Read Scintillate for Free Online Page B

Dun what had happened at Say Chi’s. “I’m convinced I’m seeing auras.”
    “Can you see your own?” Dun asked.
    “Yeah. But mine is completely different than everyone else’s. I’ve only got one color. Mine is silver.” A quick jolt of worry coursed through me. Faye had said not to tell anyone about my aura. Mari shot me a dubious look. “Truly, I look like a giant sparkler. It flares out really far from my body, too. And there’s nothing online about it.”
    Mari looked interested albeit skeptical. Though, skepticism was a regular look for her. “Still, isn’t it cool to be able to see people like that?” she asked.
    “No. It’s disturbing, like watching everyone walk around naked.”
    Dun snickered. “I could get with that.”
    Mari yanked at the sleeve of my hoodie and hooked her arm in mine. “You’re going to have lunch with us today,” she informed me. When I gave her “the eyebrow,” she said, “Well, you hid out in the secret garden yesterday. Time to practice your social skills.”
    “Hid? Why does everyone keep saying that?”
    “Everyone?”
    “Never mind. I like the greenhouse. This is not breaking news.”
    Dun leaned close. “In breaking news, I may or may not have spotted someone who may or may not have resembled Mr. McIrish in the greenhouse yesterday.”
    “Nuh-uh!” Mari squealed, mouth agape. “Finn went in there to see you?”
    I scowled. “Why is that so unbelievable?”
    “Insecure much?”
    “Repeat after me,” Dun said. “Whale. Oil. Beef. Hooked.”
    Mari and I stared at him.
    “C’mon. Do it.”
    We rolled our eyes and said the words.
    “Say it again. Faster.”
    We did. Repeatedly. “ Whaleoilbeefhooked .”
    I laughed, finally hearing the joke.
    “Now I’ve taught you how to talk Irish,” he said with a stupid grin. I liked Dun’s aura, which was almost always a happy gold/white color, like the edge of a cloud with the sun behind it. Mari’s outline was a bit more complex. She also radiated a happy blush, but she was mercurial, ever changing.
    Though there was a beautiful familiarity to the colors around the people I cared about, they didn’t understand that my world wasn’t the same since this had started. No one could hide their true colors from me.
    And they didn’t know I was now terrified of something—or someone—I couldn’t name.

    After school, I slung my messenger bag across my shoulders and walked toward the Santa Cruz Parks and Rec Center, where I volunteered at the Boys & Girls Club. Rain threatened. For the millionth time, I wished my dad would let me get my driver’s license. But apparently, the world gets bigger with wheels underneath you, and Dad liked my world nice and small. He’d kill me and Mari both if he knew that on Tuesdays—her day to get the car that she shared with her brothers—she’d been secretly teaching me how to drive.
    Each palm tree lining the street rustled like crisp paper in the wind. Overhead, the slate sky growled, and I felt a drop peck my cheek, followed by five more in quick succession. I walked faster.
    My neck bristled with the sensation of eyes on my back. I looked over my shoulder and spotted a tall man about a block away walking briskly behind me. He wore a black woolen cap and a gray leather jacket. Longish blond hair stuck out in tufts from under the cap. There was something familiar about his lanky build, about the way he stared. That’s when I recalled the chilling sensation of falling out of myself in his presence. Like being sucked into a tornado and spit back out.
    For every step I took, he seemed to take three. The gap between us narrowed, and his aura—pure white—flared between us. Internal alarms I didn’t know I possessed blared at me. My quick steps beat in time with my heart.
    The rain intensified, splattering the contents of my bag as I dug out my umbrella. I wouldn’t open it. I wanted a weapon, and the umbrella was more useful closed. The man drew even closer. I ran.
    Next