“Oh . . .” I shook my head, “I paint, so, shit. That might have to be my first pass.”
Around the table, a few people snickered.
“You might want to rethink that one,” Susie said with a giggle, “you’re definitely going to have to use a pass for whatever Zack comes up with.”
“And one of these buttmunches . . .” Mia added as she gestured to the guys on her right, “Are probably going to ask you out or something.” Her nostrils flared, and she shook her head. “Keep that second pass.”
“Ah, shit, okay, fine . . . burnt umber, maybe, just because it has a lot of range.” I winced, feeling a little like I was turning my back on some really fundamental colors.
The tattoo guy smacked his buddy’s chest. “Way to put her on the spot, Charlie.”
Poor Charlie grew even ruddier, so much so that the tips of his ears turned red.
“No, it’s a good question,” I assured freckles, feeling bad for causing his bashfulness.
“Oh, stop picking on Charlie for being nicer than you, Richard,” Susie called. A crumpled piece of paper flew at the tattooed guy’s head, but he caught it out of the air. He tucked the paper into his lapel pocket and turned to Susie, who bit her lip as her eyes smiled. A look passed between the two, definitely romantic.
“My turn, Blondie.” Zack drummed his hands on the table and then pointed at me. “Are you dating Satan?”
Everyone was deadly silent, and no one asked, “who’s Satan?” So, clearly, they all knew who Zack was referring to.
Was I dating Justin? Well, that would be a no. I think even in the loosest definition of the word, what he and I were doing wouldn’t be close to dating. Rolling back my shoulders, I said, “In the last twenty-four hours, Justin has poured a beer over my head in front of someone —”
“Yep, he likes to do that,” the cowboy grumbled, and when I peeked over to him, he grinned reassuringly, showing a nice set of dimples himself.
Turning back to Zack, I added, “Justin also asked his parents to withdraw this scholarship from me, and when they said no, he told me flat out he’s going to do everything in his power to stop me from getting it. I’m not going to talk shit about him either — or call him Satan — or join the Justin Roberts hate club, if that’s what you are. He’s actually done a lot of really nice things for me in the past year and got nothing in return. He hasn’t been nice about doing them, but yeah, in my life, doing nice things means a lot more than saying nice things.” I lifted my shoulders. “I don’t know what to say, except, Justin definitely doesn’t want me to get this scholarship.”
“What did you say when he told you that he was going to sabotage you?” Mia asked, her eyes glittering like maybe she already knew.
I tapped my chin. “Um, I think my words were something like . . . Oh, rich boy, you have no idea who you’re going up against.”
“I like this bitch.” She gave me a grin so conspiratorial at that. I had at least won her vote. Too bad that she was the honorary member, hopefully, she got some say.
Susie tapped her pencil on the table. “Would you show all of your friends the same loyalty as you’re showing Charlotte and Justin?”
“If what you’re asking is if I’d refrain from talking shit about you guys behind your backs? Then yeah, I’ll show you the same loyalty. I have no interest in social politics. I don’t want to be a pawn or a player in them.”
I got a few more bland questions like why I wanted to go to Blackburn and what area of town I grew up in. I answered everything with blunt honesty. I only had one major secret, and no one here was asking if I was a vampire.
When it came around to Cowboy, he leaned back in his chair. “What’s your phone number,” he drawled, his eyes shining, “Nah, I’m just kidding, Mia. You don’t have to kick my ass. I don’t have a question, Beautiful.”
I begged my butterflies to take flight in my stomach as I looked into his purple eyes. Damn, that boy was pretty. And yet, nothing.
“Well, I do,” Patrick snapped from beside him. “Why do you deserve this?” he asked. “The three hundred people who will be competing against you are like us . . .” He twirled a finger around the room, “They have an even playing field. They were invited based on their unique qualifications and trained for months, sometimes years, for the entrance trials. Some of them have competed each year, and this is their last chance. They already had to be in the top five percent of the trials to get in, and with one of the spaces taken, the margin will be even lower. Why should you be handed something that everyone else has worked their asses off for? Why shouldn’t we let you fail so someone more deserving can have that spot? You don’t look like you could do a single pull-up.”
“Patrick, that was three or four questions,” Lucas said. “You get one.”
“And what kind of explanation are you expecting?” Susie put in. “Mr. Roberts told Lucas that her GPA was as high as any of ours, she has the right other qualifications, and we all know that athletics isn’t the only path at Blackburn.”
I itched to ask Susie for an explanation of what other requirements I met and about the different paths at Blackburn, but I knew that this wasn’t the right time or place. Instead, I tightened my hands under the table until my nails bit into my palms.
“And, we all fucking know that even the scholarship process at Blackburn favors people who can afford private tutors and coaches,” Mia added. “Even playing field, my ass.” The statement sounded very pointed, and the look she shot at Patrick left no mistake to who she directed it at.
“All right.” Patrick set his hands on the table and fixed me with a glare. “I’ll narrow this down. Why are the Robertses giving you their scholarship?”
I bit my thumbnail, trying to think of some explanation. I didn’t know how to broach the prophecy issue and saying that it was offered on a drunken whim seemed seriously insensitive. It would be like saying, you all had to jump through fiery hoops and then someone got drunk and tossed the prize to me. I also had no interest in outing Justin’s mother as a heavy drinker. That wouldn’t be right, especially as this crowd seemed to hate Justin. In the end, I asked, “Can I use my pass on a question I don’t understand the answer to? I mean, I could make some guesses, but they’d probably be wrong. Yeah, you know, I’m going to use my pass.”
Military wannabe boy, Patrick, gave me an unamused look, leaning back in his chair. From the intent way he was watching me, I could guess that I had at least one vote against me.
“Well,” Lucas said, grabbing back my attention. “Now for mine . . .” he worked his jaw back and forth, “What is your favorite TV show.”
My stomach sank. I hated questions like these. So much school conversation centered on television shows, and I had shit-all to say about them. Growing up, we had a television, but we only watched my mother’s collection of classic movies and occasional rentals. I watched some cable at Char’s house, but she would never wait for me, and would always be a few episodes ahead, making most shows confusing and uninteresting.
Lucas examined my face, his smile fading. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he was having an oh shit, that was stupid moment. “You have another pass, and I’m the last question.”
“No . . . I’ll think of something.” When I wracked my brain, there was one TV show I’d watched where the order in the series didn’t really seem to matter, and those shows I watched in class, “Star Trek.”
Zack clapped his hands together. “Torture — I mean, the interview is officially over, Blondie. You want to stay in here or take a walk for the vote.”
“Walk,” I said on a sigh as I stood up. Honestly, the last hour or so had exhausted me. I got more than I expected out of the meeting, namely, learning just a little bit more about the school, but the interview itself felt grueling. Looking from face to face as I stepped away from the table, I was only really sure I’d managed to grab two out of twelve votes, and one of those votes might not even count. The whole thing was extra, but it felt like ha
ving this crew on my side might make all the difference.
Stepping out of the soundproof room felt a lot like stepping through a portal to another world, and I plunged back into the library, hoping that the gods were smiling on me for once. Determined to distract myself, I headed down the nearest aisle, but I wasn’t halfway through when the door opened behind me.
“Hey, January. We already voted,” Lucas called, “You’re in. ”
Chapter Fourteen
Five a.m. Monday, Bailey and I walked into the warehouse with newly-bought thrift store workout clothes and a racing heart. After seeing all the cars in the parking lot, including the Baldwin boys’ truck, I was ready for a massive gym with all of the Bad Boys Club hanging out. But the metal doors only led into a perpendicular hallway that ran from one end of the building to the next. The guy everyone called Richard waited in his wheelchair near the front.
I waved. “Morning.”
“Good morning. You ready for this?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his smile, not putting my nervousness to rest whatsoever. Unlike me, Richard looked wide-awake and fresh. He’d combed his blond hair neatly around his boxy features. Maneuvering his wheelchair in through the door, he stopped in a small space with a single bench and then laughed. “So, why did you bring your dog? You know that she can’t do the trial for you, right?”
“I ran it by Lucas. Is that not okay?” I froze. “I can tie her leash here, if you want, and come get her on the other side. She’s completely trained. I reached down and pet Bailey’s head. “I just feel guilty leaving her if I’m heading out for a long walk.”
“No. I’ll appreciate the company while you’re in the course. She can stay out with me.” He leaned out and pet Bailey’s head. I couldn’t help but notice the wicked tattoos on his arms. There were beautifully rendered flowers and skulls, and other more intricate designs. “We don’t have time enough for you to stare at my arms all day,” Richard said on a chuckle.
“Sorry. Artist here. I promise I’m not skeezing on you, but your ink is amazing.”
“That’s what all the girls say.”
“All right.” I poured water into the bowl that I’d held in one hand and set it on the ground. “Well, thank you so much for doing this. I feel terrible that you guys are wasting summer hours on me.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m actually working toward being a Blackburn Academics Professor when I graduate from university, so I’ve volunteered to play your coach for the next few days as I have the most experience.” Richard grinned at that. “I’ll be meeting you on the other side. You want some water before you go in?” He gestured to a bottle on top of a stack of towels.
“I’m good.” I held up the remains of my own water bottle.
“All right. You have to leave that here.” He smiled warmly, showing his crooked front tooth. “Go on in the obstacle course.”
I set down my bag and blinked at him. “Just like that?”
“Yep.”
Looking over my shoulder at the door, I hesitated one more moment, kind of thinking maybe this was a trick. “Is there anything I should or shouldn’t be doing?”
Richard grinned wide. “Try to get to the other side in less than twenty minutes without letting anyone hit you.”
I hesitated one second more. I wanted to ask Richard if I was going to be required to be psychic or magical, but I didn’t know how to phrase the question.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Why do I feel like I’m about to enter a deathmatch?”
Richard rolled his eyes and gestured toward the door. “Go. The trial moderators won’t let you snark either. Or talk.”
“Bailey, stay,” I called back. Walking to where he gestured, I pressed the button next to an elevator door and attempted to ignore my heart which had lodged in my throat. The elevator opened, I stepped into a small crimson compartment and turned to see Richard smiling at me as the access slid closed. The space was cramped, but I felt no comfort when the door opened into a brightly lit area.
The obstacle course looked exactly like a city block at night. I stood on a rooftop between a shed and a sheer glass wall. Streetlamps illuminated an alley below. Above was only darkness. A brightly lit club pumped a techno beat into the air one building over. There were also structures across the street from this one, their roofs within jumping distance for a person who wasn’t me. The resemblance to a city street was uncanny.
Clearly, the most direct way across would be jumping from rooftop to rooftop.
Yeah.
That wasn’t going to happen.
Sliding to my hands and knees, I crawled to the edge of the roof, searching for access to the ground. Construction rafters led down the side of the building. I maneuvered into a hole in the wood when something slapped my ankle, and wetness smeared across my leg.
I jumped back up through the whole, only to see a dark, viscous fluid dripping from around my ankle.
A chuckle came from below. “You might as well crawl down this way. I already got you.”
It might’ve been a trick, but the voice sounded like Susie’s, and both girls in the meeting really seemed like they were rooting for me, so I took a chance and crawled back through the hole.
When I landed on the second story down, Susie stood there with a slapstick bracelet in one hand that dripped with what looked like blood. When I leaned in, I smelled the unmistakable chalky odor of paint. My heart sunk a little as I realized that the new-to-me gym clothes I bought with my grandmother’s money were probably going to be ruined after this.
“You okay?” Susie whispered as she stuck her slapstick in a plastic bag. A streetlamp from the wall across from us illuminated half her face, throwing her features into stark contrast.
“Yeah.”
She leaned in. “Richard told us all not to help you, but . . .” She winked. “Don’t tell him I told you, but there’s always a front door and back door in every building and sometimes a side door. Some are locked from the outside, and in the test, they’ll change it up. Careful of entering and exiting doorways — that’s where people always wait for you. Feel free to fight and dodge people; they’re trained and ready for it. They have to get a line of paint on you for it to count, so try to get them to drop their slapstick. And I’d avoid the main street.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, even though my heart sank with her every word.
“Oh, and the rooftops aren’t as safe as they seem. There are rafters along every wall, and people can jump up. If I were you, I’d stick to the stores and turn the lights on so you can see people coming for you. If someone is assigned to a dark area, they’ll be wearing night vision goggles.”
“Okay.” I made to step past Susie when her finger shot up.
“Oh, and we’re all bound to certain areas, so if you can outrun one of us to the next building or block, we’ll fall behind.”
Outrun them?
Yeah, uh-huh. That was unlikely.
But I was thankful for her help, and I really appreciated that she cared enough to help me even more.
“Thanks, Susie,” I whispered as I headed to the access of the next level. I peeked through the hole before slipping through and found it empty. Carefully, I slid down when something wet and hard slapped against my side.
I jumped down and looked straight into the cowboy’s grinning face as he stood at an open window.
Susie’s face popped down through the access hole. “Oh, yeah. There are windows.”
“Got that one,” I whispered through a laugh, as I crawled into the room with the cute cowboy. As Susie had warned me, the guy had night goggles pulled up onto his forehead instead of a hat.
When he moved entirely into the dark space, his body glowed crimson to my vampire vision, and I realized, if I’d just craned my neck and looked toward the building, he would have been impossible to miss.
It must have been pitch black because the entire store glowed to my vampire vision. The area we stood in was a convenience store or gas station with
a couple of rows of shelves and a back bathroom or staff area. A second body glowed bright yellow and red near the other side of the shop, and he or she crawled across the floor toward us, disappearing behind a long counter.
Crouching down, I walked through the rows, heading toward the other side of the shop. Susie had said there was an exit, so it had to be there.
Every squeak of my tennis shoes echoed in my ears, so I took a moment to pull them off, tie them together, and loop them over my shoulders. Hugging the aisles and counters, I skirted past where the person was hiding, hearing their steady breathing.
When I’d passed the figure, I kept peeking back, waiting for the person’s red glow to light up the hallway behind me, but it remained empty and dark. I slipped through an open door with an Employees Only sign I could just make out in the dark.
I spotted glimmers of another glowing crimson figure lying in wait next to the exit door. They hid behind a shelf of what looked like cleaning supplies. But there was no getting around them to the door. My choice was to go back the way I came or risk going forward.
Crawling to the other side of the shelf, I grabbed a metal can of powdered cleaning supplies, hefted it in one hand, and chucked it as hard as I could into the hallway I’d just come in from.
There was a loud clang, and the air filled with the scent of chalky powder cleaner.
The glowing red figure peeked out from behind the shelf.
There was the sound of footsteps in the hallway, likely whoever I’d managed to evade in the store.
I held my breath as the person next to me stepped out, their body inches from where I was pressed to the backside of the shelf. The footsteps stopped outside, and the person next to me rushed to the door. As quietly as I could, I slipped past the shelf and to the back entrance. Before opening the door, I glanced back just in time to see the person dash out into the hallway, and as I peeked into the street, there was the faint sound of two slaps and splats.
An overhead lamp lit the alley outside, and I crept into it slowly. As I let the door close, I looked around to make sure there were no open windows. I’d taken two steps, and then boots thudded down behind me, and something slapped against my shoulder. Paint sprayed up the side of my neck, and I turned around to see Patrick glowering down.
A Bite at the Cherry: A High School Vampire Bully Romance (Blackburn Academy Book 1) Page 11
