“Hey,” someone addresses me, and my ears prick up in recognition of the voice. My tail quivers into a slow wagging motion, but I halt that particularly immature reaction. Weird…
“Hey, Duncan,” I pause, turning to face my human ginger friend. I recognize his locker a second later and him standing near it. He casually leans his shoulder against the metal door with his arms crossed, the picture of teenage relaxation. The short sleeves of the school-issued sport t-shirt embrace the defined muscles on his arms handsomely, and his wide smile is friendly.
“What was that about?” he asks me. I communicate the short version of events. He’s a good listener, very good; I almost feel like I’m talking to Eisen. As I speak, Duncan’s eyebrows arch with incredulity; I’m positive that his outlook on the situation resounds favorably with mine.
“So let me get this straight: all that fighting went on yesterday, mostly among the guys, and the administration blamed you. Instead of a normal suspension, though, they made you the scapegoat and forced you to write an apology letter to the person who provoked you as your only punishment?” He’s astonished and his smile has disappeared in favor of a
scowl that makes his bright eyes darker.
“I don’t quite understand it either…” I say. “I mean, I’m not complaining about not getting suspended along with half of my class, but still…”
“Any normal school would have suspended you for a few days for your part, but then everyone else would have received the same treatment,” Duncan says, thinking aloud. “The whole thing is ludicrous...a letter? Really?”
“I know,” I say miserably, plucking at a seam in the hem of my shirt.
“I’m sorry. You’re probably tired of rehashing all of this by now,” Duncan says. I’m glad he picked up on my feelings: dwelling on aspects of my life I can’t change is frustrating. “It’s good you’re not suspended though. Your brother sounds like the coolest father figure ever, since he wrote the letter on his own.” He lowers his voice a little so the few people left in the hall won’t overhear, and I’m oddly distracted by the deeper tone his voice develops. I dare to meet his gaze, but then I have to work to concentrate on what he’s saying.
Stop it! I firmly instruct my mind. Why did I even tell him any of this? I just gave away a secret that could
get me in trouble, which isn’t the best feeling.
“Um…I’d appreciate if you didn’t spread that around—” I try to cover my mistake. The left corner of his mouth tilts up as he shakes his slightly shaggy head, cutting off my appeal.
“Don’t worry. It’s not like I talk to anyone in that group anyway,” he says, shrugging. “I kind of prefer talking to people who are real friends,” he says.
“Me too,” I reply brilliantly, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. He reaches up and rubs his hand over the back of his neck with a quick swipe; I think it’s a nervous habit. I feel horribly awkward again, but I don’t understand how it can be so easy and yet so hard to talk to this particular boy. Aside from occasionally not knowing what to say, I feel more comfortable talking to him than I do when I’m talking to my new half-breed friends. I like our conversations the most out of anyone else here, even when I know this whole “friendship” will probably end in tears.
Time to tone it down, I think. Much safer this way.
“Anyway…where are you headed now?” he asks me before I can make my exit. We’ve begun walking in no particular direction without me realizing it. The hallway is virtually deserted by now, but some of the teachers take lunch in their classrooms. I hope they don’t notice me and Duncan walking together, simply because I don’t want any more hostile vibes today.
“Lunch with my friends. I’m pretty sure I know where they are, but it might take me a few minutes to find them,” I reply. “I guess I’m directionally challenged.”
“You guys don’t eat in the cafeteria?” he asks, and I cringe; I’m not sure if he knows about the infamously gross cafeteria meant for the half-breeds students, and I don’t want to enlighten him.
“Not on nice days. It’s still early fall and the weather’s warm, so why waste the sun?” I sigh with relief when he nods and doesn’t push the issue.
“True. I think we’re going the same way, so do you mind if I walk you to where you’re going?” He’s being polite, and very carefully inoffensive. I wonder why he’s
making the effort, but I’m inexplicably happy that he’s trying.
Precisely at the wrong moment, my mind travels back to when Morgan told me about Lyle proving his interest in me. I try to find any sign of Duncan perhaps being a little interested in me, but the more rational part of my brain attempts to block those thought trains before they leave the mental station.
As you’ve said about Lyle already, you’ve only known this human boy for three days, I lecture myself sternly. I’ve fallen silent for longer than I should have. A faint blush creeps over my cheeks, but I shake back my hair and ignore my shyness.
“That’s nice of you to offer, but…my friends expect just me today.” I don’t know how to convey that if I walked up to my friends with Duncan in tow, the whole episode would probably end with snide comments and more fisticuffs. Also, I don’t know what else to think of his offer besides how it was considerate of him to extend it…but I know what I want to think about it.
This scares me. He may be a bit of a friend to you, but how does he feel about half-breeds in general? About half-breeds who obviously loathe humans? I think with the faces of Lyle, Ivar and even feisty Shelby
in my mind.
He seems to understand, though. “That’s fine. Maybe we can hang out some other time?” He’s watching me, I can tell even though I’m not looking directly at him. Well, this is an interesting development, I think curiously as I gaze up at him speculatively.
“Seriously?” I ask. My ears perk up, as does my tail, and I’m intent on what he’ll answer. I half expect him
to laugh, or blow it off like he was joking, but he doesn’t. However, he does look surprised at his own daring. He’s blushing slightly—thank goodness I’m not the only one—but he doesn’t recant.
“Yeah. It’s hard to make friends only in school. The atmosphere is too…” he trails off, searching for the right word.
“…tribal?” I provide. He nods, looking a little more at ease.
“Yeah, that. Anyway…so could I see you sometime?” He asks again, seeking confirmation. My voice fails, suddenly unwilling to cooperate with me, so I confine my response to a nod.
We linger at the end of the hallway, facing each other and standing just close enough for our personal space bubbles to touch. My brain feels like this is the wrong place because we’re too close to the main entrance for my preference; I feel nervous around this area because of the trouble I got into with Belinda. I assure myself that’s why my voice isn’t functioning correctly, and also why my face glows like the rising sun.
“What time works best for you?” Duncan asks. The sun shining through the glass of the main doors reflects on his red hair distractingly. His eyes are very bright green, but in this light they have specks of gold and brown that I missed before.
“I’m not busy the rest of this week,” I say. You really should’ve thought this through, Sierra, I lecture myself. It doesn’t do much good; my subconscious is dancing with delight. This is not a date, I remind it firmly, picturing a bucket of icy water pouring over me so I stop feeling
so thrilled.
Duncan seems surprised by my answer, like he expected me to hedge around the issue, making him work harder to get any result. He’s not displeased, though.
“All right,” he says, relieved. Somehow, his excitement as he speaks is contagious. “Well, how about—”
“Sierra!” Lyle’s voice startles me enough that I about jump out of my skin. My senses—enhanced thanks to my fox DNA—normally alert me when other people enter or exit a place where I am. But only if I’m paying attention, and I haven’t been focused on anyone
else since Duncan said hello.
“Hey, Lyle,” I turn my back to Duncan as Lyle comes down the hall towards us. “What’s up?”
My half-breed friend’s customary baseball cap is missing right now, so I see his hair for the first time. It’s shaggy and curly and very pale blonde, which contrasts his tan skin pleasantly; he doesn’t have mountain lion ears after all. He looks wilder than Duncan, almost as wild as Wade does with his angular fox features.
“Shelby sent me to look for you,” Lyle offers by way of explaining his appearance. He looks confused as to why I’m socializing with a human as he prowls closer; his eyes flick back and forth between me and Duncan as we stand by the main entrance doors. I wonder if he’s trying to catch a distress signal from me; for some reason I find his concern annoying.
I realize abruptly that Duncan and I are standing a tiny bit too close together. Flustered, I step back. Since
normally I’m very conscious about personal space, the fact that I wasn’t paying attention to that either…stop, I think quickly.
“Thanks. I’ll be right down,” I say. My voice functions, but it’s too breathy. Lyle and Duncan stare each other down in a macho sizing-up match I don’t care to understand.
This is silly. I fully understand masculine tension, thanks to being raised almost exclusively with my brothers, and I thought I knew how to deal with a situation like this outside of the family level. I guess not.
“Bye, Duncan,” I say as I walk towards Lyle. I don’t want to leave Duncan without finishing our very interesting conversation—and whatever plans we may or may not have been making—but I also don’t want Lyle to say or do anything to cause trouble. I can’t predict what Duncan would do if Lyle decided to act as hostile as he looks, but when I chance a look at the redhead’s face, I’m pleased with what I see. He doesn’t look angry or terribly offended by Lyle’s presence, except in a way that’s understandable considering how he and I were rudely interrupted. A bemused smile quirks the left corner of his mouth, distracting me again.
“See you around, Sierra,” Duncan calls after me, and my lips betray me so I smile like an idiot. Lyle might still be gazing at me with those perceptive feline eyes, though, so I hastily conceal my grin before he notices.
“Sorry I took so long,” I say to keep things light. I’m still disgruntled with the awkward scene that just passed, however, so I decide to let Lyle struggle a bit to keep the conversation going.
“It’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t in trouble,” Lyle replies as we head for the stairs leading down to our hall. He sounds much happier than he did while he was glaring at Duncan, but I’m annoyed. If he’d waited five more minutes…
“So what were you and Ledford talking about?” Lyle asks me; to his credit, he makes an effort to not sound suspicious. I shrug nonchalantly, looking over at the wide, lion-ish shape of his face.
“Nothing really. Just school stuff,” I say. My lie sounds hollow, and I cringe inside. Lyle studies me, but I keep my expression serene, and he changes the subject. But I’m not invested in the conversation, and I should be taking this short time alone with Lyle to consider what Morgan told me. But somehow my thoughts remain fixed on Duncan.
12
School ends without any further embarrassment, which feels like a big accomplishment for me. I’m outside with Morgan and Shelby, waiting for either Harold or Wade—Eisen is working late—to come pick me up. The afternoon sun shines strong on my hair and shoulders as I lounge on one of the three rusty metal benches lined up along the sidewalk. The weather has begun to release the barest tinges of cool fall temperatures, which I’m grateful for; I’ve always preferred autumn over any other season.
It’s only been a few minutes since classes let out, but barely any students wander around outside. One or two unlucky half-breeds must stay late to finish cleaning up their lockers before they get in trouble with the establishment, but everyone else went home already.
This is proof that Belinda has honored our arrangement so far: I give the letter to Bryan, and no one else gets punished.
Morgan and Shelby also await their rides because none of us fit the age requirement for half-breeds to drive.
“Do you ever go home with Ivar, Shelby?” I ask my friend as she joins me on my bench and slouches into a
more comfortable position. She hasn’t been very happy all afternoon, not since one of the toxically pretty human girls walked by and told her she looked like a walking brillo pad. So far it’s been hard to cheer her up, but this time she responds to the conversational tidbit I’ve thrown her.
“Sometimes,” she shrugs. “We typically do better on our own, although it’s nice to have a driver sometimes so we can go on actual dates. His family doesn’t understand why he’s dating me.”
“Why is that?” Morgan asks curiously, echoing my own thoughts. She and I exchange glances as Shelby explains.
“Well…look at us. Mixing up half-breed DNA pairs is fine, but black bear and standard poodle DNA?” She doesn’t seem aggravated about having
to spell it out for us.
“You’d think as long as he dated a half-breed and not a human, they’d be happy,” Morgan says as she rolls her eyes. “Do they have any other problems, or do they tend to be negative?”
“Not really,” Shelby replies, shaking out her head of black waves. “We’ve been going out for four months and a few days, so they’re more accepting than they
were at the beginning. It could be a lot worse than the random confused looks I keep getting from his little sisters and parents.”
“Ivar has little sisters?” I ask. Shelby grins.
“Three little sisters. They’re all under the age of nine and totally adorable,” she says. Shelby doesn’t strike me as the type of person who would be fond of children, but she’s happy talking about Ivar’s siblings. I
smile too as I picture her boyfriend tossing a tiny girl with fuzzy bear ears and furry paws into the air.
“Anyway, I think there’s enough judging based on appearances in this world, so I’m glad you two are fine,” I say, changing the topic back to the original source.
“Yeah…Ivar and I don’t really have problems in our relationship. Not serious ones, anyway,” Shelby says. Morgan stands beside us rather than sitting, looking noble with her straight posture and doe aspects. The breeze feels pleasant as it teases the
strands of my hair—liberated from its hair-tie hours
ago—and glides through the exposed fur on my hands and the line of more red fur on my neck.
“So…Lyle?” Morgan asks. Her question comes out of the blue, but I’m not startled by it. She’s been hinting around this topic all day, and until now I found excuses to avoid talking about it.
“What about him?” I ask. Morgan huffs, rolling her dark eyes and tilting her head slightly; the sun gleams off her handsome dark antlers. I almost hear Shelby perk up before her inquisitive squeak is audible.
“Oh, come on! He’s been subtle, but not that subtle. I think he’s interested in you; Shelby does too.
What do you think?” Morgan replies. Her manic cheerfulness has returned. I wonder what her real opinion on the subject is, and I wish she would be honest enough to tell me. I don’t know her very well, but I do know when someone is trying too hard to push an idea on me.
I don’t want to know what would happen if she was like this with everything, I think.
“I don’t think anything about it,” I say truthfully. Except that I’d rather not discuss my feelings right now.
“That’s hard to believe!” Shelby exclaims. “Femi’s and Hasida’s party is tomorrow night, so surely you’re curious about what might happen?”
“Faintly,” I say this hoping it might appease my friends. I have been avoiding talking about this subject purely because I’m not sure how I feel. The one thing I do feel certain about is how I don’t want something unstable like a sudden relationship with Lyle to jeopardize my budding ties with my new f
riends. I have a whole year stuck in this place, and I don’t want enemies among the half-breeds as well as my rivals among the human students. I don’t even know how Lyle really feels, but I’m sure I don’t want that worry added to the mess in my brain.
It’s been easy to forget about Lyle, though. My mind has been full of other things today, one of them being a certain redheaded human boy. Part of me wishes I didn’t think about him so much.
I wistfully glance up towards the path leading to the main entrance. It doesn’t matter which door I enter or exit since all the doors lead to the same place, but the main entryway symbolizes everything about this
place I’m unsatisfied with.
Suddenly, as if materializing into physical existence from my thoughts, I hear Duncan’s voice behind me. The fur on my neck bristles, but not in an unpleasant reaction; I’ve been around him enough to recognize his pinewood tinged human scent.
“Sierra?”
I rise to my feet and turn around right as he’s coming out of the shabby doors of the half-breed entryway. He looks a little apprehensive about where he is, and I’m embarrassed for the messy, ramshackle hall he had to walk through; the students still inside must have given him very dirty looks. I wonder what he’ll think about me and my kind being forced to use such a place when the humans have more access to the renovated facilities upstairs.
I don’t say any of this, though; in fact, I’m so busy staring at him that I forget to say anything at all.
“What is he doing here?” Morgan exclaims, jolting me out of the reverie I’d tripped into. Her voice isn’t loud enough for him to hear, but my ears droop slightly. Why this hostility? I think. Her words help me make a decision about what to do, though.
“Hey there,” I say to Duncan, taking a few steps towards him away from my friends. I’m nervous, but not so much that I can’t shake it off. “What are you doing here?” I ask. My tail is on the verge of twitching again, but I force myself to be calm so it obeys me again.
Vixen (The Fox and Hound Book 1) Page 12
