chapter 2

The next morning my schedule was spread out, and I was almost constantly walking between different classrooms.

First period was in the west building, second was on the third floor. Before third period, when I stopped by my locker to grab a book, I saw a thin scrap of onion skin shoved into the crack—dry and papery, like someone had peeled it off and flicked it in without a thought.

I pinched it out and dropped it in the trash. Laughter drifted from the other end of the hallway. I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Noah and his group had been enjoying this lately.

Not making a huge scene—just constantly slipping little things into my orbit, their way of letting me know it wasn’t over, and it could start up again anytime.

The last class before lunch was P.E., in the indoor gym.

The teacher split us into two groups: one doing shuttle runs, the other running half-court drills, then switching and regrouping.

I set my thermos at the edge of the court. Noah passed by, glanced at it, said nothing—only lifted his foot and kicked a stray basketball back onto the court.

Keller stood not far away with his phone in hand. Even though the teacher had said not to film during class, he still waved it around out of habit, pointing it toward the floor.

Megan didn’t play. She sat with a few girls under the bleachers, chatting, occasionally flicking her gaze my way.

Brian was the most active, shouting for passes almost the entire period.

On the surface, it was a completely normal P.E. class.

Until the last ten minutes, when the teacher blew the whistle for free break. I stepped off the court, walked to the sideline, picked up my thermos, and twisted the cap open.

The ice water inside sloshed lightly.

I took a sip first.

Nothing felt wrong on the way in—the water was still cold—but the next second my throat clenched hard, and a burning pain detonated deep inside.

I looked down into the cup. At the bottom sat a tiny silver cross.

Small, old, its edges worn down. It lay there quietly in the ice water, so unremarkable you could miss it at a glance.

A normal cross shouldn’t have hit like that.

I’d always known silver made me uncomfortable.

But what those two mouthfuls brought wasn’t just the sting of metal.

I understood immediately: this thing had probably been blessed by clergy.

Some old pendant a mother or grandmother had worn for years—taken to church, prayed over—then stolen by some idiot kid at home and tossed into my thermos as a prank.

They wouldn’t understand any of that.

To them, a cross was just a perfect prop in an “vampire joke,” nothing more.

I didn’t give them time to gather around. I turned and headed straight out of the gym.

Someone whistled behind me. Someone else asked on purpose, “What’s wrong—too cold?”

I didn’t answer.

The hallway air was cooler than inside. Coughing, I quickened my pace, cut into the nearest boys’ bathroom, shoved the door shut behind me, and braced myself on the sink as I bent over.

The burning in my throat and chest didn’t fade right away—it intensified.

I had to gag myself and vomit up the water I’d just swallowed, then rinse my mouth twice before I finally lifted my head to the mirror.

In the mirror, my face was even paler than usual. Worst of all were my eyes.

A red rim had started to creep into the edges of my irises. I opened my mouth—thank God, no fangs.

I stared at myself, fingers digging into the edge of the sink, forcing my breathing to slow.

Footsteps suddenly sounded outside.

“Adrian?” The P.E. teacher’s voice. “You in there?”

I lowered my head at once and splashed water over my face again. When I looked up, the red in my eyes had been pressed back down—barely.

“I’m here,” I said.

“You okay?”

“Asthma’s acting up a bit.” I kept my voice steady. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

Two seconds of silence outside. Then he knocked again. “Do you need to go to the nurse?”

I pulled a few paper towels, dried my face, made sure I looked normal, then opened the door.

“I took my meds. I’m a lot better now.”

He didn’t believe me right away. He frowned, studied me for a moment, then asked abruptly, “Is someone giving you trouble?”

I paused.

His tone was too direct for a casual guess.

And yeah—any adult who wasn’t completely checked out would know something by now.

I didn’t mention the cross. I didn’t mention what had been dropped into my thermos. I only said, “Lately someone’s been messing with me. Calling it a joke.”

“Who?”

“Noah and a few others,” I said.

That was enough.

The P.E. teacher’s face darkened. He told me to sit outside the locker room for a bit and turned back into the gym.

Ten minutes later, I heard his voice inside, anger held down but sharp as a blade.

Noah and the others said exactly what I expected.

Either deny it outright, or paint it all as a prank.

Megan said they were just joking. Brian said how was he supposed to know I’d react like that. Keller wore a pure, innocent face. And Noah—the best actor of them all—looked cooperative, like a good student being unfairly accused.

In the end the teacher still warned them. His tone wasn’t light. He even mentioned the dean’s office and parents.

But I could tell it wouldn’t do much.

I gathered my things and headed back toward class. The moment I stepped out of the locker room, I ran into Noah at the entrance.

“Adrian.”

I stopped.

“Tattling?” he said. “What are you, a kindergarten kid?”

I looked up at him. “He asked. I answered.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, but his eyes cooled. “Then you’d better pray he can follow you around twenty-four hours a day.”

He walked off.

Clearly, this wasn’t over.