"Temper, temper."

"Pot, meet kettle. Where's the minibar?"

I pointed to the other side of the room.

"Fetch me something?"

"Fetch yourself."

Samuel L. Jackson was reciting the last bit of his Ezekiel 25:17 monologue on the flatscreen TV: "And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers."

Jamie blocked my view. "You didn't take it, I'm guessing?"

"Take what?" I asked, watching John Travolta and Sammy empty their clips into that sad guy.

"The, uh, test."

"The-oh." The pregnancy test. Before I could even answer, Jamie's focus was diverted.

"Oh, hello there." Jamie tossed a little black cardboard box at me just as Samuel was saying, "And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."

I caught it even though I wasn't looking, and turned the box over. "What is this?"

"It's, like, a sex kit." Jamie ripped open a bag of Skittles and tossed a handful into his mouth.

I threw the box back at him. "You're more likely to need this than me."

"Since you're incubating an alien fetus, you mean?"

"There. Is. No. Fetus. And I'm a virgin. Still. Which I believe I've told you already. Several times."

"I don't think Stella believes you," Jamie said. "And I can't entirely blame her. It strains credulity to imagine Noah could avoid such temptation."

"You're not funny."

"Yes I am. You just have a crappy sense of humor. God, only you could manage to get pregnant without even getting to have sex first."

"My life does seem to be uniquely shitty lately."

"I'll give you that," Jamie said. "But really, though-why haven't you done it yet?"

The best defense is a good offense. "Why haven't you done it yet?"

"I'm saving myself for marriage," Jamie said, chewing openmouthed.

"Really?"

"Yes. Probably. Maybe. I don't know. We're not talking about me. Did you- I mean, do you want to? Have sex with Noah? Current predicament aside?"

I noticed Jamie's switch from past tense to present, but ignored it. "Of course," I said quietly.

"So what stopped you? Current predicament aside."

I wondered how to explain what had kept me and Noah apart even before Horizons. What I was afraid I might have done to him. What the fortune-teller had told me and what part of me still believed.

"I was afraid . . . I'd hurt him."

Jamie quirked an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"Ha-ha, hilarious."

"Seriously, though. You can tell me."

I was embarrassed, putting the kissing conundrum into words, worrying Jamie might think I was crazier than I actually was, which, given the circumstances. But he listened intently, and didn't mock me when I was finished.

"You think it's just kissing?"

"I don't know. I mean, I've kissed Noah before, obviously-"

"Obviously. He could never be that much of a saint."

I ignored him. "And we did notice that something-happened. I think maybe it's connected to my emotional state or whatever-like, I don't know if it would happen with just a peck on the cheek, because-"

"Because there's no intensity."

"Right."

"So you could probably kiss me or Stella and nothing would happen."

"Stella would think I was trying to bite her. She'd mace me."

Jamie cracked a grin. "God, that's so accurate. It makes sense, though, the kissing thing? Like, if you stray out of your stable emotional range, something changes with your ability. Excess energy or something."

"So a peck on the cheek wouldn't do anything," I said.

"Probably not."

I planted a kamikaze kiss on Jamie's cheek.

"FUCK," he shouted, wiping it off. "What if you killed me!" He threw a Skittle at my face. It hit my forehead.

"Ow!"

"Taste the rainbow, bitch."

"Don't be a baby."

"I am going to be a baby. I am going to lock myself in the bathroom and cry now, in fact." Jamie did go into the bathroom, and he did lock the door. Whether he cried, who knows.

I heard the toilet flush and the water run, and when he opened the door, he said, "I left something on the counter for you."

"I'm . . . afraid to ask."

"You really should take it."

"Are we talking about the pregnancy test again? Because, no."

"Whatever the result is, you have to know. We'll figure it out, but we can't pretend this isn't happening."

"I will admit to deriving a positive psychological benefit from your using the word 'we.'"

"Positive psychological benefit intended."

I wanted to argue with him, but I couldn't really. Jamie was right. If it was negative, I was like this for some other reason, and nothing changed. But if it was positive . . .

If it was positive, everything changed.

"Don't even think about it," Jamie said, popping another Skittle into his mouth. "If you think about it, you'll change your mind. Like you said, you're probably not . . . you know. But won't it be a relief to know?"

Yes. It would be.

He turned around and not so gently pushed me into the bathroom. "Like ripping off a Band-Aid," he said, closing the door behind me. "Just pee."

I looked at the box. Jamie had already opened it, and the instructions were lying next to it, by the sink. I read them. Plus sign for positive, minus for negative. Easy enough. I ripped open the package and sat on the toilet. I could practically hear him outside the door, breathing.

I felt like a defendant, waiting for the jury to hand down its verdict. Seconds passed, or maybe minutes, before someone knocked on the bathroom door.

"I don't hear peeing," Jamie said mockingly.

"Eat me," I muttered.

"What's that?"

"Leave me," I said louder. My voice was hoarse, and my bladder was shy. Or something. I couldn't do it, not with him listening. I said so and told Jamie to leave. To my surprise, he did.

And then I did. I quickly put the test on the edge of the vanity. I felt sick just looking at it, felt the urge to run. I could run. I could run out of the room, run out of the hotel, lie to Stella and Jamie and myself, never mention it again.

But my mother always said that the truth will catch up with you eventually. It always does.

So I forced my eyes shut and reached for it. On the count of three, I swore to myself that I would look.

One.

Two.

I opened my eyes.

It was negative.

28.

I TOLD THEM ON THE way to the train station in DC. Stella, who had been ignoring me for nearly the entire cab ride, actually broke into a grin. "Don't you feel so much better?"

I did and didn't. My mind could now finally let go of the ugliest, scariest possibility, that something had been done to me while I'd been at Horizons that could have gotten me pregnant. My mind shied away from the word "rape," but I didn't know what else it could've been. But it didn't matter now. I could finally let myself feel relief.

It was short lived, however. I got sick in the cab, opening the door at a red light to throw up in the street. The driver freaked out.

I might not have been pregnant, but I was sick. With what, I didn't know. Or maybe I did know-maybe this was just the gene. Maybe something made me different from Stella and Jamie, and it would just have to run its course.

It wasn't a pleasant thought, and I felt shaky as we followed Jamie up to the ticket counter. Whatever was happening to me was happening quickly, and we needed to get to New York faster than we could drive there.

"Three tickets to New York," he said. "One way."

The train was clotted with people, and we had to walk through a thousand cars before we could find seats even remotely close to one another. I stumbled twice. Jamie caught me both times.

When we finally found seats, I practically collapsed into mine. I was shaking. I crossed my arms to make it less obvious. It didn't work.

"Cold?" Jamie asked from across the aisle.

I wasn't, but I said I was anyway, because that made more sense than the truth. "Be right back," he said as he stood up. "Watch my stuff?" I nodded, then leaned my head against the glass. People swarmed the platform, trying to make it on board before the train pulled away. I watched them, hypnotized, letting my vision blur out of focus, until something snapped it back.

No. Not something. Someone.

A man stood out in the crowd. Not because of what he looked like, or what he wore, but because I knew him.

Abel Lukumi watched the train pull out of the station, wearing the same dark suit he had worn when I'd seen him at the hospital, after Jude had made me slit my wrists. The same suit he'd worn in Little Havana, when he'd slaughtered a chicken and had me drink its blood. My lips parted to speak or scream, but by the time Jamie came back, he was gone.

I stared out the window for seconds, or hours maybe, as people stood up, sat down, moved around the car. What did he want? Why was he following me?

I didn't know what to do or say to Jamie and Stella. They didn't really know about Lukumi; they wouldn't understand. Noah would, but he wasn't there.

"You're sweating," Stella said as she slipped into the seat beside me.

I was. I was shivering, too.

"Do you have a fever?"

I shrugged.

Her expression softened. "Try to rest, if you can?"