I conceded that with the tiniest of smiles.

“So why the dressing drama? You know you’ll look divine in anything you choose.”

I pounded a fist into the nightstand next to the bed and winced, annoyed that my hand felt dented instead of the hardwood.

“Reg, you can’t talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Divine. You have to sound like a teenager.”

“I am a teenager, according to the Elders, and this is how I speak.”

“You have to talk the way teens talk today. Real teens. Human teens.”

“How am I supposed to learn to speak like the mortals when we’ve spent so little time among them?”

“Please. We are around humans constantly.”

“Hunting. Feeding. Not . . . mingling.”

“Television has been around for half your immortal life,” I pointed out, “and the internet for decades.”

“I’d rather read a book.” He grinned at me. “And I’d say the fact that I read at all means I’m probably going to be better at this school thing than you.”

“I read,” I huffed.

“Fashion periodicals don’t count.”

“They’re magazines, not periodicals. I swear, Reg, if you embarrass me with your old-fashioned lingo, I will pretend I don’t even know you. I will—”

“Relax.” Reg grabbed hold of an arm I hadn’t even realized I was flailing. “I’m just having a little fun with you. Even I call them magazines. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re nervous.”

I scoffed. “Nervous about what? You think I can’t handle a few small-town teenagers?”

“On the contrary. I’m certain they won’t be able to handle you. That’s why I can’t figure out— Oh, I see.” His face lit up in that annoying way it did when he thought he was the smartest person in the room. It was extra irritating that he usually turned out to be right.

“You see what?”

I propped my hands on my hips, not an uncommon pose for me, but it had the added bonus of preventing my arms from any further waving about.

“Charlie, you can absolutely control a bunch of middle-America adolescents.”

“I know.”

“No doubt, you will charm even the teachers into following your command.”

“Naturally.”

“And maybe all of that will make you feel a little less helpless about our situation.”

I opened my mouth a couple of times, searching for words. Reg didn’t have it—not exactly.

“I’m not helpless,” I said, convincing myself as much as him.

“Then why all the fuss?”

I massaged the hand that had pounded the table, wondering at the way it still pulsed with pain—a mocking reminder that actions have consequences. As if I didn’t already know.