Sidetracked: Part 1 Read online

  “Alright. Fine. If you can turn into a cat, prove it.”

  His smile grows uneasy.

  “I dare you.”

  He clears his throat, his eyes narrow. “Very well. I accept, but only because you remain so unconvinced.”

  I take a step back as his smile fades. He crosses his arms, parodying my belligerent stance. Our eyes meet, but, rather than looking either uncomfortable or smug, he now appears bored out of his mind. He lets out a deep, disinterested sigh, and then he’s gone.

  No, he’s not gone.

  This is impossible.

  People cannot turn into cats!

  I blink and rub my eyes, but I’m still met with an unobstructed view of the window behind the desk. Ice is no longer standing there. I stare at the strip of clear blue sky and the top of a tall privacy fence on the far side of the backyard for a few seconds. When I finally glance down, a white cat stands on the cream carpet in front of the leather desk chair.

  The cat jumps up onto the desk and turns back to reveal striking, electric-blue eyes. The eyes are feline with slit pupils in the well-lit bedroom, but they’re unmistakably Ice’s.

  “Done,” his voice says. “Are you satisfied?”

  “You can talk?” I squeak.

  “Of course, I can talk. Why wouldn’t I be able to talk?”

  The cat’s mouth doesn’t open to speak, but it’s somehow still obvious where the voice came from. I can’t quite comprehend it. Any of it. The fancy dinner. Shapeshifters. Talking cats.

  Something bothers me, though...

  I study Ice’s feline form more carefully as he sits on the desk. One ear flicks, and he curls his fluffy tail over his paws.

  My hands fall to my sides.

  Something else...

  Oh.

  Oh...

  “I recognize you,” I cry, pointing at him. He glances away, but I don’t back down. “You were there—outside my house—the day I met you at Bargain Shop.”

  Well...

  Surely, there are a lot of fluffy white cats with bright blue eyes in Riverview. Am I being presumptuous again? Jumping to conclusions?

  “I mean... That was you, wasn’t it?”

  His gaze returns to my face. Feline eyes blink slowly.

  “You are correct,” he says. “I was there.”

  My mind buzzes with concerns—many, many concerns of varying severity—but I offer a solemn nod and return to sitting on the edge of his unreasonably soft bed.

  “But why?” I ask. “How long have you been watching me?”

  He maintains unblinking eye contact, though he shifts his weight and flicks his ear again. This seemingly dismissive gesture only makes me more frustrated.

  “Answer me, Ice.”

  The fear of betrayal stings, but I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don’t want to believe he’s been screwing with me this whole time. After all, he’s been nothing but kind and patient since we met. Even after sharing his secret and being called out, he doesn’t seem angry.

  “I suppose you deserve an explanation,” he agrees. “The why is simple; I was bored and felt like being there. As for how long? I believe I first saw you only a week or so before I decided to meet you in person.”

  Decided? Ha...

  “I—”

  How am I supposed to respond? He denied nothing. He openly confessed to stalking me and made no excuses for himself. He even admitted, albeit in a roundabout way, that he orchestrated our initial meeting.

  I don’t... How am I supposed to feel?

  He sighs, his fluffy shoulders dipping. “If it’s any consolation, I never intended on sharing this secret with you when we first met. As you can see, I’ve since changed my mind, though humans aren’t meant to know of our existence.”

  What is he trying to prove by saying that?

  I’m still struggling to put the pieces together. A few things make more sense; others make less. I don’t know where to begin. I’m confused. A little nervous. A little hurt.

  To make matters worse, Ice’s expressions and posture are more difficult to read as a cat. His large feline eyes are narrowed, and his ears are angled ever so slightly backward, but I don’t know the first thing about feline body language or if immortals have the same habits as normal cats.

  I am totally lost.

  “Are you angry with me?” he asks.

  Am I—?

  “Somehow...” I honestly want to be angry. I have every right to be pissed off about the whole thing, but— My hands fall into my lap. “No. I’m not angry.”

  His ears perk up. “Is that so?”

  “Angry isn’t the word I’d use. I’m just...annoyed that you hid it from me. I guess.”

  “Hid what from you, exactly?” he asks. “The fact I stalked you or that I’m not human?”

  “Both,” I say, my aforementioned annoyance slipping through.

  He laughs and returns to human form, sitting on the edge of his desk. Then he drops to the floor, smooths a crease in his shirt, and meets my gaze. Looking him over again, I freeze, as he’s now sporting a t-shirt and jeans instead of the semi-formal ensemble he wore before...shapeshifting?

  Is that the right word?

  “How did you do that?” I ask.

  “Do what?”

  His eyes are wide like I caught him off guard, so I point at his shirt. He glances down, clearly puzzled, and his face remains blank as he looks up again.

  “My clothing, you mean?” he asks, also pointing to his shirt.

  I nod.

  There’s a short pause, after which he cracks. He hides his face in his hands and throws his head back, howling in laughter as though my confusion is completely unfounded.

  I frown, watching with antsy patience.

  As he recovers from his fit of hysteria, he wipes an imaginary tear from his eye and smiles. “I apologize if I startled you. This is second nature for me.”

  I listen, feeling like my brain might turn to mush as he speaks, but it seems as though he can turn into a cat and change his clothes in the process? It’s some kind of immortal power. Okay... That’s fine. I’ll just pretend it makes sense.

  “Can all immortals do that?”

  Without allowing time for him to answer, I ask if Night and Smoke are immortals too. He looks offended that I cut him off again, but he simply sighs.

  “Yes,” he says. “Of course, the twins—and our parents—are immortals as well. That said, the answer to your first question is a resounding no.”

  “Are you special or something?”

  He glances around the room for a moment, scratching his jaw and shifting his weight. Then he shrugs. “Not particularly.”

  “Oh.”

  He must think I’m terribly stupid.

  “That’s alright,” he says with a smile, “but it is getting late. You should go home.”

  The frustration that has worn at me all evening finally overflows, and I stand from the bed. “No way. I want to know more about you—and about immortals too.”

  “I shouldn’t say any more tonight. Now that I’ve told you this much, you need to decide whether you want to involve yourself further or if you’d rather return to living your life as it was before. You are human, after all, so you can’t have it both ways.”

  That’s ridiculous!

  “Of course, I—”

  “I am not simply referring to myself, Jayde,” he says, a flash of warning in his eyes. I bite my tongue. “Choosing to involve yourself with immortals is a matter of legality and social status. We could both end up in serious trouble if we’re not careful. This secret isn’t something you can take lightly.”

  Legality? Social status? Serious trouble?

  It does sound complicated, but how could he possibly think I wouldn’t want to hear more? His secret is life-changing. Even if I refuse to get involved, or whatever, it’s not like I can forget there’s an entire race of shapeshifters living alongside humans.

  “I don’t get it,” I admit. “You won’t
explain anything now?”

  He smiles apologetically. “I’m sure you have questions, but there is a certain protocol I must follow, and these things take time. Do you understand?”

  If there’s no other option...

  “Fine,” I agree. “When can you tell me more?”

  “That’s the spirit.” He flashes a grin, sounding a bit too cheery and self-assured. “I’ll drop by your place in a few days—Thursday, perhaps—and we can discuss the matter in more detail then.”

  “Okay. That’s fine. I guess.”

  Begrudgingly, I slip my feet back into my heels.

  “Night knows you’re here,” he says. “She can take you home. I’d offer myself, but I have a lot to consider as well.”

  Do you?

  What does he mean? What does getting further involved with immortals entail, exactly? What would it change?

  Even as he leads me out into the hallway, I can’t understand why he shared this part of himself with me. He’s only in Riverview for the summer. He’s leaving in September, and immortals are a secret. Humans aren’t supposed to know, and, if he hadn’t brought it up, I never would have. I never would have found out about shapeshifters or his feline form—or the stalking. Surely, he realized I might recognize him. I could have cut him off right there and demanded to go home.

  Why risk telling me?

  He waves goodbye, closes himself in his bedroom, and leaves me alone with my thoughts in the empty hallway.

  Does he even like me? We’ve gone on several dates, and now this, but I still can’t tell. How annoying.

  When I go to knock on Night’s bedroom door, I hesitate with my hand hovering inches away. But the door opens anyway. Her expression is soft and not unkind, but she looks uneasy.

  I force a smile, trying to suppress my own nervous energy.

  “Ice said you could take me home. Is that okay?”

  She nods, a beaded keychain held in one hand. “Let’s go.”

  Wordlessly, I follow her to the front of the house.

  We walk down the stone path from the front door to the curb, where her blue sedan is parked. I take the passenger seat. The car starts, and she’s driving, and neither of us say anything. Her lips form a soft frown, and her focused eyes scan the road ahead.

  Should I ask about immortals?

  Would she tell me anything?

  I don’t want to go behind Ice’s back. I’m sure he has a good reason to wait before he answers more questions—something about protocol or rules or whatever—but Night is also an immortal. It’s tempting.

  After a few minutes, a soft sigh from the driver’s seat breaks the silence.

  “He told you, didn’t he?”

  “Aah—” I hold my hands close to my chest, averting my gaze for an instant. “About immortals? Yeah, he did.”

  Her grip on the steering wheel tightens, but her face remains passive. “What do you think about it all? Knowing we’re different from you?”

  “Are you guys really that different?”

  She sighs again. “He hasn’t explained a thing, has he?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “I told Ice he shouldn’t drag you into our world, but he hates taking my advice. As usual. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Is it bad that I know?”

  “Bad?” Her eyes remain fixed on the road for some time before she casts a cryptic glance in my direction. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say it’s bad, but don’t you think it would be better if you didn’t? Wouldn’t life be easier if you didn’t have this secret you must now keep from everyone you know? Your family? Your friends?”

  The dark flash in her eyes sends a shiver down my spine even though I don’t understand the meaning behind it.

  “Maybe,” I agree, messing with my bracelet. “Maybe it would be easier, but I can’t forget what I’ve already heard.”

  “What happens next is up to you—both you and Ice,” she says. Her frown is pensive. Disappointed. “Your decision is your own, Jayde. No one can stop you, but at least try to give it more thought than he did.”

  twelve

  AFTER A DAY AND A HALF, I’m on the verge of tearing my hair out.

  Immortals aren’t simply humans who happen to turn into cats. I’m not stupid. There’s more to the mystery, but no amount of prodding gets me any closer to a real answer. Night added me as a friend on FaceSpace, but she hasn’t responded to a single message I sent her, and Ice carefully evaded every question I asked over the phone yesterday. He hasn’t even replied to my most recent text—and it had nothing to do with his secret.

  They both expect me to make up my mind without knowing the first thing about what I’m getting myself into.

  It’s not fair, but I can’t dig up any information on my own either. An internet search on “immortals” brings up nothing but literature and mythology regarding literal, undying immortals. It’s a dead end.

  Still, I guess it can’t hurt to try again?

  It’s not like I have anything better to do, so I head upstairs and sit at my desk.

  With some determined and creative Googling, I find a series of lengthy forum threads on cryptozoology, government conspiracy theories, and the paranormal. It’s all fascinating, sure, but I spent three, long hours scouring the weird part of the internet, and I failed to uncover a single mention of immortals or human-feline shapeshifters in the correct context.

  Hm...

  Is there a reason I can’t find anything online?

  Switching tactics, I open FaceSpace.

  I study Night’s profile and scroll down her timeline going back several weeks, but neither her About Me nor any of her posts even vaguely hint at the existence of immortals. No subtle mention of cats. No pictures of cats. Nothing suspicious at all. It’s the same as scrolling down any other young woman’s FaceSpace page. She shares pictures of her daily outfits, headbows she made herself, and artistic shots of flowers, interspersed by reflective statements and posts about going out with friends—usually accompanied by fun group selfies.

  I pause on a candid photo of Smoke from a couple months ago with the caption “it went outside and SMILED.” The resulting comment thread between the twins and two of Night’s friends makes me laugh, but it’s hardly revealing.

  Immortals are a well-kept secret, but there must be something.

  Out of ideas, I expand Night’s friend list. Wow. She has over five hundred friends, but we have zero mutuals.

  Scrolling slowly, I scrutinize the physical features of a few dozen people before it occurs to me that none of them have brown eyes. I keep scrolling, focused on the eyes in profile photos, and the trend continues.

  I guess brown eyes aren’t that common, but for none of her friends to have them? No grey or hazel either... Around half her friends have blue or pale violet eyes. Some have warm, golden eyes—a color similar to light brown but not brown or hazel. And others have green eyes. There are a few slight variations, but they all appear to have one of those four eye colors.

  It’s not much, but I assume most, if not all, of her friends are immortals. It makes sense since they’re such a big secret. There’s less risk of spilling it that way. But, after an hour spent creeping on FaceSpace, I’ve learned only one thing for certain:

  Immortals are incredibly attractive.

  Awesome.

  Even if my eye color theory isn’t a coincidence, it’s nothing groundbreaking. Though, if I’m right, there must be hundreds or thousands of immortals in Riverview alone. Seems like they’re not rare, after all.

  I rub my tired eyes, close my laptop, and realize the sky outside is growing dark. I haven’t moved from my desk since lunch.

  I stretch my limbs and embark on a house-wide search for my phone, which I eventually find downstairs, on the bookcase next to the TV. There’s one missed call from Rose. From like three hours ago.

  Ugh... I was so in the zone, I didn’t hear the phone ring.

  Hey! So
rry, I was distracted.

  You still up?

  As I stare at the screen, a pit grows in my stomach.

  She knows about my fancy dinner date with Ice, but I lied when she asked how it went. She thinks we ate dinner at an uncomfortably upscale restaurant and hung out at his house for a few minutes before he dropped me off at home. She thinks I had a pleasant but slightly underwhelming time.

  I can’t tell her he literally isn’t human. God forbid I break the rules and have an assassin sent after me—or whatever happens when you disclose the world’s most important secret without express permission.

  I’m losing control of my life.

  My phone rings, startling me. Of course, it’s Rose.

  Well, here goes nothing...

  “Hey,” I say, trying to sound normal and failing.

  “You sound like shit.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. How are you?”

  I tap speakerphone, set my phone on the arm of the couch, and get more comfortable. Once I’m warmly nestled between the couch cushions and a throw blanket, I feel a bit better.

  “I’m fine,” she says, “but you’ve been busy, haven’t you? Have you seen your hot boyfriend since the hot dinner date?”

  I groan. “Not yet—and he is not my boyfriend.”

  “So you say.”

  “Do we have to talk about him?”

  “Oh, come on,” she whines, but I can imagine the stupid smile on her face. “It’s not like you have anything else fun going on right now, so what’s up? How are things with you two?”

  “Things have certainly been going,” I say.

  “Good? Bad? He’s rich and hot, right? You described him as my dream guy.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s not why I like him.”

  “But you do like him?”

  “What is this? Twenty Questions?”

  She laughs. “I’m just saying, Jay. If this Ice character really is my dream guy, he’s either screwing with you because he pegged you as a squirrelly virgin—in which case, he’s not wrong—or he’s looking for an easy summer armpiece. You know that, right?”

  “Ugh. Can we not go there? Besides, I already told you he goes to Stanford, and it’s nothing serious.”