"Make sure you eat. We'l go by the dealership after school and see what they have."

Awesome. "Hey, Mom?"

She turned back around. "Yeah, sweetie?"

"Did you hear anything last night?" I wasn't sure what I expected her to answer with.

She frowned. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry your father and I were arguing. I'm so sorry you heard that."

"I mean like growling, like a huge dog or a bear."

Mom gave me an odd look, gauging what I had just said. Heat rushed into my cheeks as I realized how stupid I'd just sounded. "It wasn't another nightmare?"

"No, I was awake."

She sighed and her lips tightened. "Maybe it was a couple of dogs outside fighting? I didn't hear anything. You wouldn't hear strange noises if you shut your window at night."

"I guess you're right." The consensus was official: it was just a dream and I was a lunatic.

As soon as I got to my locker, I was greeted by Landon, who carried a vase of roses. My jaw dropped to the floor.

"Are you serious?" I asked, my gaze spil ing over the lush bouquet.

"Happy birthday, El ie." He kissed my cheek. Any second I would implode from the sweetness.

He handed the vase to me and I took it. "I don't want your birthday to suck, even though it's a sad day and al . I hope this makes it better."

I wrapped my free arm around his shoulders and hugged him. "Thank you so much, Landon! You are too good to me. This wil definitely make my day rock."

His smile widened. "I have to run to class, but I'm real y glad you're happy. See you later."

"Bye!" I had to remove a pile of old papers from the bottom of my locker to safely make room for the vase. I'd known Landon for a long time, but he had never given me flowers before. What a dol . I was practical y dancing on my way to homeroom.

Classes went just as I'd predicted they would. During morning announcements the principal gave a long speech about Mr. Meyer over the intercom, and then my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Wright, gave another. The first four periods of the day were very much the same. Teachers said their bit, did very little lecturing, and gave no homework. My math test had been postponed until the fol owing Monday, which was fine with me since I had no desire to take a test on my birthday. During third-period shop class, which I swear I only was taking only to boost my GPA, we did nothing but sit at our tables and discuss the sanding projects for the fol owing week. I assumed getting mushy would be too much for poor Mr. Gray to handle. When lunchtime came around, I met up with my friends. We al made an effort to have a decently normal lunch. Even an idiot could see how loved Mr. Meyer had been.

Kate, Landon, and I sat in our usual place in the righthand corner by the windows looking out into the courtyard. Evan, Rachel, and Chris joined us, and to my surprise and happiness, everyone avoided the subject of Mr. Meyer's murder. When I finished my lunch, I headed to the bathroom for a quick break.

As I washed my hands in the sink, something made me stop and take a second look in the mirror. My throat squeezed with fear as I stared at the right side of my face. Black things--spidery, threadlike lines--were creeping from my scalp and across my cheek and around my right eye, interlacing with one another. Fear spun into revulsion as I rubbed my cheek hard, trying to smear the blackness away. The lines kept coming, getting longer and covering more and more of my face. I rubbed, but I couldn't feel them on my skin. Were they in my skin?

Half crying, half scared out of my mind, I grabbed a handful of paper towels and wet them under the running water. I rubbed my face vigorously with the wet towels, but when I lowered them, the lines were stil there and my eyes had turned solid white like cue bal s. I dropped the towels and backed away from the mirror until my back hit the solid frame of the toilet stal s. I covered my face with both of my hands, my fingers weaving through my hair, pul ing it in desperation. When I looked back up, I saw nothing on my face in the mirror but the streaks of tears. No black things. No darkness. They were gone. My eyes were normal again.

I splashed my face with cold water to dul the redness on my face and took several long, slow breaths to steady my nerves. When I felt confident enough to return to the cafeteria, I burst through the bathroom door, determined to forget what had just happened to me. As I rounded the corner, I turned right into Wil .

"Oh God!" I cried out, fighting the urge to smack him. "You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing at my school?

I thought you didn't go here." I nervously tugged my bag higher on my shoulder and took a deep breath. That was when I noticed that the black, spiraling tattoos al up and down his muscled arm were plainly visible--the exact same tattoos he'd worn in my dream. I stared at the strange symbols, and the winding blackness reminded me of the blackness spreading on my face moments before. But this was different. His tattoos were beautiful, frighteningly so, and unearthly. They wound and danced across his skin as if they were proud and defiant. I couldn't take my eyes off them. He ignored my question. "Are you al right?"

Had he heard my crying? How did he know? Wresting my gaze away from his tattoos, I dismissed my thoughts and sternly asserted, "I'm fine."

"I need to talk to you." He wasn't smiling. In fact he didn't look cheerful at al , and his questioning gaze fel on my stil red cheek. I self-consciously covered it with my palm.

"About what? I have to get back to lunch." I started to walk around him, but he sidestepped in front of me, blocking my path. After what had just happened in the bathroom, I was not in the mood to deal with any more craziness.