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out with me seems worth it. And then, if you still wanna hang out, you can text me. Okay?”
    “Okay.” I tried to sound as dejected and pouty as possible, hoping that would change his mind somehow and he would divulge all his classified information to me. But I think we both knew that I didn’t actually need time to think. Whether I liked it or not, I was going to have to settle for his restrictions. When he dropped me off, I was still trying to look deeply offended, but Jack completely saw through it. He laughed and said he’d see me soon, then sped off down the street. I stood outside my apartment building for a few minutes, trying to imagine what he could possibly be hiding from me. Weird government experiment? CIA? Werewolf? Nothing really seemed to fit. I tried to make a mental checklist of what I knew about Jack. He claimed to have some kind of medical condition (a rare on) that made everyone in love with him. Even though he didn’t look like it, he was probably stronger than anyone I had ever met. His skin was devoid of any real temperature, or at least a human one. He was positively entrancing to everyone else, and while I didn’t feel that way about him, I couldn’t help but want to be with him. And for some very peculiar reason, he seemed to feel the same way.
    After the concert (and a brief interrogation from Milo), I laid awake in my bed for hours upon hours running a million different theories about Jack. My most promising one was that he was a celebrity of some kind pulling some ridiculous Hannah Montana lifestyle. That would explain why everyone else was attracted to him, and he probably had a personal trainer, thus explaining his uncanny strength. And, obviously, if he was going for some kind of secret hidden identity, then he couldn’t tell me. That still didn’t explain why everyone else would recognize him but me, or why he’d want to live incognito. But at least it was a theory.
    Since I had been up until the wee hours of the morning trying to figure Jack out, and I didn’t have school, I fully intended to spend the entire day sleeping, curled up in the soft comfort of my down blankets. Unfortunately, my Jane embargo fell through. Or rather, burst through my bedroom door, destroying any chance of sleep with a heart-pounding adrenaline rush awake. “What the hell is going on?” Jane hissed after she’d thrown open my bedroom door so hard that the door handle would leave a mark in the plaster. I jumped up with a start, tangled up in a mass of blankets and sleep induced confusion. I could barely focus my eyes on the blurry vision of Jane, standing in my doorway, with her hands on her hips glaring down at me. Milo cowered behind her, muttering things about how she needed to keep it down or Mom would completely freak out. Whenever Jane was around, Milo acted like a puppy about to pee on the floor, and it drove me nuts.
    “What are you talking about?” I mumbled groggily. I flopped back down in bed, trying to remember the dream that Jane had unceremoniously ripped me from.
    “You know what.” Her lips curled back into some kind of sneer and she carefully stepped her Prada heels over my dirty clothes strewn about my room. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the alarm clock telling me it was 11:13 am, and I grimaced. It wasn’t even noon yet, and Jane was in heels and red lipstick. She was made for a world entirely different than the one I existed in. “I really don’t,” I yawned and pulled the covers up over me more. “Why haven’t you answered my zillions of text messages or phone calls?” Apparently, Jane thought it was the perfect time to argue, and she yanked my covers off of me, forcing me to talk to her.
    “Because there were zillions of them,” I retorted and grudgingly sat up. “Ugh,” Jane groaned. She sat down on the bed next to me in a terrific huff and exhaled dramatically. “There wouldn’t have been so many if you just answered me.”
    “Sorry,” I