“I dunno…Emilee might like it…” Wade says thoughtfully.
I sigh and yank my arm out of Wade’s grip. The three of us dawdle in our tiny living room, and I strain to decipher Harold’s words in the kitchen.
“Guys, this isn’t relevant!” I huff.
“What’s relevant is the fact that you didn’t tell us you got into a fight, Sierra!” Wade says indignantly.
“The true relevant question for this situation is how you reacted in this fight,” Eisen says contemplatively. “According to all reports, you clawed this silly human and ran away. However, I know your fighting style much better than anyone else: a little hasty, and more offense than defense…” He loses his train of thought for
a second, and I know all of us remember the days when he and Harold took a few weekends to train Wade and me in self-defense. “Anyway, I think you probably punched his lights out?”
“I back-handed him,” I mutter, resigned to humoring my brothers’ more violent side. Wade claps me on the back so hard I almost fall over, and Eisen grins with his sharp, white teeth.
“Excellent, S. That’s how a woman should fight that brand of douchebag: a back-hand says your opponent isn’t man enough to handle a fist to the nose,” he says gleefully. I open my mouth to let the sarcasm flow, but suddenly all three of us hear Harold’s raised voice in the other room.
“—and I don’t care if she knocked every single one of that idiot boy’s teeth out, he provoked her with his witless vulgarity! If you try to tell me or anyone else my sister is a rabble-rouser in your school again, I’m going to use every connection in my power to take legal action against your school!”
I haven’t heard Harold shout like that in a long time; the last time had to be when our landlord tried to instruct Wade on how to use the plumbing in our townhouse. Eisen and Wade are equally shocked; the
three of us stand completely stunned as the other person squawks at the other end of Harold’s conversation.
“He’s shouting…he’s actually pissed…” Wade, who is usually on the receiving end of Harold’s traditionally reasonable argument sessions, seems dazed and happy with the realization that our eldest brother does, in fact, have the fiery Maurell temper. Eisen claps a
hand over his own mouth, stuffing in the gales of laughter he’d usually produce in such a situation.
“My sister is as decent a kid as I am a good lawyer, and so help me if you push me I will make sure your school gets so much heat from the media that you’ll be up to your eyeballs in desegregation committee shit! Your government funding will cease to exist!”
“He’s cussing!” Wade says too loudly, punching the air with a triumphant raised fist, and I give his tail a sharp tug to make him shut up. There is another moment of the person on the other end of the line squawking rapidly, and next time Harold speaks he’s no longer shouting.
“Thank you for your understanding,” he speaks in cold tones that are still too loud for any inside voices rule. “Sierra will be coming to school today, after I discuss the situation with her. Your request should be fulfilled by this afternoon. Thank you for your time.” He barely finishes ending the call before…
“Sierra. Get in here now.” I cringe at the tone of his voice, and Eisen sympathetically pats me on the back.
“Just keep your ears back and wait it out, it’ll be over soon,” Wade tries to encourage me.
Harold is standing at the sink when I enter the
kitchen, his ears perked up and his tail twitching erratically as he leans on the counter. The Thursday sun shines gently through the window, and it gleams on Harold’s black hair and the equally dark fur on his ears.
“So…” I begin after he’s silent for a moment too long. “I can explain—”
“Do not let that happen again, Sierra. Next time you get in trouble with school I want to hear about it
before I get a surprise phone call before eight a.m.,” he says. I hear the fatigue in his voice; Harold’s constantly overworked weariness never fails to bring me sadness.
“Okay,” I say softly, feeling the teeth of guilt bite down uncomfortably hard into the lining of my stomach. Harold turns around, and I observe the sadness and frustration in his eyes, eyes so very like my mother’s.
“I understand how hard this is for you, Sierra. I do. When I asked you yesterday morning to try to stay out of trouble, I realized it wouldn’t be easy. We are the fighting Maurells, after all,” he smiles, and it looks so painful an effort that I want to run up and hug him. I take a few steps forward before I stop myself; I should let him finish speaking first. Wade and Eisen shuffle into the kitchen now; I sense their sheepishness by their hanging heads, now they know Harold heard us eavesdropping from the living room.
“I don’t blame you for what happened with that human, Sierra. I wish you hadn’t done it, but I also know I taught you to never let anyone disrespect you. I’m glad you can defend yourself,” he says. I assume by his words that Belinda really got down to it to find the whole story, and communicated it to my brother…with
probable embellishments, of course. “However, you’ve been put into a very sticky situation now. Wade, if you make an innuendo out of what I just said, I will rip your tail off.” Harold is trying to be reasonable with me, but he snaps at Wade so quickly that I realize he is all but calm right now. Wade, who was about to stay something to Eisen, goes quiet, and I hear him mutter something that sounds like “man-period.”
“Does the school want to suspend me?” I ask.
“Yes. Well, part of the vote was to expel you, but the more…‘merciful’ voters in this circumstance voted for either a two week suspension or a written apology to the human boy,” Harold informs me, and every single one of us standing in the kitchen cringes. I’m more surprised than anything else, but still horrified and angered all the same.
“That’s it? Those are my choices? Either suspension, or groveling to the kid who actually caused the entire situation? What happened to the rest of the students involved in the fighting?” I ask, furious. Harold sighs heavily, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms; he looks like Eisen when he does this.
“Part of the deal is that if you do this, all the other half-breed students won’t be punished. Don’t you see the strategy in this, Sierra?” he asks; he’s in lawyer mode now. “Belinda Harper is making a power play as the new principal of a very prestigious institution, and she wants to make an example of you, while at the same time showing what she sees as mercy. This is day three of your attendance at this school, and already you have been the source of or a relating factor in more than one dramatic situation. She sees you as a rebel; she thinks you won’t do it, but if you write an apology to this ridiculous human, it is certain that he will show the document off, and the rest of the half-breeds who were starting to look up to you for being a dissenter will lose interest and back off.”
“Because I groveled like everyone else,” I realize bitterly. I’m so disgusted with everyone in charge at my new school I’m almost tempted to take the suspension.
But I know if I leave school even for a day or two, I won’t be willing to go back. Waiting a year to transfer and falling behind isn’t an option I’m willing to consider.
“You can’t expect her to write an apology to this little puke, Harry,” Eisen bursts out angrily. “It’s not in the fighting Maurell code!”
“I thought you said we weren’t calling ourselves that,” Wade says as he punches Eisen’s arm.
“I’m resigned to it sticking around now,” Eisen sighs, slapping Wade on the back of his shaggy-haired head. I half expect them to be rolling around the floor the next minute, fighting like fox pups do.
“I don’t expect her to write the apology, Eisen,” Harold interjects before the familial violence can get out of hand. “Because I wrote it myself while I was on the phone. I think you three will find it satisfactory," he says. He strides over to the kitchen table and picks up a sheet of standard recycled paper. I
recognize the elegantly slanted, thin writing decorating it from where I’m standing. I take it from him when he hands it to me, and begin reading. Eisen and Wade come up behind me to read over my shoulder.
I’m blessing Harold repeatedly in my head by the time I finish reading. Every word somehow drips with the
deepest sarcasm, and only an idiot wouldn’t pick up on the total lack of repentance in this document. Yet, the plain words do express an apology, so the basic task has been taken care of. The wattage emitting from Eisen’s and Wade’s grins as we finish reading is palpable.
“Wow, Harold!” I say, immensely encouraged, although I still feel guilty for involving Harold in any of
this in the first place.
“That’s quite the way to obey the letter of the law, if not the spirit,” Eisen comments, taking the letter from me to admire it on his own.
“You could have done just as well, Sierra, but I didn’t want you to do it. There’s also a very good chance all of the…content in the note might go over the boy’s head—”
“It’s enough, Harold,” I say gratefully. “It’s enough to keep me out of suspension, and the likelihood is that someone will understand the meaning of this letter, so even if the human does show it off like a trophy it won’t be a good thing for him. I won’t lose my pride.”
“Exactly,” Harold says, smiling again. “Not that I want you to be a total rebel, but I don’t mind people looking up to you.” His smile looks less painful, but it’s still tired. This time when I feel the urge to hug him, I give in; Harold knows me well, and he’s already prepared to receive my embrace before I even get to him.
“Sorry,” I mutter into his neck, breathing in his familiar smell of fresh laundry and mild, dusky cologne. He pats my back comfortingly.
“I know…just really try to stay out of any more drama next time. I don’t know if I can save you like this
again; it’s a miracle they believed my influence was as powerful as I said it was, and it’s miraculous they settled for such an unorthodox punishment,” he says. After a moment we release each other, and I hurriedly wipe away any moisture leaking from the faintly slanted corners of my eyes before Eisen or Wade can comment on my tears.
“We should probably go, Eisen,” I say to my golden
brother as I take back the letter he and Wade finally finished appreciating. “While you’re going to put a shirt on, grab me a pop tart, will you? The cherry kind, not maple and cinnamon.”
“I’m taking you today, not Eisen. His shift changed times today, so I’m heading to work first,” Harold says. I smile at my eldest brother, nearly missing the pop tart package Eisen chucks at me from the other side of the kitchen. One of the tarts is already missing. Eisen blesses me with a parting wave, my other pop tart between his teeth, and I stick my tongue out at him as he goes to leave the kitchen area.
“A few parting words, guys,” Harold speaks again. He’s left both lawyer and brother mode behind, and now he’s entering into father mode. This side scares me a little because he so rarely uses it. Eisen comes back into the kitchen as he begins scarfing down his stolen breakfast.
“I don’t want to cause unnecessary worry, but some things are happening that I think you all should be aware of as you go through your days,” he says with a tinge of darkness in his voice. “Tensions rise high where I work, and because I’m a lawyer I know about things. I take care of cases that give me an exclusive
look at what’s going on between M-DNA people and the purists.”
“Yes, we know, Superman,” Eisen mutters through a mouthful of food.
“Eisen,” Harold says in his special why-can’t-you-be-serious-for-three-seconds voice. Eisen doesn’t speak again.
“I want you to know—especially you, Wade—times
are changing. Very few people are happy with the desegregation laws, mostly because they’ve caused an unprecedented raise in taxes. We half-breeds may be happy with a few of the changes taking place, like the government funding and the equality movements, but the humans outnumber us, and next to none of them are pleased with the changes. Some privileges are in danger of being taken away already.”
“Why warn me to be more careful?” Wade asks with a touch of defensiveness.
“Because you…well, Wade you are simply a more obvious target because your animalistic features are more prominent than anyone else in our half-breed community,” Harold says.
“And you’re a more violent person anyway,” Eisen adds. Wade glares angrily at the ceiling, growling quietly as he perhaps prays for patience. He’s clearly trying not to voice what he’s thinking, but I can’t help but agree with Harold.
The best thing to do is to keep Wade out of the public eye…but that’s hardly possible, I think. I still feel for my brother though…after the past two days, I completely understand why blending in without trouble is so difficult.
“I want you all…there’s no one thing you can do to stay safe, but I’m asking all three of you to keep out of trouble. It’s hard, I know it is. But I’ve been doing it for years, and now is the time to pursue caution over equality. At least until everything calms down again,” Harold says.
He doesn’t say anything to conclude the conversation, but all of us know there’s nothing else to
say, so we depart to go about our business. My ride to school with Harold is quiet, but one thought has taken the place of the older ones tromping the paths of my mind last night.
If. If everything calms down again.
10
The first thing I notice when I walk in to school is Lyle standing in front of my locker. None of my other friends have arrived yet, since Harold dropped me off earlier than Eisen normally does. Other half-breed students meander about the hallway; most of the lockers have been cleaned off, but I also notice that it was not the janitorial squad who took care of the mess. Grubby paper towels soaked in water and covered with paint streaks litter the floor in what I recognize as a responsive rebellion to our predicament being ignored.
In the excitement of the fighting yesterday, I forgot to tell my brothers about this particular incident…but I’m not sorry. They don’t need any extra drama from my side at this point.
“Hey,” I say to Lyle as I approach my locker; he’s
wearing another baseball cap, this one plain but bright blue. “What’s up?”
He turns around, and I wince strongly. Half-breeds heal fast, but not so quickly that two black eyes, a fat lip, and a scraped face go away overnight.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he assures me as he lifts a hand to touch one of the scrapes on his face; bruises decorate his knuckles as well. “Besides—”
“—the other guy looks worse?” I say quickly. I don’t want Lyle to think I’m having a girly freak-out; I’ve seen worse scars on my brothers from all of their fights—most of which they won, as long as they fought on the same side—and I expect to see a lot of battered looking people today.
“Exactly.” Lyle smiles, and I wish he hadn’t; I’m worried the scab on his lip is going to crack open and bleed. “You’re okay? That guy was a total ass with you yesterday.”
“I’m fine. I’m more worried about the aftermath of everything else…” I say; I’ll tell him about the whole apology letter and my sacrifice to get everyone out of trouble once Morgan, Shelby, and Ivar show up so I don’t have to explain more than once. “Hey, how did you get out of trouble?”
Lyle shrugs. “The principal didn’t seem as interested in all of us who were fighting as a whole…not that she didn’t care. I think most of us might have detentions coming up, and the humans just have to take notes home to their parents…”
“Which is grossly unfair!” I interrupt, outraged. The parents who send their kids here won’t get their kids in trouble, that’s for sure. Hopefully my letter will take care
of the half-breed detentions at least.
Lyle nods in acknowledgement and continues. “Harper was definitely more interested in th
e original sin, as it were. I didn’t tell her anything condemning about you, but I know someone did. I’m sure it didn’t take her very long to get the whole story after that.”
“Hello!” I hear Shelby’s breathy voice before I see her, along with Ivar’s lumbering steps reverberating
through the ground as both of them approach me and Lyle. I expected Ivar to look as beat up as Lyle, but I guess Ivar is the safer fighter. The sheer size of him must be advantageous: he only has scraped up hands.
“How are you guys?” I ask them both.
Ivar smiles at me fondly. “Fine and dandy, thanks."
Shelby ogles my locker. “Wow, that was a fast clean-up,” she says in a surprised tone. I follow her gaze, and it surprises me when I see only a few black paint smudges left on the surface of my locker.
“I thought the custodial crew was supposed to take care of this mess?” I phrase my thought as a question. I look down and see the bucket full of dirty water on the floor, as well as the mountain of paper towels on the ground, and I know why Lyle was standing in front of my locker.
“Wow, thanks Lyle,” I say, really touched that my friend got here early to clean up a mess I probably wouldn’t have time to get to until after school. He grunts something that sounds like a “you’re welcome” and gazes at me with leonine intensity.
“I helped!” Morgan sashays around the corner, cheerfully inserting herself into the conversation. Her eyes fall on Lyle first before switching over to me, and I
observe how Lyle’s eyes don’t shift in her direction away from me. “I was just taking some of the used towels to the garbage,” Morgan says, amping up the power on her cheerfulness.
“Thanks to both of you, then,” I say as Ivar puts his arm around Shelby, and whispers something in her ear. She murmurs something back, and they say their temporary farewells before heading off to class early.
Vixen (The Fox and Hound Book 1) Page 10
