My X-Ray Vision Sees Right Through You novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: What He Sees

Brooke bolts, Cecelia tests Clark's x-ray, and at 1 a.m. Brooke threatens to expose the secret Cecelia is hiding.

Brooke recovered first, the way she always did.

"Clark, oh my God," she said, and ran at him with her arms open.

He stepped back, and she hugged the air.

"Not here," he said.

"I can explain." Her eyes slid to me. "You know Cecelia? She's my roommate. She is such a sweetheart, she'd never..."

"Brooke."

It was only her name, but she stopped talking.

Dax looked from her to Clark and back again with the happiest face I'd seen all night.

"Ellery," he said slowly, tasting it. "Ellery. Why do I know that name?"

Brooke turned and walked out of the tent, fast.

I knew that walk.

She did it when she'd been caught lying and wanted a door between her and the truth.

Clark watched her go, and something in his face closed.

"Cecelia," he said. "Can we leave?"

"Please."

Outside, the quad had turned into a party.

People held up phones and said "queen," and I let Clark steer me through the crowd by the elbow.

We didn't stop until we reached the library steps.

I sat down hard.

"Okay," I said. "How did you know the file names?"

"Lucky guess."

"Clark."

"I'm very good at guessing."

"Say it again with a straight face."

"What's in your tote bag?" he said.

I looked down at the canvas bag between my feet.

"You first."

"Two phone chargers," he said. "One's frayed. A granola bar, half eaten. A retainer in a napkin. A stress ball shaped like a taco. Your student ID has a coffee ring on it."

My mouth fell open.

He looked politely at the lamp.

"And a pen that says Marriott, which you stole."

"It was free!"

"It wasn't free, Cecelia."

I snatched the bag and shoved my hand into it, and found the retainer, and swore.

"There's no way you saw that."

"Pick something else."

I looked around and pointed at the vending machine glowing by the library door.

"Row three, B4," he said. "It's stuck. There's a quarter behind the Doritos bag."

I walked over and kicked the side, and a quarter fell out of the slot and rang on the pavement.

I picked it up.

I stood there holding it in the lamplight, looking at him.

"Okay," I said, very quietly. "What are you?"

"I can see through things."

"What things?"

"Walls. Bags. Cars. Anything solid." His jaw tightened. "I was born with it. It's not a trick."

"You can see through clothes?" I said.

It came out sharper than I meant.

He met my eyes right away.

"Yes," he said. "That's why I don't look at people. Since I was twelve, I keep my eyes on a person's face, always. I have never once looked at a body on purpose, and nobody has ever invited me to."

I believed him.

It was strange how fast I believed him.

Maybe it was the way he said it.

"So you can see everything in my house right now," I said.

"I can see the porch light and the cat on your neighbor's roof. I'm not looking at your house, Cecelia."

I started to laugh, and then I couldn't stop.

He looked alarmed, and that made it worse.

"I'm sorry," I gasped. "My boyfriend of four minutes has X-ray eyes."

"That's not what I'd call it."

"What would you call it?"

"A bad habit," he said, and for the first time he almost smiled.

We walked back to Birch Street together.

The whole way, I rehearsed the next question, because I already knew its answer and I needed to hear how he said it.

"How do you know Brooke?"

He was quiet for half a block.

"She was my girlfriend," he said. "For six months, by phone. I flew in last week to surprise her and find out why she'd dumped me by text. Last night I saw her through a wall of the Vott house, with Dax's brother."

My stomach dropped.

I'd known she was with Rhett.

I'd never known she was with Rhett while he was calling every night.

"Brooke's boyfriend was named Wolf," I said carefully. "She told me. I thought it was a dog."

"It's my nickname."

"It's a terrible nickname."

"I didn't pick it."

On the porch, we stopped.

I had a dozen things I wanted to say, and every one of them started with the word *me*.

Instead I said the part I'd planned.

"Homecoming is three weeks away. Dax wants me on his arm, or he takes my account. I need a boyfriend who's rich enough to make him think twice and kind enough not to be a creep about it."

"And in exchange?"

"You get a reason to be at Maple Valley that isn't Brooke."

"You're twenty-five and I'm eighteen," I said. "Say it out loud, so we both know."

"You're an adult, and so am I," he said evenly. "I'm here as a trustee's guest in your senior business seminar, for one term."

He looked at the door.

"One more thing," he said. "On the phone, her voice sounded different at night. I always thought it was the connection. Tonight in the tent, it sounded thin and wrong."

My throat closed.

"Phones do that," I said.

"They do."

He held out his hand.

"Three weeks," Clark said. "No lying to each other."

I shook it.

I had lied three times before we reached the door.

At one in the morning I was standing in the dark kitchen with a glass of water, and a light came on behind me.

Brooke was leaning on the doorframe in her silk robe, with her phone in her hand.

"He's never going to know it was you," she said. "Is he?"

I put the glass down.

"Tell him, and I'll tell the whole school you catfished a billionaire since April."

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