CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

All the studying in the library turned out to be for nothing when Mrs. Banner pulled out an ancient VCR instead. Still, I struggled to follow the information and my expression must have told Edythe as much because she informed me pretty much as soon as the class ended that her tutoring would begin immediately.

"You want to start this afternoon?" I asked, surprised. Edythe arched a dark-bronze eyebrow.

"Are you going to put up a fuss?" she asked.

"Is there any point in resisting?" I retorted and her dark pink lips curved up. I tried to decipher all the layers to her smile, but I didn't get very far.

"It warms my cold heart to see you learning so quickly." She said, sounding oh-so very smug. "I'll meet you next to that thing you call a car after your last class."

She didn't wait for me to say anything, just turned and left. I tried not to stare at her arse as she left but the smooth roll of her hips was just as hypnotic as her eyes and I cursed the hormones responsible for the subtle tightening in my briefs. Still, despite the forceful way she'd announced it, there wasn't actually a downside to getting to spend more time with Edythe– I just hoped that she'd leave before Charlize got home so I could avoid any further teasing from my mother.

Gym passed quickly, despite McKayla practically pouncing on me the moment I left the boy's locker room after getting changed.

"What's with you and Edythe?" she practically demanded, before adding, "I don't like it– she looks at you like you're something to eat!" Despite the righteous indignation on McKayla's face, I couldn't help snorting slightly at the accuracy in that particular observation. McKayla's face tightened. "Do you like her, Beau?" she asked, putting enough emphasis on the word 'like' for there to be no mistaking what she meant by it. I purposefully misunderstood it anyway.

"Sure I do," I said, keeping my face and voice both light and unaffected, "Edythe's nice. She's got a surprisingly wicked sense of humor, too."

"I meant do you like like her," McKayla said, poorly concealed frustration burning in her tone, with a touch of envy. I furrowed my brow, adopting a look of perfect confusion.

"McKayla, I'm gay," I told her, speaking slowly, but not enough so as to offend her, "I don't like girls that way."

McKayla didn't seem fully convinced by my act, but her expression settled somewhat, stopped looking quite so accusing, though the doubt was still there. "Well she likes you." She muttered, but she said it quietly enough I could pretend I didn't hear as Coach Clapp cheerfully shoved a racquet in my hand and announced we were playing tennis. "You might want to refresh Taylor on the whole gay thing," McKayla added, suddenly, as we partnered up on the court. I looked at her confused.

"What?" I asked. McKayla's answering grin was just a few shades off evil.

"She says you're taking her to Prom."

I felt my jaw fall open. McKayla cracked up.

"That was my reaction too," she said, frustration and doubt gone for now, replaced instead by her amusement.

"Are you serious?" I demanded when I had control of my face again. "I mean, she was probably joking... right? Right?"

"Logan and Jeremy were talking about getting started early and putting together a big thing for prom, and then Taylor said she was out because she already had plans– with you. That's why Logan's being so... you know... about you. He has a thing for Taylor. I figure you deserved a heads-up." McKayla explained, looking blatantly and unfairly entertained as she did so.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked frantically.

"Tell her you're not taking her." McKayla said, like it was that simple.

"How do I even say that!?" My voice cracked slightly as I managed to hit a much higher note then I intended. McKayla started laughing again.

"Man up, Beau. Or rent a tux. Your choice."

"Oh no," I moaned, and thankfully the lesson started before McKayla could give me any more truly terrible news.

Tennis wasn't awful. I wasn't great at it, but I was quick on my feet and good at tracking the fast moving ball. Hitting the ball so it went over the net took a bit of practice, but I was pretty happy with myself by the time class ended.

I took the time to shower and change out of my gym clothes, seeing as I was going to be in close-ish contact with Edythe I thought I'd spare her sensitive nose, before heading back out to my truck. By now the car park was mostly empty, the absence of the silver Volvo included, but Edythe was leaning casually against the passenger side of The Thing.

I couldn't help the smile I hastily shoved away and hoped nobody had seen the goofy, love-struck expression that had momentarily crossed my face.

"Have fun in Gym?" Edythe asked, as soon as I got within human hearing range.

"A bit. Tennis is better then I thought it would be." I admitted.

I unlocked my truck and we both slid into our seats. As I started up the engine Edythe spoke first. "I've had a thought." I assumed a concerned expression.

"Oh dear– are you okay?" She rolled her eyes.

"Very funny Beau."

"Thanks. I thought so too."

Edythe rolled her eyes again but her lips were twitching up 

"It's about this Saturday." She said. "I was wondering whether you were intending to tell your mother where you're going– or rather, who you're going with."

"With Charlize less is usually more." I told her. "Especially if I want to avoid the now inevitable mocking for as long as is possible. I really don't fancy having that conversation with her yet." I could already predict the shades of red my face was going to burn.

Edythe's eyes narrowed infinitesimally, her expression growing guarded. "Does Charlize know what I am?" She asked, jaw tightening.

I shuddered at the thought. "Christ, no! You saw her after the parking lot accident– she probably wouldn't even let me step foot outside the house if she knew your kind existed!"

Edythe's mouth quirked back into a smile as her expression relaxed somewhat. "You should tell Charlize, though. About where you'll be."

I immediately shook my head. "Why would I do that?"

Her golden eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring you back." She said darkly.

"I... I was about to say homicidal isn't a good look on anyone, but you actually manage to pull it off pretty well." I admitted after staring for a moment. With her stiff jaw and narrow, glowering eyes, Edythe was beautiful and more then just slightly terrifying. "And I think I'll take my chances, thanks." I added. "I'm pretty happy with them."

Edythe made a half-frustrated, half-resigned sound.

"You're more stubborn then a mule." She muttered, and I couldn't help but smile at that.

"Charlize used to say I got it from my father." I said, and Edythe tilted her head slightly, her lovely expression turning curious.

"What is your father like?" she asked. "You've talked about Charlize quite a bit, but not him."

I swallowed and saw in the rear-view mirror her butterscotch eyes studying me curiously while I thought of an answer. I picked my words carefully, not for once because I was hiding the whole 'I'm a wizard, surprise!' thing, but because Reese was a painful subject to talk about. His rejection was something I didn't think I'd ever really get over.

"He kind of looks like me," I told her, finally. "Same eyes, same color hair– but he'd be shorter now. He's an extrovert, and slightly eccentric, pretty irresponsible, to be honest, and a very unpredictable cook. When I was younger he was my best friend." I stopped. It made me depressed to talk about Reese like that, to remember him from before the whole magic thing had torn us apart.

"How old are you, Beau?" Edythe sounded frustrated.

We'd reached Charlize's house and I parked alongside the curb. We didn't get out yet– the rain had really picked up, so heavy now that I could barely see the house. It was like the car was submerged in a vertical river.

"I'm sixteen," I said, a little confused by her tone. "Almost seventeen, though." I couldn't help but add, not bothering to hide the grim satisfaction I felt saying that.

"You don't seem just almost seventeen," Edythe said– it was like an accusation. I couldn't help but laugh, even though I knew it would annoy her. "What?" she demanded, mouth twisted down in an annoyed curve.

"Sorry, sorry," I tried to stop laughing, "it's just, when I was a kid Reese would always say I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I laughed again, and then sighed. "Well, someone had to be the adult." I paused for a second. "So are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

Edythe was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?" She asked carefully, gold eyes watching me very carefully.

I hesitated for a minute. "What happened to your parents?" I asked, finally. "Your birth ones, I mean."

"They died before I was Turned." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "The Spanish Influenza, back in 1918."

"I'm sorry." I meant it to.

"I don't really remember them clearly." Edythe sighed. "Christina and Ernest have been my parents for over eight decades now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way she said their names.

"Yes." She smiled. "I can't imagine two better parents."

"Then you're very lucky."

"I know it."

The rain had slowed slightly, as much as it ever was likely to anyway, so it was time for the mad dash to the house. Edythe beat me, of course, and had the door already open by the time I reached it. I gave her a thankful smile, not bothering to ask how she knew about the spare key under the flowerpot.

In the kitchen I helped myself to a granola bar, while Edythe set up at the kitchen table. Around two hours of intense studying later, I threw down my pen with a groan.

"Okay, I need a break. My brain is fried." I declared. Edythe laughed, the chiming sound bell-like, and set down her pen much more carefully then I had before leaning back slightly in her chair.

"I think we've done enough work for today, Beau," she said, before looking up at me from under her eyelashes. "Want to go upstairs to your bedroom?"

Even though I knew that she didn't mean it like it sounded, I instantly found it hard to breathe, like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

"My bedroom?" I managed to ask, my words a bit choked. Her answering smile was downright wicked and it did terrible, terrible things to my self-control. "Uh, follow me?" I said weakly.

"Oh, don't worry," she said, standing up in a single graceful movement, "I know where it is."

"That should be way creepier then it is hot." I couldn't help saying.

I followed her up to my room anyway.