Hannah flipped long blond and blue locks over her shoulder. She slid her lips together on fresh gloss. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She’s a freak.”
The runes mesmerized. My mouth dropped open again. His hand swept over the white marks in his skin, breaking my reverie. A frown fell over his gorgeous green eyes. “Is there something on my head?”
“Nope. No. Uh. No.”
“You see?” Hannah complained. “Careful. I think she’s contagious.”
I texted Liam. More runes.
“Miss Ingram? Do you have a cell phone in my classroom?”
“No, ma’am.” I dropped the phone into my bag and piled books on top. Finally, my folder. “Mrs. Potter.” I waved the blue file overhead. Thank goodness. My grades couldn’t stand a zero at this point in the semester without kissing every scholarship opportunity on earth good-bye.
Mrs. Potter accepted the paper. She stole another appreciative look at Eli as she walked away. Not even the blind would blame her.
* * * *
The influx of new students took the focus off me most of the day. Aside from Rosie in homeroom, only Kirk and Hannah bothered me. The five Mahonings filled the seats at Justin’s lunch table, so I went to the parking lot. Allison opened her car door the moment my feet hit the gravel.
“Hey!” I waved my hand overhead.
“Hey!” Allison waved back. “Get inside.”
We slid into her car and she started the engine. I pointed the heater vents at my face. Allison picked the song she wanted and lowered the stereo volume to background noise.
“Liam went home. Have you talked to Oliver?” I asked.
“Ollie’s sick.” Allison stuck out her bottom lip. “I’m bringing him chicken noodle soup after my last class.”
“Oh.” I didn’t have siblings, but I doubted I’d skip school if my brother was sick.
“Is Liam okay? Maybe he caught what Ollie has.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. He said he’s picking me up from school.”
“Are you swimming tonight?”
My tummy tightened. I needed the practice. I also needed more answers. Why did Liam leave? What was really wrong with Oliver? Were all the guys sporting runes at Zoar High School on our side? If Vikings liked to pillage and plunder, what stopped them from turning on one another, especially if fighting made them stronger?
“No. I’m skipping swim tonight.”
Allison turned the music off. “Hmm. You never miss a chance to swim. How do you feel today? That was scary yesterday. Ollie kept me in the loop about your recovery. Once he said Liam was on his way to keep an eye on you, I stopped asking.”
“Yeah. It’s cool. I’m good.” I smiled.
“Oh yeah? Is he?”
I laughed and pounds of stress rolled away. “Yes, but not like that. I mean, probably like that, but I don’t know yet.”
Allison beat her gloved hands against the steering wheel. “You said ‘yet.’ I knew it. Oh, you have to tell me everything when you do. You’ve waited eighteen years for this.”
I didn’t argue, but it wasn’t true. I hadn’t waited eighteen years for anything. I hadn’t waited at all. I’d only realized what I wanted after Liam kissed me the first time, which wasn’t long ago. The fact we’d moved as fast as we had blew my mind. When he touched me, it never felt like we moved fast enough.
“When?”
“When what?” Did I miss something? Too many things battled for position in my mind.
“When’s the big night? Do you have a plan? Will you do it at your house when your mom’s at work?”
“I haven’t set a date.” I leaned my head against the rest. “I want to, but I’m not in a hurry or anything. There’s a lot of drama to deal with first.” My virginity seemed the least of my worries in light of our town’s sudden overflow of Vikings.
“What drama? Why wait?”
Allison’s phone buzzed on the console between us. A picture of Oliver appeared on the screen.
“I’ll see you later.” I popped the door open and climbed into the cold. She’d talk to Oliver until she had class. I didn’t want to play third wheel in a car with two people.
“Bye!”
I shut the door and jogged back into the school. Shaking hands and a grumbling tummy demanded food. I took an apple and a water from the cafeteria line and went to the library.
Justin texted me twice. I assured him I was making up work I’d missed the day before.
Alone at a library computer, I typed Norse rune meanings into the search engine. The new kids and Adam’s clan had tons of marks, but Liam only had one that repeated. I’d found it easily days before. Liam’s rune represented Yew. It meant change, or a turning point, denoted death and/or transformation. I’d assumed all Vikings carried the same mark. That made sense if they all underwent the same change.
I scrolled through a few sites. A bunch of runes looked alike, which made it impossible to discern the meanings. Runes looked different on skin, too. If I hadn’t known Liam’s rune so intimately from years of chalk drawings, I might not have picked it out so easily from the rest. The one on Eli’s head looked like a stick with an upside down v on it. If I was right, its name was algiz and it meant protection. His rune repeated in a pattern end to end. The number of runes related to fertility was disturbing, especially given the Viking urge to fool around with human women. No wonder their bloodlines were so diverse and unpredictable. I didn’t remember enough about the other runes to pinpoint them. I folded my arms on the table beside my keyboard and rested my head.
Four hours until school was out.
* * * *
I dumped every book from my locker into my bag. I needed them all. My poor grades. Liam texted to say he was outside. After the day I’d had, I wanted to climb into his Mercedes and never get out.
“Ingram.” Coach’s voice stalled my progress.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve got a surprise for you. Suit up.”
Uh oh. My heart couldn’t take any more surprises. “I have a ton of work tonight, Coach. I was out yesterday.”
“I won’t keep you long. There’s always time for homework after you swim.”
Sure. Says the swim coach.
“I’m not swimming tonight.” I shut my locker. My bag hit the floor. It weighed about five hundred pounds and had landed on my toe.
“Yes, you are. Come on. Suit up.” Coach pointed toward the hallway leading to the locker rooms.
“Coach.”
“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Ingram. I did you a favor and you’re swimming. Wes Larsen’s in town visiting family and I called in a favor.”
My eyes bulged.
“That’s the spirit. Now, get moving.”
Wes Larsen was the head coach for Tennessee Temple University, and I wanted on his team bad. I’d dreamed of him attending a swim meet and noticing me in the pool. My exhaustion fell away. Coach was offering me Wes Larsen’s undivided attention. I hadn’t studied lately, but I was far too smart to pass up an opportunity like this. I speed walked to the locker room, dragging my bag and texting Liam. I’ve got to swim. Coach brought a scout!
Chapter 18
I hustled to the pool, fidgeting with my team swim cap. I wore my stretched out pink cap for practices, but looking professional seemed the thing to do when swimming for a recruiter. The team cap was bright blue with a white block letter Z and matched my team swimsuit. Funny how swim uniforms fit in backpacks and every other athlete at our school hauled a duffle the size of a body bag.
I closed my locker and took a steadying breath. This was it. My chance to get into college on my own. If I accepted tuition money from Dad, he’d have collateral over me. I’d rely on him, hoping every minute he wouldn’t cheat on me by reallocating his money to a new house or a new car for his new girlfriend.
I stopped short of the glass door to the pool and shook my hands out at the wrists. What would Coach say?
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“You’ve got this, Ingram,” I whispered in my best impression of Coach at a big swim meet.
My shoulders relaxed inside the natatorium. The beloved scent of chlorine filtered through my nose and into my soul. Water called to me like a siren. I was powerless to ignore. Voices echoed off tiled walls and sunlight filtered through condensation-covered windows. I was home.
“Ingram,” Coach barked my name.
My head snapped in his direction. “Yes, sir.” Bare feet pulled me forward, toward Coach and a stranger dressed in head to toe athletic apparel.
Coach crossed his arms, hugging a clipboard to his shirt. He widened his stance and smiled. Energy zinged in the humid air between us.
“This is Coach Larsen, the swim coach at Tennessee Temple University. He’d like to see what you’ve got.”
Coach looked proud. I knew he loved swimming, but it was his job. I didn’t think he attached feeling to anyone on the team, aside from keeping us alive and afloat. Male pride was something I didn’t understand. Except self-pride. I saw that in practice every day for every one of them. My dad was the worst. He never came to my swim meets or asked about my times. His lifelong indifference had blinded me to something suddenly obvious. Coach was proud of me. I smiled widely.
“Nice to meet you, Ingram.” Coach Larsen extended a hand in my direction. “Do you have a first name?”
“Callie.”
He tipped his chin up and laughed as if my name was a punch line. If he thought “Callie” was funny, he should hear the whole thing. His shiny white and orange warm-ups swooshed as he moved. He looked like a walking ad for his school.
“Callie’s my strongest swimmer. Her times improve every year.” Coach piped up in the awkward silence. “Last week her times rivaled all your best swimmers.”
They did?
Coach’s prideful expression transferred to the man at his side. “We’ll see about that. Callie, let’s see how the water treats you.”
My coach looked from Coach Larsen to me. His eyebrows rose over his forehead. “Something wrong, Callie?”
I examined Coach Larsen. Something seemed off about him, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I searched his exposed skin for runes. Anything was possible. His eyes were brown like mine, not luminous green.
“No, sir. Nervous, I guess.”
The men laughed in a knowing way. I turned for the starting block.
Rough ribbed matting held my feet in place. I gripped the block’s edge, adjusted light blue goggles over my eyes, and held my position. The water lapped against the pool’s edge, inviting me in. One quick puff of Coach’s whistle and I was in the air, flying, submerging, and swimming. Water caressed my body like countless little fingers, pushing me forward, splitting a path through tightly bound molecules. Breaking the surface for air seemed an unnecessary drag on my euphoria. I took a quick breath and moved seamlessly into my fastest freestyle, turning and returning several times before Coach’s whistle pierced the air.
He pulled me from the pool with one strong arm. “Nicely done, Ingram.” Coach slapped my back and turned the face of his stopwatch to Coach Larsen.
“How’d I do?”
Coach Larsen removed his shiny jacket and folded it over one arm. “You’re a natural. Have you ever swum in salt water?”
“Yeah. A friend has a saltwater pool. It’s invigorating.”
My coach laughed, patting my shoulder and shaking his head. “Invigorating.”
It was.
Coach Larsen wore his hair longer than most coaches. I wondered how much it could’ve grown since the last meet I watched online. He was fit for a man his age, probably in his thirties. His sandy hair was highlighted from hours in the sun, like Justin’s. My mind scrambled to recall his swim history. All the big swim schools had coaches with unbelievable swim records.
Coach handed him a file with my name on the tab. “This is her complete record. I pulled times and comments from her middle school coach and grade school instructor. She’s been impressive from the start, but this year all the hard work has paid off. Her times are dropping like pants at a swim meet.”
Larsen’s eyebrows met in the middle. Not everyone got Coach’s humor.
I swung my arms. “So, the time’s good? Do you want to see my butterfly or backstroke?”
“Sure.” His eyes roamed over me, stealing my breath. What was he looking for? If he was a creeper, I’d pass on any offer he had in mind, scholarship or otherwise.
“Show him your butterfly,” Coach instructed.
“Yes, sir.” I adjusted my suit and goggles.
Larsen followed me to the block. “You look like your mother.”
“You know my mother?”
His eyes crinkled at the edges. “She’s beautiful.” He opened the file and pointed to a picture of Mom squatting next to me after I took the Tiny Torpedoes to state finals in fifth grade. I had four medals weighing me down and Mom’s contagious enthusiasm lifting me up.
“Oh, she’s”—not my mother—“amazing. You’re right. Beautiful, too. Thank you for saying I look like her.”
His expression froze me in place. Something between curiosity and shock flashed over his features before a mask of indifference settled there.
“Move it, Ingram. Larsen’s got a plane to catch,” Coach called.
I swam another three laps before the whistle sounded. This time Larsen pulled me from the pool.
“He had a phone call.”
I followed his gaze across the cavernous room. Coach stood in his office with his back to the door.
“The water loves you,” Larsen said.
The unmistakable shadow of India ink lined the sleeve of one arm. “Is that a tattoo?”
He rolled his sleeve over his shoulder, revealing a thick curved line. “Do you recognize it?”
No. “Should I?”
He shrugged and rolled down the sleeve.
“All right. Sorry for the distraction. This time of year I get lots of parents interested in putting their freshmen on the swim team.” Coach rubbed his eyes. “They always want to know how well their kids should swim before trying out.”
I laughed. Swimming: the unreasonable expectation for swim team members.
“Well, is there anything else we can do for you?” Coach asked Larsen.
“I think I have everything I need. I’ll be in touch.” Larsen shook our hands and tucked my folder against his side, wedged beneath one bent elbow.
When the door closed behind him, Coach turned to me. “Your times were Olympic quality today, Callie. Don’t take the first offer you get. I don’t care how much you love the school. Hear every recruiter out. I know they’ll all come for you, and I know you want to cover college expenses on your own.”
I opened my mouth. Words failed, so I snapped it shut.
“Hey, I listen to you guys. It’s my job. Now, you listen to me. Hear them all out. Make the best decision for you. You’ll have plenty of opportunities presented, so be smart. Get everything you can from each school. You’re going to take their team to the top. They can afford to give you a full ride, books, too, and maybe some spending money so you don’t have to get a job. Believe me, they’d rather give you a stipend and keep you training than lose your talent because you have to work at the local theatre to make pocket money.”
Speechless.
The phone rang in Coach’s office. “Hey, if you want to hash out the offers with me later or if your mom has any questions about their individual programs, I can help. My wife and I would love to have you and your mother over for dinner sometime.” He glanced at the ringing phone.
“Thanks, Coach.” My heart warmed at his offer. “You better get the phone.”
We parted ways and I drifted into the locker room on a wave of endless possibilities. Could what he said be true? My heart leapt. My dreams were coming true. I stripped out of my wet suit and yanked clothes over damp skin, too eager to tell Liam my news for nonsen
se like toweling off. I snapped the cap off my head and flung it into my bag.
Liam leaned against the wall outside the locker room.
“Hey.” I bounced onto my toes and kissed his sad face.
“Hey.” He stroked my hair and almost smiled. “I watched you swim.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I like seeing you in the water. You’re unstoppable. Unless you race me. In which case, you’d be lost in my wake.”
“Ha. I accept your challenge. Coach says my times are Olympic quality.” I pinched my eyes and lips shut to staunch a squeal.
“Impressive.” He looped an arm over my shoulders. “You have a great life ahead of you.”
We moved down the hallway toward the main doors. My tummy churned. “Why don’t you come with me?”
Liam tensed at my side. “To college?”
“Yeah. You’re a Viking. I mean, traveling is what you do. Why not hang with me a while longer? Don’t leave.” If he knew what leaving would do to me, maybe he’d stay, but I couldn’t explain something so awful. I needed him to be the man who proved the others were the exception, not the rule.
“We’ll see.”
I stopped. “I’m not sure what it means to you, but around here ‘we’ll see’ is the parental equivalent of ‘I’d prefer to fight about this some other time.’”
He smiled. “Do you think of me as your parent?”
My cheeks flamed. “No.”
“Good. That would be a big blow to my self-esteem, not to mention disgusting. Tell you what, let’s deal with the Viking war first. College later.”
He pressed the front door open and the world rumbled around us. A motorcycle club gunned their bikes past the school in a thunderous roar. They disappeared one by one around the corner. I covered my ears. There were at least a dozen bikers on black motorcycles with green rims or a green helmet or jacket.
“They’re matchers.” I admired their coordinating gear.
“They’re pissed off, and we have to settle them down before we have a war on our hands.”
More Vikings. “How many are there?”
“Including the ones you met today? Upward of fifty, give or take.” Liam opened the door to his car parked in the empty lot.
Prophecy Page 22
