Evolution by Kate Wrath Page B

regret not specifying that I'm talking about the tree.
    Thankfully, Matt does not take the opening.  He quickly
stows away his smirk and focuses on his reading. "Yeah," he says
absently.  "You'll see."
    I'm not really sure I want to.  I wait a moment and
excuse myself.
    "'Night," he calls after me as I climb the stairs.
    Shutting the door to my room brings a small sense of
relief.  I'm still bothered that I can't lock it, but so far Matt has
never tried to come in.  I can only hope that continues.
    When I sit down on my bed, I feel something soft beneath
me.  My fingers brush fur.  I frown, and reach for the aether
lamp.  A bluish glow fills the room.
    I run my hands over the coat.  The inside is lined with
silky, white fur.  The outer is tan suede.  I don't know how many
layers are between, but it's the thickest, softest coat I've ever laid my hands
on.  A small piece of paper flutters to the floor.  I bend over and
retrieve it.
    Merry Christmas , it says.  I sigh and close my
eyes.
     
    ***
     
    Halfway through the night, I hear Miranda's footsteps
running up the stairs.  I'm already awake, and I know it's her when she
knocks.  Matt is already in his room across the hall.  With company.
    "Come in," I say, before she’s even finished
knocking.  I sit up and fumble for the lamp.
    She scoots the chair over backward, straddles it, and says
breathlessly, "I was just with the guys."
    How easily she says it, like it's nothing.  Like I
wouldn't give my right arm for five minutes.  I swallow my bitterness and
say in my most disinterested voice, "Oh?"
    She nods and takes a second to catch her breath. 
"Yeah," she says.  She opens her mouth to go on, then suddenly
frowns and cocks her head.  She's listening.  "...Is
that...?"
    "Yep."
    "Leeta or Kloe?"
    "I don't know."  I shrug.  "Maybe
both of them."
    Her frown deepens in disapproval.  "This is how he
courts you?" she asks, throwing out one hand toward the door.
    "I don't really care."  Though I probably
cared a while ago, when I had my pillow over my head.
    "Well, I do," she protests.  "I'm going
to have a talk with him tomorrow."
    "Just leave it," I say, my voice dangerously close
to turning into a growl.  I take a deep breath.  Miranda means well. 
She does.  When I continue, I manage to maintain a level tone. 
"He hasn't come into my room in the middle of the night and ravaged me, so
I say it's all good."  I give her a look.  Somehow, I hold all
the emotion inside.
    Her eyes flicker nervously, then fall on the floor. 
She's quiet.  When she looks back up, she changes the subject
abruptly.  "So, Apollon was a little weird."  She eyes me.
    "Weird?"  I hold back the worry that
immediately tries to spring forth, reminding myself that Apollon is often a little
weird.  "How?"
    "He walked me home," she says.  "I think
he wanted to talk, away from the others."
    I readjust my legs under the blanket, all the questions
running through my mind again.  I suppress the sudden, panicked thought
that it’s about Elaina Sumter’s death—a death that I am responsible for. 
Now that Apollon’s back, now that he’s been with the others a while, surely he
knows what happened.  Is there any way our friendship will survive all the
things that have come against it?  Or does he hate me already?  I
take a deep breath.  "About what?"
    "Well..." She glances at the door, then scoots a
little closer.  My heart thumps, holding out against the fear of words I
am sure I’m going to hear.  Miranda’s voice is low.  Not that Matt is
listening to us.  "He said....  He said to tell you that—OK,
this is weird—that 'he's still the god of many things'."  She pauses
and studies me, her eyebrows diving downward in the middle.  "I
assume it means something to you?"
    I stare at her with my mouth open, giving my mind a chance
to find logical thought through the fog of brain chemicals.  Not
Elaina.  Not yet.…The god of many things.  It's Apollon's