"Xander and I were just talking about you actually," she says, giving him a warm smile and distracting me before I actually try to turn her into a rodent. She is blissfully unaware of how close she came to becoming someone's pet. "Discussing that exercise I was telling you about earlier."

I glance at the object of her adoration. He's standing just inside the door, like he'd rather keep out of the line of fire, with his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. Watching me with those unusual lavender eyes, he doesn't move a muscle. Like a statue. His face remains unreadable.

Typical guy. Keeps everything hidden so you have to guess whathe's thinking. So a girl's imagination can run rampant until confronted with incontrovertible proof of her suspicions.

"Good for you." I snap my magazine shut and get up from the couch. If they're going to be here, giggling and talking about me, I'm locking myself in my room. Figuratively, of course, since my door doesn't lock.

"Actually"-she glances at Xander-"we could try that exercise with the glass of water-"

"Not," I say, my pent-up emotion barely contained, "tonight."

I can practically hear her mouth drop.

She'll get over it. Or not. Either way, playing counselor and camper is not on my agenda for the night. The last thing I want is to be around people. Solitude and the comfort of my bed are calling. That, and a box of tissues.

I'm almost to my room when I feel a hand clamp over my shoulder.

"Running away isn't going to help," Xander says.

"I'm not running away from anything." I spin around, shrugging off his hand. "I'm going to my room for some privacy, thank you very much."

He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his brows, like he dares me to lie again. "Denying your feelings can affect your powers."

"Oh yeah?" I snap brilliantly. "You don't know anything about my feelings. Or my situation."

"I know more than you think." He steps closer, his voice barely agrowl. "You mentioned my expulsion earlier. Do you know why I was expelled?"

I shake my head.

"Because three years ago," he whispers, "I had to take the test." His mouth is right next to my ear when he adds, "And I didn'tpass."

My heart thwacks against my chest. Xanderis the other student who had to take the test. Xanderfailed the test. Xandergot expelled for a year.

"What did you-" I shake my head and start over. "What happened when you failed?"

He leans back, his lavender eyes completely blank.

"I hope you never find out," he says. Then he turns and stalks through the kitchen and out the back door.

Stella stares at the door for several seconds, before turning on me. "What did you-"

"You couldn't have told me earlier?" I snap.

Her cheeks flush and I think, for the first time since we met, she's actually embarrassed about something. Good.

"You lied," I accuse. "About your student passing the test."

"I didn't," she insists. "I was Xander's tutor after he failed. I helped him pass on his second attempt."

"Whatever."

I spin and head for my room.

The roller coaster is finally getting to me. Thankfully, I make it to the safety of my room and collapse on my bed before the tears start. I think I'm going through what therapist Mom would call anemotional release. More like an emotional flood. Between the looming test and my dad's missing record and Griffin, it's amazing my emotions are holding together at all. I wouldn't be surprised if they just gave up on me altogether and-

Knock, knock.

Over the pounding beat of my heart, I wipe at my tears and say, "I'm not here."

Whoever it is doesn't wait for a response.

"Phoebe?" Griffin asks. "I thought we were meeting at seven."

His voice sounds perfectly normal.

Of course it does. He doesn't know what I know-what I saw, what I felt. Why should he even suspect that I know he's back with his ex-girl friend? He must think he's kept it a pretty tight secret.

I squeeze my eyes together for a second, willing-begging-my unshed tears to disappear. They are a weakness I can't afford.

"Yeah, well," I say, pushing up to my feet while keeping my back to him, buying myself a few more seconds. "You thought wrong."

"What's the matter?" He comes up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders, trying to turn me around. He has the nerve to sound concerned. "What happened?"

I stiffen against his touch. "Nothing."

"Are you crying?" When I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak again, he says. "You arecrying."

Despite my best efforts, he half turns me around and half slides around so we're facc-to-face. I close my eyes, I just can't look at him right now. Not when all I see is him talking to Adara, going into the bookstore with Adara, meeting Adara at her dorm. It's too much.

"Talk to me," he demands.

I feel his fingers on my checks, wiping my sad excuse for tears away. Which only makes them fall harder.

His forehead touches mine and he whispers, "Please."

I take several long, deep breaths.

"Where were you this afternoon?" I finally ask.

He hesitates for a split second. "I told you. I-"

My eyes fly open. "Do. Not.Lie to me."

I step back, needing space to think clearly.

I can see him thinking. Beneath his dark curls, his bright blue eyes don't budge from mine; he doesn't blink. Then, after several long seconds, he closes his eyes, sucks in a deep breath, and says, "Aunt Lili and I got back and done with the stocking early. I was visiting a friend in the dorms."

"Adara."

He hesitates, then says, "Yes."

"What?" I'm shocked he admitted the truth.

"Yes." He looks like he is afraid to say more. "Yes, I was visiting Dara."

"Why have you been lying to me?" I can hear the icy edge in my voice and I don't like it. I don't like how he's making me feel right now. Jealous. With a neon capital J."You've been spending all your time with her. Like yesterday. At the bookstore."

He doesn't show any signs of shock that I didn't buy his story about looking for a training book.

"You're right," he says, and my heart tries to pound out of my chest. "I met Adara at the bookstore yesterday."

And lied about it.

"But it's not what you think"

"Then tell me what it is,"I demand.

Gods, I hate how I sound like such a jealous girlfriend, but it's not like he's not giving me a reason to distrust. I close my eyes and suddenly I'm reliving the last time I felt like this. Junior prom. More than a year ago now, but I remember like it was yesterday.

I had known something was wrong when Justin didn't show to pick me up. A smarter girl might have taken that as a sign, but I believed in him. Trusted him. Something must have come up. Rather than curl up with a boxof tissues and a cup of self-pity, I called Cesca and got a ride with her and her date. When I climbed into the limo and saw the look of pure sympathy in her eyes, that's when I knew.

By the time we pulled up at the glamorous Sunset Tower Hotel, I was ready for the confrontation. I stormed into the dance, scanned the room until I found Justin at a table in the far corner, and marched right up to him.

"Where were you?" I demanded.

"Let's not do this here, Phoebe," Justin had said. "Why don't we go out to my car and-"

"No," I shouted, hands fisted on my hips, on the silver satin of the bustier dress that had taken me weeks to find. The perfect dress. "I deserve to know."

He'd hesitated, deciding whether to lie.

Just like Griffin did tonight.

Only tonight feels infinitely worse. Because I love Griffin infinitely more.

That realization clenches around my heart.

"I-" He jams his fingers through his curls. "Phoebe, I can't tell you."

Everything inside me stills.

At least Justin had the decency to confess dumping me for Mitzi Busch because her knees weren't Super Glued shut like mine. Griffin wasn't even pretending to admit the truth.

"Then I don't believe you." My heart splinters a little with every word.

"I can't make you believe me," he says, dropping his hands and taking a step back. "I thought we were past the distrusting stage. I thought you knew me better than this. Better than anyone."