Warrior Saints - Creator

by Carla Thorne

  “Hi, Mrs. Ramos. You sent for us?”

  “Go on in, girls. He’ll be with you shortly. He had to run to the gym.”

  “Alls I’m sayin’,” Scout said and waved his hand in the air, “is that we’re the Saints. The Stonehaven Saints. Like New Orleans. And our colors are purple and gold like LSU.”

  “So?” Deacon wanted to know.

  “So, if they wanted this school to be in Louisiana, they should have moved it east across the Texas-Louisiana border and put it in Louisiana. Hey, Mary. Hey, Ivy.”

  “Hi.” Ivy ran her fingers across the purple and gold plaid border around the message board at Mr. Parrington’s door before she slipped into a chair. “I like the purple and gold.”

  “I hate that new purple shirt,” Scout said. “Makes me look like a bunch of grapes.”

  Deacon snorted. “I look goooooood in purple,” he said and popped his collar. “Brings out my eyes.”

  Ivy scooted her chair forward to form a semi-circle in front of the principal’s desk. “Aren’t we required to wear that purple spirit shirt on certain days? Like game days and stuff?”

  Scout furrowed his brow as if he really had to think hard about it. “Forget about that. Might as well pile some grapevines on my head and come to school as fresh produce. Or stick a couple a corks in my ears—”

  “Or up your nose,” Deacon offered.

  “Yeah, or up my nose. I’ll come as wine.”

  “No, dude, that doesn’t make sense. There’s a long time between ripe grapes and wine.”

  “But the nose corks were your idea.”

  “Only because that’s funnier than ear corks.”

  Ivy dipped her head and laughed into her shoulder.

  I yanked a chair over to join them and tossed my bag on the floor. “Seriously, dorks?” You do realize we’re in the principal’s office. Anyone curious as to why?”

  “No, because I haven’t done anything,” Scout said.

  Deacon sat back and laced his fingers across his stomach. “I haven’t either. But once I saw you two come in, I figured it had something to do with your throw-down with that snake yesterday.”

  “Why? Did you hear something?”

  “C’mon, you know how news flies around here. Did you really think no one saw a thing or talked about it?”

  “I hoped no one saw a thing or talked about it.”

  “Well, people are talkin’ about it, but it can’t be that big a deal. I don’t think there’s anything in the student code of conduct about handling reptiles—though there should be. It’s not like you brought it to school with you. What are they going to do? Ban you from picking up snakes? Duh.”

  I bent to adjust the strap on my bag, to keep myself busy if nothing else. No one needed to know I’d grabbed that snake. What Deacon said made sense, but nothing else about the summons to the office did.

  Ivy chipped away at the bright blue nail polish on her thumbnail. “What should we say, Mary?”

  I blew out a breath. “Tell the truth. Always the truth, so you don’t have to keep up with any lies.”

  “Sorry about the wait.” Mr. Parrington breezed into the office and dropped his school ID badge and small, hand-held radio on his desk. He squeezed his short, round body into his chair and rubbed a hand across his near-shaved head. “How’s everybody?”

  We didn’t answer. We did more of a group nod-and-shrug.

  He carefully used two sausage-like fingers to nudge a family portrait to the side so he could stare at all of us. Then he waited as if he expected us to explode in explanation.

  Ivy’s gaze remained fixed on the family photo. I had seen it before and hardly noticed, but Ivy seemed entranced at the sight of Mr. Parrington and his wife and kids. All in white shirts, dark jeans, smiling from ear to ear against a tree somewhere.

  “Those are my boys.” He puffed out his chest. “They’re seven and nine now.”

  “Are they in school here?” Ivy asked.

  “Yes. In the lower school.”

  “That part is on the other side of the football field, right?”

  “Yeah,” Deacon said. “Across The Valley of the Dry Bones.”

  “The what?”

  Mr. Parrington laughed a little. Then he got quiet again.

  Deacon shot Ivy a look as if to say he’d explain later.

  Scout squirmed in his chair and pushed a huge chunk of messy hair from his eyes. “Are we in trouble or something?”

  “No, but I’ve been hearing an odd story about you four and a snake.”

  Heat raced up my neck and exploded in my face. The tender skin around the nasty scrape throbbed.

  Mr. Parrington pinned me with a stare. “You haven’t said much, Mary.”

  “Not sure what to say, sir.”

  He leaned toward me. “What happened to your face, slugger? Did you do that on the soccer practice field?”

  “No… Not in practice.”

  He sat back in his chair and rolled a pen between his fingers. “OK. Here’s the thing. A couple of teachers reported a wild rumor going around. An episode in the garden, someone was knocked out or knocked down, and someone may have picked up a snake. Crazy, right? But my problem is, by the time this story gets home to parents, it’s going to be a full-blown snakes have infested the school type scenario, and I’m going to get parent calls regarding student safety. So, tell me. Do I have a snake problem on campus?”

  Ivy dusted flakes of nail polish off her bare knee and leaned forward. “I passed through the garden yesterday after Drama Club. I went to sit on a rock and saw a snake. It startled me and I fell back. I didn’t hit my head or anything, but I may have fainted. When I woke up, the snake was long gone. These guys helped me up and made sure I was all right.”

  “Sounds logical to me.” He clicked the pen. “So, you only saw the one snake and it slithered away and you didn’t see it again?”

  Ivy glanced at the ceiling as she formulated an answer. “No, sir, I did not see it again.”

  “Mystery solved, then. You sure you’re OK?”

  “Fine, thanks. Mary offered to take me to the trainer, but my mom came right after.”

  My insides untangled and a fresh whoosh of air filled my lungs.

  He scribbled a note on a Saints sticky pad. “We’ll get someone down there to make sure the brush and dead leaves are cleared away from the benches and large rocks. No use giving them an open invitation.”

  Deacon and I reached for our bags. We thought we were done.

  “Sorry that happened, Ivy. Most students don’t have this eventful of a first week. Let’s hope it was a harmless garter snake that was passing through.”

  Scout beamed with confidence and opened his mouth. “No,” he said. “It was a copperhead.”

  Deacon groaned.

  Ivy paled.

  I considered all the ways I would smack him later with my shin guard. We’d been so close to the door…

  The pen dropped to the desk. “Is there more to this story?”

  “No,” Scout said and took a quick wheezing breath. “I’m only an amateur herper but—”

  “Herper?” Deacon’s bark of laughter added to the weirdness in the room. “What the heck is a herper?”

  “Short for herpetologist. The study of reptiles and amphibians.”

  Mr. Parrington had the pen again. “Are you sure it was a poisonous snake?”

  “We say venomous, but yes, it was a copperhead. I could tell by its markings and the shape of its head and eyes.”

  “Wait a minute, Russell, you didn’t pick up that snake, did you?”

  Ivy squeaked and then tried to cover it up with a fake cough.

  Scout glanced my way. His lip twitched, and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  He sat up and met Mr. Parrington’s gaze. “No. I did not pick up the snake. And call me Scout. Everybody does.”

  “Good. So, the copperhead part, that’s where Gavin’s story fits in, and once again, mystery solved. I’ll get a
n expert, uh, herper down there to make sure it’s safe.”

  I slipped my bag on my shoulder. “Wait. Gavin Bagliano? What does he have to do with this?”

  “Mrs. Thomas overheard him talking about it this morning. I asked him earlier and he said he was passing through about that time but didn’t know much. I thought maybe he’d been out there with you guys.”

  “No,” I said. “Not with us.”

  “All right, then. Thanks for coming.”

  It took a thousand steps to reach the door.

  Deacon pushed through the exit and jumped to whack a low-hanging spirit poster in the hall. “That was fun.”

  Ivy gnawed at her naked thumbnail. “Weirdest. Principal. Visit. Ever.”

  “And,” I had to add. “Let’s take a minute to thank Scout for the snake lesson when we were almost out the door the first time.” I paused to reverently nod his way. “Thank you, Scout. Thank you so very much.”

  “It wasn’t that bad. I knew I opened my fat trap too fast, but I recovered. You said tell the truth, so I did. I didn’t touch that snake.”

  “The junior herper is right. Nice save.” Deacon walked back from several steps ahead. “But I have a question. What’s all this about Gavin Bagliano? Did anyone see him out there?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  “I think I know.” Ivy’s confident words came as a surprise.

  “What do you know?”

  “I think he saw the whole thing. I think he was there somewhere and didn’t want to be seen. And I think he started all the rumors this morning.”

  I frowned until the scrape on my face begged me to stop. “How do you know?”

  “I just know. And Mary?”

  “Yes?”

  “Gavin Bagliano can’t be trusted.”

  Chapter 4

  Ivy

  I crept into the empty Saints Café. The door closed loud and heavy behind me. A group in a meeting at the other end of the lunch room didn’t seem to notice or care. The smell of garlic bread from that day’s chicken parmesan lingered in the air along with the odor of disinfectant water the custodian sloshed on the floor nearby.

  “All right,” I mumbled to myself. “Casually walk by the kitchen, get a look at the carts, and move along before someone spots you and figures out what a psycho you are.”

  But seeing the tall, metal carts proved near impossible since they were housed behind the silver, overhead rolling garage-door type barriers that were almost all the way down.

  “OK… So maybe drop a pen and get down to peek underneath. And maybe stop whispering to yourself…”

  I slid behind the empty salad bar and crouched to look. The eight-shelved industrial carts that usually overflowed with trays of fresh rolls and steaming green beans stood motionless and bare—and looked completely solid.

  One… Two… Three…

  “Ivy, is that you?”

  I jerked. Hard steel connected with the back of my head. “Ow!” I furiously rubbed the spot and struggled to a sitting position on the cold tile floor. My heart double-thumped and then accelerated to a super-fast but even rhythm. Deep breaths… Deep breaths… “Geez, Scout, you shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

  “I wasn’t trying to sneak up. I saw you come in here.” He held out his hand.

  I waved it away. “Give me a sec.”

  He dropped to the floor in front of me. “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m fine.”

  His mossy green eyes widened to comical proportions. He looked like a cartoon character blinking in slow motion. “And you look like you’re about to blow chunks.”

  “Stop it, Scout. I’m not going to throw up.”

  “You hit your head pretty hard. I think the nurse is still here.”

  “No! And are you kidding me? I’m fine. Why is everyone always trying to take me to a nurse?”

  “Uh…”

  “Look, don’t worry. I’m fine. I’m waiting for my heart rate to go down. It speeds up and gets stuck there when I get startled. I’ll get dizzy if I stand up too fast.”

  He settled in beside me on the floor. We sat there wedged between the salad bar and the half-open door.

  “Take your time,” he said as if prepared to wait.

  I tucked my skirt around my knees and tried to concentrate on bringing down my pulse. That was particularly hard when I’d been caught two days in a row in a peculiar situation—and by the same guy. The same guy, who I had to admit, was a bit of a nerd. OK, totally a nerd, but a cute nerd with eyes like green-hued artwork and a dimple when he smiled.

  “You don’t have to stay. I mean, thank you for your concern, but—”

  “I’m not leaving, Ivy. Yesterday made sense. But this?” He gestured at the near-empty room and my odd position near the entrance to the food service area. “Did you lose something?”

  “Not exactly. You’d call me crazy if I told you anyway. Everybody does.” I attempted to get up. Scout scrambled to help me and then turned stop-light red when he accidentally brushed my chest.

  He took a quick and awkward step away from me. “So, uh… You’re not dizzy, are you? You’re shaking.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Did you kids need something out of there?”

  Once again, I jumped and my heart raced. I had no idea the older man had come up behind me. My hands shook so hard I had to wrap my arms around myself to hold them and my rattling ribcage still.

  Scout stepped around as if to protect me. “Ola Senhor Silva.”

  “Ahh, Scout. Eu não vi que era você. Você esta precisando de alguma coisa? Eu posso levantar a porta.”

  “Não, senhor. Meu amigo deve ter derrubado algo, mas e só isto no momento.”

  The bang on my head stung. I touched the spot as I turned around. “Please tell me that’s not English coming out of your mouths. Because, if it is, I hit my head harder than I thought.”

  Scout’s embarrassed, lopsided grin and cherry-red cheeks almost made me smile.

  “Yes,” he said. “I mean no. Not English. Your brain’s not damaged.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Ivy, this is Mr. Silva. He’s from Brazil and helps me with my Portuguese. Mr. Silva is in charge of building and maintenance here. And Mrs. Silva runs the café.”

  “Hello, Ivy. I was asking Scout if you needed me to unlatch and lift the gate.”

  “No, thank you. I ummm… I have to go. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Silva.”

  “Good to meet you, too. Nós nos falamos mais tarde, Scout.”

  I glanced at the door and planned a fast escape. Several long strides later, Scout was still at my heels.

  “Hold up. I’ll walk out with you.”

  “Portuguese, Scout? Really? Are you from Portugal?”

  “No.”

  “Are your parents?”

  “No.”

  I pushed through the double glass doors and headed for the parking lot.

  He snapped a twig off a low-hanging branch and twisted it into a knot. A freshman Boy Scout who spoke Portuguese. Who did that? Clearly someone a lot smarter than me.

  I hooked my thumbs in the straps of my backpack and tilted my head to avoid the bright afternoon sun. “Wouldn’t Spanish be a lot more helpful around here? This is Texas, and Mexico is down, uh… That way.”

  I prayed I’d pointed south.

  “I can speak Spanish too.”

  “Of course you can. Good. I’ll text you for help with my Spanish homework.”

  “Nah. I can speak it, but I’m not that good at all the rules and grammar stuff.”

  I nodded. “Well, thanks for your help in the café.” I started toward the bench near the after-hours car line. “See you tomorrow.”

  “I wouldn’t call you crazy.”

  I turned. “What?”

  A drop of moisture slid past the end of his right eyebrow and down his cheek. He wiped it away with his sleeve. “You said I’d call you crazy if you told me what you were looking for in
the café. I wouldn’t. So, what were you doing?”

  I tightened my grip on my bag and met his curious, but skittish, gaze. It must have taken a lot for him to bring it up again, but could I answer? He seemed sweet. Solid. And he’d come to my rescue, sort of, two days in a row. I needed friends, but had no guarantee that day’s confession wouldn’t be the next day’s school news. It had happened before. It could happen again.

  I took a chance.

  “I had a dream,” I blurted. “I saw the school kitchen. Like before lunch. No students were around, but there was food ready.”

  “And it was a bad dream? You know, like it took place on Salisbury steak day. Or a good dream. Like deli day.”

  “A very bad dream.”

  Heat radiated from the scorched concrete path. I stepped under the school’s tall, covered porch for shade. Scout followed and glanced over each shoulder as if we were on some top-secret mission.

  “I saw someone trapped under one of those big rolling things they put the trays on. I think it tipped over on her.”

  “A kid or a lunch lady?”

  “A lunch lady.”

  “Was she all right?”

  “I think she was OK but I can’t be sure. She screamed once, and I think she was crying. It may have had hot food on it.”

  Scout’s eyes darted back and forth as he processed the information. His pinched expression went from curious to concerned to… Dang it! He already doubted my sanity.

  “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  “No, wait! C’mon, Ivy, finish your story. What happened next?”

  I leaned against a stone column. “Nothing happened next. It was over.”

  I licked my lips. My mouth was so dry I considered hiking all the way to athletics to find the bottled water vending machine. Instead, I swallowed several times and raked sweaty hair from my face.

  “Ivy?” Scout’s gaze remained steady and reassuring.

  “Yeah. I often have strange dreams. They scare me because sometimes I dream something or think I see something and, when I least expect it, it happens.”

  “You mean in real life?”

  “Yes, but sometimes I don’t realize I’ve seen it before until I’m seeing it again.”

  “Like déjà vu.”

  “Yes. But other times I have the dream and it’s so real and I remember it so well I feel like it’s going to happen and I should do something.”