Chapter 9 Ch. 8.1
She swiveled her chair to face the mirror on the other side of the room—she was the epitome of a mess with her frizzy curly hair, dark circles and eyes red like she had just smoked weed.
Puffing out, she stood and stretched, her bones cracking in a way that could pass for the beat of a Grammy-winning rap album. Her shoulders slouched almost immediately. She stretched and she trudged over to the bathroom, knowing that if she wanted to make it in time to follow her dad or school, or her best friend Noah, she had to be ready on time.
She sighed as she pushed the bathroom door open, realizing she had not taken off her clothes from the previous night. Grabbing her toothbrush, she hastily washed her mouth, stripped, took a shower and walked out, a towel wrapped around her, but water still dripping from her.
Her phone beeped, and she looked over at where it lay on her bed.
My car broke down. Mind if I join you and your dad this morning?
It was Noah.
She picked up her phone, giving a positive reply then proceeded to towel dry, get dressed, picking the first thing in her wardrobe and then headed downstairs.
"You look like a mess, Zara," Santiago said from where he was laying out breakfast.
"Wow, what a confidence booster," she snorted, picking up a pancake and shoving it into her mouth. "You have barely even seen me."
"And now I am," her father replied with a wry smile, staring at her and grimacing. "Worse than what I saw from my peripheral."
"You're my biggest hater, literally," she said to him.
He gave a warm smile, sitting opposite her. "Didn't sleep?"
She looked up from her meal. "That obvious?"
"Yeah. Dark circles are really bad," he did not wait for her to say anything before continuing. "You know, as an athlete you should always rest up. Get energized. I don't want you suddenly passing out after races or anything."
"I know, Dad," she smiled tightly. "Just had this really important science project I needed to research on."
"Oh? I thought it was an English essay?"
She looked away guiltily then glanced at her phone.
"Noah wants to come with us. His car broke down."
"We'll pick him up, right?"
"Yeah."
"So we have established that you didn't stay up for research, why didn't you sleep?"
She hadn't stayed up for the type of research she lied about, but what could she say? Tell her father she was suddenly invested in the idea of supernatural beings being existent? And she had to read about them thinking his athlete was one?
Hell, she hadn't even thought it—she had seen it with her own eyes.
"Do you believe in supernatural beings?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.
"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He stood up and took his plate to the sink. "You mean like ghosts?" he questioned.
“Yeah.” She felt awkward but continued. “Like... things that aren’t human. Ghosts, maybe. Or vampires. Or shapeshifters or—”
“Zara,” he said, “Are you serious right now?”
“I’m just asking.”
He rinsed his plate, then leaned back against the counter and looked at her. “Is this what kept you up last night?”
She didn’t answer.
“You mean to tell me,” he said, “you’re up researching ghosts instead of sleeping?”
“I didn’t say ghosts,” she muttered.
“Okay. So what exactly do you mean?”
She sighed. “Never mind.”
He raised an eyebrow. “No, go on.”
She looked down at the pancakes. “I was thinking about Ethan.”
That caught his attention.
“What about him?”