Before (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller Page 0,24

spreading across my cheeks.

I hit his bicep with my fist. “Stop it.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Beck rubs the spot where I hit him.

I take a deep breath. “You know what I want to talk about.”

He stares at me blankly as if he really has no idea.

“How about we start with this morning? With the Sensitives?”

A shadow crosses his face and the playfulness disappears. “What about it?”

“Why did you think they were looking for you? Is it because you’re a descendant?” Leave it to Beck to act brave when I couldn’t.

“Yes.” He turns his head toward the clock so I can’t see his face.

“Beck, please look at me. I know you’re not telling me everything “

He twists around in his seat to face me directly. His lips are pressed tight. When our eyes meet, I pause.

All the mischievousness is gone. Erased from his lovely face.

“Can we talk about this at home? Away from all these ears?” He motions to the rest of the class with his free hand.

I want to agree, but a stronger urge takes over. “No. I want you to tell me now. You’re not getting out of it.”

“Lark,” he pleads. “Just wait till we get home. I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

“Beck, Lark.” Mr. Proctor raises his shaggy gray eyebrows. “I know you’ve had an exciting morning, but wait until after class to discuss it.”

Beck straightens up and pretends to write. “We were comparing notes.”

Mr. Proctor nods his head permissively. “I’m sure you were.”

When he turns his back to us, I knock the pen from Beck’s hand. “No,” I whisper angrily. “You’re going to tell me now.” I never get upset with him. He’s supposed to cheer me up when I’m down. Not piss me off.

He grabs my hand. “Birdie, calm down.” He traces small circles across the back of my hand and a curious calming sensation creeps along my arm and into my overactive brain.

But I’m still annoyed. “I don’t know why you can’t just tell me.”

A small frown forms on Beck’s full lips. Right then, the bell rings and he jumps from his seat, leaving me and my mood swings behind.

Frustrated with him and angry with myself for not getting the answers I want, I shove my notebook and pen into my satchel and run after him.

“Beck, wait!” I catch up to him and place my hand on his muscular arm.

He shakes me off, clearly upset, and starts to walk away but then changes his mind and wraps his arms around me tight. A surprised sigh escapes my lips when his lips touch my forehead. If we were alone, I’d nuzzle into his chest, but we’re standing in the middle of the crowded hallway. Students swarm around us. We can’t do this. Not now.

I step back and wait for Beck to say something. Instead, he removes his thick, blue wristlet and reaches for mine. I let him take it and he shoves them deep into his bag, where our words will be too muffled to fully understand.

Beck places a trembling hand under my chin and stares into my eyes. “You know that I would do anything for you, don’t you?”

Confused by his actions, I shake my head. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

It’s not like Beck to keep secrets from me.

He steps away from me and hands back my wristlet. “You’re going to have to run if you want to make it to your next class.” He smiles weakly, his face just a shadow of its lively self, as he heads off down the hallway, leaving me behind.

Something must be wrong. Really wrong. Uneasiness swells in me again.

Beck, the most relaxed and happy person I know, is frightened.

6

Beck surprises me outside my classroom door, like he has after every class today. Normally, he only meets me after my Agriculture class.

“How’d you get here so fast?” I ask. The bell barely rang and his previous class is on the other side of campus.

“Magic.”

“That’s not funny.” After the attack this morning, it’s the last thing he should be joking about. Especially with other students around.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

I roll my eyes. No point in arguing with him. At least he seems more like himself. “You can’t ditch class. Not if we’re going to get a high placement.”

He holds out his arm, offering to carry my backpack. When I slip it over my shoulders, he shakes his head at me. “You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re acting like a nutter.” I scowl.

Beck starts off down