by Patti Larsen
I sat there as the veritable crowd of strangers took a seat and made themselves at home.
“Syd,” Simon pointed at the girl who sat beside me, “this is Pain. That’s her boyfriend, Blood.”
Can you say Goth? Black hair, black nail polish, black eyeliner and eye shadow so thick it touched the cheekbones, black lipstick, black clothes, black, black and more black. Yes, on both of them.
I couldn’t tell what either of them looked like under all the gloom. For all I knew, they could have been related.
Ick.
Pain bobbed her head slowly, once. Blood dug into his food like it wasn’t dead yet.
Nice.
“This is Beth,” Simon went on, pointing at the normal-appearing girl next to Pain.
“Hi,” Beth said, offering her hand. In a daze, I shook it. “I like your hair.”
“Thanks,” I breathed. “I like yours too.”
She smoothed her fingers over her short brown bob and dimpled. Her smile reached her green eyes. If I could describe her in one word it would be neat. And tidy. Okay, that’s two words.
“Thanks.”
“And this is Page,” Simon said, gesturing with his little white plastic spoon, bits of unchewed Jell-O still clinging to it. I glanced at the beautiful blonde, perfectly dressed and made up, who kept her eyes down.
Why wasn’t she with the popular kids? She looked like one of them.
The question must have been all over my face. Simon leaned in and whispered, “Fallen Angel.”
Fallen Angel. Popular crowd discard. Wonder what she did to piss Alison off?
Better question was, who were these people and what did they want?
“We heard about what happened,” Simon said, pushing his glasses back more firmly on his face. “Heard you ousted Alison in a fair fight.”
“Did you mark her?” Pain peered up from under her dyed black hair, chocolate brown eyes almost black too.
“No,” I said.
“How come? I would have marked her,” Pain turned away, dreamy. She and Blood double fisted across the table.
Weird.
“No offense,” I said to Simon who appeared to be the impromptu leader of this little group, “but what exactly is it you want?”
Simon set down his chocolate milk and backhanded away the mustache.
“You beat Alison,” he said as if it explained everything.
“So?” My annoyance grew. This day wasn’t turning out the way I expected. I was suddenly very tired.
“You then proceeded to reject all of the popular kids.” He shrugged.
They all stilled, even Page.
“Again,” I said, “so?”
“You don’t want to be one of them,” Simon said. “That’s not why you did it.”
“Very good. So what does that have to do with all of you?”
Beth spoke up.
“We thought...”
I looked at her and back to Simon when she faltered.
“You’re not like them,” Pain said.
“I’ll definitely take that as a compliment,” I rolled my eyes. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”
Simon glanced around at the little group before looking back at me.
“We thought... if you didn’t want to be like them...”
“Yes?” I wanted him to spit it out already. Man, where was my patience?
“That maybe you wanted to be, you know, like us.”
Page’s laughter drew all eyes to her. It was subtle, painful laughter, heavy and wrenching, soft even, but from the deepest part of her. She shook with it, clinging to the edge of the table, one arm around her ribs as she laughed so hard she cried. She lifted her head, her mascara running over her perfectly made up face, the bitterness and cynicism clearly stamped on her, the kind of emotion that would age her beyond her years if she let it eat away at her much longer.
“No one wants to be like us,” she choked out, still laughing.
I stood up abruptly, pushing away from the table, trying not to get mad but wanting to make an impression.
“Listen,” I said to them, “I didn’t do what I did for you,” I pointed directly at Simon, “or for them,” I gestured into the rest of the cafeteria, “or for anyone. I did it because I just wanted to be left alone. Do you get it?” I asked him. “Do you?”
“You don’t want to make friends?”
He was so fragile, they all were. The outcasts of a society that wouldn’t accept them. They only had each other. And I wondered about that much. Page, I’m sure, would turn on them like a rabid animal at the first chance to be welcomed back into Alison’s good graces. And the Goth twins would likely self-destruct on very little notice. I shook my head. The last thing I needed at this point was a pack of misfits hanging off of me, seeking protection I could barely offer myself.
“No, Simon, I’m sorry. I don’t. Okay?”
I knew it took a lot for him to approach me, to step up. He took the risk for his little posse, opened the door. I felt bad I slammed it shut on him, on them. But I was tired of people all together.
They were better off without me.
That was when I noticed everyone had fallen deathly silent, not only our table. Everyone.
Everyone that is, except Page. She continued to laugh as I gathered up my things. I fled the stares and judgments poisoning the air of the cafeteria.
***
Chapter Fifteen
I made it through the rest of the day without having to turn down any more offers of best friendship, so I felt a little more emotionally stable by the time the last bell rang. I was free to escape. I could only guess Alison went home for the rest of the day because she wasn’t in any of my usual classes nor at any of her typical haunts during breaks.
Guess she was sick or something.
I knew how she felt.
I tried to talk to Brad after school but missed him. I know he saw me, but he drove off with his buddies before I had a chance to say anything to him. It felt important I know one way or another if he was angry with me.
Part of me was mad at him anyway. He brought this on, after all. And how dare he be angry with me for standing up for myself? Brad could go piss off, if that was the case.
The other part of me, the part that wished things could be different, wanted to know Brad did everything he could to help but his friends wouldn’t let him.
Yeah, right. Even I wasn’t that clueless.
I dragged my gaze from the retreating SUV and turned to leave, catching Quaid staring at me. That was about to stop and never happen again. I squared my newfound aggressive tendencies and marched up to him.
He smiled at me, really smiled. His chocolate brown eyes smiled too.
It took me by surprise. And knocked the anger out of me.
Still, I had to try.
“Something funny?” I demanded.
Quaid grinned, showing perfect white teeth. His black hair glowed in the sunlight, tall, lean body totally at ease. Wow, he was hot.
“Not sure what you were going for,” he said in that velvety deep voice of his, “but at least they’re all afraid of you now.”
“I wasn’t going for that,” I said.
“Really?” His lips twisted to the side, eyes still sparkling. I was having trouble concentrating for some reason. Oh right. My stupid demon side was panting over him. That made it very hard to concentrate on despising him. And if I found out he was using magic on me, I had plans to kill him.
No such luck. Just hormones and a randy demon, damn it.
“Really,” I said. “In case you hadn’t noticed in your little friendship with Alison, I’m not exactly the most popular person around here.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I got that. And she’s not my friend.”
“You seemed pretty chummy yesterday,” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
He laughed, a deep, warm sound wrapping me in something that had nothing to do with magic.
“We’re different that w
ay, Syd,” he said. “You try to fit in. I don’t.”
“Then why the whole Alison thing?”
“I wondered what she had to offer,” he said. “Not much.”
Wow. That was cold. Still, I agreed with him, sadly enough.
“Least you could have done was stay out of the way,” I complained. “You didn’t have to help her along.”
“Sorry if I gave you that impression,” he said.
“So you were using her, is that it?” I’m not normally so skeptical, but the last few days taught me some things.
“You could say that.”
“Yeah, right,” I challenged him.
“Really.” He let the full weight of the truth hang between us. I had to admit he at least believed what he said, even if he was deluding himself.
“At least I’m honest about my motives,” he added. “Unlike some.”
I didn’t take long for me to look away.
“I don’t have motives, except being left alone.”
“Hm-hm. No revenge, no desire to have them run from you?”
There was the rabbit image. But this whole day was so much easier than any other day I ever experienced since I started high school. Part of me knew he was right. Their fear was my freedom, whether I liked it or not.
“Fine,” I said, “if they’re scared of me, better than being pushed around.” I meant it.
“Don’t you sometimes wish we could...” he drifted off, mischief on his face, still smiling. But there was a darkness to him that worried me.
“What?” I said back. “Let loose?”
He laughed, cynical and jaded well beyond anything I had experience with. But with parents like his, I hardly wondered where that attitude came from. I’d be pretty dark too if I had Batsheva Moromond for a mother.
I had to plant that image in my head, didn’t I?
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it,” I admitted. “But I’d never do it.”
“Never?” His dark eyes challenged me, still smiling while my demon half pushed me to agree with him.
“Never,” I made it a firm no in spite of her. He laughed again.
“Yeah,” he almost whispered. “Me neither.”
We exchanged a moment that made me uncomfortable, all the more so because he felt so open and raw to me. I didn’t want that glimpse inside him or his life. I didn’t want to know how troubled he was or that his life sucked more than mine. I almost had the impression he was asking for more than just a conversation. Was he really reaching out?
Damn it. I had my own problems. But my demon wouldn’t let me walk away.
“You’re doing a good job for someone who says he doesn’t want to fit in.” Was that resentment showing its filthy head? Probably.
That made him laugh again, as harshly as before. “You could say that, I guess.” His dark eyes drifted away from me, expression bored. “I could if I wanted to. And I don’t. I’m not sure why it’s so important to you.” His gaze snapped back to me. “Why take crap they hand you when you’re so much better than that?”
It couldn’t have been a compliment. “In case you hadn’t noticed, that’s exactly what I did.” It was like he purposely tried to goad me. But my anger had faded, replaced by curiosity of my own tied to wondering about how his attitude could affect the family. I wondered if I should bring it to Mom’s attention.
He shrugged, the smirk coming back. “The thing about old habits is they tend to come back.” Like he expected me to revert? Never. Or was he talking to me at all?
Quaid didn’t look dangerous or like a loose cannon. Mind you, I didn’t think I did, either. My demon really liked him but I wasn’t trusting her as a good judge of character. Still, maybe it was normal high school angst? If anyone could understand that, surely it was me. Still, I decided to keep a closer eye on Quaid Moromond, just in case.
That made my demon incredibly happy.
Since when did I care? Guess even the suggestion of a threat to the coven brought out protective feelings in me and made me wonder if I really wanted to be cut loose after all. Or did I want my cake and eat it too?
I hated it when I doubted myself. And this was a big one.
I walked away from Quaid and headed home on my own, leaving him to grin after me like he knew something I didn’t. I had a feeling regardless of whether he was a danger to the family or not, Quaid was a threat to me and the way I thought about the world. I was starting to understand his presence was going to be more of a challenge to my choices than I first thought, not to mention the sulking my demon did every time I made her leave him behind. Why I would let some strange boy affect my way of thinking, I had no idea, but the way he pushed me to admit the truth to myself pissed me off more and more the further I was from him.
My mental conversation turned so heated I stopped halfway home and turned around to confront him. I pulled myself back to reality almost immediately. Kind of a stupid thing to go charging after him when I had absolutely no idea where he lived.
When I let it drop, reality rushed in. It was Wednesday, and that meant because of my little chat with Quaid I was about to be late for soccer for the very first time ever.
I ran the last block.
I tore through the kitchen and up to my room, dumping everything to change into my uniform. Somehow Mom managed to get the chocolate out of my jersey. Probably magic, but at the time she could have chanted it out with a smoking stick of incense in her underwear and I wouldn’t have cared less.
Well, maybe not in her underwear.
I hit the kitchen at a full run and ran into my mom. Before I had a chance to dodge her she stopped me with a hand on my arm. For the first time, I noticed the way she was dressed.
Fear punched me in the stomach so hard I had nothing to say.
Normally, Mom dressed in flowing skirts, blouses, large silver jewelry. She didn’t get she looked like the stereotypical witch right down to the delicate pentagram she wore around her neck. I’d tried, Erica tried, I think the whole coven mentioned to her gently at one time or another she could do with a wardrobe change. But nothing influenced Miriam Hayle and her sense of style.
Until now. I groaned at her ensemble of cute blue yoga pants and matching cropped jacket, her white tank top peeking out from behind the shiny sparkle zipper. A ponytail held back her long, wavy black hair. Trendy little sneakers graced her feet. My mother was in sneakers. She couldn’t possibly be thinking what I thought she was thinking.
Oh, the horror of it all. My mother was trying to be cool.
“Meira said today is one of your last soccer games,” Mom said.
No, please, no. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“I’d like to come watch you play.”
She said it. She said the words that sealed my doom and meant the end of the only thing in my life I had for me and me alone with no interference. How did I tell her I didn’t want her there? I knew this was painful for her, too, this effort she made to be someone she wasn’t, to be the mom I wished I had instead of the one I got.
Oh, crap.
“Okay,” I whispered.
The tension in her eased. “Wonderful,” she said. “Let’s go.”
I followed her out the door, dragging my feet, terrified at the implications of what was about to happen. I shook myself. What was I expecting? It wasn’t like she would break out into magic or anything. Looking at her, she screamed normal Mom. What was I so worried about?
She opened the door of her beautiful convertible and climbed in. I hesitated by the door.
“Coming?” She asked. I never got to ride in the Mustang, usually relegated to one of the back seats of our minivan. I climbed in beside her, careful to hold my kit bag carefully in my lap.
“It’s only a couple of blocks,” I told her.
“Rather arrive in style,” she winked at me before putting on a pair of huge shades I had never seen before. I was sure they had a price tag on them only a little while ago.
She spun the ca
r out onto the street and drove very fast to the soccer field. She pulled into an empty spot, one of the only ones left, and climbed out, removing the sunglasses, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. I understood then how little my mother knew about the outside world. How had she survived for so long? She was a grown woman for goodness sakes. But she was a grown woman destined from birth to lead a powerful coven, schooled privately, unlike me, by other witches, groomed as witches were groomed in her generation, protected by not only the magic but by the large mass of old wealth the Hayle family managed and expanding for centuries.
I knew then what a leap it was for Mom to let me be raised like a normal child, unsheltered from the outside world, exposed to everything she'd been protected from. I instantly gained respect for her. I walked around the car to her to offer what little help I could.
I took the sunglasses from her and slid them on top of her head, into her hair.
“Am I okay?” She asked.
“Yeah, Mom,” I answered. “You are.”
Together, we walked across the parking lot to the soccer field. I left her by the fence to change into my cleats. Maybe I really believed it. Maybe not. I was about to find out.
Mom clutched the fence with both hands, smiling at me. She waved a little.
I started to relax and get into game mode, fear easing. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
It wasn’t until I reached the field and glanced around that I noticed how many faces I recognized in the crowd.
My mom brought the family to watch me play soccer. I didn’t know whether to scream and run away or hug her.
I watched as the coven gathered around Mom, chatting and laughing, their combined power leaking out around them like a cloud. Erica and Jared both waved, Jared shooting me a wink and a huge ‘go get ‘em’ smile. The more of them that joined the group, the louder they were. My heart pounded as I watched the normal parents, compelled by instinct, move away until the circle of witches stood isolated.
A sharp word from my coach snapped my attention back to the field.
“Hayle!” Coach Matters growled. “Get in the game!”
