Joan fell in behind Amanda. “I want to live in a world populated by rational, considerate people, but that’s clearly not why I came to you. I have a message from Mr. Kolter. He wants to discuss an article about student government for the school paper. Please let him know a good time for you to meet with him.”
Amanda nodded to the empty space in front of her. “I have a free period later. I’ll find him.” She quickened her pace to escape Joan.
“Am I dismissed your highness? Or should I say hiney-ness? You have put on a little weight.”
Amanda stopped, but refused to turn around. “I’d threaten to make your life miserable, but God took care of that for me.”
##
Cass found Joan at her corner table in the lunch room and sat down without invitation. “How was your morning?”
“No worse than any other morning,” said Joan. She barely glanced up at Cass before returning to her food. “Do you always have salad for lunch?”
“Yes, but different combinations.”
Joan was feeling argumentative after her encounter with Amanda. “It all looks like rabbit food to me.”
“My family is vegetarian.”
“So you’re a Canadian, Unitarian vegetarian. Have you tried antidisestablishmentarian?”
“What the heck is that?”
“It’s a big word for conservative. It’s someone who’s against taking the establishment apart.”
“I don’t think that’s me. I’m kind of a rule breaker.”
Joan’s bad mood momentarily fractured. For the first time in their brief association, the sullen girl laughed. And not just snorting, but a full-out, shoulder-shaking, almost-fall-off-your-chair laugh. People were looking at them.
Joan gasped. “You? Yeah, you’re a real bad girl with your tongue stud and tattoos and motorcycle.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t have a… ”
“That’s exactly my point Cass. You’re as odd as they come, but you are not a rule breaker.”
An easy explanation eluded Cass. Revealing the real reason he ended up in high school was out of the question. Neither could he justify his new caution by explaining the roles of Magolyn and Jamil. Having no defense of his rebelliousness, he changed the subject.
“Peter Goodkin embarrassed me in the hall this morning. That makes the second time in three days. I think I’ll ask him out.”
“I know I should just take these oddball comments of yours for granted, but why would you ask him out? Boys being mean to show girls they like them happens in grade school. He’s a senior in high school; therefore, he probably doesn’t like you.”
Cass tried to explain. “He seems like he’d sweep a girl off her feet and then casually dump her. I’m trying to get the pain of that experience out of the way. I figured better sooner than later.”
Joan closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them again Cass hadn’t conveniently vanished into thin air, so Joan forged on. “First of all, a boy can’t break your heart if you know he’s going to dump you. You won’t commit to the relationship and you won’t care when he’s gone. You have to trust the boy before he can hurt you.”
Joan’s logic shook Cass’s resolve regarding item number seven on The List. “You’re right. I’d just be faking any real hurt. Well, that puts me between thistle and thorn. I need some jerk who will fool me into thinking he’s a nice guy, and that’s never going to happen, because I’m a very perceptive person. This is not good at all.”
“Second of all,” Joan continued, “you don’t have to plan for life to pummel you. It just happens. Life sucks so sit back and relax.”
Just then, Rodger walked over and asked if he could join them.
“Who are you?” muttered Joan.
“This is Rodger Hamilton, my lab partner. Rodger, this is Joan Richards, my best friend.”
“Nice to meet you Joan. Did you know Cassandra before?”
“No, we just met this week. Best friend is not a high bar for either of us.”
“Well, any friend of Cass’s is …not that I’m presuming you… if you think I might… Hi, I’m Rodger.”
Joan resumed eating her macaroni and cheese wondering how her world got this crowded. Cass tried drawing her back into the conversation, but Joan persisted with one word responses. The poor girl felt socialization was being crammed down her throat and she wasn’t at all comfortable with that.
When the three separated after the lunch bell rang, Cass came to a realization. He was starting to like these two people a lot. They were part of his punishment, but they lessened his misery rather than increasing it. Hanging around them was bad strategy, but he was reluctant to give up the companionship.
More importantly, he recognized that Joan’s overall unhappiness was disturbing. He’d originally sought her out because she was a loner who would not increase his popularity by association. It was fine for Cass to pile on the teenage anguish. It was all part of his plan. But Joan completely accepted the hopelessness of the human condition, and that wasn’t good for a human. Cass felt he needed to relieve Joan’s depression if he wanted to keep her as a friend.
I was just happy he seemed to care.
##
Events in the afternoon overwhelmed Cass’s concerns about Joan. Ink soaked his backpack when three pens snapped in half. This remarkable coincidence was followed by a scary encounter with a floor buffer. As Cass was walking to his last period gym class, he was blocked by a custodian using the heavy polishing machine on the floors. The man pushed his buffer to one side so Cass could get by. The device, however, pulled hard to the left, tearing free from the custodian’s grip. It came rushing in Cass’s direction, but he dodged to the side. The buffer bounced off the far wall and reversed course. This put Cass in harm’s way again. The custodian pulled the plug before the spinning brushes reached their target. Cass discovered his new vocal chords could scream very effectively.
Just to complete his afternoon, he returned to his locker at the end of the day and could not get his combination to work. Reluctantly, he went to the main office to consult with Mr. Gunderson.
“Are you certain you’re using the right numbers, Ms. Forest?”
“Yes, sir. The combination worked this morning and at midday.”
“Did you pull down on the lock hard enough? You are a little slip of a thing.”
“I tried several times, sir. I think we need bolt cutters.”
“That’s a bit drastic. I have master keys for all the locks. Besides, Joseph, the custodian, left early. He hurt his back wrestling with the floor buffer.”
Mr. Gunderson collected his keys and followed Cass to the locker. The vice principal checked the serial number on the lock, found the correct key and tried inserting it into the back with no luck. So Cass’s prediction proved out and Gunderson fetched bolt cutters. At long last, Cass retrieved his books and installed a new lock.
“You’ve been very patient and helpful, Mr. Gunderson.”
“Darn right. Let’s not forget that. The new lock will be fifteen dollars. See you tomorrow.”
##
As teachers and students massed in the halls at the end of the school day, Wigout sought refuge in an empty room until he could sneak out unnoticed. The Grimel Kin’s afternoon was productive. Furthermore, the silver-blond girl would return to a still-powerless house. He’d done a superior job of wire crossing. Wigout guessed his Mistress would be pleased.
While he crouched in the dark, smugly self-congratulating, Wigout’s bulbous nose twitched in response to a familiar smell… incense. He began to survey his surroundings. Rows of padded benches lined either side of a central aisle leading up to a big wooden table covered with a white cloth. Hanging above and behind it on the back wall was a large crucifix. The hapless Dream Dweller had blundered into the school chapel.
The poor Grimel Kin stood transfixed with fear at the man nailed upon a wooden frame. The artist had depicted streams of blood from the figures wrists, feet and thor
n-crowned head. Wigout gazed in horror at what Christians were willing to do to their own god. He shuddered at what might happen to him if he ever got caught.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I saw Cass snag an advertising flyer off the porch before entering the house. Unfolding it on the floor, he placed his ink-stained pack on it before retrieving textbooks from the interior. Thankfully, the damage was confined to the front pocket and the books were unharmed. The List was unreadable, but Cass had it memorized. He called out, “I need a new backpack.”
Magolyn entered from the living room and joined her pseudo-daughter at the kitchen counter. “What happened?”
“I had three defective pens all decide to leak. The front pouch is useless and I doubt it can be cleaned. We can afford a new one, right?”
Maggie glanced at the basement door. “The electrician is finishing up now. I’ll let you know after I get the bill. Did anything else unusual happen today?”
“Now that you mention it, several things. I’m late because my locker decided to hold my books hostage and a cleaning machine tried to polish my shoes up to my knees. That reminds me, I owe money for a new lock. Then, after I foolishly considered asking a senior to date me, my friend Joan gave me an insight into the nature of heartbreak. That’s about it.”
“I think we might have a Grimel Kin.”
“Oh. Well, that explains a lot. It must have followed me to school. Do human exterminators handle those?”
“Doubtful, but I can set protections repelling Dream Dwellers. Still, it bothers me because I also spotted Esmeralda Shafil in the park today.”
Cass sighed heavily. “Really? She’s come to gloat, no doubt. Esme’s the one who turned me in. You’d think after all these years she’d forget about an adolescent romance, but Esme is so melodramatic. She can’t like something; she must adore it. She’s never just scared, but instead, petrified. She doesn’t hate; she loathes. I guess I fall into the last category.”
Magolyn nodded. “That’s exactly why I’m concerned. I told her to leave you to the Elders and be mindful of her own reputation, but she may be looking to pile on the punishment. Maybe she called the Grimel Kin.”
Cass was dismissive. “She’s no conjuror, though I supposed she could have spotted one of the little tinkerers and recommended our place.”
“I’ll set wards and hope that solves things. You keep your eyes open at school.”
“Esme can’t be planning to spend fifty moons in the Mortal Realm watching me.”
Magolyn shook her head. “No, but she still has a couple weeks to cause trouble, if she’s so inclined.”
Cass started up the stairs, but Maggie moved to block him. “Did you say something about dating a senior?”
##
Meanwhile, at school, Peter Goodkin was waiting for Katrina to finish her piano lesson. When the girl emerged, he hailed her and she dutifully responded with eyes downcast.
“The Twins and I are attending a party and we want you to come along as entertainment.”
She looked up, pupils wide with fear. “What kind of entertainment.”
He grinned evilly but said, “Relax. The party’s at a home with a piano. You do play music other than classical, don’t you?”
“I can play some jazz pieces and standard stuff like ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’. When is this party?”
“Two weeks from Friday.”
Panic flooded Trina’s thoughts and I sensed her heart rate accelerating. She worked up the nerve to challenge the boy who could ruin her reputation. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go.”
Peter’s voice dripped menace. “Really? Are you absolutely sure? We were looking forward to your performance.”
“I turn fifteen in two weeks. My family is having my party that night. They’d never understand if I tried to go somewhere else. If it were any other day… ”
Peter pondered this. He longed to force the little mouse into making the hard choice, but he knew from personal experience that nothing ruined a plan like involving parents. Additionally, Trina had a reputation for being straight as an arrow. Deep down, Peter knew any rumor about her being alcoholic would not stand up to the tests of time and scrutiny. At worst people might think it was a one-time indiscretion. If people started to doubt the rumor, Trina could come forward with the real explanation. If people believed her version, that would not be good for Peter. Threatening blackmail was one thing. Carrying out the threat was a whole different problem.
Eventually Trina would figure all that out, so Peter acted while the intimidation was still good. If he appeared to cut her some slack, he’d need to exact payment somehow; letting her know who was in charge.
“I suppose I can be lenient this time, but it will cost you.”
“What do you mean? How?”
He smiled benevolently. “I don’t want you thinking you can pull the family card every time you want out of an assignment. Your family, after all, would be very disappointed in those photos. So, if you can’t attend our party, perhaps you can deliver a message for me. Do you have any paper on you?”
“I’ve got my notebooks. I can tear out a blank page from one of them. Why?”
“Sister Patrice, always a student advocate, put up a suggestion box. This creates the illusion that the faculty actually cares what we think. I long to make a suggestion about Mr. Gunderson, but my standing as a scholar and an athlete would be at risk if they ever figured out the handwriting. So I think you should write it.”
She just looked at him for several seconds like a rat cornered by a cat. Finally she said “You can just type it out and print it. No one could trace… ”
“That’s not the point, Katrina. Are you going to help me… or not?” He mimed drinking from a bottle.
Trina pulled out her history notebook and tore out the back page. “What would you like to say?”
A few minutes later she dropped the folded paper into the student suggestion box outside the main office. She prayed the note would never be traced to her. She’d done her best to print neatly and non-distinctively, but couldn’t be certain the message was completely anonymous. If this got back to her parents, she’d spend her birthday grounded.
##
The Meeks brothers retired to their family’s finished basement. They took school work down with them, but ignored it in favor of watching Tropic Thunder for the fifteenth time. It was eerie how they laughed in the same places in the same way and repeated the classic lines precisely in unison. The two boys, rather than work on distinguishing themselves, stove for interchangeableness.
They’d always garnered attention by being identical. When the novelty of that faded for friends and classmates, they’d attached themselves to Peter Goodkin. It meant playing the role of loyal henchmen, but the resulting deference it elicited from younger students was worth playing to Peter’s ego. Besides, it appealed to their sense of comic book melodrama.
When the video ended, however, the boys engaged in a short exchange, exposing cracks in the alliance with their mentor.
Tim spoke first as he removed the disc from the DVR. “What’s your take on the Forest girl, brother?”
“She’s trouble with a capital crazy. I wish Peter would just ignore her.”
Their eyes locked and they both sighed in frustration. Peter never let up on a girl until he was certain she understood her place in the scheme of things. For Peter, that meant she’d be groveling on her belly.
Tim and Tom prepared for war. They hoped Peter would provide a reward by assigning them cheerleaders as dates for the Winter Dance.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lucas’ occult shop was near the Eastern end of Long Island, a few miles from Palmer Park. Esme was outside the store on Friday morning when Wigout caught up with her.
“You were very effective at the school yesterday. Why give up on it now?”
Wigout would have torn out his hair, if only he’d had some. This heartless Alfaran had no concept of the terror he experi
enced upon seeing the giant crucifix. She kept dismissing his fears as superstitious. Fae, after all, were hard to banish. Even if a powerful mage could cast them out, they’d return to their pastoral lands with little harm done. The Realm of Dreams, however, could be hazardous and Wigout preferred the world of Mortals.
“The students prepare for the celebration of Weeks End. Girl students often congregate in places of shopping. Wigout will follow Cass girl to shopping places and damage her there.”
Esmeralda puffed her cheeks in frustration. “Very well. Take time off, but you’d better have results on Saturday. Now be gone.”
“With pleasure, Mistress.”
When the Grimel Kin departed, Esme undertook some shopping of her own. She’d collected a bit of money from fortune-telling and she’d managed to sell her jewelry to a gold merchant. She was uncertain if he’d given her a good price, but she had enough now to outfit herself and purchase basic foodstuffs. Raw squirrel got old pretty fast.
She returned to the occult shop and found Lucas tending the store. He’d been very useful to her. She sensed that he might be attracted to her, but she resisted the urge to capitalize on that as a bargaining chip. Flirting with a human was Caswel’s methodology and she didn’t intend to sink that low.
Wandering about the shop she picked up a few crystals for examination and casually remarked “I’m looking for something specific, Lucas, and I hope you stock it.”
“What would that be?”
“Juniper incense, preferably Tibetan from the Vedic recipe.”
The shop keeper stopped his activity and came over to her. “You really are a serious practitioner. We mostly get dabblers in here. It gets worse as Halloween looms, with people buying stuff to decorate haunted houses. We tend to stock what will sell. Why do you need juniper incense?”
“I’m doing a divination for someone who’s… “, Esme considered her phrasing. “She’s gone through a lot of changes lately. I suspect her future is complicated with many possible outcomes and I want to select the most appropriate path for her.”
“I’m afraid that’ll be a special order if you really need Tibetan. It won’t be cheap either.”
Judgment of the Elders Page 6
