Going Down in Flames (Entangled Teen)

by Chris Cannon

  She followed him into her bedroom. He opened the window and then paused. “Your being here isn’t going to be easy, but you can handle it.”

  “Is this your version of a pep talk?”

  One corner of his mouth turned up. “You have no idea how hard it is for me not to remind you to keep a low profile. Promise me you’ll try to stay calm and not burn down the campus.”

  “I promise I’ll try.”

  He shifted on the terrace and took flight. She watched until he disappeared into the night sky. She pulled up her email and found one from Beth talking about how boring school was without her. Her friend’s normal day sounded like heaven. God, she missed normal. Telling Beth about her new life proved difficult, since there were so many dragon-related things she couldn’t mention. In the end, she settled on telling her about Clint and Ivy. Then she sent a quick email to her parents, mentioning the high points of her day. After that, there was nothing left to do but go to sleep, so she changed into her pajamas, climbed into bed, and hugged her spare pillow. She was a big girl. She could do this. Right? Right. The carrot cake called to her. Why not? She got up, finished off the last three slices of cake, and then called it a night.

  …

  The discordant piano music came too early the next morning. Bryn stumbled to the dresser and smacked the top of the alarm.

  “Damn thing doesn’t even have a snooze button.”

  The sharp, citrus scent of the tangerine grapefruit shampoo helped wake her. The fat, yellow bumblebees on her orange bra and underwear made her smile. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her book bag and headed out the door.

  The dining hall was packed. Groups of students sat by Clan, so the room appeared color coded. Didn’t these people mingle?

  Waiting in line at the buffet, she scanned the room for Clint and Ivy. If they were there, she couldn’t spot them. Plate piled high with toast, fruit, eggs, and bacon, she wound her way to a table by the front door. A quick exit might come in handy.

  No one seemed pleased to be awake at this hour. Maybe dragons weren’t morning people. In a slight daze, she sipped her coffee. Ugh. Bitter. She’d forgotten the sugar. Where was it? The tabletop was bare except for a napkin dispenser. The sugar must’ve been somewhere in the buffet line.

  If she had a tablemate, she’d ask him to watch her things while she left. Since that wasn’t the case, she drank the bitter brew and tried not to think of it as commentary on her life.

  A shadow fell across her plate.

  She glanced up to find Jaxon Westgate smirking at her.

  “Eating breakfast with all your friends?” he asked.

  The Blue dragons in his wake laughed.

  Jerk.

  She pointed at the students behind him. “Are they your friends, or do they hang around because of your father’s money?”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m sure some of them like you.”

  Students at nearby tables laughed.

  Jaxon placed both hands on the table and leaned down into her personal space.

  “Do you think Zavien is your friend? He wants to use you for his lost cause. Those other Black dragons aren’t your friends, either. They just followed his lead.”

  And that could be true. And it would totally suck. She gripped her coffee cup tighter. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not. Right now, my coffee is getting cold. Why don’t you run along and tell your minions what a great man your father is. I’m sure they’ll be impressed.”

  All conversation around them died. They had an audience.

  “My father is a great man.” Jaxon spoke through clenched teeth.

  “Your father is an arrogant egomaniac who—”

  “Your mother is a traitorous bit—”

  “That’s enough.” Mr. Stanton stalked toward them. “You’re both in my morning class. If either of you utters one more syllable, I’ll assign the entire class a ten-page paper.”

  Because “He started it” probably wouldn’t buy her any leeway, Bryn nodded and sipped her coffee.

  Frost shot from Jaxon’s nose as he turned toward the buffet line. She’d made him lose control. Good to know he had a temper to match her own. It evened the playing field.

  Ivy and Clint entered the cafeteria without glancing her way. In the buffet line, Clint yawned while Ivy prodded him along. They sat at a table across the room. What did she expect? They’d just met yesterday.

  Needing to look like she was doing something besides eating by herself, Bryn pulled out her schedule and pretended to find it fascinating. Another shadow fell across her table. Now what?

  “Want to join us?” Ivy asked. “We’re over there.”

  Bryn’s neck muscles unknotted, and she loosened her death grip on the coffee mug. “Sounds good.”

  Clint nodded at her when she sat.

  “Don’t mind him,” Ivy said. “He’s not a morning person.”

  Clint yawned wide enough for Bryn to see his molars. “My roommate snored all night. I may have to smother him with my pillow if he continues.”

  Ivy had sugar packets on her tray. “Where’d you find the sugar?”

  “They’re by the cups at the front of the line. Here.” She tossed a few to Bryn.

  “Thanks. I didn’t see them.” She ripped open the packets and added them to her coffee. Much better.

  After breakfast, Bryn followed Ivy and Clint to the Science building. Their class was on the third floor. Just what she wanted to do first thing in the morning, climb three flights of stairs. What did the Directorate have against elevators?

  When they reached the correct floor, a smoky odor tickled her throat. “What’s that?”

  “A Red probably set something on fire,” Clint said. “I’m sure it happens all the time.”

  Okay. “Why would that happen all the time?”

  “Do you know what we do in Elemental Science?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “We learn to manipulate our element. Everyone is unstable at first because it’s all new.”

  “Could I accidentally set someone’s hair on fire and get away with it?” The idea of Jaxon’s hair going up in flames made her smile.

  “Remind me not to sit in front of her,” Clint muttered to Ivy.

  …

  Mr. Stanton sat at a desk in the front of the room. On the chalkboard behind him was a chart with each student’s name written in a square. Her name was absent. What did that mean?

  He knew she was enrolled because he’d mentioned it at breakfast. What was she supposed to do? She approached Mr. Stanton’s desk and waited to be acknowledged. Movement by the window caught her attention. A yellow parakeet hung upside down in a large silver cage.

  “Can I help you?”

  She pointed to the board. “I’m not on the seating chart.”

  “I’m aware of the location of my seating chart. You’re not on the board yet because I seated people by their element, and I was unsure where you belonged.”

  Should she admit to both breath weapons? Maybe he could advise her. In a quiet voice, she said, “I have two.”

  He blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I can shoot fire and ice.”

  He stared for a moment as if he didn’t believe her, and then he stood and straightened his tie. “Come with me.”

  Bryn followed him to a door on the sidewall of the classroom. He opened it to reveal an adjoining classroom given over to storage. Shelves were lined with neatly labeled boxes. It smelled of dust and old books. Once she was inside, he closed the door.

  “Show me.”

  Nothing like being put on the spot. Bryn thought of Jaxon. Acid surged in her stomach. She opened her mouth and huffed out a small fireball. It hung in the air a moment before it burned out.

  Next, she thought of snow. A quick inhalation and exhalation produced fat snowflakes, which floated down and around an astonished Mr. Stanton.

  A smile lit his face. “That’s extraordinary.”
r />   Nice to be appreciated for once. “Should I let the others know? I was advised not to draw attention to myself.”

  “You managed to draw attention to yourself this morning in the dining hall.” He raised a brow. “Who started the argument?”

  “He did.”

  Raised voices came from the classroom. “We best get back before someone burns the room down. Pick one element to start with, and sit in the appropriate section.”

  No contest. Fire came easier. Plus, she could sit with the Red dragons rather than Jaxon.

  Mr. Stanton stood behind his desk and cleared his throat to gain everyone’s attention. “I’m pleased you were able to find your assigned seats. Every day when you come into class, you’ll need to check the board because we move for different activities. I expect you to keep your breath weapon in control at all times.” He raised one eyebrow. “Of course, I may goad you to see if you’re capable.”

  Several students laughed.

  “Every dragon is born with the power to control an element. Your job is to refine the ability to use it. A small amount of wind, ice, fire, lightning, or sonic wave can be enhanced and used as a tool.

  “Your element can be fused with other objects once you tap into Quintessence. Quintessence is the essence of all things. It’s the very stuff life is made of. Learn to manipulate it, and you will be able to do simple spells. Learn to control it, and you could do anything.”

  He pointed at a fern on his desk. Palm out, he created a small twister of air. The twister advanced on the plant and sucked all color from the fern, leaving it a dry, brown husk.

  “I have transferred the life force of the fern to my emissary. Now, direct your attention to the parakeet by the window.”

  The small twister moved toward the cage.

  The bird squawked as the wind rattled his enclosure. His feathers changed from yellow to lime green. Inhalations were heard around the room.

  Was this how she changed her hair color? Maybe she could speak to Mr. Stanton after class.

  “Today you’ll concentrate on producing and sustaining an emissary. For beginners, it’s easier to expel the element from your mouth to your hand. Later, you’ll be able to channel the element to your hand with thought alone.”

  Bryn huffed a small fireball into her hand. The other Reds did the same with more or less success. Unlike Mr. Stanton’s emissary, their fireballs winked out of existence after a few seconds.

  A young man next to her said, “You must take after your father.”

  “I do.” She gave him a tentative smile and then concentrated on the emissary in her hand, imagining the fire emerging from her fingertips. This time, the fireball held its shape for fifteen seconds before it died.

  “How’d you do that?” the boy asked.

  “I imagined the flame coming from my fingertips. It helped.”

  By the end of class, she was able to hold her emissary for thirty seconds. About half the students experienced the same success.

  …

  The sun shone bright as Bryn, Clint, and Ivy walked across campus to the history building. The smell of fresh-cut grass drifted on the breeze.

  “It’d be a perfect day to cut classes,” Clint said in a wistful tone.

  Ivy whacked him on the shoulder. “It’s the first day.”

  “Could we fly to the history building?” Bryn had the odd desire to feel the sun on her wings.

  “We could,” Clint said, “but then I wouldn’t want to shift back to human form for class.”

  They trudged to their destination. When they reached the appropriate room, the History texts were laid out on desks. Unlike Mr. Stanton’s class, there wasn’t a seating chart, so they sat toward the back.

  The teacher stood and cleared her throat. “Good morning, children. My name is Mrs. Hanfelder.”

  Was the woman used to teaching younger students? She spoke in a singsong voice. Something about her appearance was off. Her wispy, brown hair sat in a messy bun on top of her head, and her glasses perched a bit crooked on her nose. There was an odd gleam in her eyes.

  Mrs. Hanfelder tapped a wooden pointer on her desktop podium.

  “You should all know the basics of our history, so I won’t waste time reviewing. If your former schools weren’t up to standard, that would be your parents’ fault.”

  Mrs. Hanfelder stared right at Bryn.

  Great. She was the class example for how not to raise a dragon. Whispers and laughter broke out across the room. Mrs. Hanfelder gave a satisfied smile and opened her book.

  “Children, on page fifty, you’ll find a list of Directorate members. Choose one and write a five paragraph essay on their contributions to the laws we have today.”

  Mr. Stanton was definitely her favorite teacher so far.

  “To some of you, history is a class where you memorize actions of the dead. History is alive. It’s relevant. Based on what’s come before, we make laws to protect ourselves today.” She smacked the pointer on the podium for emphasis.

  “As you know, there have been reports of criminal deeds against Directorate members and their families. Last week, one of our students was incarcerated for setting fire to the summer home of a prominent family. The family wasn’t in residence at the time. However, the groundskeeper and his family who lived on the property were killed.”

  Students gasped. This mustn’t be common knowledge. Ferrin hadn’t mentioned the deaths in his speech. It didn’t seem right for Mrs. Hanfelder to discuss this in class. It certainly wasn’t right for her to smile while she delivered the morbid news.

  “There are reasons for laws in our culture. Dragons have a strong desire for power and wealth. In the dark ages, dragons fought to keep property. In effect, they created their own kingdoms. Many died in the effort to protect their land.

  “The age of Enlightenment came and brought new ideas. Land was parceled out among the Clans, and token marriages were arranged between Clans in an effort to keep peace. Dragons were less likely to start a battle with their neighbor if one of their own lived there. Unfortunately, these couples were barren.” Mrs. Hanfelder tilted her head to the side and gazed straight at Bryn. “As we all know, crossbreeding cannot produce a functional dragon.”

  Bryn’s mouth fell open.

  Her classmates snickered.

  “Was there something you wanted to add, Bryn?” Mrs. Hanfelder asked in a sickening, sweet tone.

  Asking “Are you bat-shit crazy?” probably wouldn’t help her grade point average, so Bryn gritted her teeth and shook her head no.

  Apparently, Clint didn’t recognize a cobra waiting to strike when he saw one. “I guess they’ll have to revise the textbooks.”

  “The Directorate will revise nothing.” Mrs. Hanfelder smacked the pointer on the podium. “You, however, will have detention with me this evening after dinner.”

  Ivy placed a hand on Clint’s shoulder. It did little good.

  “But we know Dragons can crossbreed.” He nodded toward Bryn. “We have proof right here.”

  Bryn fought to keep her jaw clamped shut.

  Jaxon cleared his throat. “We only have her mother’s word a Red is her father. We all know what her mother’s word is worth.”

  His cronies laughed.

  Lava erupted in Bryn’s stomach. “You want proof my dad is a Red? Here you go.” She sucked in a quick breath, and then exhaled, blasting a ten-inch fireball at Jaxon’s head. He yelped and threw himself backward, landing on the floor with a thump.

  Whack, whack. Whack. Mrs. Hanfelder smacked the pointer repeatedly. “I don’t tolerate displays of that nature in my class.”

  “I don’t tolerate people insulting my mother.” Sparks flew from Bryn’s mouth as she spoke.

  Mrs. Hanfelder slammed the pointer against the podium so hard it broke in half. “Your mother is a disgrace, and you are an abomination who should have been put down at birth.”

  Bryn held back the fire, but the words poured out before she could stop them. “Do all the t
eachers at this school attack their students? Or are you just a raving bitch?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A forest fire raged inside her stomach. Bryn worked to control her anger as she sat outside Mr. Stanton’s office. Whenever she exhaled, wisps of smoke came from her nose. She’d wanted to kill Jaxon. Literally, kill him. That wasn’t right. Not like she wouldn’t be doing the world a favor if she got rid of the smirking asshat, but before she’d become a dragon she never would have considered doing something like this. Of course, she wasn’t able to shoot fireballs then, so who knew? Maybe it went with the territory of being a Red.

  Through the door, she heard Mrs. Hanfelder’s tirade. “I want her expelled. She cursed at me in front of the entire class. What type of precedent does that set?”

  “You know we can’t expel her. The Directorate insists she stay.”

  “I want her out of my class.” The door opened, and Mrs. Hanfelder stomped past.

  If there was anyone who deserved to be barbecued from behind, it was this woman. But dragon prison didn’t sound like fun.

  “Bryn, come here.” Mr. Stanton’s voice was cold and calm.

  Cold and calm is never good.

  He sat behind his desk with his fingers steepled under his chin. Disappointment shone from his eyes. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Her first instinct was to yell, but going with her instincts had landed her in this situation, so she spoke in a quiet voice to show she was in control.

  “She told the class crossbreeding couldn’t produce a functional dragon. I was good. I knew she was goading me, so I let it go. Clint spoke up, and she gave him detention. Then Jaxon insulted my mother in front of the entire class.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I shot a fireball at the pompous ass and knocked him out of his chair.” A small thrill of satisfaction shot through her system as she remembered the expression of surprised terror on Jaxon’s face.

  One corner of Mr. Stanton’s mouth curved up before he gave an exaggerated frown. “We don’t tolerate that sort of behavior. That’s one of the reasons you’re here.”

  Her neck muscles tensed, and her face grew hot. “Mrs. Hanfelder called my mother a disgrace and said I was an abomination. What was I supposed to do, just sit there?”