something. "Uh--you know we're going to have an escort, right?"
"Escort?" Michael frowned. "What kind of escort?" Claire mimed fangs. Michael rolled his eyes. "Perfect. Who?"
"No idea. All I know is Amelie's letter said we had to clear our departure time with Oliver." Michael kept on frowning. He reached for his cell phone and dialed as he sipped more coffee. "It's Michael," he said. "I hear we have to clear leaving town with you. We're planning on going tonight, around dusk." His face went entirely blank as he listened to whatever Oliver said on the other end. Michael didn't say anything at all. Finally, he put the coffee cup down and said, "Do we have a choice?" Pause. "I didn't think so. We'll meet you there." He hung up, carefully laid the cell phone down on the table next to his coffee, and sank back in his chair, eyes closed. He looked--indescribable, Claire decided. It was as if there were so many things inside him fighting to come out that he couldn't decide which one to let off the leash first. "What?" she finally asked, half afraid to even try. Eyes still shut, Michael said, "We've got an escort, all right."
"Who?"
"Oliver." Claire set down her own coffee cup with a thump that slopped brown liquid over the rim. "What?"
"I know."
"We have to be trapped in a car with Oliver?"
"I know."
"So much for the fun. Fun all gone." He sighed and finally opened his eyes. She knew that look; she remembered it from when she'd first met him. Bitter and guarded. Hurt. Trapped. Then, he'd been a ghost, unable to leave this house, caught between human and vampire. Now he was just as trapped, only instead of the house, his boundaries were the town limits. He'd felt, for the last few hours, as if he could break free, be someone else. Oliver had just taken that away from him. "I'm sorry," Claire said. He shut the computer, unplugged it, and stood up. He didn't meet her eyes again. "Be ready at six," he said. "Tell Shane. I'll tell Eve." She nodded. He kept his head down as he walked toward the kitchen door. When he got there, he stopped for a few seconds without turning back to look at her. "Thanks," he said. "Sucks, you know?"
"I know." Michael laughed bitterly. "Shane would have said, And so do you. "
"I'm not Shane."
"Yeah." He still didn't turn around. "I'm glad you're happy with him. He's a good guy, you know."
"Michael--" He was already gone by the time she said his name, just the swinging door left behind. There was no sense chasing him. He wanted to brood in private. She called Shane to tell him what time they were leaving, but not about Oliver. Frankly, she didn't want to have that grief just yet. She went on to class. After her early ones, she had a two-hour break, which meant she had things to do, so she could leave town with a clear conscience. And besides, she'd been looking forward to this since she'd first thought of it. First step--she walked the few blocks from campus to Common Grounds, Oliver's coffee shop, and ordered up a mocha. He was behind the bar--a tall older man, with hippie hair and a tie-dyed T-shirt under his coffee-stained apron. When he was serving customers, you'd never know he was a vampire, much less one of the meanest she'd ever met. Mocha in hand, Claire texted Monica's cell. Meet me at Common Grounds ASAP. She got back an immediate Btr B good. Oh, it would be. Claire sipped and waited, and Monica eventually rolled up in her hot red convertible; no Gina and Jennifer this time. Monica seemed to be getting out more and more without her backup singers, which was interesting. Claire supposed even they were getting tired of providing constant on-demand validation. Monica blew in the front door of the shop in a dress that was too short for her, but showed off her long tanned legs; the swirl of wind almost made it illegal. She shoved her expensive sunglasses up on top of her glossy black hair and scanned the room. The sneer that twisted her full lips was probably mostly reflex. After putting in her coffee order, Monica slipped into a chair across from Claire. "Well?" she said, and dropped her tiny purse on the table. "Like I said, this had better be good." When Oliver brought over Monica's coffee, Claire said, "Would you