"They miss you, Della. They're just trying to get by."

Della nodded. "Have you ever considered just telling your mom and stepdad? I came so close to just walking in there and laying it out on the table. Look, Dad, I'm not being difficult or lazy. I'm not on drugs.

I'm just a vampire." She shook her head.

Kylie bit down on her lip, unsure what to say, so she didn't say anything.

"I guess I'm scared they'll think the truth is worse than what they already believe."

Kylie wished she could tell Della it wasn't so, but she wasn't sure. "I thought about telling my mom, too. I just don't know if she would handle it."

Della nodded. "So we just hide from the people we love. Sad, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Kylie ran her spoon around her bowl. "At least you don't hide from the supernatural world."

"You don't hide either," Della said.

"Yeah, I do. I'm basically hiding from the FRU. I mean everyone here has seen my pattern, so it's a little late to worry about that, but I know the majority of people here think any day now my brain tumor is going to become apparent."

Della offered her a sad look. "They are actually betting on it."

"Just great." Kylie paused. "When Monique came in the bathroom, I tried to change my pattern. I just wasn't fast enough. She even said something about me having a brain tumor. And I'm like, 'I'm sure that's what it is.'" Kylie dropped her spoon in her bowl and listened to it clatter. "Most of the supernatural world doesn't even know my kind exists." Even Hayden hides what he is, Kylie thought.

"Then maybe it's time you change that." Della sat back in her chair.

"Change what?" Kylie asked."Come out of the closet. You know, like ... 'I'm gay and here to stay.' You'd need a different slogan, but maybe, 'I'm a lizard and if you don't like it, I'll eat out your gizzard.'" Della chuckled. "Okay, it needs some work, but you get what I mean."

"I'm serious," Kylie said.

"I know, and so am I. Besides the silly slogan, I mean. You can't do it with the humans, but you should be able to do it with supernaturals."

Kylie ran her finger around the rim of the bowl to collect the last remnants of chocolate and considered what Della said.

She's right, the voice in her head said. The same voice from earlier. The one that popped up inside her head at the oddest times.

"Who the hell are you?" Kylie muttered.

Della scooted back in her chair. "Okay, I'm rethinking the brain tumor now."

"Not you."

"Oh, shit." Della's eyes grew big. "Do we have a ghost here?"

"No, not a ghost," Kylie muttered. "Just a voice."

Della tilted her head to the side. "I didn't hear anything."

"In here." Kylie pointed to her head.

"Have you ever heard of schizophrenia?" Della asked in a sarcastic voice-which meant she was teasing, but Kylie didn't think it was too funny.

"I'm not crazy," Kylie said.

Della grinned. "If you were, I'd still like you. If for no other reason than for teaching me how good blood and chocolate are together." She drained her cup.

Kylie stared at her empty bowl while her brain raced on how she could come out of the closet. She had made it her quest to save other chameleon teens from living a life of seclusion, but maybe before she could do that, she needed to make sure it was safe for them to come out. Maybe Della and that annoying voice were right. If she could force the supernatural world to accept her-for what she really was-then other chameleons might follow her out in the open.

Sort of like Rosa Parks on the bus in the fifties. Someone, some chameleon, needed to stand up so they could be counted as part of the supernatural world. They should be proud of who they were, and not have to hide their true selves.

Instantly, her chest swelled with emotion that was both warm and affirming. This was her quest. Her new quest or maybe just part of her old one. And it felt like the right thing.

Yup, all she had to do was figure out how to come out of the closet.

* * *

That night, head buried in her pillow, the tingly feeling of another presence stirred her awake. It wasn't a cold presence, which meant whoever was here wasn't dead. Opening her eyes, the sweet floral scent tickled her senses. She spotted the red rose on her bedside table.

Only one person left her roses.

Lucas? Her heart whispered his name and went straight to hurting. Last night, she'd lain in bed and accepted what had to be. Letting him go. As much as it hurt, she couldn't let him destroy his life becauseof her.

She inhaled and listened. Was he still here? Or had he come and gone? She noticed her white curtain fluttering as a soft night breeze floated inside. If he'd left, he'd have shut the window.

She closed her eyes again, wondering if she pretended not to wake up he would just leave.

"I know you're awake," his deep voice spoke into the still darkness.

"And I know you shouldn't be here." She swallowed and fought the swell of emotion climbing up her throat. She rolled over and pulled her pajama-covered knees to her chest. It took another couple of seconds to gather her courage for her to look for him-knowing that seeing him would hurt.

She was right. His hair looked windblown as if he'd gone for a run. His eyes looked hurt. Raw pain rained down on her. Her chest ached with loneliness.