TRISTAN

I'd made Savannah cry today.

I'd seen her close to tears before, and red-eyed and red-nosed from crying about Greg Stanwick once just before their breakup. I'd seen her kneeling in the rain as her grandma died, and the drops running down her face probably had been a mixture of rain and tears.

But today, there hadn't been a shred of doubt about what had happened in English lit. Savannah had burst into tears. Because of me.

Which made me the biggest jerk in East Texas.

What was wrong with me lately? I was just so dang ticked off all the time! And nothing seemed to make it go away, not even playing football.

"Tristan?"

"Hmm?" I answered out of habit.

"Have you heard a word I've said?" Bethany's tone finally got my attention. She actually sounded a little irritated.

"Oh. Sorry. What'd you say?"

She said something about costumes.

"Great," I murmured.

Was Ron hugging Savannah now, even kissing her in the library to comfort her? Probably. At least, that's what I would have done. She sure as heck wasn't here in the cafeteria. Where would she be if not in the library with him?

Bethany was rattling on about costumes for the dance, which I'd agreed to take her to. She'd complained about not having a date, and offering to take her had seemed the friendly thing to do.

Last year, Savannah and I had spent days trying to choose costumes that would secretly match each other, teasing and tormenting each other in the process. It was during one of those costume tryouts that I'd first blurted out I love you. Man, I'd been a nervous wreck for a couple of minutes, waiting for her reaction.

And then she'd said those three little words back, looking up at me with that sweet, beautiful smile of hers....

A pause. The silence made me glance at Bethany. She was glaring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"I said that I had our costumes overnighted. So when yours arrives today or tomorrow, could you please remember to try it on and let me know if it fits?"

"Sure," I agreed, taking a long chug of soda.

I glanced across the cafeteria to where Savannah should be sitting with her friends. The empty seat beside Anne was like a punch to the gut.

Anne was laughing about something with the other girls at their table. Must be nice to be that clueless.

How could Anne not know what was going on between her best friend and her ex?

Bethany said something about a game.

"What about the game?" I muttered, staring at that empty seat across the cafeteria.

Bethany huffed, which finally got my attention. I gave her a sheepish smile and she calmed down.

"I asked you if we're still on for you to give me a ride home after the game this Friday," she said.

"Oh. Sure." It was an away game this week, Pine Tree maybe. Whoever it was, we'd have to ride the buses with our teams back to the campus. But from there, Bethany would need a ride home, which I must have offered her at some point earlier in the week.

The bell rang. She smiled and gave me a peck on the cheek goodbye before racing off for her next class.

I walked more slowly to mine. Would it be wrong of me to put an anti-love spell on Sav to make her forget about Ron? Dating him was obviously a sign that she'd lost her mind. Maybe if I broke them up before Anne found out, I could save Sav and Anne's friendship.

I entered the main hall and blew out a long breath. No, I'd better stay out of her mess of a love life. If she wanted to turn all self-destructive with her friendships, there wasn't much I could do about it.

SAVANNAH

Usually I could write off the feeling that everyone was watching me as vampire paranoia. But Wednesday morning at Charmers practice and then again in second period chemistry class, everyone really did seem to be staring at me and whispering. Apparently the grapevine had caught word of my blowup in English lit yesterday. Which meant I would have to work extra hard to tune out everyone for the next few days.

During chem lab, Ron leaned over and murmured, "Is it just me, or does it seem like everyone's talking about us today?"

I shook my head, my jaw clenched. "It's not you. I think they heard about yesterday."

His eyebrows shot up. "And they care because...?"

"Anything having to do with you-know-who seems to interest them. Because obviously they need to get a life." Anger made those last words come out a little louder than I'd intended.

Someone giggled, and the whispers ratcheted up another notch, making me want to cover my ears with my hands. But that would probably only fuel the gossip even more.

Sighing, I said, "Just ignore them. Now what are we not supposed to blow up in here today?"

* * *

By the end of Charmers practice, I was exhausted. It had taken way too much energy to block out thoughts, thanks to the little scene Tristan and I had enacted yesterday in English lit.

I trudged across the parking lot, my Charmers duffel bag banging against my hip hard enough to make my bones rattle, only to discover a very unwelcome visitor waiting for me at my truck.

"Get lost, Williams," I said as I unlocked the driver's side door and tossed in my duffel bag so I wouldn't be tempted to hit Dylan over the head with it instead. I was so not in the mood to deal with him today. And I really didn't appreciate the way he was leaning against my truck as if he owned it.

"Heard about you and Tristan in English yesterday." Rolling off my truck, Dylan tossed his long blond bangs out of his eyes and moved closer to me.

I refused to move back, even though he was definitely in my space now. "Give me a break, Dylan. We were fighting, not getting back together."

"Really? Because what I heard was that you two were creating sparks hot enough to set off a bonfire."

I sighed, and it felt like the last remaining drop of my energy seeped out with it. "What do you want from me? I broke up with him months ago, and we're not going to get back together."

I want you.

I blinked fast several times, sure I'd heard his thought wrong.

He hesitated before replying. "I'm here to warn you. Don't think the Clann's stopped watching you, because we haven't. We know that Tristan's coming around the Charmers practices again. And we know about your ability to lure victims in with those freaky eyes of yours." I noticed he was extra careful not to make eye contact with me, his gaze hovering somewhere in the vicinity of my mouth instead.

His fear of being gaze dazed would have been amusing if his warning wasn't so dang annoying. "Well, if you're really doing such a good job as the Clann's little spy, then you should already know that the only reason Tristan's at Charmers practices lately is to pick up and drop off Bethany Brookes."

"Maybe. Or maybe that's just an excuse to see you again."

The door between us groaned, and I realized I needed to ease up on my grip. "Or maybe you're just paranoid and delusional. Tristan hates me now thanks to you and your stupid Clann."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Do you really expect any of us to believe that scene you two clearly staged?"

Now he was just boring me. "This argument's getting old. I'm going home now, Williams. Nice chatting with you again, as always." I slid behind the wheel of my truck.

He smiled, peering at me through his bangs. "Have a safe trip home." Turning away, he strolled toward the back parking lot, where I could only hope someone would run over him with their car.

Seconds later, a black muscle car came tearing around from the back parking lot. It screeched to a halt beside me, sliding a bit on the asphalt. The driver's side window was already rolled down, revealing a panicked-looking Ron.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked as he threw the car into Park and got out.

"Uh, yeah, why?" I could not wait to get home. I was going to take the longest, hottest shower on the planet, put on my softest, comfiest nightgown, maybe do some homework in bed, and then sleep like the dead.

I slid the key into the ignition.

"I heard Dylan was going to do something to make sure you and Tristan weren't working out your issues, or something like that."

I waved a hand in the air. "I'm fine."

Then I turned the key to start my truck.

Nothing. Not even the stutter of a dead battery. I tried again, then rested my forehead against the wheel. "Great. Now my truck won't start."

"Pop the hood."

I pulled the release for the hood. It popped up a couple of inches, and Ron hit the catch underneath to raise it the rest of the way. I was tempted to get out and look for myself, but I was exhausted and it would be wasted effort anyways. I didn't know the first thing about engines.

"Uh, I think I see the problem," Ron said.

"Yeah? Is it fixable with some duct tape and baling wire?" Anne was always joking about the southern male's top two tools of choice.

"Even a mechanic with a shop full of tools couldn't fix your truck, at least not without a heck of a lot of replacement parts. Come and see for yourself."

Sighing, I got out of the truck. As soon as I got within sight of the exposed engine, I could see the problem, too.

My engine was a colorful rainbow of melted red, blue, white and green everywhere. "Uh, is that normal? Because I don't remember it looking this...rainbowlicious the last time Dad and I took it in for an oil change."

"No, this is definitely not normal. All the wiring has been melted."

Huh? In October? Even East Texas wasn't that hot in the fall.

"Now how the heck did that..." Oh. Of course. My stomach sank. "Dylan."

"Yep, probably so. Looks like he melted every wire in your truck."

I sniffed the air, realizing it smelled pretty awful, too. I'd been too tired and focused on getting rid of Dylan to notice it earlier.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride home." Ron folded down the rod and let the hood drop with a crash that made me jump. "I hate to say it, but you're probably going to need a new vehicle."

"Seriously?" It came out as a squeak. "Can't the wiring be replaced?"

"Well, I guess it could. But I help out at my uncle's shop in Palestine on weekends sometimes, and for something like this, he'd usually say it would cost more to put in a whole new electrical system than it would to just buy another used car. Especially this one." He glanced at me. "No offense."

"None taken. My parents got it for me last year for my sixteenth birthday. Mom couldn't afford much, and she wouldn't let Dad spend much on it, either."

But it had been a good little truck, dependable, always starting rain or shine. It had never once had a problem. Until Dylan murdered it.

Teeth clenched, I leaned across the seat, grabbed my bags, then shut the door. As I got into the front passenger seat of Ron's car, I tried not to stare at my destroyed truck. But as we pulled away, I couldn't help but watch it shrink from view in the side mirror.

"I can't believe he did that," I said as Ron navigated us through the neighborhoods that bordered the JHS campus. "How did you know what Dylan was planning?"

"I didn't. I mean, I didn't know exactly what he was going to do, just that he was going to do something. I'm sorry I didn't get there in time. Coach Parker made me run lines because I wasn't paying enough attention in practice. Otherwise I would've gotten there sooner, maybe early enough to stop him. Did he do anything else?" He gave me a nervous sideways glance.

"No, just harassed me with some paranoid crap about my trying to get back with Tristan."

And I was going to try and forget the part where I thought I heard him think that he wanted me. Just the idea made me shudder.

"So, where to?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Home," I said on a sigh.

I gave him directions, then leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

A few minutes later, I felt the car jerk to a stop.

"Looks like someone's having a party," Ron muttered.

I raised my head and opened my eyes. My driveway was filled with familiar cars and trucks and one large RV. Not only had my mom come to visit for the first time, but it looked like Anne, Carrie and Michelle had all decided to stop by my house for the first time ever, too. What the heck?

And then it clicked. "Oh my lord. I actually forgot my own birthday."

"It's your birthday today?" Ron asked, his eyebrows raised.

I nodded. With all the chaos and mess going on, I'd completely forgotten what day of the month today was. As of 4:22 p.m. this afternoon, I was seventeen.

And apparently everyone had decided to throw me a party.

My first reaction was, Awww, that's so sweet of them! I'd never had a surprise birthday party before.

And then I felt the tightness in my shoulders and neck and realized how dog-tired I was. After battling not to hear the riled-up grapevine's thoughts about me and Tristan all day, on top of the dead truck, all I wanted was to crawl up the stairs to my room and fall into bed. Trying to force a smile and act happy for a whole bunch of people was the last thing I felt like doing. Everyone inside that house genuinely cared about me. They always knew in an instant when I faked a smile. They were all the people in my life whom I loved and cared about, the ones I didn't want to hurt or upset.

And no matter how tired I was, how little I felt like being at a party right now, this was my house and I wouldn't be able to make my apologies and escape early like I might have if this were a public place.

On top of that, my mom and dad would be in the same room together again for the first time since Nanna's death, which would be awkward as always while they less-than-subtly forced themselves to be polite and get along with each other for their daughter's sake.

And it would be my first birthday without Nanna around.

"Well, hey, happy birthday!"

"Thanks. And thanks for the ride home." I opened the passenger door, started to get out, then froze with one foot on the curb. Ron was my friend now, too. He would be hurt if I didn't invite him in.

But Anne was in there, and she definitely wouldn't be happy to be stuck at a party with Ron.

Oh please stake me now.

Anne might take care of that for me later after she saw who I'd just brought home.

"Want to come inside? I'm sure there will be plenty of cake and pizza to go around." I looked back over my shoulder.

He was staring at her truck. "I probably shouldn't."

I took a deep breath. "Yeah, you should. Anne can get over it. She told me she broke up with you and you didn't really do anything wrong. She knows we're friends. And it's my birthday, not hers. I should be allowed to have all my friends at my own dang party."

Ron blinked a few times, eyebrows raised. "Well, since you put it like that."

We both got out of the car and headed across the lawn for the porch.

At the front door, I paused, took a deep breath to brace myself for the next few hours, plastered on a smile and checked my reflection in the stained glass. Party mask in place? Check.

"Here we go," I muttered. Then I opened the door to an explosion of "happy birthday!" and hooting on party horns.

Someone hit the play button on the stereo's remote in the newly refinished living room to our left, cuing the beginning drumbeat of "We Are Young."

"You guys!" I shouted over the sound, my smile a little easier to hold in place. "Aww, you shouldn't have!"

Anne was tooting on a horn when she saw Ron enter the foyer after me. She stared at him, her horn blast dying away like the air escaping an inflated, untied balloon set free.

"I had a little car trouble," I explained to everyone. "Ron was nice enough to give me a ride home."

Sorry, I silently mouthed to Anne when her gaze finally darted back to me.

She looked at him again. Then her chin rose. "Well, that sucks. About your truck, I mean. But hey, we've got cake and presents, so it's all good, right?"

"You poor baby," Mom said, squeezing through the tightly packed foyer until she'd reached my side for a hug. "And on your birthday, too!"

Thank you, I mouthed to Anne as Mom dragged me past my friends and dad to the kitchen, which had been decorated with huge draping swoops of curled crepe paper, hologram foil Happy Birthday banners, and balloons taped to every vertical surface imaginable, including the brand-new cabinets' handles.

In the center of the built-in banquet, which Dad had custom built to fit in the corner of the now-cavernous kitchen, sat the strangest birthday cake I'd ever seen. If you could even call it a cake.

Mom used a long fireplace lighter to light its precariously placed candles, which were in the shape of a one and a seven and in true danger of falling off the back side.

"It's a fruit Jell-O mold!" Michelle said with a grin, her hands waving artfully around the wiggling, whip-cream-frosted mass as if she were a game show girl displaying a prize.

I looked at Michelle, unable to stop a blank face of confusion from forming. Fruit Jell-O?

"You know, since you liked the fruit dessert at Anne's party," Michelle added, her eyebrows pinching with worry.

Standing behind her, Anne and Carrie both pointed silent fingers at Michelle's back. Anne mouthed, "Sorry, we couldn't stop her."

I had to press my lips together to stop a laugh from slipping out so Michelle wouldn't think I was laughing at her. When the urge had safely passed, I gave Michelle the first fully genuine smile I'd managed to make all day. "Thank you so much. This is brilliant!"

Even if I still couldn't eat it, just the idea that Michelle cared enough to try and make a unique cake I might like brought quick tears to my eyes.

"Aww, don't cry, Sav." Michelle circled the table to give me a sideways squeeze. "I promise it only took me like an hour last night to make it. But we should probably sing Happy Birthday quick before the heat of the candles melts it."

Everyone took that as their cue to start singing at the top of their lungs.

Standing in the back corner of the room by the kitchen cabinets, Dad watched me with a funny twitching smile, as if trying not to laugh. I didn't want to see the humor in this mess of a birthday party for a half vamp who probably couldn't even age. But laughter bubbled up out of me all the same.

Maybe a party was what I needed after all.

When the song ended, Michelle said, "Hurry, make a wish!"

And that's when the brief moment of happiness came sinking back down.

I knew exactly what I wanted.

I wanted to be with Tristan again, but for it to be okay. To be openly dating him, no secrecy or hiding how we felt. Walking together in the halls between classes. Holding hands. Kissing in public. Going out to eat together without cowering in a corner booth and praying the entire time that no one would recognize us.

And I wanted Nanna to be alive again.

I couldn't have any of that. So what was the point in wishing for it?

Closing my eyes, I blew out the candles without making any wish at all.