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The morning before New Year’s Eve, Ophelia tested her blood glucose level and watched blood bead on her fingertip. She leaned out the bathroom and saw Raven sitting in her tree. “You’re really starting to give me the creeps.”
Raven stretched out his wings and flew away.
She yawned and returned to her blood sugar test. “Still off.” She wiped her finger. “My dad’s dead. My boyfriend’s a freakin’ lunatic.” She shoved her supplies back in their pink vinyl case. “My ex-boyfriend’s a complete psycho. My newest guy-friend has a wicked crush on me, and I don’t know how to not hurt his feelings.” She groaned and filled a glass of water to drink. “I really should do the male gender a favor and plaster a warning label on my forehead.”
A flicker of gold caught her eye as she exited the bathroom, water glass in hand.
Something gold was tucked into the tree outside her window, in between the trunk and branch.
Ophelia set down her glass, walked over, and pushed up her window. She leaned out far enough to grab the gold something. “Brandon’s cuff?” She looked around the icy yard, leaned out again and looked down the road. “Aw, crap, he thinks I hate him now and this is his way of returning it.”
A rustling of bushes across the road drew her attention.
“Brandon? Brandon, you come here right now.”
He stood up and peeked out.
“Come on now. Are you mad at me?”
Brandon started walking. “I could never be angry with you.”
“Sure, you can.” Ophelia rolled her eyes. “Just give it some time.”
His boots crunched in the snow, his unblinking blue eyes fixed on her.
For the first time, she felt something odd about him, a curious sensation, like he hid something underneath all his self-loathing.
“I would never harm you.” Brandon stopped.
“I’ve always known that.” Why does he keep saying that? Ophelia held up the gold cuff. “Why did you give this back to me?”
Brandon’s eyes darted to the tree and back. “I didn’t. I needed to take it off and to put it somewhere safe.”
“Why didn’t you just leave it at home?”
His mouth hung open.
“Who’s your host family, Brandon?”
Brandon pointed down the road. “I...should go now.”
“Oh, Brandon, you’re breaking my heart. I know you’re cold all the time. Are you hungry too?”
Wide-eyed, he visibly trembled.
She was sure he blushed, though she couldn’t tell because of the cold and his pale complexion. He’s homeless and I’m embarrassing him.
“I have a taste for wild game. A friend has been sharing with me.”
Letting go of a tense breath, Ophelia tossed the cuff to him. “Please, stop lurking in the bushes and trees around my house. People are going to think you’re stalking me, and they’re already freaked out about my dad and Martin being a jackass ex-boyfriend. I don’t want you to get in trouble. We’re friends and my mom likes you. So, just visit me the normal way anytime you want. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“All right. Be careful.” Ophelia closed her window. The Langdons would take him in for the rest of the year. Maybe I’d better ask.
“Brandon still stalking you?” Bianca shoved blankets aside, one arm and one leg hanging off her bed, eyes still bleary.
“He’s not stalking me.” Ophelia went to her computer and sat down. “He’s young and alone.”
“Whatever.” Bianca burrowed into her blankets and began to snore almost immediately.
Ophelia turned on her computer, remembering something Adrian had said. Have you considered someone might be tampering with your insulin supply?
“How could someone tamper with my insulin supply without Mom knowing it?” Ophelia Googled ‘insulin degradation.”
“Ophelia.” Mom yelled through the heating vent.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Can you run to the mercantile for milk, bread, and cereal?”
“Give me five minutes. I’m in the middle of something.”
“Okay, baby.”
You do not intoxicate me.
“Why does that keep popping back in my head?” Ophelia tried to remember, but such thoughts were still just coming into focus. The mass of grief within her still shrouded and mangled the circle of clues.
She clicked on a blog entry and read the title. “Heating?”
The blog author had forgotten her diabetic supplies in her car while shopping during the summer. She figured the car interior temperature was up over a hundred twenty degrees Fahrenheit.
“In that case, there would be no obvious tampering.” Ophelia pressed fingers to the space between her eyes. “I need some more Tylenol.”
The screen went blank.
Ophelia leaned forward and hit the troubleshooter program. “Internet provider’s down, great.” She shoved the keyboard away and turned off the computer.
A couple minutes later, she grabbed her coat and pulled it on her way past her mother. “Is there a way to test my insulin for tampering, like to see if someone heated it without our knowing?”
Mom held coffee cup in both hands at the table. “Heated it?” She straightened in her chair. “Yes. It would degrade.”
“Can that be tested?”
“Yes,” whispered Mom, staring at the dark window. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Stress. Grief.” Ophelia pondered in stillness for a second. She laid hand to doorknob. “Internet’s down. I’ll call the company when I get back.”
“It is? I feel like...like our collective neck is in a hangman’s noose and it just keeps cinching tighter.” Mom looked up at her. “Do me a favor and take Kiska with you.”
The husky thumped her tail on the kitchen floor.
“Of course. C’mon, boy.”