Addiction (Book One of the Addiction Series)

Chapter 5

The next morning, Adam climbed onto the bus with two cups of hot chocolate. "I wasn't sure if you liked coffee," he said, handing me one of them. The morning was chilly, and the cup felt warm and comforting against my cold hand.

"I do, but I like hot chocolate better." I felt a slight hint of a smile flit across my face as he sat down next to me, only to vanish into a grimace as the waves of his magic washed over me. It was both beautiful and painful, but I wouldn't have traded it for anything.

The rest of the has been the same: we start the day by drinking hot chocolate together on the bus, then we eat lunch in the cafeteria in the afternoon, chatting non-stop all the while. He is originally from Dallas, Texas, but likes Kentucky more because the weather has more variety. He told me that he used to have a dog named Magellan who could open locked doors with his nose, and that he never wanted another dog again after Magellan died, because it hurt too much. I told him that I had a parakeet when I was a kid who could sing Queen songs. I even told him that my secret guilty pleasure was reading Harry Potter fanfiction online.

It has been a long, long time since I had been able to talk to anyone like that, let alone be open with them. After just a few days I start to feel alive again – not the kind of "alive" I felt when I was full of stolen magic, but a warm, honest kind of alive, where I am no longer dreading every moment I'm awake. Adam makes everything better: I barely even feel the stares of my classmates during lectures anymore, and their whispering in the halls have been reduced to background noise. I have even started wearing my hood down more and more, and brushing my hair so that it looks shinier and healthier.

When Friday comes, I even put on a bit of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss. I regret this though, as it makes me feel self-conscious as the bus pulls up to Adam's stop. The mascara is barely there and the lip gloss is not tinted, but I feel like a clown, or like a little girl playing dress-up. He is going to think I am trying too hard to impress him, and he is going to feel embarrassed for me.

My cheeks are on fire as I see him reach the top of the school bus stairs. He scans the bus and his bright, brown eyes light up when they land on me. He is carrying our hot chocolate again, and a brown paper bag.

"Hey, Dani," he says, as he slides in next to me. "You look even prettier than usual today."

"I... uh... thank you," I sputter, sure my face is going to melt. It is no longer the magical aura around him that makes me feel dizzy, it is Adam himself. It's official: I have fallen victim to one of those dreaded teenage crushes everyone talks about. Dammit. "What's in the bag?"

He holds it up, beaming. "Snacks for our study session after school today. Brain food."

"Brain food?"

"Granola bars, carrot sticks, brownies, gummy bears, gummy worms... you know, brain food!"

I laugh, and realize that it is the first time I have done that in months.

"You got your parents' okay though, right? I know some parents can be touchy about girls bringing guys over..."

"Yeah, they said it was okay." My mood darkens a bit as I recall that conversation. It had been at dinner last night. I asked if it was okay if I brought a friend over after school tomorrow, and my mother had burst into tears. They didn't even care that it was a guy friend, they were just so happy that I wasn't alienating everyone anymore. "My dad and sister will probably be there, though. My sister is homeschooled and my dad teaches her."

"Why does she get to be homeschooled while you have to schlep out to Mill Creek High every day?" Adam teases. "That doesn't seem fair!"

Because they don't want everyone to see the giant scar on her face... I reply in my head. To Adam, I just shrug. He is used to me avoiding certain questions now, and he is perfectly content to let it pass without pressing me further. Just another reason I like him so much. Too much.

The rest of the morning is uneventful. I take notes in my classes, I doodle hearts in the margins of notebook which I immediately erase before anyone else can see, and I try not to think about that queasy, fluttery feeling I get in my stomach every time I think about Adam coming over to my house that afternoon.

By lunchtime I am tired again, and I am both hungry and nauseated as I join Adam at what has now become "our" table. He is looking more handsome than ever, with a brown polo shirt unbuttoned just enough so that I can see a hint of his clavicle, and his hair in its perpetual state of artful disarray. He looks up at me and smiles, and I feel my lips pulling up into a nervous smile of their own.

"How's your day going?" Adam asks, as we both dig into our taco in a bag (a snack-sized bag of Fritos with ground beef and cheese dumped in on top).

"Boring," I reply. "Yours?"

"Same. Something funny happened in my calculus class though. This one guy, Stuart –"

Before he can tell me what Stuart did, there is a loud squawk from behind me and I whirl around, alarmed. There is a cacophony of laughter as a group of at least three girls in skirts dump their cartons of chocolate milk onto my head. One of them reaches out and bangs her hand against my chest, hard, taping a piece of paper to my sweatshirt, then they all run away, squealing with wicked glee. I recognize one of those squeals. It is my ex-friend Callie. Nice.

"What the hell?" Adam is shouting. He is on his feet. I can barely see him through the chocolate milk in my eyes. It stings. I'm sputtering as I try to clear my face, and he rushes over to me, swearing under his breath. "Are you okay?" The entire cafeteria is laughing. I guess I am the funny thing now. "Why would they do that? What the hell is wrong with them?"

"What does the note say?" I ask, tasting chocolate and humiliation.

"What?"

"The paper they stuck to me. What does it say? I can't read it."

As if against his will, he looks down at the soiled note. It is dripping almost as much as me, and by now I can see his face as it falls. "Witch," he says, in a dull, disbelieving monotone.

"Awesome." It has been a long time since someone called me that.

I have tears in my eyes as I stand up. I haven't noticed everyone else's stares all week, but I can feel them now, magnified by a thousand. Everyone is watching me as I attempt to exhibit as much self-control and detachment as possible. But the only person I really care about watching is Adam. His eyes, always so kind and friendly, are now filled with that pity that I expected to see on Monday. He feels sorry for me, he feels bad. He is going to feel obligated to stick with me so I don't get upset. I am going to drag him down the social ladder with me. He will be a pariah too, and that is not what I want.

"I have to go," I tell him. Then, without meeting those pitying eyes again, I run away, slipping in the milk as I try to get as far away from him as possible.