Seer

by Ashley Maker

  Well, now I know where they lead, and I wish they didn’t.

  I don’t want to like him. I hardly even know him. Covering my face with both hands, I take a few deep breaths. The effort hurts. It feels like there’s so much weight on me, crushing me, tearing me down. Because I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to like any of these people, not even Kade.

  Especially not Kade.

  16

  Eight inches of snow fell overnight, coating the tree branches, roofs, and cobblestone paths in thick slabs of white. I trudge through the almost knee-deep snow and grin on the way to the cafeteria. There’s no way Kade will take me running today, not with this much snow burying the trails. Surviving one class in his presence can’t be that hard.

  “Why are you so happy? You’re walking like my grandma without her cane,” a teasing voice asks from behind me.

  Tarry swings into step beside me. And he’s right. My motions are stiff and my back is slightly hunched over. Every single one of my muscles is screaming at me to go back to bed and not move ever again.

  I turn slowly to greet him, my grin stretching wider. “There’s snow!”

  “There was snow yesterday.” He laughs.

  “But not this much snow.”

  We reach the cafeteria, and he holds the door open. “You say that now. They’re going to make us play on the jungle gym.”

  I unwrap my scarf and follow him to the breakfast line. “Play on the jungle gym?”

  He grabs a tray and starts loading it down with muffins and fruit and what looks like half a pound of bacon. His eyes twinkle when he says, “Oh, you just wait. You won’t be able to walk for a week.”

  “I can hardly walk now.” I grab a blueberry muffin and a banana. Mom used to make me eat one any time I got muscle cramps. Maybe the potassium will help my sore, out-of-shape muscles, too.

  Tarry weaves in and out of the crowded tables to where Piper and Aaron are waiting, though Jeremy is nowhere to be seen. He slaps his loaded tray down on the table and leans in with a wicked grin. Piper and Aaron give him curious, skeptical glances and keep on eating.

  “Guys, guess what?” Tarry announces gleefully. He drumrolls on the table with his fingers. “Clare has never been on a jungle gym.”

  Piper’s spoon stops halfway to her mouth from her cereal bowl. “You poor thing,” she says in a groggy, half-awake voice.

  “I wasn’t looking forward to it,” Aaron says with a grin. “But I am now.”

  I set my tray next to Tarry’s. “I have too been on a jungle gym. I’ve been on them plenty of times.”

  They all look at each other and burst into laughter.

  It’s official. The three of them have lost their minds.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask with a frown.

  Tarry smacks his hand on the table before wrapping it around my shoulder, still chuckling. “You’re so new it’s adorable.”

  * * *

  Throughout breakfast and the walk to Offensive Fighting, Tarry won’t let anyone tell me what the “jungle gym” is. I plead and beg and threaten all of them with bodily harm, at which they laugh, but still nobody tells me. After we get to the gym, I begin to suspect conspiracy when Piper flits from one group of students to another whispering into their ears while they all continually glance over at me. It isn’t until Kade and Instructor Mara walk into the room that the whispering abruptly stops.

  Kade eyes the much-too-quiet students before turning his gaze on me. A feeling that’s a cross between butterflies and nausea churns low in my belly. Heat rises up my neck, and I turn toward Tarry before Kade can see me blush.

  “I don’t know what all of you were doing,” Instructor Mara snaps, bringing everybody’s attention to her, “but today is a snow day, as I’m sure all of you are already aware. Line up. You know what to do.”

  Um, I don’t, and it’d be real swell if somebody would tell me already.

  Tarry wraps an arm around my shoulder and leads me to the forming line by the gym’s back entrance. “This is going to be so fun. I can’t wait to see your face when you realize—”

  “A little less talking, Blaydell.” Instructor Mara gestures for us to hurry up. “I’d like to get there before the other class, thank you.”

  After we’re lined up, the instructors march us outside. Down the cobblestone path we go and across the compound, trudging through snow that comes well above our ankles.

  Then I see it. The jungle gym. I freeze, and Tarry grabs my arm to keep me walking. Our eyes meet for the briefest second, but the amusement dancing in his is hard to mistake. Other students notice, and one by one, they all stare at me with various degrees of laughter in their eyes. Some of the girls even giggle aloud until Instructor Mara shouts at them to can it.

  “Real funny,” I whisper to Tarry. “You could have told me it was an obstacle course.” He covers his mouth with one hand to hide his laugh, but I glare at him anyway. “Look at that thing!”

  The course is monstrous. It stretches across a flat space that’s at least the size of a football field, its features rising out of the ground in complicated mounds of metal, wire, and wood. How in the world could they call this thing playing on a jungle gym? My courage shrinks like someone letting all the air out of a balloon.

  Instructor Mara leads the way to some odd-looking platforms on the far side of the course. They’re wooden and round, with what looks like a ball centered underneath them. The snow has been swept off the top.

  “Balance boards,” Tarry whispers close to my ear. “We spar on them.”

  I eye the boards again and swallow. The ball underneath must rotate as the fighters move around on the circular platform. “Does it hurt if you fall off?”

  Tarry shrugs. “Not really. That’s why they bring us out here after it snows. But wait until we get to the Traverse and the Ice Wall. Those are—”

  “Blaydell,” Instructor Mara barks. “Didn’t I tell you less talking?”

  “Sure, but that was earlier,” Tarry says with a grin. “I was just explaining to Clare what all of this is.”

  Instructor Mara’s eyes narrow. “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot about her.”

  Well, I wish she had. But apparently—

  “I’ll show her the ropes,” Kade says, his gaze catching mine. He nods almost imperceptibly. “The headmaster won’t be pleased if she gets injured her first time on the obstacles, and she could possibly injure another student with her inexperience.”

  “Or I can show her so an instructor isn’t tied up,” Tarry cuts in, his voice tight.

  Mara frowns and her eyes narrow further. She addresses Kade. “It would be best to keep an eye on her, like the headmaster said. You take her for the boards until the other class gets here, but I’ll need you to supervise after that. Blaydell, you will then show her the remaining obstacles and stay a pace behind. Do not get in anybody’s way, are we clear?” After Tarry nods, she turns to everyone else. “Now, all of you board up and stretch until you’re used to the vertigo. Light contact after that.”

  Kade and Tarry exchange another look. With one last glance over his shoulder, Tarry joins Piper, and Kade closes the distance to stand in front of me. All the students pair up around us and start climbing on top of the boards. They do it carefully, each pair sitting on opposite edges before slowly turning until they’re both firmly balanced. Some begin stretching right away while others stand and have to re-balance all over again. The balls do rotate under the boards with the movement of each student throwing it one way or another.

  “Good, you’re taking time to study your environment before jumping in,” Kade says. “That’s one lesson I won’t have to teach you today.”

  “What do you mean? What kind of lesson?”

  He gestures at a pair of two guys nearby. “See the one with the dark hair? Watch him.”

  The dark-haired guy moves slower than his partner, who has already started edging onto the board. Right when his partner moves fully onto the platform, the dark-hair
ed guy leaps directly onto the other side, flipping the surface up like a coin that’s halfway turned onto its side. His partner goes flying and lands in the deep snow. The dark-haired guy cracks up laughing, but only until Mara stomps over and starts lecturing him.

  “Classic flip,” Kade says. “One the other student should have been watching for, especially since he was paired with Travis. Everyone knows he’s a flipper.”

  “And you would have done that to me if I had just jumped in?”

  Kade’s lips twitch with a barely contained smile. “Maybe not that hard, but enough for you to learn from it.”

  What a jerk. How could I like someone who is so willing to flip me into the snow?

  “Come on. I’ll show you what to do,” he says, all serious again.

  He leads me to the nearest unoccupied board and goes to the opposite side. Very slowly, he leans on the platform with his hands, and I mirror him from the other side. I frown at how fluid the board moves under my weight.

  A shriek tears my gaze to a nearby board where Tarry and Piper are sparring. Were sparring. They’re both on the ground now. Tarry is helping Piper up, and there’s snow all over the back of her head. She says something that sounds like a curse, and he laughs.

  The board moves beneath me, and I squeak and scramble to hold on as my feet leave the ground.

  “Pay attention,” Kade says before lowering the board.

  My feet touch, and I shoot him a death glare. “I heard her scream.”

  “None of that matters.” His voice and gaze are hard. “They don’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is you and me. This is practice, but in reality you don’t get a reset button. One wrong slip and you’re dead. Do you understand?”

  A tremor vibrates my insides. I don’t know why he’s trying to scare me, but I hate that it’s working. Taking a deep breath, I shift my feet where he can’t see. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Can we just get this over with?”

  His eyes soften for the briefest second. “You climb on first. I’ll balance you.”

  Mmmhmm. “You won’t flip me?”

  “Not this time,” he says in a serious tone, which I guess means I should believe him.

  I carefully scoot onto the edge of the board. It shifts under my weight until Kade climbs on further and balances the two of us. Within a few seconds, we’re both on, and the board is still steady.

  “No need to stretch since you and I aren’t going to spar,” Kade says. “I want you to get used to balancing today. When you’re ready, stand up slowly and move around. I’ll make sure we don’t tip.”

  Sure, he will. Okay, maybe he really will. He better.

  I pull my feet under me and stand up slow with both hands out for balance. The board dips, and I bend my knees to stay upright. Kade adjusts his weight, and the board bobs again. The movement is a little bit like standing up on a teeter-totter.

  “Good.” Staying on his side of the board, Kade paces from one side to the other, producing ripples of movement that I absorb by crouching lower. “You need to move. The closer you get to the center, the steadier you’ll feel.”

  Steadier sounds good. Keeping my arms out wide, I take a baby step closer, followed by a few more when the first one doesn’t send me flying. He’s right. The closer I get to the center, the less I have to crouch to keep my balance. This isn’t so bad. Not at all, and it does remind me of playing on a jungle gym, if only a little.

  Kade meets me in the very center. He steps close, reaches for my outstretched hands, and grips them tight. His skin is against mine, and for a second I stiffen and almost pull away. But doing so could upset our balance, so I let him hold my hands. Slowly, he brings them down in front of my chest and holds them there, looking into my eyes.

  “Keeping your arms out leaves you completely exposed to attack,” he says, his voice lower than it was a moment ago. “You have to learn to balance without using them all the time. Take a look around at the other students. Watch them.”

  He adjusts his grip, the brush of his thumb making my skin tingle. We’re standing too close. Each wisp of his breath mingles with mine before disappearing into the morning air. I glance away from him quickly and take a deep breath.

  Tarry and Piper are back on their board. Neither of them holds out their arms. Their fists are hovering close to their chests. They circle each other slowly before Tarry lunges at her. Piper leaps to the side, somehow angling her landing onto the very center of the board where she has the most balance. Tarry’s landing isn’t so lucky. He lands near the edge where she’d been standing. He throws both arms out as the board dips down, but isn’t fast enough. At the last second, he jumps off and somersaults into the fresh snow.

  Piper wobbles as the board steadies, but stays on with a victorious grin. “Hah. Take that, Tare!”

  Tarry dusts himself off and whips to face—

  Kade squeezes my hands. My eyes snap back to his.

  “He’s stronger and faster than her, but she understands the physics of balance better. That’s what you need to learn.” He frowns and glances at Tarry. “But you also need to learn how to fall properly.”

  “No” —I try to pry his hands from mine— “that’s really not necessary. I—”

  He smiles, squeezes my hands again, and murmurs, “Sorry, but it’s all part of learning. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  “What’s the easy way?”

  He lets go and takes a step back. The cold air bites my skin where his hands were. “Have you ever been jumped on a trampoline?”

  “Yes…?” I stay in the center.

  “That’s what we’re going to do. As you’re falling, I want you to curl in, duck toward your right shoulder, and roll out of it. Be sure to stay relaxed. Keep those arms in.” He keeps stepping back until he’s almost on the very edge.

  “Hah.” I don’t take a single step, not even when he gestures for me to get moving. “You make it sound so simple.”

  Kade raises one eyebrow. “Well, it is the easy way.”

  I try and fail to keep my voice level. “And the hard way?”

  “We’ll spar,” Kade says with a wickedly slow smile, “and see who ends up on the ground first.”

  “Fine.” It takes everything in me to keep my arms down as I walk—more like baby step-wobble—to the very edge on my side. “Let’s do it the easy way.”

  “Smart of you. This’ll be easier if you face the snow. I’ll count it down. Five....”

  Oh man, this must be what it feels like to be told to walk off a plank.

  “Four....”

  I turn slowly.

  “Three….”

  Duck and roll. Arms in.

  “Two....”

  It won’t hurt. It’s fresh snow. I don’t need to—

  Gravity disappears beneath me. One second the board is under my feet, and the next it isn’t. I shoot up. My stomach drops. Then I’m flailing, falling, flying toward the snow. A strangled sound catches in my throat.

  My arms start to go out, but I pull them back in and duck.

  With eyes squeezed shut, I tense at the last second and land on my side in the snow, skidding into the drift until it buries me up to my shoulder in a freezing blanket of white.

  17

  Tears burn at the back of my eyes. I blink and blink, but they don’t go away. They keep burning as much as my sore muscles. For a second, everything is blurry and I can’t move at all. Then the snow crunches under someone’s weight, the sound getting louder with every one of their running steps.

  “Clare!” It’s him. “Can you move? Are you in pain?”

  I flex my toes and hands. Aside from the stiffness that was already there, I can move. Which is good, ‘cause I’m going to…what? Give Kade a piece of my mind?

  He kneels beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “What hurts? Can you sit up?”

  More tears spring to my eyes. Why am I crying? And why won’t the concern on his face die already?

  I swipe at my eyes a
nd push his hand away. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “I wasn’t ready!” I glare at him. “You went on two. You—”

  He sits back on his heels. “Real falls aren’t manufactured. You won’t learn the technique properly if you don’t fall for real.”

  “Well, I did, okay? Trust me, I fell for real.”

  “And you almost nailed it.” He offers a hand. “Can you sit up?”

  The thought of touching him is about as appealing as grabbing a venomous snake. I shudder-inhale and sit up by myself, groaning at the pull on my muscles.

  “You okay?”

  I’m humiliated, hurting, and anything other than okay, but there’s no way I’m going to tell him that. “I’m fine. Just a little sore.” I sniffle and am relieved I have at least stopped crying.

  “That’s enough on the board for today,” Kade says gently. I grimace when he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you some of the other obstacles.”

  Great. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I glance around. The Defensive Fighting class arrived at some point. A few students from both classes are still sparring on the boards, but most of them have already started toward the next obstacle, a towering wooden wall built on an incline that glimmers in the sunlight.

  Wood doesn’t glimmer….

  I squint. A student I don’t recognize tries to run up the side of the wall. Halfway up, she slips and slides down into the waiting snow below. Only seconds later, she’s up and running toward it again. But again, she only gets about halfway up before sliding back down.

  “Is that…does that wall have ice on it?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?”

  He starts walking in that direction. “Because it’s the Ice Wall. The goal is to run up one side and slide down the other. There’s a rope near the top you can grab if you can reach it, but it’s better if you can make it over without having to use the rope.”

  “Is that even possible?” I arch a brow when the girl tries and falls again.