Bite Me

       All night, my phone had buzzed with texts and calls from Mason and Marcella, but I couldn't bring myself to look at them.

      I'd been avoiding confrontation for as long as possible. Now, though, as I approached the doors of the school and saw Mason standing there, waiting for me, I knew I couldn't stall anymore.

      "Kieran!" he called as soon as he saw me. He jogged to my side, but I averted my gaze. Just looking at him hurt. "Kieran, what happened? I called you like sixteen times and you didn't pick up. I've been worried sick! Are you okay?"

     Are you okay? Such a complicated question. Physically, I was about fine. My wrist had mostly mended—it was still a little sore, but definitely not broken. My brain, on the other hand, was shattered.

      When I didn't respond, Mason grabbed my shoulder and stopped walking, turning me to face him. "Kieran, what happened?" he repeated. I glanced at him, meeting his eyes for just a moment, and shook my head. I didn't say anything—I didn't think I could without breaking down.

      I tugged my arm out of Mason grasp and looked away before I could see the hurt in his eyes. Paranoid thoughts scraped at my skull and forced me to walk away from him all together; Cedric could be here right now. Whereas I could only transform into a bat on a good day, he was a master at shapeshifting. He could be watching me right now, in the form of a tiny black rat.

       The idea had me speeding up to get away from Mason, but of course, he wasn't having it. He caught up easily and began asking questions again, but I blocked out his voice. Each time he tried to stop me, I shrugged him off. I knew that we were getting stares, I knew that I was hurting him. But I couldn't talk to Mason—I just couldn't—and I couldn't risk getting caught by Cedric. Maybe my brother wasn't the only one going crazy. I felt so jumpy with paranoia, I was probably losing it too.

The frustrating game of cat-and-mouse continued relentlessly until we arrived at the art classroom. Even as I sat down and Mrs. Garage began speaking, Mason didn't stop trying to get to me. It was a double attack now, with Marcella joining the interrogation. Neither of them had any intention of giving up, and neither seemed to care about the attention they were drawing. So I stood, grabbed my bag, and wordlessly left the classroom.

It had seemed like a smart idea to begin with. I stormed away from the class and out through the back exit of the hallway, and was finally alone.

     I realized the flaw in my plan when, after about four seconds, I was no longer alone.

I shrugged defeatedly at Mason as he stared expectantly down at me. "What do you want me to tell you?" I sighed.

     I debated running away—he wouldn't be able to match my speed. When I looked at him, though, and I saw the desperation poorly shielded in his speckled eyes, I couldn't bring myself to do something so mean and cowardly. After all, he was only worried about me.

"What the hell do you think I want you to tell me?" Mason snapped, and I saw annoyance flash in his expression. "The truth."

Of course he wanted the truth; that only made sense. But he wouldn't like it, and he would try everything to stop it. It would hurt him, and I wasn't sure I was in the right mental state to watch his expression change from worry to heartbreak.

I shook my head. "You don't want the truth," I told him. My eyes darted around, nervously scanning the area for any sign that we weren't alone. I didn't see anything, but that didn't stop the anxious tapping of my foot against the grass.