Going Down in Flames (Entangled Teen)

by Chris Cannon

  “I want neck rubs and cake.”

  “It’s a deal.” He moved his hands back to her shoulders. “Am I allowed to make helpful suggestions on your behavior?”

  “Not unless you want your new nickname to be One Ball.”

  He laughed.

  Her neck and shoulder muscles relaxed as the physical and mental tension drained off her body like water. “My head feels better.”

  “See. I have my moments.” He dropped his hands to his side and stood. “It’s almost curfew. I should go. Your necklace is in the nightstand with your other jewelry.”

  A happy warmth settled in Bryn’s chest as she watched him walk toward the window. It wasn’t until he’d gone that she realized he’d rooted through her drawers. What were the odds that he’d found her jewelry before he’d discovered her animal-themed underwear?

  …

  The next morning, she wore the dragon necklace to breakfast.

  Ivy noticed right away. “Did you make up with Zavien?”

  “He stopped by last night. I threatened him with bodily harm. He promised to bring me cake for the rest of my life. We worked it out.”

  “You lead an interesting life.” Clint yawned. “Can you threaten my roommate for me?”

  Dark circles stood out under his eyes. Poor guy. “I could try. Maybe you should buy earplugs or sleep on the couch.”

  He leaned toward Ivy and rested his head on her shoulder. “Can I sleep on your couch?”

  She kissed his forehead. “We’ll figure something out.”

  A goofy smile appeared on Clint’s face. Bryn turned away to keep from laughing. As luck would have it, her gaze landed on Jaxon. He glared at her from across the room. She ignored the perverse voice in her head that suggested she blow him a kiss.

  In Elemental Science, her name was on the board. At her assigned desk with the Reds, she found a black leather dog collar with metal studs. Jaxon and his friends snickered. Not willing to let him spoil her good mood, she grabbed the collar, walked over to Jaxon, and dropped it on his desk.

  “Thanks for the gift, but I’m not into that sort of thing.”

  Everyone but Jaxon laughed.

  He glared at her and muttered under his breath.

  Mr. Stanton emerged from the adjoining storage room. Had he hidden in there waiting to see how she’d handle the situation? Probably. Damn sneaky dragons.

  “Class, at this point, you should be able to sustain your emissaries for at least thirty seconds. Now you need to move it from one hand to the other.”

  Mr. Stanton created a twister of wind in his right hand. The whirling mass of air moved over to his left hand and back again.

  “It’s important to be able to direct your emissary, or it’s of little use.”

  Bryn focused on her hand. Rather than exhale a ball of fire into her palm, she concentrated on creating the fire. Sweat beaded on her brow as five small flames appeared on her fingertips. Pressing her fingers together she compressed the individual flames into a ball of fire.

  The boy who’d spoken to her yesterday in class scooted closer. “How’d you do that?”

  “I imagined the flames coming from my fingers, and it happened.”

  “Cool.” His smile reached his bright green eyes. “I’m Keegan. You’re Bryn, right?”

  “Ye—” Ice cold wetness smacked the back of her head, making her jerk forward. She growled and whipped around to find Jaxon smirking at her.

  “Sorry.” He was the picture of fake sincerity. “I overshot my hand.”

  Mr. Stanton spoke before Bryn could reply. “I don’t want to see another accident in this classroom, especially between you and Bryn. Do I make myself clear?”

  Jaxon nodded. “Of course, Mr. Stanton.”

  Bryn gritted her teeth and concentrated on her emissary. Foot-high flames shot from her fingertips.

  “Bryn,” Mr. Stanton snapped. “Keep it under control.”

  While fantasizing about roasting Jaxon on a spit, she focused on moving the ball of fire. She could toss it and catch it, but she couldn’t consciously move it from one hand to another. It was frustrating. “I wish Mr. Stanton would give us more directions.”

  “You’re doing better than I am.” Keegan tossed a fireball, which fizzed out instantly. An outraged growl ripped through the classroom.

  Jaxon sprawled on the floor. “What did you do?” he snarled at Bryn.

  She didn’t bother to hide her huge grin. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Something knocked me out of my chair.”

  “My apologies, Blue.” The male Orange dragon spoke in a deep voice. “It’s difficult to catch what cannot be seen.”

  The Orange dragon said the word Blue in the same tone Jaxon had said mongrel. Had he knocked Jaxon out of his chair on purpose?

  Jaxon nodded to indicate he accepted the apology and took his seat.

  Why didn’t he rip the Orange dragon’s head off? Were Blues wary of Oranges for some reason?

  After class, Bryn approached Mr. Stanton’s desk, where he sat rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t found a History tutor for you yet.”

  Did she need a tutor? “I don’t know anything about Dragon history. Why don’t I read the chapters and outline them?”

  “I’ll need more work to assign you a grade. Pick several influential dragons or historic events and write three five-page papers. You can work in the library. Speak to Miss Enid if you need additional resources.”

  She bit back a groan. Three papers had not been part of the plan. Still, it was better than taking chapter tests.

  Clint and Ivy waited outside the door.

  “I’ve been assigned to the library, so I’ll see you in Basic Movement.”

  “I’m jealous. Mrs. Hanfelder made me copy the first chapter of the text during detention last night. I didn’t know if my hand would give out or I’d die of boredom first.”

  “Today, be sure to duck and cover,” Bryn said.

  Clint saluted. “Will do.”

  …

  Once she reached the library, Bryn felt conspicuous. Older students, enrolled in college courses, milled about with ease. She headed for the stairwell and climbed to the second floor, intent on hiding out in the study cubicles. The second floor landing was occupied by a couple attached at the lips. Embarrassed, she rushed up another flight of stairs and came out on the third floor.

  Now where should she go? The first group of tables by the door was occupied. Pretending she had a plan, Bryn turned left and walked down an aisle. A flash of multicolored light caught her attention. Halfway down the aisle, she discovered a stained glass window depicting dragons in flight. It was beautiful. She approached and ran her fingertips over the glass, which was warm from the morning sun.

  Dragons of all colors flew through the bright blue sky. Were there really yellow, brown, white, and purple dragons? No one mentioned them. She traced the Orange dragon and smiled. Anyone who could knock Jaxon on his ass was all right with her.

  She continued to search for a table. On her way, she found more stained glass windows. In the far back corner, she discovered a row of tables and chairs. A few held book bags, but none of the owners were present. She picked an empty table and set to work outlining the first chapter of the history book.

  Fifteen minutes later, she struggled to keep her eyes open. Who knew this could be so boring? Time for a break. She yawned and glanced at the bookshelves. One shelf, which held pastel-colored books, stood out in the sea of gray and black bindings. Curious, she decided to investigate. The first book she pulled from the shelf had a picture of a dragon and a knight. The title was Legends of Love and War. Interesting.

  She found several books with intriguing titles and returned to grab her book bag. When she picked it up, it weighed a ton, and it felt wet. What the heck? She opened the bag and stared in confusion at the jagged block of ice encasing her books and her notebooks. Fire roared in her gut. Some asshole Blue was behind this. She closed her eyes and took a deep
breath. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of making her lose control.

  “Not funny,” she called out to the idiots who were no doubt hiding nearby. Now what? The only solution was to melt the ice. She inhaled and then exhaled a tiny fireball into her bag. It hit the ice and sizzled. Okay. Maybe she needed more of a stream. She let her anger build and then focused on the flames coming from her fingertips. Moving her hand back and forth over the ice, she melted it until she reached her books. She dumped the contents onto the table and worked at it from the other side. By the time she was done, her books were damp, and they smelled like smoke, but they were still readable. Now, back to her regularly scheduled day. She placed her books in the damp book bag, but carried the library books, and headed down to the first floor to check them out.

  At the front desk, a dark-haired woman in a green shirtdress greeted her with a smile. “You must be Bryn.”

  Weird. “How’d you know?”

  “I’m Miss Enid. Mr. Stanton told me to watch for a girl with striped hair.”

  Now she understood. “I want to check these out.”

  The librarian pulled a card with a magnetic strip from a box. “Let me enter your name into the computer, and you’ll be able to check out whatever you want.”

  Miss Enid scanned the card and then held her hand out for Bryn’s books. “You’ve picked some good ones. I love the old legends. It’s more fun to read about people falling in love based on instinct. The Directorate wanted to ban these books, but I fought them fang and claw.”

  Miss Enid seemed on board with the anti-Directorate sentiment. Good to know.

  Bryn exited the library and dashed to the Physical Education building. Ivy waved at her from the main hallway.

  The locker room looked like it belonged in an expensive health club. Polished wooden benches ran between rows of beige metal lockers. The room smelled of disinfectant and lemon air freshener.

  Bryn was surprised to see her name posted in neat script on the locker next to Ivy’s. She opened the door and pulled out a boring, gray shirt. “Isn’t this pretty? I guess I don’t need the workout clothes I brought.”

  “Students used to wear their own clothes, but some of the girls’ shorts were too revealing. Now we’re stuck with these hideous uniforms.” Ivy unbuttoned her blouse and hung it in her locker.

  Bryn hesitated.

  “You better hurry up. If we’re late, Mrs. Anderson will take off points.”

  Great. So much for privacy. Bryn stripped off her blouse.

  “Are those lizards on your bra?”

  “I think they’re fun.” Bryn removed her skirt.

  “Cool thigh highs. What’s the occasion?” Ivy teased.

  “I’m panty hose impaired. Whenever I try to put them on, I shove my thumbnails through them. These are easier to deal with.” Bryn was surprised to find a pair of tennis shoes in her size sitting in the bottom of the locker. “How did the school know what size I wear?”

  “The Directorate knows all,” Ivy said in a mocking voice.

  “That’s kind of creepy.”

  She put on the right shoe and felt something slide inside. “I think they forgot to take out all the packing stuff.” She reached into the shoe and found a piece of paper, folded in half. Her stomach dropped. She knew what she’d find before she opened it. Steeling herself, she unfolded the note and read, “You won’t last the semester.”

  Ivy snatched the paper. “What the hell is this?”

  “Some idiot keeps leaving me messages.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “How do you know?” Ivy asked. “Have you shown them to Zavien?”

  “No. They’re just annoying, not threatening.”

  “Really?” Ivy held the note so the words faced Bryn. “Because that sounds threatening.”

  Bryn snatched the note, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in the bottom of her locker. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

  Once they were dressed, they joined the other girls who stood on a black line outside the locker room. A redheaded woman dressed in black shorts and a white T-shirt read names from a clipboard. Mrs. Anderson was embroidered on her shirt.

  “Bryn McKenna, where were you yesterday?” the teacher asked.

  Several girls snickered.

  “I was in Mr. Stanton’s office. He said he’d send you an email.”

  “I remember now. In my class, you’ll have the opportunity to take your temper out on a punching bag or a Slam Man. I suggest you take advantage.”

  Could she tape a picture of Jaxon to the Slam Man first?

  “All right, class. You have forty minutes to work out.”

  The gym was divided into sections designated for different activities. They found Clint on a treadmill. Ivy hopped onto the elliptical trainer next to him. “We have to warm up before we pick an activity.”

  “I want to joust.” Clint pointed toward two raised platforms. A student stood on each platform holding what appeared to be a giant cotton swab. One of the students swung low and knocked the other student off the platform into a pit of foam blocks.

  “Shouldn’t they wear helmets?” Bryn asked as she figured out how to turn on the treadmill.

  “The jousting sticks are made of foam. You can’t get hurt,” Clint said.

  After scanning the different activities going on around her, Bryn pointed at the Slam Man section in the far corner where students wailed on robot-like figures. Females were outnumbered by males, three to one. “I want to go over there. Clint, would you walk over there with me?”

  “Bad idea,” Ivy said. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Why can’t Clint go?”

  “If I walked over there, through the weight lifting area, I’d feel the need to make certain comments,” Clint said. “It wouldn’t be healthy.”

  “What kind of comments?”

  He pointed at a large man who had to be in his college years. “See the big guy over there? I’d feel compelled to point out he’d misplaced his neck.”

  “Why would you do that? He’s huge.”

  “I didn’t say it was the smartest thing to do. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. He’d insult my tattoos or say something equally without imagination. I would point out that making his muscles bigger will only make his personal equipment look smaller. From there, it would go downhill.”

  Bryn laughed and missed a step. Her foot landed halfway off the treadmill belt. She scrambled to recover. Her back leg kept moving. She stumbled, flew backward off the treadmill, and slammed into someone.

  Masculine arms wrapped around her ribcage. “Have you not yet mastered the process of putting one foot in front of the other?”

  Oh. My. God. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? Face burning, she disengaged herself from the unknown male’s arms and turned to face him, cringing at the sight of blond hair and tan skin. Please let him accept her apology and not make the situation worse.

  “Sorry about that.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “It’s not like you shot a fireball at my head.”

  And now she realized who he was. “You’re Jaxon’s friend.”

  “Quentin,” he prompted.

  “Right, Quentin. Well, thanks.”

  He nodded and walked past her.

  Gathering her tattered dignity, she turned to glare at Clint. “No more Mr. Funny when I’m on the treadmill. That was mortifying.”

  Ivy snorted. “Mr. Funny, I like that.”

  “If I’m Mr. Funny, then Bryn is Ms. Stumble Pants.”

  “What’s my name?” Ivy asked.

  “You are the axis around which my world rotates,” Clint said with complete sincerity.

  Ivy blinked and then smiled. “It’s a mouthful, but I like it.”

  Gag. Sometimes being around people engaged in a flirt-fest sucked because it reminded her of what she was missing out on.

  “I’m going to hit something. I’ll meet you guys at the joust.”

  She tried to be inconspicu
ous as she walked toward the Slam Man area. Didn’t work. Most of the students she passed stared and whispered. A few muttered insults.

  Acting like she couldn’t hear them, Bryn entered the Slam Man area and stood off to the side, trying to figure out if there was a system for taking turns. Random students traded places without talking to one another.

  A Red female aimed roundhouse kicks at a Slam Man’s head. When the girl tired, several students turned to Bryn.

  “Show us what you can do,” a Red female said in a not-so-friendly tone.

  “Okay.” She stepped forward and took a few practice swings until she gauged where to land her blows. Once she fell into a rhythm, the noise of the gym disappeared. She focused her anger and anxiety into jabs, uppercuts, and kicks.

  Sweat ran into her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she ignored the pain in her side and aimed one last kick at the Slam Man’s ribs before she stopped and leaned forward to breathe through the stitch in her side.

  “Who taught you how to fight?” a familiar voice asked.

  She straightened up and saw Keegan. With the back of her hand, she wiped sweat from her forehead. “My dad teaches martial arts. He taught me.”

  “You breathe fire, and you like to fight. I think you’re predominantly Red.”

  “Don’t forget the temper.” Bryn rubbed a cramp out of her tricep.

  “Did you really shoot a fireball at Jaxon’s head?” another Red male asked.

  Happy warmth suffused her body at the memory. “Yes, I did.”

  “I wish I’d seen that. We normally stick to knocking them around in the joust.”

  “I was about to head over there. If one of you knocked Jaxon off the pedestal, I wouldn’t mind.”

  “You can knock him off yourself,” Keegan said. “Males and females joust all the time.”

  “Mr. Stanton wouldn’t approve.” Not to mention Zavien’s reaction.

  “You can’t hurt anyone.” Keegan echoed Clint’s earlier comments. “It’s like hitting someone with a couch cushion. You can push them around, but you won’t inflict damage.”

  Bryn moved with him and his friends over to the joust area. “You sound disappointed.”

  He gave a wicked grin. “Some of those jerks could use a good smack upside the head.”