CHAPTER FOUR

The school day becomes a mindless glaze of incoherent white, so bright that it erases any functions of the mind. I choose not to fight it. Do not think; ease the pain, trust in Odon. Your destiny lies in your success as a pureblood. Write, listen, repeat their information; this is what matters. History class, then Faith, then test—the test that was so important only hours ago.

The teacher walks down the aisle, handing out a packet, neatly clipped together. She passes me, and one finds itself on my desk. I grip the metal pen in my burning palm. My other hand drags the test in front of me. I must not make a mistake, a single mistake, and they would know. They would send me to the Odonian, and then there would be no hope. I would return forever changed, scarred by the same unknown infliction that laid its injury upon Lenora.

I turn the first page over. Have I finished it already? My mind is somewhere else, and I can’t remember the questions. I scan it; yes, it is complete. I begin the next page. Concentrate; I must not make a mistake. Haven’t I studied? Didn’t I prepare? And yet my memories grasp nothing except the fear of not remembering. After I’ve read and answered the last question, I turn it over. But relief at the test’s completion does not wash over me. I am caught in time, trapped in the moment when the packet was placed beside me.

Why couldn’t I have pushed it to the floor? But it’s done; nothing in the past will change. Somehow I muster the strength to rise from my seat and approach the desk at the front of the room, where the professor sits reading the History book.

I reach the desk and place a hand on it to gain balance. The test is squirming in my hand, all but leaping onto the blank silver surface of the desk. Did I finish first? There are no other tests; mine sits by itself, a white rectangle on the metal. It looks so blatant lying there alone. But it has left my hand, and there is no way to retrieve it from its solitude. I stare at it, wanting to take it back. The professor doesn’t notice me but continues to read, unaware of the crisis that is occurring before her. Her light brown hair is tucked below her neck, a part-blood. My eyes are still upon the abandoned test, as if I am holding it in time or willing it to disappear.

How long I stand there, I can’t tell, but it isn’t until a second student approaches from behind to lay his test over mine that I leave to take a seat. All that waits for me is my metal ink pen on my desk, the pile of books visibly tucked beneath it. Once seated, I take some comfort in the absence of that foreign test and gather the familiar items close. My fingers wrap tightly around the pen, and my arms find safety in hugging the books. Is this the extent of my faith, the need to seek comfort in something known? Odon protect me, keep me safe, and I will love you forever.

Later I’m walking to my locker across the school. I stride quickly; I have to get out of this place before someone stops me. My head is whirring, and I run into someone, apologize, and then collide with someone else; “Sorry” again. They know. I know they know. They are wishing to see me fail, mess up, lose control of myself for just an instant. The lights are burning my eyes, scorching my brain. But the thoughts are still there, eroding my composure. The blank look I’ve always managed to maintain, until now.

A hand clamps down on my shoulder, fastening itself and stopping me from moving. I gasp, and my eyes flicker out of focus. I don’t scream, just draw a breath, but in my ears it’s as loud as a scream. I stare wide-eyed into a face, too bright to see.

“Oriana, what’s the matter with you? You’re paler than pale!” Aurek has me unwillingly gripped by the shoulders. He wraps his arms around me, and I sink into his body trying to hang onto a fading consciousness. I am frozen, hidden in Aurek’s shadow, the world shifting out of view. He strokes my hair. “You’re ice cold. What’s happened to you?”

I shiver but do not respond. I only answer within myself as my stomach lurches. Fear, I speak without my voice. Fear is what has happened. I fall backward as Aurek’s face disappears into the pinpoint of a black tunnel.

All I can hear is a buzzing interrupted by a steady heartbeat. I sit in the darkness. My body floats above me. I’m headed straight for it. We will connect soon. I feel myself return, and now I can control my eyes. I open them to get out of the darkness—to get out of the black and then white: white walls and light and sheet and face.

I blink to organize things. Everything is blurry except the face. My eyes remain there. I sit up, my eyes still fixed. My hand reaches for the skin. I see it is slightly darker than my own. I pull back as soon as my wits return. I do not touch it, him, Dorian.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. My voice is raspy and I reach for the glass of clear liquid in his hand. He raises it to my lips concentrating on allowing me to drink.

Once I have finished he answers. “I work here.”

“The medical ward? They allow half-bloods to treat patients?”

“Well, I mostly clean the rooms. I’m not really supposed to be talking to you.”

I stare at him in shock before gaining back my voice. “Since when?”

“Since awhile … I don’t know; last year maybe.” He shrugs.

I suppose it is a credible answer. Those who are not pureblood are often required to volunteer in the school’s facilities in exchange for classes. Half-bloods are usually assigned to the monotonous work of sorting files and cleaning.

My questions take a new route. “Have you heard what’s wrong with me?” I stare at the ceiling, as if I’m not worried, but I listen intently.

“Nothing.”

I look at him strangely, “Nothing? Then what am I doing here? Why did I faint?”

“They don’t know,” he answers frankly. “They don’t have a clue.”

“They?”

“The doctors, examiners … whatever you want to call them.” His voice gets significantly lower, and he looks down at his hands, “I know.”

For a moment I think I have misjudged his meaning. Yet his confident expression of a well-kept secret confirms otherwise.

“Are you insane? What do you mean, you know?”

He grins at me slyly and brings his face closer to mine, “I know what’s happened to you, and you know too.” He draws back and shrugs again.

I avert my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Then what happened?”

“I don’t know! And you don’t either, so stay out of my life!”

It seems so simple just to admit that there is something different about me, something that I had control of before but no longer. Still, I can’t, and in a final defiance I lash out, “I could get rid of you, you know—” I stop myself knowing I shouldn’t have said that. I look him in the eyes. He sits on the edge of my bed, close enough to touch my legs beneath the sheets. Why is it that I notice every detail when he is near, every expression, every moment?

His mouth flickers with a smile.

“You’re not afraid …,” I say. It isn’t a question because the answer is obvious. His eyes are unblinking without a trace of fear. Something inside me sinks.

“No, but you are.”

Dorian rises from beside me and begins to leave the room through a thick white door that I am hoping has blocked out our conversation. Before he reaches for the handle, he adds, “Get used to it, it doesn’t just go away.”

My stomach twists, and I gasp. He is right; I’m afraid, terrified. I’ve known all along; I never needed his simple diagnosis. The fear has consumed me, and I had collapsed in a horrified heap.

But why can’t I control it as I have before? I already know the answer to this as well. The danger is closer, breathing down my back. I can feel it even in this moment alone, unwatched, inside the medical center. I don’t need the stare of an Odon’s Eye or a professor’s warning. Odon is everywhere, and he is watching. No fear could be greater.