Phil appeared before her the instant the door clicked shut, staggering over from the kitchen.
“Where’s Angie?” Caledonia asked, her guard up.
“What–no hello for me?” He leered at her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath from three feet away. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her made-up face; she could tell right away that he approved. “You’re looking good tonight.”
She thought about him pawing through her things, and her lips curled in disgust. “You stole my money,” she spat out, all of the pain and injustice flooding back to her at once.
“Maybe we can work out a trade …” he said, coming closer.
She darted towards the stairs, but he lunged for her arm, jerking her to a stop. She tried to stoop for her knife, but he pulled her arm up. She composed herself and turned to look at him with a blast of scalding yellow confusion.
He blinked a couple of times, dropping her arm.
“Leave me alone!” she growled, imagining carving him up with her knife, “or I swear to God you’ll regret it.”
“You little tramp! Are you threatening me?”
“Yes I am,” she said in a low throaty voice. She channeled all of her bitter disappointment into building up the next color bombardment. Staring directly at him, she sent a shockwave of frigid greenish-white fear his way. His eyes flew open in surprise, and he took a step back. She could see he wanted to hurt her, but he was terrified, and completely unable to act on the impulse.
He clenched his fists. “I’m telling Angie what a little slut you are!” She watched as he stumbled back the way he came in a blind panic.
Caledonia stood in the foyer for a moment, collecting her thoughts. It was growing more powerful–she could feel it. She was surprised at how easy it was becoming; first pacifying Jarod and the cop, and now decisively repulsing her aunt’s sinister boyfriend. She realized that she no longer needed to fear Phil, and she grew strangely calm inside, considering what she should do next.
She climbed the stairs, lost in thought. After a long hot shower she retreated to her room, curling up into a ball on the deflated mattress. All of her practice on animals must have strengthened her abilities, and she wondered what it all meant.
Her parents must have somehow known, she thought. They probably realized what she would eventually become, hiding her away as best they could, like some kind of monster in a labyrinth. Maybe she was to blame for their terrible panic attacks.
Calvin knew what she was capable of. He knew, and surprisingly, he still wanted to be her friend; he didn’t hate her at all. But he didn’t desire her either–not in the way she wanted him to. It was obvious that he was simply not attracted to her. She had submitted to the makeover, wanting to please him, and the experiment had failed miserably. She felt like a fool.
She was certain of one thing. She didn’t belong here anymore, and although she pitied her aunt, she did not love her. It was time for her to strike out on her own. There was only one thing in the whole wide world she would truly miss when she left, and she rubbed her temples, trying to forget about how his dark eyes made her feel when she looked into them.