I focused. I had to make this work. By sheer will power, it had to work. I knew failing once would be a fluke, but failing twice—on something so basic—well, there was no way to hide that. Concentrating harder, I focused on the air surrounding my palm. I felt its subtle movements as it moved slowly over my still palm. I felt the air trapped between the back of my hand and Eric’s growing warmer. The warm air traveled the entire length of his fingers, filling the small chasm between our hands. Breathing deeply, I focused on the warmth—feeling it radiate around me. I pictured the blue sphere, calling to it with my mind, commanding it to come to me. Eric had told me that when I found the light it would flow to me like honey, slowly surging towards me in golden beams. To my horror, I felt the honey rays around me refusing to answer my call. They moved toward me initially, but as they were about to form into the blue mini sphere, they were repulsed by me. My hand was empty, for a second time.

Eric was baffled. His forehead wrinkled as he spun around in front of me. “What happened? Did you feel it?”

I nodded, not wanting to look at him. The light didn’t want anything to do with me. I was tainted, and it knew. Soon he would know it. “Yes, I felt it.”

“Okay, let’s try one more time. This time I’m going to sit in front of you and watch you. But I’ll call the light. You are just going to hold it. If you were able to feel it, you should be able to hold it. This is easy Ivy. I’m sure it’s your teacher, and not you. Smile, okay?”

I smiled weakly at him, already knowing what would happen. Humoring him, I did it anyway. Eric called the light, and soon had the beautiful double sphere swirling in his palm. He sat directly in front of me. With his free hand, he lifted my palm. I spread my fingers to receive the orb, and then cradled the back of my hand to hold it in place. He inched the sphere toward me slowly. My heart slid into my stomach. I couldn’t stand to watch this. He put the hand that held the orb of light directly over my palm and slowly started to shift the orb to my palm. The sphere took an odd shape, and began to pour towards my open hand. Hope flittered through me as I saw the light flowing toward me. I called to it, begging it to stay this time. But it didn’t happen. Right before the light touched my flesh, I felt its repulsion. As the orb shifted from Eric’s palm to mine, the light disappeared.

Eric stared at my empty palm. His fingers pressed my flesh as he spoke, “I don’t understand. Anyone can call light. But it won’t go to you.”

I pulled my palm away from him, tucking my arms tightly around me. “It doesn’t seem to like me.”

“It doesn’t work like that. Light doesn’t like one Martis more than another. It doesn’t care. It calls like to like—like two drops of water melding into one.” He looked up at me. His expression was confused. He sat waiting for an explanation to come to him—one that made sense. But nothing came. We sat there staring at each other.

I was the only one who knew why the light wouldn’t come to me, that it could never come to me. While my angel blood allowed me to call it, my demon blood repelled it. I swallowed hard, wondering if it was so obvious to Eric. Eventually he suggested we go to Al with this problem. I didn’t protest. When he told the old woman, she thanked Eric and asked him if he had any ideas. He blamed the failure on his teaching skills. Al kindly thanked him, and asked to speak to me alone.

My heart was going to explode. How long could I hide this? She had to know. Al sat in her usual spot, her old eyes looking at me. “So, the light won’t obey you?”

I swallowed hard, “Guess not.”

“That’s an oddity, for a Martis.” There was a long silence, like Al was waiting for me to confess. But I wouldn’t. She finally said, “We all use the light differently, according to our abilities. Eric uses it as a warrior, and others use it to heal. For my kind, the Seyers, we call it into our visions. We can see things that haven’t happened yet. Being able to call light is a safety precaution. It ensures that I don’t get trapped in a vision. The light shields us, and protects us. While I’m uncertain of your abilities at this point, I know that you must be able to do this. If the light won’t come to you—you won’t have that protection, Ivy. That will be dangerous.”

Trying not to squirm, I said, “I’ll practice. I know I can do it.”

“Do you?” she asked. “You really think that the problem was that you didn’t try?”

I backed to the door, ready to leave. “That had to be it. I’ll practice until I get it.” She nodded at me, and I left. I had to perfect something that I couldn’t do. And lying this time wouldn’t fix it.

At the end of the week, Eric told me that Al wanted to talk to me alone. That worked well, because Eric had a meeting. So we agreed to meet up after school. We parted ways, as he took the shorter path to his locker. It was weird, but I felt safe around Eric. I knew it wasn’t real though. As soon as he found out what I was, he’d turn on me.

As I turned the corner, my eyes were fixated on the smooth floor, until I was a few feet from my locker. I shuddered and looked up. Collin’s arms were folded tightly against his chest, accentuating the firm curve of his arms. A dark blue shirt clung to his torso, and he had on his black leather jacket. The leather was well worn. It was his favorite coat.

I stopped, unable to move in the middle of the busy hallway. It was like dropping a rock in the middle of an anthill. Everyone moved around me in swarms. Mixed emotions flooded me. I wanted to see him, but I couldn’t bear the thought of talking to him. I desperately needed a friend. Someone I could trust with everything, but no matter how much I wanted to tell him, I couldn’t. I’d have to do this alone. Swallowing hard, I stepped into the stream of kids, and crossed to my locker. The entire time, Collin’s eyes were intensely focused on me. He ignored those who called him, never shifting his gaze. Shifting his body, he leaned against the next locker, and then gestured for me to come and open mine. I faltered, as my pulse quickened. Reaching for my locker door, I averted my eyes, trying to hurry. I said nothing.

“So, you’re going out with him?” His jaw was clenched, as he asked what everyone naturally assumed. Somewhat confused, I paused, looking at his feet. My head leaned on my locker, as I pressed my eyes closed.

This is what bothered him so much that he broke the silence? It was nothing, but Collin didn’t know that. Eric and I were together every day, during class, after class, at rehearsal, and after. This was the first day I was alone after school. Eric and I talked about it, and though it was best to let others assume we were dating, even though we weren’t. It made life easier, and I needed easier. Collin wasn’t easier. I longed to tell him, and feel the burden of the past few weeks melt away. But I couldn’t. I had to lie. Again.

“Maybe I am,” I lied, looking into my locker. I stood there, seeing nothing, barely moving. The hairs on my neck prickled, as I felt his gaze on my face.

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on the side of my face, with his lips pressed tight. Finally he said, “Or, maybe you’re not.” There was no shift to his stance, and his arms remained tightly locked at his chest. More people walked by, calling out to him, but Collin ignored them completely.

A nervous laugh escaped from me. This was my chance. I could tell him the truth, or part of it anyway. I could say we aren’t dating—that I didn’t like Eric that way. I pushed a curl behind my ear, and turned to him. I was careful to look at his cheek and not his eyes. But, instead of the truth, I uttered the words that would protect me, “Of course we are. Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Collin.” I smirked at him.

He expression was intense, unblinking. “You never touch. He doesn’t hold your hand. I haven’t seen you touch him—at all. That’s a bit odd Ivy.” His eyes were fixated on my chin. He could have taken the information out of my mind, if I looked up. But he didn’t. He waited for me to answer.

I rummaged through my locker, acting like I didn’t care. “Maybe for you it’s odd, but not me. I’m not like that anymore.” Memories of kissing nameless boys surfaced along with the pain I’d tried to contain last year. I pushed the thoughts back down. Shaking my head, I glanced up at him. “I’m not like that anymore.”

His voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible, “Just tell me.” His chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths. His fingers were gripping his arms so hard that they were turning white. It didn’t matter what he asked or what I wanted. I couldn’t tell him. Regret pooled in my stomach, making my lips twist. I bit them gently, to remove the scowl from my face.

I heard myself say, “There’s nothing to tell. I’m not like you. I don’t screw everything on two legs, okay?”

He smiled slightly. It was a cocky boyish grin that I rarely saw on his face. It was the look that said I was right, and that he didn’t mind so much. He earned his reputation before I knew him, and it was general knowledge that he wasn’t a one-girl kind of guy. I thought that was why he let me be last year, when I lost it. The pain of losing someone I loved was unbearable. Drowning it in lust was the only escape I found. His hair slid over his eyes, as he looked at the floor. “No. Not everyone.” His blue eyes cut into me. A shiver spilled down my spine. “Not you.”

“No, not me.” I whispered, heart pounding. I looked down at the books that I had pulled tightly to my chest. Realizing my words sounded a little too remorseful, I smiled softly, “I think that was the first time someone shot you down.”

The corners of his mouth pulled up, and the death grip he had on his arms lessened. “Pretty much. You wouldn’t even look at me. You remember that?” His arms loosened, and slid into his pockets. A smirk crossed my lips. I remembered. The theater kids I hung around with after school had thrust a script into my hands. They made me cover for someone, and banished me to prompt in one of the wings backstage. I sat in the darkened alcove alone, messing up cues, and losing my place in the script. It was mortifying.

Collin exited after his lines, and saw me alone in the darkness. He moved confidently toward me. The pick-up line he used rolled right off of me. I was so flustered about looking like an idiot that I thought he was teasing me. Shock had silenced him when I walked away. At some point I realized it was real—he liked me. But too much time passed, and I wasn’t willing to admit that I’d mistaken his advances as anything but teasing. So, it became a game—a game where he’d say incredible things to convince me to go out with him, and I’d always laugh and say no. The things he said were slightly absurd, which made me laugh. My playful rejections became equally amusing. But that was the past. Why was he bringing this up now? Nodding, I leaned into my locker, looking at his chest. Looking at his eyes was safe, he still wouldn’t hear my thoughts, but if I forgot and touched him he could.

“Enough other girls looked at you. One more didn’t matter.” I shrugged, “Some people are meant to be friends. That’s all.”