That's a Good Question

19: are knives attracted to me?

It's the first peaceful morning I've had in a week. Midge doesn't wake me up with a weird mind reading spell or whatever. Jamie doesn't wake me up by licking me. Safiya doesn't wake me up by slamming a pillow down over my face and watching me squirm. Okay, the last one never happened, but let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if it does some day.

Anyway, I get up of my own accord, and let me tell you, it's actually heaven. It's Cinderella-level stuff. Birds are chirping, the sun's out, and I rise with a long stretch in which a lot of my joints pop. I check to make sure everything's in its socket, then swing my legs over and drowsily get to my feet.

My back and neck are a little sore from sleeping on the couch, and I rub the muscles there while I pad barefoot across the floor to the kitchen. The whole place is awash with pallid, morning sunlight, a calm butterscotch yellow—not the harsh afternoon kind of sunlight that burns your eyes out, but its softer, subtler cousin. Midge's cedar incense lingers in the air, and I roll my eyes, furiously making tea to get rid of the smell.

I fill two mugs and go down the hall, towards my bedroom. With the knuckle of one finger, I knock gently on the door. "Jamie?" I call. "You up?"

I don't get a reply, so I nudge the door open anyway. You know, just in case he's dead. I wouldn't want him to be dead. But just in case.

To my surprise, Jamie's up and out of bed, my comforter tossed back haphazardly. He's at my window sill, his small shoulders bent intently, like he's studying something.

"Jamie," I say again.

He remains facing the window. "It's bad, Grey."

"What's bad?"

"I don't know," he mutters. "Everything."

I definitely don't like that answer. Of course, it's common knowledge Jamie's pretty much uneasy about everything, but still, I don't like that answer. Frowning, I carefully trace my way across the floor, which isn't easy. It was already messy, what with the clothes and the half-open books strewn everywhere. When Midge came in, though, she made it worse. She left more than a few herbs here, their glass test tubes and cases littering every surface possible, and there's even a book of healing spells halfway under my bed. As I go to Jamie, I pick it up with a shake of my head. The only thing remotely neat about my room is my collection of DVDs on the wall beside my bed, probably because I don't let anyone touch it.

The book of spells is small enough to fit in my pocket, so I put it there, motioning for Jamie to scoot over. "Alright, let's quit with all the cryptic stuff. Give it to me straight."

He shoots me a concerned look, his wolf's eye unnaturally bright. "See for yourself," he says, and gestures down towards the street.

I follow his directions. The roads are full, but not with the usual morning rush. The roads are full of people, marching and shouting, signs held up above their heads. "Protestors?" I question, looking incredulously at Jamie. He's quivering like King Kong has decided to pay a visit to Atlanta. I don't get what the fuss is about. "It's not rare around here, you know. Protesting."

"Look more closely!" exclaims Jamie, making me jolt. A thin strand of pearly hair dips across his forehead; he moves it out of the way hastily. "It's not...it's just bad. It's bad."

Once again, he's creeping me out. I squint at him for a moment, but then do as he says, you know, just in case King Kong really is here and I missed him the first time somehow. Like it would be possible to miss a colossal ape swinging from a skyscraper, but I wouldn't put it past myself at this point. I'm no longer surprised by much.