Life Lines

22: Glazed Doughnuts With Sprinkles

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jesse glared at Kells.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just curious." He shrugged. "She's wavering. Not a good thing for our side in case you are wondering. Logios's commands are having more of an affect than he thought. I was just trying to help her make up her mind."

"All you did was change..." Jesse's jaw clenched, cutting off his words. He just glared at the man across from me who was smiling back. Whatever he was about to say wasn't allowed and Kells knew that. "Let go of her before she calls the whole..."

"Nat..."

Schylar, Chris, and surprisingly Union appeared next to the Elite. The three of them were not happy to see the two and vice versa.

"OoOo," Kells said. "And it gets even more interesting."

All the paths were illuminated, making my little booth light up with blue/gold streaks. The Elites' doubles were looking at me in concern. I didn't have the courage to look at Union or the man who sat across from me. For some reason the man had an adverse affect on my cough and I wanted nothing more than to pull my arm away from his hand.

I looked down at it, ignoring the testosterone filled squabbling behind me. Where his hand gripped mine, the colored lines I would soon have were starting to outline, covering the black ones I'd come to know so well. The funny thing about it was my love line. I could see it now, the shivering and pulling. The line was trying to straighten out to undo the knot I'd somehow managed to place in it.

The whole thing was a little more than I could handle.

I stood up from the red plastic chair, pulling my hand out of his grip and stepped back. With everyone in there and the paths lit up like luminaries at Christmas, I was getting a little more claustrophobic than I already was.

Cecil reached out to fold me in his arms since it was the only thing that'd ever gotten my cough to stop. But Schylar slapped it down and shot him a hateful look.

"Don't even think about it, asshole."

Since the man didn't have a hold of my arm anymore, the cough had died down but my throat still hurt and my lungs felt like they were on fire. Schylar drew me to him, hugging me close while still glaring at our former best friend.

"The answer is still most definitely no."

What? My brow furrowed in confusion and I looked up at him. I was pretty sure no one had asked a question, let alone the answer be no. Just last night he was telling me how dense Cecil was and that...

"You have no idea what you're doing, Schylar," Jesse said in a low warning voice. "Let Cyrus take her to the clinic."

Ah, well, that answered my question.

"Schy," I cleared my throat since it sounded way husky. "Schy, it's ok. Don't worry, ok?"

He was still unrelenting and glaring at the Elite. I cleared my throat again, not to get his attention but because it felt like something was slowly sliding down the back of it. Like when you have a runny nose but the mucus flows down your throat instead of out your nose. I did it again and the taste of blood filled my mouth, followed by a small cough. Being a girl of manners, I covered my mouth.

"Oh that's not good," the reader said. His chin was propped on his hand while the other was drumming on the table. "Looks like we have a—live one."

Schylar finally let me go enough that I stood on my own, my open hand splayed out in front of me. I stared at it wide-eyed in disbelief. Blood sat there, pooled in my palm. If I had any more doubts, they were gone now. This was how Cecil's started. We were playing one afternoon, running around on the playground, when he stopped and coughed for a good five minutes.