Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers) - By Michelle Rowen Page 0,47

A veteran. I knew this place like the back of my hand. And I could tell when something was different, even if it took me a second to realize what it was. When I saw it, my stomach sank.

The flag out front was at half-mast.

The news about Julie’s suicide was public knowledge.

Holding tightly on to my control, I weaved through the crowded halls toward my locker. I couldn’t help but overhear the talk about Julie. Mostly people were shocked, overwhelmed, upset. Some were openly crying and consoling each other, those who knew her well enough to call her a friend. However, I overheard two girls being snarky, making snide comments like “some bitches deserve to die.”

I sent a withering look in their direction, which they barely noticed.

Then I banged into a guy from my afternoon history class, Noah—the one planning the big Halloween party. He gave me a slow smile. I forced a shaky one, too, even though his soul made it difficult to think. Orbit of hunger. Bad.

“Hey, Sam,” he said. “Looking good this morning.”

I eyed him warily. “If you say so. I guess lack of sleep becomes me.”

He laughed drily before sobering. “Sucks about Julie, but I know she would have wanted me to go ahead with my plans. You coming to my party on Wednesday night?”

“Going to try my best.”

“Wear something sexy,” he suggested, before he disappeared down the hall.

Hmm. Let me think about that. Was I going to Noah’s big Halloween party? No.

Would I be wearing something sexy even if I did? Definitely not.

The problem—one of the many problems—with being a gray is that I gave off this...vibe. Maybe it was the same vibe that messed with my cell phone. It made me more appealing than usual. Even at five-foot two, with brown hair, brown eyes and what I considered average looks, I now got hit on daily.

I’d never been so popular with boys as I’d been since I lost my soul. It was a moth and flame situation. Get too close to me and you’re in danger of getting torched.

Every one of these boys, like Noah, would be happy to volunteer as my victim—would be thrilled to let me kiss them, all so I could take their soul to satisfy my hunger.

Just the thought of it made my stomach clench—not with disgust, but with the desire to feed. The toast this morning hadn’t even made a dent in this ongoing problem.

It’s getting worse. I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, but it was true. Stephen said that the cold and the hunger increased when we were close to stasis.

It was getting close. All I could do was ignore it with all my willpower and do everything I could to figure things out before it was too late.

Even though this reminder of my dark side made me want to flee the school immediately, I forced myself to go to my first class—English. Colin sat directly behind me. He was already there. There were dark circles under his eyes. Seemed to be a common fashion statement this week.

I didn’t meet his eyes, but I noticed his shoulders tense as I drew closer. He didn’t say anything.

At least he was here. It was a worry I’d had ever since he’d kissed me on Saturday night. I was certain I hadn’t taken much, not enough to really hurt him. But I hadn’t been totally sure.

I froze as he leaned forward, his edible scent growing impossible for me to ignore.

“I’m sorry about Saturday night,” he whispered. His breath was hot on the back of my neck. “I was drunk. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

I shook my head. “Forget it.”

“I heard you were with Julie when she...” His voice broke off. “When she fell.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, and nodded. His expression held deep pain.

“People are saying she did it because of me,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “That’s not true. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Why would she do something like that?”

“I wish I knew.”

That was when our English teacher, Mr. Saunders, started class. He pushed the thick glasses he always wore, which magnified his eyes to twice their size, back up on his nose.

“Like I said on Friday—” Mr. Saunders’s back was to us as he wrote on the whiteboard. “We have a quiz today on Catcher in the Rye. I hope you all finished reading it over the weekend.”

There was a quiz today? I didn’t remember him saying anything like that on Friday. Didn’t matter, though. I’d