internally pout.

"Someone's got a stick up their ass today." He pulls a chair out at the table and sits down.

"What do you want, Phoenix?"

"Come on, pack this up. I wanna take you somewhere."

He grabs the pen I had in my hand, lightly brushing up against it.

A jolt reverberated through my body as images of him laughing along with the echoey voices of his friends rang through my head. They were congratulating him on almost scoring me.

My chest squeezed itself.

I shake my head and exhale forcefully. Was that a memory of his?

All these split second visions happened when I was in direct contact with someone. The tighthead who tackled me on the field. Christian with the water bottle. Now, Phoenix when he stole my pen.