“Why did you follow me? Out of all the chaos going on upstairs, you came after me?” I don’t know what answer I expect to hear, and I feel awkward for making him sound like a stalker, but I want to know.
Duncan reflects a moment, and I get a first glimpse of what he looks like when he’s concentrating. Furrowed eyebrows and the trademarks of thoughtfulness are there, sure, but he has a strangely peaceful expression aside from that. I haven’t seen anyone mellow like him anywhere else.
“I wasn’t really following you, exactly…or, if I was, I was more just leaving after the whole scene
happened,” he begins. “But then I saw you, and I noticed your friend with the antlers wasn’t with you…plus you were kind of running away.”
“I wasn’t running,” I remind him again, less harshly than I did the first time.
“Whatever,” he concedes with another smile. “It just didn’t seem right for you to be alone after a scene like that. I know my presence might not be the most welcome right now because technically I'm one of them, but…I guess I’m trying to prove that not all of us are terrible.” He finishes with a shrug.
“Well…” I don’t know what to say. “I probably shouldn’t assume or make generalities…thanks, Duncan.”
“Don’t mention it. I like being different,” he says. Then he looks a little bashful again. “You…you’re okay, then? You’re not going to…” he trails off, his
gaze flickering once between me and the forested area nearby.
“Yes, I’m fine. No fleeing to the hills for me,” I say reassuringly. “We vixens are pretty resilient creatures.” Too much! I chastise myself. I keep forgetting Duncan isn’t someone I can bond with in the same way I would any other half-breed acquaintance.
His reaction isn’t instant revulsion, though. “Good to know…my hair is the same color as fox fur, so I should know these things already. Honorary fox club membership and all that,” he says. I’m laughing now, a real laugh that I don’t have to reach down deep for. Whatever else happens today, this human kid tried to connect with me on a half-breed level, and that at least is something worth remembering. I hope I get to
know him better, however unlikely that is.
Suddenly the sound of a stomach loudly growling like an angry beast disrupts the air. I’m startled, and I worry that it’s my stomach that decided to star in the opera, but Duncan grins up at me sheepishly.
“Sorry…lunchtime,” he says. “I gave my lunch bag to one of my friends already…do you want to walk back with me to get it?” I’m surprised he offered, and a little flattered. I don’t know what to think of this kid.
“Sure, if it’s not a problem,” I say. “Where do you guys normally eat?”
“Since it’s a good day, outside closer to the ledge under the main entrance,” he tells me. He begins walking back towards that destination, and I follow at a marginally slower pace. I’m nervous to meet more people, especially now, but I’m relieved he doesn’t say anything else about his friends or bring it up.
We walk in silence for a few paces; my lunch is still in my locker, but I definitely don’t feel like running back to fetch it. My smile from chatting with Duncan threatens to disappear as I think about the storm waiting for me back in the school. After all the fighting that probably broke out after my confrontation with Bryan, eventually someone is going to remember who
caused the trouble.
But then I look at Duncan’s ginger red hair waving in the very faint breeze and the freckles under his eyes, and I don’t care as much.
What’s gotten into me? I think curiously. I’m not normally this moody, but I’m also not this easy to appease after I cause some sort of dramatic upset that might affect a lot of people.
It’s almost as if Duncan can read the train of my thoughts passing through the air above my head. “What are you going to do if you get in trouble with the school?” he asks me. I groan and shake my head, covering my face with my hands.
“If? I don’t know…I was trying to not think about
that,” I say, taking a deep breath before lowering my hands.
“Was I helping? I’m normally good at being a distraction,” Duncan says.
“Yeah, you were doing great for a little while,” I say, smiling. “You talking to me at all is a distraction, honestly.” Shortly after those words pass my lips, I wish I hadn’t said them. Duncan blinks at me, perhaps misunderstanding what I meant.
“Why? Do you not talk to…people like me very much?” he asks. He’s doing it again, avoiding names of certain people groups; I appreciate the effort. I shake my head in a negative, relieved that he didn’t comment on what I actually meant and didn't intend to say out loud.
“I kind of grew up in…well, let’s call it a really small town with not many humans wandering around,” I inform him, trying to be casual. He looks like he wants to
ask more, but our moderate walking pace—since we’ve slowed down for conversation—has finally carried us close to our destination. I realize we took the long way: over the athletic field and around the buildings, all the way to the right side of the building which will take us to the main entrance.
“Well, it was nice talking to you, Duncan,” I say. Not that it matters, but just in case half-breed students are
never allowed to use the main doors for any reason, I don’t want to anger the principal or the powers that be any further. Or encounter any of my enemies here.
Basically the only human I’m okay talking to right now is the redhead in front of me. He’s staring at me again, but this time it’s a little more subtle, and less dazed looking.
“It…was nice talking to you too. Sierra,” he says. He seems embarrassed now as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck once or twice. I feel awkward too now, and I look down at the ground; my ears angle down, and the tip of my tail sweeps the ground. I take a few steps back, showing that I’m leaving.
“See you around, I guess,” I say, hoping my voice sounds casual. I’m really angry with myself for feeling at all down about this farewell in the first place; he’s just a human, after all, and even if he had the decency to check up on me when I was in distress, it doesn’t mean we’re friends.
It might be dangerous to be friends with me
anyway, so if I respect him, I should leave him be, I instruct myself firmly while at the same time feeling ridiculous for the necessity of having this internal dialogue in the first place.
“Hey!” Duncan calls once I’m a few feet away; I don’t know where I’m going, but I was aiming for the back entrance just to have somewhere to go. “I do hope to see you again. Around here, I guess,” he says. He looks like he feels a little nervous still, but then he smiles and that looks pretty genuine. I smile back.
“Okay…thanks for the memo,” I say. “Enjoy your lunch!”
I walk away fast before I can say anything else…or before he can. My emotions are still haywire, and I feel frazzled in more ways than one.
z
The rest of my day is incredibly, abominably tense. I keep waiting for the principal to call for me over the intercom system, but she never does. At first I’m confused; Belinda did not give me the impression of being haphazard or lax with “justice,” so I wonder why she’s taking so long to suspend or expel me. Is she trying to hold my wrongdoing over my head, making me feel anxious as part of the punishment?
As the day continues, I understand better what’s going on. Morgan and Shelby explained a good part of it; they were waiting by my vandalized locker in the
M-DNA student hall when I returned from my encounter with Duncan. It seems I served as the catalyst for breaking all the tension building between the students. A lot of fights broke out, mostly between the males on both sides, and a good portion of the half-breeds have been called into the office. Many of them don’t reappear in their later classes, and throughout the day I imagine them standing disheveled—some with bloody knuckles and bruised faces—in front of Belinda’s desk as they try
to explain what happened. Some of the
humans are gone too, but I notice Katrina and Bryan hanging around and attending their classes like normal.
“Probably because Bryan doesn’t want to admit he got his fat lip from a half-breed girl,” Shelby snorted contemptuously once his presence came to her attention before our last class. She’s been worried about Ivar being gone most of the day, so this is the most she’s spoken in a couple of hours. According to her, Ivar was one of the ones most involved in the fighting besides Lyle, and he's most likely going to get into a lot of trouble.
“And Katrina?” I ask as we take our seats right before my last and least favorite class—Government—starts. “Why isn’t she spilling her guts to the principal?”
“She might have already,” Morgan interjects. “If she could get past the crowd of people not allowed to leave Belinda’s office—”
“—and if Bryan allowed her to tell Belinda about
Sierra beating him up,” Shelby says, unwilling to let go of this idea. “He looks like he’s a controlling sort of boyfriend.”
“Okay, we get that Bryan is a scumbag…he already lied to Belinda about me yesterday. But surely she should have the whole story by now? She can't have spent all this time suspending everyone who got into a fight,” I say, trying to get back to the real issue. I’m watching the teacher—another middle-aged, stereotypical history geek lecturing on how Chairman Heights polluted the gene pool with animal DNA and started the M-DNA war—so I’ll notice if he sends any hostile glares in our direction, but he doesn’t seem to care if we talk. Nor does it seem to bother him if a few
of his M-DNA students are missing.
“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says. “I don’t want you to get called into the office,
Sierra, but if Belinda already has it out for you, why hasn’t she called you in to punish you yet? What’s the hold up?” Instead of taking notes, she’s making a long, fish-tail plait with her hair; her nails are painted the same color as the red baseball hat Lyle was wearing yesterday. (Half-breeds generally don’t prefer the smell of nail polish, but there are natural varieties of human products available that don’t offend our sensitive noses.)
“You look like you have an idea about what’s going on,” I say to Morgan. “Share?”
“It’s not much, really. I think…I think that maybe only a few people know you were at the start of all the drama. The ones who are half-breeds who did know won’t sell you out to any human, especially because they think you’re cool and daring. The humans who got involved…well, there simply aren’t as many in the office, and with all the conflicting reports…” Morgan releases the river of her thoughts, then pauses. “Sorry,
I’m rambling.”
“No you’re not,” Shelby assures her. “Basically,
Belinda has to clear through all that rubbish before she can call Sierra in. She has to keep up a little semblance of fairness, after all. Students aren’t allowed to fight in school, human or half-breed.”
“People think I’m cool and daring?” I ask, side-tracked by one of Morgan’s comments; I totally picked up on the rest of that dialogue, but the concept of those two words Morgan used applying to me is a
novelty. Especially because anything I’ve done that could be considered daring has been purely accidental. Shelby releases a naturally breathy giggle, and Morgan smiles.
“Yeah. The incident with your fabulous entrance yesterday…and you hitting Bryan…it kind of all added up and you’re a bit of a rebel leader among us now,” she tells me with that same smile flowing into her eyes. “Or so I’m told. Lyle told me this yesterday, and I assume he’s even more right after today.”
“Huh,” I reply wittily. Shelby giggles again. I watch Morgan as she talks about Lyle, and my curiosity stirs again. I’m about to open my mouth to ask if her and Lyle are together, but then our teacher frowns in my direction. I decide my question can wait until a later date.
Until then, I have more important questions on my mind. Like what I’m going to do once Belind gets down to the fact that I was the catalyst for the drama in the hall during lunchtime. Sure, she has a lot of conflicting reports to sort through, but in spite of my friends’ reassurances, I know that eventually Belinda will get to the original story.
Still, I’m more worried about what Harold is going to do to me once he discovers that I flouted our agree-ment to avoid trouble at all costs.
REGION 5 HISTORY TEXTBOOK FOR GRADE 12
TEXT PROVIDED BY S.M.A.R.T. INDUSTRIES
SECTION HEADING: LATE CENTURY 22
CHAPTER HEADING: S.M.A.R.T. INDUSTRIES
The toll the war took on the world is considered incredible by all historical standards, and many thought this war would be the one to end the civilization as we knew it. However, an end to the conflict came in sight once SMART Industries came into play.
CARTER BOWMAN, the founder of S.M.A.R.T.—Science, Medicine, Art, Relationships, and Technology—INDUSTRIES set himself and the thousands of employees working for his company to the task of finding a solution that would satisfy the pure DNA and M-DNA factions on either side of the war. The solution came in the form of a vaccine which, if given to every human child between the ages of 2-5, would protect their DNA strain from being contaminated with anything animal. The battles did not end instantly, but the vaccine began the peace talks that took three years to adequately discuss.
The end of the war and following peace brought billions of credits into SMART accounts
thanks to the popularity of the vaccine, and Mr.
Bowman became the richest man in the world.
Due to his and his company's efforts, new resources and methods of cleansing our planet were discovered, and humanity began adapting to this new version of Earth. SMART industries became a household name, and since the peace they have brought about most of
the latest medical, scientific, and technical advances.
Unfortunately, SMART industries could not halt all aspects of the war. Even after the peace, rogue factions of the former pure DNA side of the conflict continued to attack concentrated M-DNA areas with great cost on both sides. Biological warfare was their method of choice to perpetuate their extremist cleansing of the gene pool, and it took until the end of Century 22 to capture, imprison, or execute all of these rogue units.
9
I lose my nerve. I don’t tell any of my brothers what happened once I get home. Eisen picked me up like normal, and I intended to tell him what happened. But I can’t, even though I know it will be worse later if Belinda ends up suspending me—or expelling me, which is just as likely—and I have to call someone in my family to come pick me up. I scheme to avoid this as Eisen drives in silence, caught up in the events of his own day at the beanery. I could always call Hayley, and someone from her family would come get me, in spite of the long drive....but that would get back to my brothers eventually, and Harold would be disappointed in me for willfully deceiving him.
My evening is quiet but internally stressful, and I have a hard time sitting still. At least I can make dinner,
although it requires some effort to not slam pots and pans around as I make chicken spaghetti. My brothers notice my tension but don’t ask for more details.
By the time I finally clean up and go to bed, I’m a nervous wreck, and I don't think I'll be getting much sleep. For a while, my mind runs around in circles like a deranged fox chasing an invisible chicken; but eventually I do fall asleep.
I wake up the next morning with the same thoughts as before rattling around my tired brain. Day three of this insanity, I think. The last thing I want to do is get up and go to school, but I’m hoping, at the very least, that the custodial crew for the school cleaned up the M-DNA hall and my poor abused locker.
Sure they did. And they remodeled the lower wing overnight too, my mind scoffs.
“Sierra!” Wade hollers for me as he thumps up the stairs, probably on all fours with his fluffy russet tail wav
ing in the air. I’m not sure why, but my entire family has this habit of running up the stairs at home on all fours. Even Harold occasionally gives in to this impulse as he races up the stairs.
“Don’t you dare bust in here, Wade!” I call to my brother. I hear him barely stop himself from colliding with my bedroom door; I’ve learned to keep it shut in the mornings for the simple reason that I like my privacy when I’m getting ready in the morning. Solitude is hard to come by in a house full of half-breed men who don’t think to knock.
“No need to snap, S. Hurry up! It’s important,” Wade huffs outside my door. His tone worries me, and I hurry to finish tugging on my stone-washed jeans and
my green V-neck tee. I didn’t do much with my hair today, just a brush through and a loose side ponytail. Cosmetics can’t help the purple circles under my eyes.
Wade grabs my hand as soon as I open the door, and begins tugging me down the stairs. “What did you do now, little sister? It sounds like you beat up a student!” he says. I could feign ignorance about the situation, but my brothers are smarter than that,
especially my wildest sibling Wade.
“I didn’t beat up anyone,” I say firmly. “Please tell me you answered that call and not—”
“Too late. They got Harold’s SMARTcall, and he’s talking to someone on your school board right now. They probably used the number listed in the legal guardian section of the paperwork,” Wade informs me. He was trying to be serious, but it must have cost too much effort. “You really busted up a human boy? That’s great, sis, we’ll make a fighting Maurell out of you yet!”
Eisen meets us at the bottom of the stairs with his lean arms crossed over his slender chest. He has yet to put a shirt on, so he’s wandering the house with little but his work pants on. “Wade, I absolutely forbid you to refer to our family as the fighting Maurells. It makes us sound like Irish wrestlers, and if anything, I insist upon us being Italian,” he says.
Vixen (The Fox and Hound Book 1) Page 9
