Toxic (Denazen #2)(37)

I was getting louder and louder, but Ginger didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t,” she said calmly. “Everything happens exactly as it should,”

“You do,” I insisted. “By simply housing Sixes, or giving us orders to do this and that, you’re interfering.”

“Everyone who comes to the Sanctuary was meant to be here. It is a stop along their own personal path, as the very creation of the sanctuary was a stop along my own personal path. The detention you earned yourself—the chores—they are part of your personal path.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder, and I had to bite my tongue from calling bullshit. There was no way she was getting me to believe clearing out the dryer vents for detention was part of my path.

“When I look at you, I can see the key events in your life, from birth to death. I know this is nearly impossible for you or others to understand, but had you not been meant to be here, I would have refused you solace. I don’t interfere. I simply work with the plans that I’m given. The things I see.”

I shook her hand off and stepped away. She was right. I didn’t understand. “It sounds like a really long-winded excuse to me.”

“I’m sorry, Deznee.” She stood, placing a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. “Interfering in someone’s path is not an option. The key events shape us into the people we were destined to be. Changing them changes the person.”

Without another word, she turned and left the room—and her stupid show.

The rest of the afternoon dragged by painfully slow. Kale and Jade were shuffled off to a private corner of the hotel while I was instructed—twice—to let them be. Of course, knowing they were down there, and I wasn’t even allowed to sneak a peek, played serious havoc on my brain. Something was up with that girl. I could feel it with every fiber of my being. I imagined every scenario from her tranqing him and dragging his unconscious body out to a waiting Denazen van, to him ripping her clothes off with his teeth.

By the time ten p.m. rolled around, I was tired but too keyed up to sleep. I didn’t feel like roaming the halls and didn’t want coffee. Rolling over, I held my hand out to examine the rush job I’d done on my nails a few nights ago. It was a coppery gold that looked ridiculous against my pale skin. Now was as good a time as any to get rid of it.

It wasn’t long ago that the idea of spending a Friday night alone, doing my nails, would have been unheard of. There was always a party, always a thing. Now look at me. Holed up for safekeeping. There was a good chance I’d suffocate long before the Supremacy crazies set in.

I sat up and pulled open the nightstand drawer. The only things normally in there were a brush, some Silly Bandz I’d hidden from Mom, and the nail polish remover—the latter of which was nowhere to be seen.

“Crap.” Now that I’d looked at it again, I really wanted the stupid polish off. I’d scrape the damn stuff off if I had to. Ugly flake by ugly flake.

Then I got an idea.

In the corner of the room was a small pile of Mom’s clothes. Think the country music was bad? Try sharing a small room with an adult slob. At least if I left my crap lying around, there was an excuse. I was seventeen.

Sitting at the top of the pile was one of Mom’s T-shirts. Moss green. I closed my eyes and pictured the shirt, then focused on my nails. After several moments passed, I opened my eyes. The putrid coppery color had been replaced—perfectly—by moss green. There was a slight twinge at the base of my neck and a tiny wave of vertigo but other than that, no pain.

My mouth was dry. Maybe under different circumstances, this would have been the coolest thing in the world. Not only had I just mimicked something by simply looking at it, but I’d consciously changed a part of myself. Without any pain! The possibilities were pretty much endless. But with Supremacy hanging over my head? My elation didn’t last. When a pounding sound filled my ears a few minutes later, I was sure it was my heart. Cardiac arrest. I’d subbed the blinding headaches for heart trouble. Par for the course lately.

It took me a second to realize it was the door.

Taptaptap.

Padding across the room, I saw Kiernan through the peephole. “’Sup?” I asked, pulling the door open.

Bouncing past me, Kiernan threw herself onto Mom’s bed. “Whatcha doin’?” She looked around. “Your Mom still not back?”

“Haven’t seen her at all today.”

She kicked her feet onto the bed and tilted her head to the right. “So…?”

“So what?”

“You didn’t answer. Whatcha doin’ up here all alone?”

“Homework.”

Kiernan spread her arms and frowned. “Where are your books?”

“I put them away when I heard the door.”

Eyebrows raised, she said, “So, Pining 101?” Before I could manage a comeback, she was off the bed and had my sneakers in her hand. “Here. Put these on, and let’s go. Fast.”

I obeyed, hopping from one foot to the other as I tried to keep my balance. “Why?”

“’Cause you’re way too young to be sulking in your room over some guy.”

“I’m not—”

“Whatever. You need a pick-me-up. And I just so happen to know a great one.”

“This is going to get us in trouble, isn’t it?”