Chapter no 2

Evermore (The Immortals, 1)

Just before Mr. Robins arrives, I take off my hood, turn off
my iPod and pretend to read my book. I don’t even look up when he announces:
Hello everyone, this is Damen Auguste, coming to us from New Mexico. Damen, go sit in the back, next to Ever. You will follow with her while waiting to get your things.
Damen is beautiful, I know it without even looking at him. I

concentrate on my book while he walks in my direction.

I already know so much about my classmates that I

delights in remaining in ignorance for a few more moments. But according to the deep thoughts of Stacia Miller, two rows in front of me, “Damen Auguste is so hot.” Honor, her best friend, completely shares this opinion. Craig, Honor’s boyfriend, too,

But that’s another story…

Damen throws my backpack on the ground and sits next to me. – Hi !

I nod, trying not to look up higher than his shiny black biker boots. More like “parade of

fashion” than Harley-Davidson. And totally out of place in the middle of the flip-flops of all colors that line up on the green carpet of the class.

Mr. Robins asks us to open the books to page 133.
Can I follow with you? Damen asks, bowing towards
Me. I hesitate – I dread this proximity – but I end up sliding my book to the end of the table. And, when Damen brings his

seat of mine, thus filling the space that separates us, I

takes refuge on the other edge of my chair and hides under my hood.

He bites back an amused chuckle, but I have no idea what that means. I simply perceive a hint of indecipherable irony.

I slump in my chair, chin resting on my hand, eyes on the clock, determined to ignore the sharp glances and

derogatory remarks, such as: “Poor guy, he’s really

super s*xy, too beautiful, and to think he has to sit next to this freak. » Comments from Stacia, Honor, Craig, and little

near the whole class.

Well, almost, because Mr. Robins is waiting for the end of the hour with almost as much impatience as I am.

During lunch, Damen is on everyone’s lips.
Have you seen Damen, the new one? He’s too cute, too
s*xy… It seems he comes from Mexico… No, from Spain, I think, well from abroad, really… I dream of inviting him to the winter ball… But

you don’t even know him… Don’t worry, it’s like it’s done.

Haven sits down next to me and looks at me through her overly long bangs that fall over her dark red lips.
Oh ! There, there! Have you seen the new one, Damen? I shake my head while biting into my apple.
No, please, not you!
You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him in the flesh. She takes out a little vanilla cake from her pink box so, like
She usually licks the icing, although she looks more like she’s drinking blood than eating sweet pastries.
Hey, girls, are you talking about Damen? Miles whispers as he sits on the bench, elbows on the table. (Her brown eyes stare at us in turn, and her baby face breaks into a big smile.) Magnificent! And have you seen his boots? Too much
Vogue. I think I’m going to ask him to be my new boyfriend. Haven gives him a yellow look.
Too late, I’ve already taken an option.
He grimaces, rolls his eyes and unwraps his sandwich.
Oh well, I didn’t know you hung out with non-goths.
Haven bursts out laughing.
If they’re like him, of course they are! Seriously, it’s so gorgeous, you absolutely have to see it. (She shakes her head, disappointed that I’m not participating in their madness.) He’s simply sublime, this guy!
Miles clutches his sandwich and gapes at me.
Didn’t you see it?
I look down, wondering if I should lie to them. They make such a big deal out of it that I tell myself it’s the only way I can get away with it. Except I can’t. Haven and Miles are my best friends. The only ones. And I already hide so many things from them… I end up breaking down.
I sat next to him in literature. We had to share the same book. But I didn’t get a good look at it.
Haven pushes back her bangs to get a better look at the crazy woman who dared to say such a thing.
Obliged? What a horror, it must have been excruciating! What luck
you have ! she sighs, rolling her eyes. And to think that you don’t even realize it!
Which book ? Miles asks, as if the title will reveal something significant.
I shrug my shoulders and place my apple core in the middle

of my paper napkin by folding the corners around.
The Wuthering Heights.
And your hood? With or without ? Haven asks.
I remember putting it back when he approached me. I nod.
Um, with… Yes, with, I’m sure.
Phew, thanks, she mutters, breaking her cake in two. I didn’t really need the blonde goddess to compete.
I stare at the table, uncomfortable. I hate when people say things

stuff like that. I used to live for this kind of compliment, but not anymore.
And Miles? He’s not competing, is he? I said, just to divert attention to someone who might appreciate it.
Miles runs his hand through his short brown hair and turns his head to show us his most beautiful profile.
Yes, don’t eliminate me too quickly. Haven shakes the crumbs from her skirt.
It’s obvious. Damen and Miles are not running the same hare. Which means that your devastating beauty, worthy of a model,
Don’t count, Miles.
How do you know which hare is running? Miles asks, opening his bottle of vitamin water. How can you be so sure?
I have a gay radar there, she said, tapping her forehead. And this time, believe me, he didn’t detect anything.
Not only was Damen in my literature class the

morning, but also in plastic arts in the afternoon (he did not sit next to me and I did not look at him, but the thoughts that were flying

in the class, even from the teacher, Ms. Machado, taught me everything I needed to know about the subject).

And there he was parked next to me! So far I had only managed to see his boots, but I quickly realized that my respite was momentary.
He’s there ! Right next to us! exclaims Miles in his voice
high-pitched and monotone that it reserves for the most exciting moments of life. And aim for his cash register! BMW, metallic black, tinted windows… so much style! Okay, do you know what we’re going to do? I’m going to open my

door and accidentally hit his, that way I’ll have an excuse to talk to him.

He turns to me and waits for my response. I shake my head

extracting my keys from my bag.
Don’t damage my car. Nor his. Nor any other! He pouts.
That’s it, shatter my dream, I don’t care. But at least look at it! And then, dare to tell me to my face that he doesn’t make you fall for him.
I slip between my car and a Beetle parked sideways,

think she’s trying to climb on my Mazda Miata. I’m about to open the door when Miles tears off my hood, mowing down my

sunglasses and rushes to the passenger side, where he gives me very discreet signs with his head and thumb so that I look at Damen, standing behind him.

I can’t run around forever… I take a deep breath and obey.

And I remain petrified, speechless.

Miles gets agitated, rolls his eyes at me… In short, he sends me every possible signal imaginable to tell me to abandon the mission and return to base. I can’t. That’s to say,

I would like to, because I know I look like the crazy person everyone thinks I am, but it’s impossible. Damen is indeed very handsome with his shiny black hair which

reach the shoulders, emphasizing her high cheekbones. When he lifts his sunglasses, his almond-shaped eyes, dark, deep, lined with eyelashes so long that they look fake, seem curiously familiar to me. And his mouth! Full, luscious, lip

lower part a little sulky. With a lean, muscular body, and dressed all in black!
Uh, Ever? Can you wake up now, please? Miles said before turning to Damen. You have to excuse my girlfriend,
She usually has her hood on,” he explains with a little nervous laugh. I know I have to stop. Right away. But Damen stares at me intently, while his lips form a smile.

However, it’s not her incredible beauty that puts me in a trance. Not really. All around his body, from his head to the square toes of his black boots, there is nothing but empty space. No color. No aura. No swinging lights.

Everyone has an aura. Swirls of color emanate

of every living being. A rainbow energy field they aren’t even aware of. It is not dangerous, scary or harmful. This simply comes from the visible magnetic field (for my part, anyway).

Before the accident, I did not suspect the existence of these

things there. And I was even less able to see them. I started seeing color everywhere when I woke up in the hospital.
How do you feel ? the red-haired nurse asked me, looking concerned.
I blinked, confused by the pastel light surrounding him.
Fine, but why are you pink? She seemed more and more worried.
Why am I what?
Pink. You are all pink, especially around your head.
Don’t worry, my darling. Rest up, I’ll go get the doctor.
She almost ran out of the room.

It is only after having undergone a whole battery of examinations of

eyes, brain scans and other psychological assessments that I learned to omit the spirals of colors that I saw. And when I began to read people’s thoughts, to know their lives through simple contact and to regularly receive visits from my missing little sister, I understood that it was better to keep quiet.

I have been so used to living like this that I have forgotten that this

is not the only way. But seeing the Damen silhouette silhouetted against his beautiful shiny black luxury car reminds me of the happy days of my life, the one before.

Damen’s face lights up with a smile that reveals another of his perfections: dazzling white teeth.
Ever is that it?
I stay stuck in place, trying to look elsewhere,

while Miles coughs insistently. I finally remember how much he hates being left behind and hastens to do

the presentations.
Oh, sorry. Miles, Damen. Damn, Miles.
Damen gives him a look and a quick nod before turning his attention back to me. And even though it sounds crazy, in the split second his eyes left mine, I felt cold, helpless.

But as soon as he looked at me again, I felt like I was alive again.

Damen smiles at me.
Can I ask you a favor? Could you lend me the
Wuthering Heights? I need to catch up, but I won’t have time to go to the library tonight.

I dig through my bag, fish out my dog-eared book and give it to him

stretch by one corner. I’m dying to touch his fingers, to make contact with this handsome stranger. But my other self, the one who is strong, wise, clairvoyant, pulls herself together, dreading the horrible flash of

consciousness that accompanies all contact.

Once he threw the book on the seat of his car, put his

sunglasses and said “thank you, see you tomorrow”, I realize that apart from a slight tingling in my fingertips I felt nothing. And before I could respond, he turned around and walked away.

Miles sits next to me, shaking his head.
Excuse me, Ever, but when I said “crack” earlier, you weren’t supposed to take it literally!