by Chris Cannon
“There are many positives to not having a roommate.” Garret gave a tight smile. “I’ve fantasized death for my roommate on several occasions. He can’t grasp the simple concept that wet towels should be hung on a rack rather than tossed on the floor. But if you like, I could speak to Mr. Stanton about a ward for your door.”
“Sounds good.”
Garret checked the time on his watch. “Don’t forget the dinner tonight.”
“I know I’ll regret saying this, but what dinner?”
“Didn’t you read the welcome packet?” Garret asked, like she’d committed some breach of conduct.
“I read the damn packet.”
He backed up a step. “Perhaps you were missing a page. The dinner tonight is in honor of the families who’ve donated money to the Institute.”
“I have to pretend to be grateful to Ferrin? No thanks.”
“Why don’t you speak with Zavien before you decide to attend?” Ivy said. “Maybe he’ll tell you to play hooky.”
Good idea. There was one problem. “I don’t know how to contact him. He normally finds me.”
“He helps organize the stagecraft department at the beginning of school each year, so he’s probably with Nola. The number for the theater is in the phonebook in your desk,” Garret said.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and walked out.
“We better go change for dinner.” Clint grabbed Ivy’s hand and walked to the terrace, where they shifted and took flight.
A sense of unease washed over Bryn. She’d rather skip the dinner altogether. Was she required to attend? After locating the appropriate number, she dialed and waited for Zavien to answer.
“Theater department, this is Nola. Can I help you?”
“It’s Bryn. I need to speak to Zavien.”
“He’s on the catwalk.” Nola sounded annoyed. “What do you want?”
How much should she share? “I need to ask him a question.”
A male voice called Nola’s name. Then the phone smacked onto a hard surface, hurting Bryn’s ear. Zavien came on the line.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw you outfly that Blue. What did I tell you about showing off?”
Her temper spiked. “I didn’t plan it. He challenged me. What was I supposed to do?”
“Ignore him. I warned you about dragon pride. Now the Blues are in an uproar.”
“That’s too damn bad.” She cut him off before he could continue his tirade. “I called to ask if I’m required to attend dinner tonight.”
“Don’t attend the dinner. You’ll only call more attention to yourself, attention you were supposed to avoid. Throwing it in the Blues’ faces—the Directorate members’ sons’ faces—that you’re faster than them was sheer stupidity.”
“Bite me.” She slammed the phone back in its cradle. He was only concerned about stupid politics. He didn’t care about her.
She’d rather eat dirt than attend this dinner, but Zavien needed to learn he couldn’t push her around. So she was going. Like it or not. With an emphasis on the not.
What should she wear? No matter what she wore, she wouldn’t blend. Maybe she’d make a statement about her “mongrel” heritage. After considering her options, she paired a navy skirt with a red and navy pinstriped blouse and red heels. She focused on her hair. The strawberry blond wasn’t going to cut it. She closed her eyes and imagined distinct, cherry-red stripes. She opened her eyes and checked her reflection. The cherry red stood out in greater contrast to the blond and black stripes. People would definitely notice her hair now. And it would piss Zavien off, which was a bonus.
If she could change her hair color, what else could she do? Her nails? Closing her eyes, she pictured her fingernails and toenails scarlet red. When she opened her eyes, her nails gleamed like a red sports car. She did a small happy dance. Going a step further, she darkened her lips and eyelashes.
Now, the image in the mirror made her smile. After fastening the snowflake bracelet around her wrist, she was ready to go.
No.
Not ready to go.
Damn Zavien. If he hadn’t been such a jerk, she would’ve found a way to beg off. Now her only hope for a nonhellish evening was to find Clint and Ivy. How hard could that be?
On the walk across campus, people stared and pointed. Where were her friends? She kept her eyes open for a guy with a Mohawk. No luck. Her neck muscles tensed, and she could feel a headache starting.
A Blue male and his date moved closer to her on the sidewalk. When they were near enough, the girl said, “Your mother should’ve had an abortion.”
The severity of the insult made Bryn’s breath catch. Her face heated. “Go to hell,” was the only response she could come up with on such short notice.
The couple walked away from her without acknowledging her response. Deep breaths. Insults wouldn’t kill her. She scanned the sidewalk for any incoming psychos. No one else made eye contact. For now, that worked.
Once she reached the correct building, she discovered another fun fact. There was assigned seating for dinner. She’d been placed at a table of Green dragons, so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.
She walked into the ballroom with her head held high. No one needed to know how rattled she was. She could play calm and cool.
None of the Greens at the table seemed pleased to see her. Big surprise. She gave a tight smile and focused on the cream-colored program on her plate. Dinner fell between several speeches and awards. She scanned across the page to see the name of the keynote speaker. Ferrin Westgate. Freaking fantastic.
“Why are you sitting here?” the boy to her right asked.
Let the fun begin. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m living in your dorm.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
She glared right back. “I didn’t choose to sit here. It’s assigned seating.”
“I wasn’t talking about the table.”
Great. Another hater. Fire roared in her stomach. Rather than respond and risk setting the tablecloth on fire, she angled her chair away from him and thought of snow. The other Greens at the table murmured among themselves, but none of them were openly rude. Maybe that was the best she could hope for.
The sound system buzzed to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. Mr. Westgate will start the evening with a few opening remarks.”
And her fresh new hell had started. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as Ferrin took the stage and stood behind the podium. Dressed in a black double-breasted suit, he radiated cold composure with a side of evil.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as Speaker for the Directorate, it’s my privilege to welcome you to an exciting new year at the Institute for Excellence. For many of us, it’s the first time our children will be numbered among the students. We’ll witness firsthand the effects of our contributions. Our expectations are high. Their achievements will be higher.” He cocked his head toward a table in the front row. “They better be.”
Everyone laughed.
“The Directorate has watched out for the well-being of all dragons for decades. Some of our policies may be old-fashioned, but they’ve stood the test of time.”
He grasped the sides of the podium. “Students, I implore you. If you come up against a policy you deem unfair, then challenge it in the appropriate manner. Bring a petition to the school board, and it will be shared with the Directorate.
“Late last year, three students petitioned to be allowed into different areas of study. After thorough consideration, two students were denied due to lack of academic achievement. One student was allowed to move on. We are not unreasonable.
“I share this example with you because it’s imperative you realize peaceful objections will be addressed fairly.” His voice took on an ominous tone. “As you know, there have been troubling reports of vandalism to our businesses and homes. I don’t understand wha
t the perpetrators expect to accomplish. Those who seek change through militant action will be dealt with to the full extent of the law. It pains me to inform you one of our students on the cusp of graduation will now face incarceration. He was angry at the Directorate’s denial of his marriage petition, and he chose to express his anger through arson.”
Murmurs of disbelief sounded throughout the room.
“I, too, was shocked when I learned of this catastrophe. I share it with you tonight in the hopes you will channel your feelings of discord appropriately. Believe it or not, every one of us here tonight remembers what it was like to be young.
“We remember how strongly we loved and how passionately we hated. With age, your emotions cool and become manageable. Remember your actions during the next four to six years will influence the rest of your life. Choose wisely.”
The jerk made sense.
“Let’s return to the purpose of our evening. We’re here to thank those among us who contribute time, energy, and funds to the Institute. Without all of your help, the Institute for Excellence would not be the esteemed academy it is today.”
Everyone clapped. A waiter set a plate of beef medallions in front of Bryn. She doubted any of her tablemates wanted to talk to her, so she focused on chewing and swallowing.
The second speaker took the stage and began reading a list of the families who contributed to various buildings or areas of study. When Sinclair—her mother’s maiden name—was called out, Bryn froze midchew. A man with white hair and frigid blue eyes climbed onstage to accept his certificate. Warm and fuzzy looking, he was not.
The urge to run screaming from the room was strong. That might attract unwanted attention, so she pushed her chair back from the table and went in search of the restrooms. Thankfully, they weren’t hard to find.
The bathroom was as lavish as the ballroom. A crystal vase of white roses sat on the black marble counter between double sinks. A large, beveled mirror in a thick, silver frame hung on the wall. She washed her hands and then searched for the paper towel dispenser.
An elegant blond woman, dressed in a blue silk gown, entered the restroom and observed Bryn’s wet hands. “The towels are under the mirror.”
Bryn reached out to touch the underside of the mirror’s frame. She found a paper towel and pulled. “Thank you. I knew they had to be somewhere.”
“Your bracelet…is unusual.” The woman’s tone held an accusation. “Where did you buy it?”
Wrist held in front of her, Bryn said, “My mother gave it to me.”
The woman reached to steady herself on the countertop. “Is your mother Sara Sinclair?”
Bryn nodded. Her heart pounded as she realized what this might mean. “Are you my grandmother?”
Chapter Twelve
The woman didn’t deny it. She didn’t do much of anything. Just stared at Bryn with a pained expression on her face.
Words tumbled out of Bryn’s mouth. “I’d like to talk to you. You could stop by my room after dinner.”
“That’s impossible.” Her grandmother’s words dripped venom.
What the hell? “I’m your granddaughter.”
“Genetically speaking, you may be my granddaughter.” The woman straightened her shoulders. “But you’re nothing to me. If you’re expecting to waltz in here and inherit what your mother left behind, you can forget about it.”
This all came down to money? Seriously? “I don’t want your money, but I do want to know how my warm, loving mother came from an iceberg like you.”
“I’m not the cold-hearted one. Sara turned her back on her family and our entire way of life.”
“You were forcing her to marry a jerk. What did you expect?”
The woman stiffened. “I expected her to do what I did. Throw herself into caring for her child and let her husband go his own way.”
Anger turned to pity for the woman who believed a loveless marriage was acceptable. “Your life is wrong. Her life with Ferrin would’ve been wrong. My father is a good man. He makes her happy.”
“Life isn’t about being happy. It’s about loyalty and obligations.”
The door to the bathroom swung open. Two women entered, oblivious to the argument they were interrupting. Her grandmother took the opportunity to escape out the door.
So much for a happy family reunion. All her life, she’d envied people with large families. Every holiday and birthday celebration she’d experienced was a party of three, just her and her parents. And it looked like that wouldn’t change any time soon, unless her father’s family was friendly. That was something she’d investigate later.
Bryn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Once she could unclench her fists, she walked out into the hall. As she reentered the ballroom, she came face-to-face with Zavien.
His eyes narrowed.
She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t even think about it. I met my grandmother, and it wasn’t a heartwarming reunion.”
“I told you not to attend this evening. What did you expect?”
It would be so easy to shift and literally bite his head off. But that would be bad. Bryn didn’t want to go to jail, so she poked him hard in the chest. “You’re not my keeper. Get out of my way before I show you how much attention I can attract when I put my mind to it.”
“I don’t know why I’m even bothering with you.” He stalked off.
Ouch. Okay, she’d been mean first, but still…that hurt. Time to pull up her big girl panties and head back to her seat.
When she reached the table, a waiter removed her dinner plate and replaced it with a piece of carrot cake. She remembered her mother’s words. There are few problems in life sugar and fat can’t solve.
She dug into the cake. The cream cheese icing melted in her mouth and soothed her temper. As she savored the last bite, applause caught her attention. She glanced at the stage. It was empty. The program was over. Thank God.
She stood and exited with the crowd. The walk to her room seemed to stretch on forever, and her feet ached. Stupid heels. She’d wear flats for the rest of the school year.
When she finally reached her bedroom, she saw a certain someone with spiked hair waiting on her balcony. Should she leave him out there? Tempting thought, but he was the only person she could talk to about her grandmother. So she opened the window and let Zavien inside.
He held a white cardboard box. “I wanted to apologize.”
She stood there with her arms crossed over her chest. “That’s it? That’s your sucky apology?”
“You know you’re at fault here, too, right?”
She pointed at the window. “Good-bye.”
“Seriously?” He huffed out a breath. “You want me to go?”
How could he not understand? “No. I want you to tell me you’re sorry for being a jerk to me right after I was emotionally traumatized by my grandmother.” Angry tears pricked her eyes. “I want you to tell me I can trust you. I need to know that there is one person on this stupid campus I can depend on.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I forget how alien this must be to you.”
“Alien?” She laughed. “That’s a good description for it.” She pointed at the box he held. “What’s that?”
I brought you extra carrot cake as part of my sucky apology.” He flipped the lid open. Six pieces of cake wrapped in cellophane and half a dozen forks sat inside the white cardboard box.
Her mouth watered. “You should have led with that.” She snatched the box and headed into the living room. Cake in hand, she sat on the far end of the couch.
Zavien joined her and helped himself to a piece of cake. “How bad were things with your grandmother?”
“She denied my existence…said I wasn’t her granddaughter and accused me of wanting her money.”
“Ouch.” He scraped the icing off his cake. “That had to hurt.”
“It did.” She pointed at his now naked slice of cake. “You don’t like icing?”
“It’s too sweet.” He shru
gged. “I like the cake.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“Did your grandmother say anything else?”
Bryn relayed the conversation between bites of cake. “I don’t understand why she wouldn’t even give me a chance.”
“Blues are all about loyalty and pride. What your mother did brought her family’s loyalty to the Clan into question. It damaged their honor and their pride. Blues have been known to hold grudges for centuries.”
“Great. So there’s no hope for any type of relationship with them?”
“The odds are not in your favor,” Zavien said. “What about your dad’s family?”
“I haven’t run across any McKennas yet. Do you know any?”
“No, but I don’t know many Reds. We can look into the school database and see if there’s any information.”
“Thank you. I’d love that.”
“On to the next topic,” he said. “Are you ready for school tomorrow?”
“If I said no, would it make a difference?”
“Not really.” He set his cake plate down and held out his hand. “Show me your schedule.”
Bryn retrieved the schedule from her desk and passed it to him. “What do you think?”
“It’s not bad.” He studied the paper. “You’re lucky to have Elemental Science first hour. Mr. Stanton’s mood declines as the day goes on. Sixth hour students always end up in detention.”
“With the way my life is going, I’m sure they’ll transfer me to sixth hour before the end of the week.” She finished off her last bite of cake and eyed the box. Should she do it? Why not? She grabbed another piece.
“You have Basic Movement before lunch fourth hour. That’s good. You can shower and not worry about being late for your next class.”
Dear God, please don’t let there be communal showers. Maybe she’d run back to her room to clean up.
“After lunch, you have Algebra and Proper Decorum. Staying awake while someone lectures you about how to behave in polite society will be tough.”
“I’m sure everyone will be impressed when I drool on my desk.”
He glanced at his watch. “Curfew is in twenty minutes. I better go.”
