The Truth About Why Owen Hates Me
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I'm all hyped up inside. I can't turn away from Owen, but I don't know what to say or do. I'm afraid to believe he might really like me, but he's confusing. Like he wants to say one thing, but he's being forced to say another.
I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "I need to call my parents." Once again, epic coolness on my part.
He rubs his eyes. "Don't worry about it. I called them."
"Wha-what?" He nods and I stare at him. "What did you say?"
"I told them there was a library sleepover for some elementary school and you'd forgotten you were helping to chaperone. They haven't missed you. Yet."
"I need to talk to them. I need—"
Owen shakes his head. "They'll panic. They'll try and search for you. He'll find them. They're safe. For now."
At least, Mom and Dad aren't in freak-out mode. I can't say as much for Shaz. We call one another at least ten times a day. I’ve never gone this long without texting her—even on vacation. She’s probably spazzing. "Thanks. I mean, that was thoughtful."
"Don't sound so surprised. I guess you don't think I can be thoughtful?" A wry smile tugs at his lips, but it's erased by a slow yawn.
"Are you okay? I mean, you seem really worn out."
He shrugs.
"Is it the poison?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Nah. When I destroy any of Balen's people, well, I'm half-human. So that means it beats the crap out of me. Slowing them down doesn't take as much energy."
I clutch the blanket tighter. "So, how old are you?"
"Seventeen, two months older than you."
“And you’re not fully human.”
“Everything about me is human—I just have these abilities." He picks up my glass of water and blows on it. It begins to freeze before my eyes, though not all the way. He offers it to me. "Here you go. That's why you didn't drink more of this, right? It was too warm."
My face burns. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I didn't want to be—"
"You didn't want to be rude and refuse it. I understand." He presses the drink into my hand.
"How did you know?" I ask.
"I've been watching you a long time, Jem. And not just since yesterday. Always worried about other people. Always trying to do the right thing. Except where your art is concerned. You don't mind crossing boundaries there." He winks.
Oh, crap. Does he know about Milford's junk? I'm suddenly thirsty. I sip the water. It's perfect this time. Cold, but not entirely frozen. I chase it with a couple of the ibuprofen.
"Balen usually targets children who are alone, usually girls in abusive situations. It's easier for him to convince them they're better off with a new life. Your parents are good to you, though?"
"Mom and Dad are great."
"Then why were you drawn to him?"
"I wanted to help him. I used to leave care packages for him. Food, blankets, stuff like that. So he wouldn't feel alone."
"You what?" Owen's eyes widen. "Why?"
"What would you have done? Here's this little boy in the woods—about my age. He looked lost, scared. I just wanted to help him, to be his friend. I've always had a thing for helping wounded animals, I guess it extended to people."
"Like Molly." Owen's voice is even, but there's an edge telling me he knows about her parents hitting her.
"Yeah. Like Molly."
He slips his fingers along mine. It's as if my entire body is tuned into a single set of nerve endings. The points where Owen's skin meets mine crackle with electricity, sending a pool of heat to my belly.
"My parents were freaking out after she disappeared. All the blood in those woods where we used to play. We put our house up for sale the next day." I finish the water, setting the glass on the table. "So how many of there are you?"
Owen rests his head back against the sofa, his eyes shifting in the direction of the mantle over the fireplace. There are pictures there, dozens of them. I don't know why I didn't notice before. Owen actually seems to be smiling in some of them. Everyone in the family had the same haunting blue eyes as Owen. Eyes that led me to first mistake Owen for Balen.
"There used to be dozens of us, but..." He stands, taking all of his warmth with him. "My parents were too late to save Molly. She didn't make it." His foot thumps on the wood floor. Is he burning off energy or does he want this conversation to be over? "Neither did they."
I shake my head, but it suddenly all makes sense. The quiet in this house, the lack of furniture. "Owen, I—"
"It’s just me now. My Grandparents died a couple of months ago, but my parents, aunt, and uncle died the day Balen took Molly. They died saving you. I guess that's why I grew up hating you." He closes his eyes.
Ice creeps over my skin. Owen's family died trying to save Molly and me.
It's kind of hard to make a comeback from something like that.