Ninja Girl: The Nine Wiles

by Steven W. White

  Ash stepped closer, to bring herself into Spencer's field of vision. "So whose idea was it? All the cameras, I mean."

  "Well... the school board's."

  "Who proposed it to the school board?"

  Spencer gulped. "I don't know."

  Ash thought for a moment. "What about the money? Who paid for them?"

  The passing bell rang. Spencer perked up. "Time for class."

  "Sure," Ash said. "The money?"

  "We don't want to be late," Spencer suggested.

  Mule sighed.

  "Okay, okay," Spencer said. "The school got a grant from the Safe School Initiative. That's a joint project of the Department of Education and the Secret Service. The application was fast-tracked, and the money came in right away. It surprised everybody."

  That didn't sound good to Ash at all. "Weird."

  "Yeah," Spencer said. "Federal money. Not like the library renovation, which the school is paying for by scraping cash out of the district fund."

  His words echoed in her head, triggering something. Not like the library renovation...

  The page was in the library.

  "Spencer..." Ash began. "The library. What are they going to do in there, exactly?"

  Spencer frowned. "Don't you ever read the Falcon?"

  "I'm going to start."

  "Well, the place is old. They'll replace moldy drywall. There might be asbestos in the ceiling, nobody knows. New tables, new shelves, new carpet. What aren't they going to do? That's the question."

  "What about the books?"

  "There's no money for new books. I checked."

  Ash shook her head. "I mean, what will they do with the old books?"

  "Oh," Spencer said. "They'll box everything up and move it to a warehouse. When the library's done, they'll move it all back."

  Ash frowned. Sure they will, she thought. Minus one page.

  They would have all the time and privacy they needed. They could leaf through everything, x-ray everything, whatever. They would find the page of the Book Without Words, and no one would suspect them, because the library really was old. What a perfect cover.

  It was a brilliant, insidious, creepy plan.

  "What warehouse?" Ash demanded. "Where?"

  "How should I know?" Spencer asked. "Who cares? Hey, what is it with you two, anyway? What is this really about?"

  Ash suddenly realized that if Spencer got curious, he might start asking questions, and then never stop. And if he asked enough people, it could get dangerous – for her and for him.

  Ash stepped back and smiled demurely. "Just curious." She cleared her throat. "You don't want to be late for class."

  Spencer hesitated. "I can go?"

  Ash nodded. "Thanks. You've been great. Sorry to keep you."

  Mule leaned in, grinning, and jabbed a tremendous finger at him. "You're awesome, little dude."

  Spencer scrambled to get away from him, sliding along the lockers and breaking into a sprint.

  Mule chuckled, and they both watched him go.

  "Good question," Mule said.

  Ash watched Spencer disappear around the corner. "What's that?"

  Mule's grin faded. "What's this really about?"

  Of course – Mule had to be wondering what had come over her. And what could she say? It all started when I found out my aunt is a ninja. He would just think she was crazy.

  No, it was worse than that. After all the years they had been friends, Ash knew him too well. If she told him everything, he would believe her. And that would bring him into all this, and that would be dangerous for him.

  Too dangerous, even for big bad Mule.

  Ash turned to him. "I can't tell you."

  That hurt more to say than she could have guessed. She almost winced.

  Mule raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  "At least," Ash added. "Not right now."

  Mule smiled. "That's cool. Hell, this was the most fun I've had all week."

  9

  School felt different that day.

  The worst part was walking between the buildings on her way to her next class. Under the cameras. At the day's end, Ash watched for cameras as she crossed campus to her locker.

  From the lunch tables, she saw Drake at his locker. She stopped. If she got any closer, he would see her.

  If he saw her, she'd have to say something, to chew him out for how he treated her. Part of her was game for that, but another part hurt too much and wanted to shrink from him. Why did he have to be such a jerk? She didn't need that in her life now – it would be easier to just let him go. All she had to do was wait a few moments...

  Drake finished at his locker, slammed it shut, and started down the row, under the overhang along the edge of the building. Ash felt a flood of relief as he left.

  Rage at herself came hot on its heels. How could she cower from him like this? No, she wouldn't stand for that. Ash settled her backpack on her shoulder and strode after Drake.

  His legs were longer than hers, and he was fast. Ash struggled to keep up, feeling her molars grinding together. She didn't know what she would say to him, but it was going to be good.

  She should smack him one. Yeah.

  If she could only catch him!

  Drake disappeared into the noisy crowds at the curb of the student parking lot. Ash scanned for his black leather jacket, but couldn't find him.

  After a minute of searching, Ash gave up. He'd reached his car by now. He'd gotten away.

  Ash sighed, and shook off the chilling feeling that other students were staring at her. She glanced around. They weren't, but still – she'd been pretty much stalking Drake for a minute there.

  How did he make her so crazy?

  Ash stopped by her locker and started the walk home, trying to clear her head of him. She had to tell Elsbeth about the cameras and the library's renovation – she wondered what Elsbeth would say.

  As she reached the far side of the field, where she had stopped with Elsbeth that morning, a silver Audi convertible sped by, its young driver's blond hair blowing. He didn't look back.

  Drake!

  It was as if he was taunting her – she couldn't get away from him.

  Never, never blame the boar.

  Elsbeth's words pressed on her like a weight. Ash suddenly knew that she had chosen her reaction to Drake's behavior... and she hadn't even realized it until now. Drake wasn't making her crazy at all. She had done that to herself. Her heart sank. She felt like an idiot.

  Now what?

  Choose again. Ash thought of the three women in the village, in the story of the first Wile.

  She could... never speak to him again. Wash her hands of him forever.

  She could... ask Mule to pound him to pulp.

  She could... talk to him. Demand to know what had happened at the concert.

  Ash chose, and her guilt and embarrassment fell away. A solemn calm came over her. Drake's car receded, its engine revving, half a block ahead. Its brake lights glowed red as it slowed at an intersection's stop sign. Ash took a step, and her heartbeat sounded, slow and powerful, in her ears. The breezy shifting of the branches in the trees grew still, and the birds fell silent.

  Something's different, Ash thought. Her heart slowed more, and its beat came steady, like waves crashing on a beach. A blue jay fled the tree nearest her. She watched each feather on the underside of its wing turn in the wind. Its flight reminded her of a sailboat cruising in a line against the gray sky. In time, it disappeared into a tree across the street. Ahead, Drake's car began its acceleration through the intersection.

  Ash slipped her free arm through the hanging strap of her backpack and broke into a run in Drake's direction. It was not like any running she'd experienced before.

  The air clung to her and she had to push through it. With each stride, she waited for her foot to sink until it slapped the sidewalk hard, then she pushed off and dragged her other leg forward. It felt like running on the bottom of a swimming pool, and she strained at the e
ffort. Her backpack, rather than thumping against the small of her back with each step, dragged steadily at her shoulders. Her hair tie loosened, then pulled free and disappeared, and the heavy air tugged painfully at her hair.

  After a few more steps, Ash found some rhythm. She narrowed her eyes against the gale-force wind in her face, and got used to the long wait between one foot pushing off and the next foot coming down. She spent most of her time airborne, and passed two parked cars with each stride. Each step carried Ash a little higher, and soon she was ducking to avoid the lower branches of the trees.

  Drake's car had barely moved. Ash reached the curb and jumped the intersection, her momentum carrying her over the asphalt. She stopped herself feet first on the Audi's bumper, skipped delicately over the trunk, and floated into the passenger seat, her butt thumping the headrest on the way down. The car lurched forward, molasses-style, from her landing on the bumper, and Drake's head jerked back slowly, awkwardly.

  Ash's wave-crashing heart quieted. Birds raced among the trees. Whatever had happened to her, it stopped.

  Drake's Audi was doing thirty-five. He saw her and slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded to a diagonal stop in the middle of the road. "What... how did...?"

  Ash's body burned and tingled. The skin of her arms had flushed bright red. Her dark hair felt blown dry, and her jeans had split at both knees. She had lost her tennies when she jumped the intersection, and she dug her toes into the Audi's plush gray carpet. Sharp pains shot up her ankles to her hips, like she'd pulled every muscle from the waist down.

  She savored the look on Drake's face. His jaw hung slack, his baby blues shocked wide. Ash had no idea how she had done what she did, but this wasn't the time to worry about that.

  "Hey, loser," she said.

  #

  As the Audi sat in the middle of the road, Drake's face settled into its usual half-cool, half-grouchy expression, while Ash's mind set aside the endless loop of Holy crap, I'm a ninja.

  "You always jump into moving cars?" Drake asked.

  "You always drive like a grandma?" Ash snapped back.

  He almost sputtered, but he caught himself. "That sounds like a challenge. Buckle up." He gunned the engine and the car took off. Ash slipped off her backpack, dropped it at her feet, and yanked the seatbelt across herself. Her body rocked as Drake slalomed around the parked cars.

  She clicked the seatbelt home and watched him drive. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

  Drake scowled at the road. He glanced at her. "Nice do."

  Ash ran her fingers through her tornado-swept hair. "That's not what I mean. What happened at the concert?"

  Drake didn't answer. He swung onto Dravus, then left onto Fifteenth, cranking the wheel in the turns. In the straightaways, he drove with one hand on the wheel, one hand on the stick. "It's complicated."

  "Complicated? You–" Ash had to stop. Drake's profile was scrambling her brain. He looked so angry and powerful, as perfect as a model in a European car commercial. They should have been on twisting mountain roads, rather than weaving through Seattle's rush hour. She couldn't talk and watch him drive at the same time, so she looked outside. The Audi roared northbound on Fifteenth. "Hey... where are you taking me?"

  "I know a place."

  "A place?"

  "Mochas."

  Ash laughed. She couldn't imagine Drake sipping a mocha. "You think you can just wheel me wherever you–"

  "You jumped in my car. Just hang on."

  #

  Spencer Marsh stood at the edge of the field, still running through his head the things he'd just seen. He mentally ticked them off:

  The world's biggest jerk, Drake Alexander, racing by in the silver convertible his daddy had bought for him. Drake had been alone in the car. Spencer was sure of that.

  That weird girl, Ashley Prue, on the sidewalk, presumably walking home. She was also alone – that gargantuan mook she hung out with was not around. Spencer was definitely sure of that.

  Drake passed her in his car, and...

  Now, Spencer reasoned, they had been about a hundred feet up the street. And Spencer had been looking through the chain link fence, which could have obscured his vision. And he hadn't noticed any other witnesses. And the sky was overcast, creating imperfect lighting conditions.

  But he'd been watching Ashley walk. Who wouldn't? It was Ashley Prue, after all. Spencer was a red-blooded American male, and while Ashley was no Emma Greene, she was still smoking hot. Plus, Ashley was small, and Spencer was small... and a guy can dream, can't he?

  Spencer refocused. Drake had passed Ashley and kept driving... then he slammed on the brakes – Spencer had heard the squeal – and Ashley was in the car. They sped away together.

  So he must have picked her up.

  No, he hadn't. She was already in the car when he stopped. And Spencer had been watching her walk... and saw her blur into nothing.

  After running it carefully through his mind, Spencer did what he always did. He sat cross-legged in the grass and wrote it all down in his journal.

  10

  Drake had parked the Audi in the grocery store's lot, beside the white-and-green coffee shack called Brewed Awakenings. Ash sat at the shack's single picnic table, its wood uneven, knotted, and freshly painted pine green. Drake carried over two tall mochas in paper cups. "You cold?"

  It hadn't rained since that morning, but the sky looked like it could let loose any moment. Icy gusts blew in random directions, and chilled Ash's knees through the new holes in her jeans. "A little." She missed her shoes. Her feet pressed together, her socks too thin.

  She accepted the mocha and held it near her mouth. Knees together and shoulders hunched, she tried to curl her body around its warmth.

  Drake passed her his jacket. It was all zippers and shining black leather, and made Ash think of motorcycles. She folded her legs Indian-style and draped it over them as Drake sat down beside her.

  "I don't get it at all," Ash said.

  "I know," Drake agreed quietly.

  "You called me. You made a date. You stood me up. You buy me a mocha. Are you... I mean, is your brain all right?"

  "Nice. Charming."

  "Then explain it to me."

  Drake sighed and contemplated the table's gnarled green wood. His delicate fingers clung to the paper cup. "I had to get away."

  "You what?"

  Drake scowled and shook his head. "No, let me start over. You ever met my old man?"

  "The principal? No. I've seen him around. His picture was in the paper."

  "You're lucky."

  "I see." Ash didn't buy this explanation, not yet. "This is about him?"

  Drake watched the table, eyes narrowed. "I get the whole progeny thing. He brought me into this world, and I'm his legacy. But I'm not his clone, and I'm not his slave."

  Ash frowned. "This is about him."

  Drake looked at her. "You get along with your dad?"

  Ash felt his piercing stare in every cell of her body. Everything inside her seemed to stop when he looked at her like that. "My dad?"

  She turned her face from him, and sipped.

  Her dad's words came back to her. There are certain things that girls – women – shouldn't do.

  The anger was still there, hidden above her stomach, dormant, but alive and suddenly hot. "No. I do not get along with my dad."

  Drake set his elbows on the table and sipped, gazing across the parking lot. "Yeah. So I had to get out."

  "You know," Ash said. "That's just not good enough. You can't take your crappy relationship with your dad out on me. I'm like... an innocent bystander."

  Drake nodded. "You're right. Not cool on my part. I'm sorry."

  "And what the hell? Why can't you get out with me?" Ash thought of Drake running to her, escaping with her, and her heart started pounding. "Can I not be in on that?"

  Drake stared into the distance.

  Ash waited... and gave up. "You're not a big talker, are you?"

 
"No."

  "Drake... why did you even call me?" Ash flushed and her heart hammered away. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer, and that wasn't even the real question.

  The real question was Do you even like me, or not?

  "Sometimes," Drake said, "I get this feeling, like nothing in my life works, and nothing in the world is worth it. And I can't stand it. I can't be around anyone. I mean anyone. And I have to get out. I have to go climb a mountain, or live on an island, or something. Although... usually I just drive. I don't know. Maybe it's a guy thing, or maybe I'm just a freak."

  "It's not a guy thing." Ash left it at that, and almost grinned. Freak.

  "Isolation. It's like a drug for me."

  He hadn't answered her question. And Ash wouldn't ask again, wouldn't let herself sound that needy, wouldn't let herself lose control. "Breaking news, Mr. Isolation: you can't take that out on me. If you and I are going to... whatever, then you have to keep your promises. If you can't do that, then there can't be a you and me, and you can have all the drugs you want."

  What was she saying?

  Drake watched her. Ash did her best to hold herself steady under his gaze. His jacket had slipped, and she pulled it over her thighs. She sipped her mocha.

  "You're..." he said, "sort of cryptic."

  "I'm sort of cryptic?" What was going on here? Why was it so impossible to hold a normal conversation with him?

  We're a real pair, Ash thought.

  "You're fast, too," Drake said.

  "Am not," she snapped, and regretted it. Smooth, ninja. Stealthy.

  Ash tried again. "Well, it's a ballet thing. You know that, right? All dancers are strong. People underestimate us."

  Drake's face was unyielding – like stone, revealing nothing. "You want a ride home?"

  What was the alternative? To be stranded at the supermarket?

  Actually, Ash was fine with another trip in the Audi, Drake's pinball-machine driving technique notwithstanding. "Yes, please."

  The trip home didn't take long, not with Drake behind the wheel. Ash just called out the turns and held on, and soon they pulled into the narrow driveway of the Prue residence.

  "I owe you," Drake said. "Let me make it up to you."