by W. J. May
“Next time, Ms. Kerrigan, please raise your hand to ask your question.” Lanford smiled and pointed to where Nicholas stood. “You can return to your spot.”
Not long after Rae jumped, surprised to hear the buzzer sound to signal the end of class. She reluctantly grabbed her bag and walked out into the rain.
What if she woke up on her birthday with no ink on her back? A claw of worry tightened her stomach as she realized that it might always remain blank. No one seemed to know what would happen. What if she really was just a normal, boring teen? She couldn’t go back to the way things had been before.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Her uncle must’ve felt awful when he learned her mother had been given the tatù instead of him. What gut-wrenching disappointment he must have felt. Wow, that must have really sucked, to be taken away from all his friends, from my dad, and to realize he wasn’t the special one. Rae pondered this new side of her uncle’s life story as she wandered along the sidewalk.
Using her bag as an umbrella, Rae slipped into the dining hall and grabbed a few buns off of a table. She stuffed them in her pockets, along with a few mini butters. The idea of just hanging out in her dorm room doing homework until her meeting with Devon seemed like the perfect idea. With her pockets stuffed with snack supplies, she set off to do just that.
With her notebook and pen, Rae headed down to the library ten minutes before eight. She tried her uncle on the phone one more time. No answer. But Aunt Linda had called earlier and left a message with Molly, so Rae was no longer worried. She hadn’t been sure if Rae had been trying to get a hold of them. They had no machine and had been away and planned another short holiday for a few nights. Rae figured her aunt was enjoying some time with just the two of them. Her uncle probably said yes to the trips just so he wouldn’t have to talk to her. Coward. She shrugged off her disappointment with her Uncle and focused instead on the tutoring session to come.
Her heart skipped at the thought of seeing Devon. She tried telling herself it was because she wanted to learn more about her past, but knew that wasn’t the only reason.
Rae slipped into the library, picking a table toward the back. The last thing she needed was anyone, especially Haley, within hearing distance.
She sat down on the antique oak chair, rubbing her palms against the smooth top of the table. After a few minutes, she began tapping her pen against her binder. Eyes glued to the entrance of the library, her heart rate doubled when Devon walked through the oak doors.
He’d just showered. His dark hair still damp, and he’d changed into jeans and a white t-shirt. He moved with an easy confidence. She liked that. He raised a hand when he noticed her, arriving at the table in seconds, the speed of his gift carrying him. He moved so fast, his image had appeared blurry from the speed.
“Sorry I’m late.” He plopped down across from her. “The guys had a football rematch after tea and I lost track of time. Then I had to shower, ‘cause I stunk.” He grinned and wrinkled his nose.
Rae relaxed at his easy-going tone. “No prob.”
Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, Devon dropped his chin into his hands. “How’d your first day of classes go?”
The scent of Devon’s musky cologne wafted over her. Rae sat back to concentrate better, but the lure of his cologne tempted her to lean forward again and smell his delicious scent.
“Cl-classes were all right. Professor Stockheed seems… uh, interesting.” Rae inhaled a deep breath through her nose, trying to not appear obvious. If Devon said anything bad about the teacher, she’d tell him about the note.
“He’s fine. A bit strange, but he’s harmless. What’d you think of the Oratory?”
Nope. She wasn’t going to mention the note. She focused on his question. “When you walk in the place, I swear, time freezes.”
“Yeah, the Grand Room does seem to hold some special power or quality. Maybe that’s why they called it the Aura-tory.” Devon dropped back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. He had long, muscular arms. The corners of his mouth twitched, his dimple winking at her.
“That’s a really bad joke.” Rae laughed despite herself.
“There are plenty more where that came from.” Devon stretched his legs out under the table. “Did you like Lanford’s class?”
“Definitely the most interesting.” She felt her cheeks burn. “He’s got an awesome tatù.”
“Oh no,” Devon laughed. “Who was it? Someone not paying attention or fooling around?”
Rae’s face got hotter and Devon’s laugh got louder.
“You?” He shook his head. “Last year, he lifted Riley up while he was mucking about. Dude didn’t catch on and tried to fight it. He looked like a cat thrashing about in the air. Legs and arms going everywhere as he tried to get his feet back on the ground. Took him a while to figure out Lanford held him there.”
“Mine wasn’t that bad. Thank goodness.” She smiled, relieved. “I love the Oratory.”
“Did you know the school dance next month is held there? It’s looks pretty surreal once decorated. You’d expect King Henry himself to show up.”
“Cool.” Rae didn’t know what else to say. She pictured them dancing together and then she thought about his girlfriend and wondered if Beth’d be there.
“How about we get started?” Devon reached for a pen. “Tell me what you want to know.”
“Me? Shouldn’t you have some lesson plan all mapped out?”
“Nope.” Devon laughed as he shook his head. “These sessions are to help you with any questions you’ve got.”
“Okayyy…” Rae drummed her fingernails against the oak desk, her eyes traveling along a grain in the desk’s wood. “All rightie, let’s start with something obvious. My parents. What do you know about their ink?”
“Skip the small talk and get right into the deep stuff, don’t you?” Devon began doodling on a sheet of paper inside her binder. He rested his chin in his free hand. “I don’t know a lot about your mom. Story is she fell in love with the wrong kinda guy.” He shrugged.
“Then tell me what you know about my father.”
Devon paused in his doodling and exhaled. “You say you don’t remember much about your dad. Maybe he acted different with your mom. To the rest of this secret society of tatùs, he chose the dark side of his ink. I don’t know the hows or whys.” Devon glanced at Rae, quickly dropping his gaze. “He’d be the poster child for the debate about kids growing up evil. Others joined him. This group of men let greed and power rule the choices they made in their lives, with no care or consideration for who got hurt.”
“People who aren’t inked live like that now. That’s no different than the norm of today’s society.” Her dad couldn’t have been that bad. After all, there were terrorists in other countries blowing people up just to say they did it.
“Yeah, but normal people don’t have powerful tatùs to work with. Your dad…he did some pretty bad shi—not so nice things to a lot of innocent people.” Devon paused, setting the pen down on the table. “There are still inked people who agree with what your father believed and are determined to continue with his plans…”
“I get what my dad was. I know there were times when my mother seemed terrified of him. As a kid, I thought it was normal. But my uncle… he never spoke the same way to my Aunt Linda or acted angry. And, it seems, he had good reason to be mad.” She chewed her lip. “You know, when my father was happy, he was good, but if he was mad or in a dark mood…” Rae shuddered and whispered, “Maybe that’s why I forget so much. Maybe I’ve blocked it out because it was so awful. What I do remember certainly isn’t all hearts and roses. I still have nightmares.”
Devon played with his pen cap, unable to look Rae directly in the eye. “Your father had big plans for himself and his little coven of followers. It got to the point where something catastrophic was going to happen. The Tatù Privy Council was terrified of what he planned to do, knowing they’d be unable to stop him. The
fire at your house changed everything.” Sympathy filled his eyes. “Miraculously, you survived. Officials were unable to find the cause or source of the fire.”
“It’d be nice to see those reports. Maybe there’s something I’m forgetting.” Rae couldn’t remember anything more significant about that day than losing her mother.
“If you’d like, we can look up the newspaper articles on another night.”
Rae rubbed her temples. “I’d like to remember something no one else knows. Try and right the wrong he did.” She paused, unable to decide if she should voice the hope nagging inside. “Or maybe my dad really wasn’t that bad, and it’s all just a big misunderstanding. Maybe…” She knew how silly she sounded. It was childish, wishful thinking, wanting her dad to be a secret super hero instead of the villain of the story.
Devon took one of Rae’s hands in both of his. He held it for a moment before slowly releasing it. Rae could still feel the warmth from his touch. She stared down at her fingers.
“Deep down, I think I always knew my father couldn’t be a good person. I never knew details, but I always figured…” She blinked rapidly, trying to stop the burning in her eyes. Unable to talk, she half whispered, “I’m terrified I’ll end up like him when I get my tatù. What if his ink changed him? It could happen to me, too.” No wonder the school wanted her here and why the other kids acted weird around her.
She glanced up at Devon, forcing a tiny half smile. A long, sad breath slipped out. “Would you mind if we maybe called it a night?” She didn’t think she could hold the flood works back much longer.
“Sure.” The pity in Devon’s eyes made Rae look away.
Devon’s chair scraped as he stood. “Go get some sleep and don’t worry. Tonight was just a lesson in history. It doesn’t mean anything, and it changes nothing of who you are.” He waited until Rae gathered her things. He didn’t push or question her request. Together, they walked down the center aisle of the library and went their separate ways in the foyer.
It means everything to me. How can Devon think it doesn’t change who I am? It’s like an ink stamp on my forehead. Like I’m already labeled by everyone here. Rae trudged up the stairs and into her dorm room, feeling relieved when she saw that Molly wasn’t already there, with her constant chatter and questions. She just wanted to crawl into bed, cry and disappear into the darkness.
Chapter 11
American Cheeseburger in London
School life settled into a steady rhythm in sync with the English rain. Unlike the rain, school was never tiresome: predictable, yes, but not tiresome. She became friends with a few of the students, said “hi!” to them on the way to and from classes, and even spent time with them after hours. In short, she began to fit in and enjoyed the feeling.
Rae loved afternoon classes best. Studying tatùs and learning how each student grew with their abilities made her more excited each day. September passed by quickly. Rae knew the first weekend of October would be Parent’s weekend and she dreaded it. But when it arrived, it turned out to be even worse than she had imagined.
She wasn’t naïve enough to think that her uncle would fly over for the weekend. Deep down, she didn’t want him there. She wished her mom, or even her dad, were alive to help her through this. When Rae had finally gotten through on the phone to the U.S., Aunt Linda had answered. Each time she called, Uncle Argyle managed to be out or unavailable. The previous week, she’d finally spoken with him, but he’d been evasive since Aunt Linda had been in the room. He hadn’t answered any of the questions she asked.
Over the weekend, other students’ parents avoided her. Most of the students did as well. She felt, once again, like she didn’t belong at the school, and it hurt. Thank goodness Devon’s father turned out to be polite. Otherwise she’d have disappeared and hung out in her dorm.
Just like his son, he didn’t seem to judge her just because of who her parents had been. He talked about Devon the entire conversion, which she didn’t mind at all. Headmaster Lanford interrupted their pleasant conversation to say how ecstatic he was to see Mr. Wardell. He quickly dragged Devon’s father off to speak with Dean Carter. While being pulled away, Mr. Wardell smiled apologetically. She noticed he had the same dimple as Devon and decided she both liked and trusted him, just as she did his son. He seemed the kind of guy who wanted the moon and stars for his kid.
Meeting Mr. Wardell turned out to be the easiest part of the weekend. The rest was like having her fingernails ripped out – she actually thought that might be less painful. Any conversation she tried to have with a parent, Dean Carter stood within earshot to tell them who she was and what she’d been doing since her arrival. He seemed nervous with all of the female students, yet stuck to her specifically, like glue. Almost as if he thought she’d blurt out to the parents without tatùs how special her ink was going to be or how she wanted to take over the world with it. She thought she’d never been so happy to go back to class Monday morning.
Sitting at her desk listening to Professor Stockheed drone on about the importance of punctuation and how grammatically correct sentences allowed people to understand you better, she assured herself that the isolation of the past weekend would dissipate.
As the days progressed, the weather turned cooler and Rae noticed the trees began to glow with hues of red, orange and yellow. The school dance became the focus of everyone’s attention. Molly, determined to ask someone to the dance, was disappointed to learn no one actually took a date.
“I’m gonna ask a boy, anyways,” she told Rae later that evening.
“Ask Craig. His ink is water, and you know it’s an excellent conductor of electricity.” Rae waited for Molly to start laughing, but Molly didn’t get the obviously very bad joke.
Molly just continued to pace the room and talk like she’d never heard Rae. “I’m dying to have my first kiss. Here I am, the sad age of sixteen and I’ve never been kissed. Well, I’ve been kissed, but not that first kiss.” She ran out of the room, shouting Haley’s name and hollering if she’d ever French-kissed anyone. Rae idly wondered why Molly hadn’t asked her that question rather than Haley, but dismissed the thought just as quickly as it came into her head. It was blatantly obvious Rae had little experience in the world of kissing. More important things to do anyways.
She grabbed her backpack and headed downstairs to meet Devon. He was already there, waiting for her at their usual table at the back of the library. He sat chatting on his cell phone as she walked down the aisle. Noticing her, he waved.
Not wanting to eavesdrop, Rae slowed her pace but still caught the end of the conversation.
“…Sounds great, Beth. I can’t wait to see you on Saturday, too. Yup, me too…I, uh, gotta go. I’m tutoring tonight.”
The tone of his voice made Rae feel like an obligation, a job, and that hurt. She’d come to consider him a friend and thought he felt the same. It certainly hadn’t sounded that way.
“Who’s Beth?” She tried to make her voice sound normal.
It took a long time before he answered. Rae watched him concentrate on putting his phone into his backpack. He exhaled, in what sounded like frustration.
“My girlfriend.”
“Oh. How long…have you guys been toget--dating?” Rae blushed, hating that she couldn’t keep her curiosity contained.
“Since the summer after I turned fifteen.”
Rae did the math. His birthday was in March, so they’d been dating almost two years. They might as well be engaged, in her mind.
“Yeah, we kinda grew up together. Her parents are friends with mine, so it was kinda…She goes to RH.” His words were rushed and jumbled together. “Anyway, I’ll introduce you at the dance.”
Yeah, Rae’d like to meet this Beth and throw rotten bananas at her, along with a few moldy tomatoes. Might as well make sure she’s wearing something white and very expensive so it ruins everything. Rae smiled sweetly, hoping her thoughts weren’t transparent. “Does she know about your tatù?
“No. I haven’t told her anything about Guilder or the ink-stamps. She thinks I got the tatù when I turned sixteen to copy my dad’s snarling fox. She laughed and thought it was adorable I got a little fox with big ears as a tattoo instead of a skull or something more masculine.” He shrugged indifferently.
What a jerk! Can’t you see that, Dev? Come on, I’d be SO much better for you than her. Rae shifted, surprised at her own thoughts. “Funny. I never thought of your tatù as cute.” She cleared her throat and tentatively reached out to touch his ink. She traced it lightly and quickly pulled her hand away when she pressed against his warm skin. “It’s got a lot of hidden depth: speed, agility, awesome hearing. Fennecs have strong vision and aren’t they supposed to have an easy-going nature? Definitely a useful tatù, especially if want to be a secret agent or spy.” She’d checked out fennec foxes on the Internet the day after she’d met Devon.
Devon grinned and straightened in his seat. “I like your definition of my ink. Makes me sound a lot tougher than some tiny, cute, little desert animal.” He laughed.
She glowed with pleasure, but quickly dropped her head down, determined not to show how much his words affected her. Get your game face on Rae, she coached herself. “Don’t you hate that you can’t say anything to Beth about your, uh…gift?” She played with the zipper on her bag. “I’d want to be able to tell the person I lov-cared about. Who wants a relationship built on lies?”
“No way.” Devon shook his head. “It’s hard enough to figure out how to deal with the skill, let alone tell other people. Our society would never allow us to do it anyway. It goes against the code.”
Keep your tatù a secret to the outside world. Use it to the best of your ability. Don’t try to create or evolve what has naturally been given to you. That includes scientific experiments, crossing DNA with each other or creating life. Blah, blah, bull-crap, blah, blah, and so on, and so forth. Rae stopped the mental reciting of the code and rested her hands on the table and leaned forward, curious to know why Devon walked the straight and narrow. He sounded scared to go against the grain or disappoint anyone. He definitely played by the rules. She scrunched her nose, annoyed that Uncle Argyle’s little proverb itched in her memory. Compared to someone like her father, it was no wonder people here considered her a freak and were afraid of her.
