The Veil by Cory Putman Oakes Page A

be allowed to see again.
    “It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Lucas asked when we were back on the freeway and heading for home.
    “Yes,” I answered, although privately I was thinking calling that view “beautiful” was very much like calling Lucas “handsome.” A gross, almost unforgivable understatement.
    “I almost forget sometimes,” he said slowly. “I suppose I’m just used to it.”
    “Do you mean you see that
all the time
?”
    He nodded. “Yes. Well, except for when I turn it off.”
    “You turn it off?” Why would anybody want to do that?
    “Sometimes I have to. It can be really confusing, seeing the two worlds at once. I almost always turn one of them off, but which one depends on who I’m around at the time.”
    “You mean whether you’re around normal people, or whether you’re around the ‘we,’” I deduced. “Are you going to tell me who ‘we’ are?”
    “Yes. Tomorrow, okay? Right now I’m focusing on having you back home by your curfew.”
    “What, are you scared of Gran?” I teased him.
    He looked over at me; his emerald eyes were deadly serious. “Yes.”
    We were silent for the rest of the ride back to Novato.
    It was 9:55 p.m. when he pulled up in front of Gran’s house.
    “I’ll pick you up in the morning and we’ll talk some more,” he offered, looking slightly anxious as I made no move to exit the car. The clock crept its way up to 9:56 . . . 9:57 . . .
    “Please, Addy?”
    “Okay,” I said sulkily, opening my car door. I didn’t remember my manners until I was halfway through the iron gate. “Thank you!” I called to him.
    He waved and then waited until I let myself in the front door before driving away. It was only after he’d disappeared around the corner that I realized he was driving
my car
.
    That worried me for a moment, before I realized a guy who is used to seeing snakes coiled around the Golden Gate Bridge and who can casually point out griffins as through they were no more interesting than seagulls probably had very little incentive to steal my ancient, rusted Oldsmobile.
    And he’d said he would be back tomorrow.

6
    ——

The Ruin
     
    I N THE END , I WAS GLAD Lucas convinced me to try to get some sleep. I had pretty much expected to lie underneath my covers all night, restless and willing the clock to say it was morning. But instead, after only a moment or two of rearranging the pillow beneath my head, I fell into the deepest sleep I ever remember having.
    I don’t think I had a single dream that night, which is probably a good thing, because when I woke up I was thinking about Gran.
    Gran.
Was I still allowed to call her that? What an incredibly uncomfortable and unwelcome thought. Luckily, it was interrupted by a small but determined beeping sound coming from the corner of my room. I followed the beeps to my school bag and dug around inside until I found my cell phone.
    Eight missed calls.
    Oh, shoot. I had forgotten all about Nate.
    Six of the calls were from him, and the other two were from Olivia. I cringed and hit Nate’s speed dial number.
    “Finally!” he barked after only half a ring. “
What happened
to you last night?”
    “I’m really, really sorry!” I said frantically.
    “I mean, I know you’re all gaga about Lucas Stratton and everything,” he continued, working himself into a frenzied rent, “but you
ditched
me! You actually
ditched
me!”
    “I’m sorry—” I tried to cut in, but he was only just getting started.
    “I had to get a ride home with Terrance Seaver! You left me totally stranded!”
    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I chanted, to break his momentum. “I really, really am, Nate. I totally suck, okay? It will never happen again.”
    “Good,” he said, still a tad huffy. “Did you at least have a good time with Wonder Boy?”
    “Sure,” was all I could think to say.
    “‘Sure’?” he repeated. “What does that mean?”
    “It means—I don’t know what it means yet.