“Thanks,” he mumbled and sniffed. “I’m sorry about the plant. I just wanted to keep it and I didn’t know where else…”
“You brought a plant to school?” Toby butted in, oblivious to the near tears.
Tancetta whirled on him, furious. “How is that your business? Am I supposed to tell you all my business? Do you have something against plants?”
“Toby. Go to class,” I said, stepping between them, half protecting, half something else I wasn’t sure of. I put a hand on his shoulder without thinking, Tancetta, a hand that he surely would shrug off and rightly so. I had no business touching people at school. He was a wreck, I could see that, but I didn’t expect the hunger.
Tancetta sobbed once while the emotional boundaries between us blurred and I felt his exhaustion, his energy hovering near zero. I felt my strength leach out of me into him, energy that I kept very close guard over. Life was energy. We fed one another, but this, the unmet need for connection he had reminded me of my father. I gripped his shoulders, pulling him against me in a quick hug, connection he needed more than anything else, his forehead meeting my neck, skin to skin contact that flooded me with a bizarrely intense floating sensation silencing all the questions in my head leaving me with a bloom of clarity that I’d never experienced before.
That moment only lasted a breath, but the impression left new thoughts in my head. My father. I’d never thought I took after him. I had my mother’s looks overall, my mother’s determination and discipline, but apparently, I also had my father’s ability to connect.
I started walking, towards the plant, away from the boy who I would have bet my car would never be willing to connect with me, to give me his vulnerability in exchange for my strength. The rush I felt from the exchange was undeniable.
The first time I’d seen my father and his Baker, I hadn’t understood. They’d been sitting side by side, but my father grew paler and paler while Mr. Landry’s skin grew lustrous and vibrant. I’d been four, called him a vampire. Landry had given me a wink and sharp smile, saying that if I was very good, I might have my own vampire someday. Then he’d made the most beautiful feast, and my father had eaten until he was strong again.
Their shared bond was what made my father so powerful. I’d assumed that I’d continue eating my father’s Baker’s food until I found my own Baker or my father died, or Landry died. But this, Tancetta, it opened up new possibilities. He wasn’t a Butcher. He was a Baker. I’d been mocking him when I said he should take up baking, but I’d been right. He had the wrong energy for a Butcher. He shouldn’t feel like there was anything inherently lower in being a Baker than a Butcher. Butchers had more flash, but Bakers were the heart.
If we could be friends, Sebastian and I, maybe I could help him find his path.
“What kind of plant is it?” I asked, glancing back to see if he still followed me.
When he told me, I inhaled slightly, swallowing my surprise. Everlast was incredibly rare, incredibly valuable, and now we had one at our school.
“She was a gardener?”
“She was a botanist,” he scowled at me, like I’d insulted her memory. I would not call his mother a Baker. “Also a gardener. She worked at the botanical gardens. She could grow anything. Everlast was her prized herb in our garden. She loved it like some people love their dogs.”
“What’s happening to your house?” If there were more priceless herbs there, we should save them before some idiot razed them and built a garage over them.
His lips trembled again. Every time I saw his weakness, I wanted to touch him, to take away some of the sadness. I couldn’t do it, take away emotion. All I could do was share my life force, my energy so that he had the strength to deal with it on his own terms.
“It’s sold.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, squeezing the delicate bones that should be covered in thick muscles and sinew. He was built so delicately I could have crushed his shoulder in my fist. Instead, I rested my fingers on his navy blazer, feeling the release of energy, the wave of euphoria before I forced my hand to my side, my voice calm and stable.
He knelt in front of Everlast, a diminutive plant that didn’t look like much. It would have been overlooked, perhaps taken out like a weed by the groundsmen.
“It needs water.”
It needed much more than that. It needed a position of honor where it would thrive and perhaps bloom. The scent of Everlast blossoms were supposed to be unforgettable.
I knelt beside him and worked the plant carefully out of the soil, so gently that any dangling roots would be preserved. “Do you trust me?” I asked as I looked at Sebastian, his soft blue eyes so full and brilliant, I couldn’t look away.
“Man, it’s a plant. It’s going to die sooner or later, anyway.”
He reminded me who he was, who we were. I didn’t like it. We’d had that connection, but he resisted it. Of course he resisted it. Sebastian had balked at every order, suggestion, and critique I’d ever given him. I backed off, holding the plant.
“Follow me,” I said, stalking towards the herb garden. He would probably wander off, except that I had something he treasured. Not because it was invaluable, but because it had been his mother’s. She’d died and it was my responsibility to make it right. I was accustomed to being in charge, of giving commands and having strict obedience, but if I wanted to develop a relationship like my father and his Baker had, I’d have to treat him like my father treated Landry.
The idea of my father giving Landry orders was laughable. Landry didn’t need orders. He was entirely competent and knew without being told what was needed. Connection. I’d never had that.
I took the precious Everlast to a spot on the West side of the herb garden with a wall behind it to soak in sunshine and make the situation more temperate. Even so, we’d probably have to watch it for frost.
I worked on a hole, jerking away when our shoulders touched. I wasn’t prepared for the contact, wasn’t ready and found it invasive. Was he closed off, or was I? I couldn’t tell. I finished planting the Everlast, watered it, and stood before I looked at Sebastian again.
He gave me a slight nod. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” He didn’t sound appreciative.
“Really? You appreciate something that I did?”
He frowned, his lips thinning instead of trembling. “I must be having a weak moment,” he said, getting up and brushing off his pants. “I’ll try to regain our former camaraderie before things get weird.”
The tension left me and I realized it had come from myself. I didn’t trust him to not punch me again or say something to needle me, to push the limits of my self-control. His enrollment in the school had been revoked, but maybe this time things would be different. I’d make them different. If I backed him, the Headmaster would allow him back in school. I’d have to watch him and be his friend. He needed a friend. Maybe I did too.
Chapter 4
The Baker
I missed the first part of the convocation so I had to stand in the back, unable to see very well over the tall people in front of me. That was okay. I didn’t need to be seen or see, all I needed to do was show up and do my best.
The man at the front wasn’t the headmaster but a slender man with a goatee and glasses who managed to make Calder sound like a castle that trained knights to go out and fight dragons, something so noble and incomprehensible, I found my mind wandering. The boys around me were focused on the speaker, most of them with surprising intensity and interest. Must be a guy thing. Yay. Let’s go fight dragons, push back the darkness, fight our own inner demons and lay them to rest so that we can slay the monsters without.
When would my big suitcases come? I’d packed some of my most feminine things in it. I already wanted to rip off my wig and hurl it into the crowd. The binding around my bust had gotten old in fifteen minutes although it had worked better than a sports bra when I’d been sprinting away from the kid, Toby?
I swallowed as I saw Orion go on stage to cheers that
were somehow respectful and in awe at the same time. I glanced around me until I caught the eye of Toby, chubby and frowning at me before he refocused on the stage.
Orion spoke in a low voice that sent shivers down my spine. He was beautiful, serious and intense while he moved slowly, every gesture intentional. His words made no sense to me, but I clapped along with everyone else.
It was your basic, welcome to school speech. Let’s do better now than ever before, try not to forget why we’re here, that we have purpose, a need in this world. At the end, he bowed his head and led the school in prayer.
I fumbled with the cross over my chest while the room exploded into movement, boys who were tense, ready to conquer school for the year.
I hadn’t expected this much intensity from ordinary boys. Maybe that was the point. These weren’t ordinary boys. I shook my head and tried to focus. My first class began fifteen minutes after the end of the Convocation. I had to move.
In Math, I smiled at the teacher as I took my place at a computer and immediately began the program that would show my current Calculus two level. My next class, Biology was a breeze. The teacher jumped right into dissection which I did with the same precision I used when deboning chicken. Deboning, deveining, same thing.
English I liked. The teacher wasn’t much to look at, rather small and gremlin looking but when he spoke, he held the room. He read a line from Richard the third devolving into rap that I spontaneously applauded after he was finished. I sank a little bit lower when the teacher glanced at me with piercing eyes that for a moment seemed to see through my disguise before he continued on to a sonnet.
After that I had lunch. The cafeteria was not what I expected. The room itself was ordinary enough, a square hall with a large ceiling and medieval looking light fixtures that flickered dimly beneath the skylights above them. The food had me speechless. Braised duck was the lunch special.
I’d gone to a good school, but nothing like this. The breaded goods were overflowing on racks of such dizzying variety, I couldn’t recognize half of them. I ate this and that, but I didn’t put away nearly the amounts of the boys around me. Eating wasn’t such a group thing as a personal relationship with incredibly good food. The voice levels were low and no one bullied or beat anyone up. Maybe they were waiting for gym. That was what I had after lunch.
I took my plate to the kitchen after I’d eaten a few bites and handed it to the grizzled man who stood at the window in a white apron.
“Tancetta,” he growled, examining my plate as though he would grade me on how much I’d eaten. “Not to your taste?”
“It was really great. I’m just not hungry.”
“You have gym next?”
I nodded.
He grinned. “You will be. Dinner is at six. Any requests?”
“Requests? Blackened chicken linguine?”
He frowned at me. “Not pizza? You always ask for pizza.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. Who knew I’d be friends with the cook. “Pizza would be great.”
“We never have pizza,” he growled back slamming his hand against the metal counter.
I edged away, scowling. “Right. Later, man.”
The gym was state of the art but still looked two hundred years old. The other boys in my class were pretty pathetic, all knees and elbows or guts. I’d been relegated to the pansy class. Good. I’d have an easy time staying at the top.
I took a deep breath as I double tied my shoe laces and started running. I was on my second lap when the teacher blew his whistle.
“All right,” he hollered, voice echoing on the bare walls. “Take ten laps. Afterwards you’ll climb the rope until you can touch the blue tag in the middle. Anyone make it to the red flag and he doesn’t have to climb it for the rest of the semester. How many have you done Tancetta?”
“He’s on his second lap,” a nervous looking guy in round glasses said.
“Your name Tancetta?” the coach hollered close enough that the glasses guy flinched.
“No, sir.”
“No, Coach,” the coach corrected. “Simons, get up and catch Tancetta. Go, go, go!”
I kept running, pushing myself just enough that I made good time and then immediately went to the rope hanging down and started climbing, letting my legs swing in the comfortable way I remembered from my gymnastics class. Being in gymnastics most of my life gave me good upper body strength. My mother said it was from spending so much time kneading bread. I missed her with a sudden lurch that threw off my timing. I was not going to cry in the middle of climbing a rope, twenty feet above a hard gym floor.
I passed the blue tag before I started slowing down. I could have made it to the red flag, but instead I stopped short and slid down, landing lightly on the floor. When I looked up at the coach, I saw Orion standing beside him, his strong arms crossed over a black button-down shirt, apparently having abandoned his jacket at some point.
I was breathing hard anyway, but seeing him made it even harder for me to get enough oxygen. I wanted to lean against him and not cry. I took a deep, calm breath instead. I was not there for that.
“Tancetta, get over here,” coach yelled.
I jogged over, leaning on my knees in the oversize t-shirt that camouflaged my chest.
“What do you think about those losers?” he asked, gesturing towards the boys who were running, well, sort of dying as they tried to run around the gym.
“Coach?” I forced my eyes to stay on him instead of wandering towards Orion.
“This is the class for those who aren’t up for real training. Are you up for real training?”
I glanced at Orion for the first time. He had his eyes narrowed as he looked at me, chocolate eyes that made me wish for a crackling fire and marshmallows. I blinked and turned to the coach focusing on the smell of sweaty socks and perspiring bodies. “Not really,” I said honestly.
“You’d rather stay in this class and run laps around these boys and climb ropes that they can’t even touch instead of competing with the real men?”
I bit back a smile. “Coach, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay with the losers. I’m not ready to be a real man.”
Orion frowned at me, like I’d said something wrong.
“Fine. Ten more laps,” coach barked at me.
I nodded and jogged off.
Chapter 5
The Butcher
“He doesn’t run like a girl anymore,” Coach growled.
“He’s gotten better,” I said, almost sure that’s what had happened.
“Still doesn’t like you, does he?”
I shrugged. “Maybe he’s just accepted his limitations.”
“He’s pushing himself. Tancetta never pushed himself like that. Of course he fainted a few too many times in his first year. I think he’s strong. If he’s fed and trained, I think he might make a Butcher.”
I shrugged. I had other things in mind for him than that. “What do you think about the first years? All of them have had their gym classes, right? Did you see some potential?”
He took a sheet of paper from his clipboard and handed it to me. “There are some great runners. Some kids with great hand eye, but one of them has surprisingly good instincts he displayed during slaughter ball. You’ll have to look at him closely,” he said putting his finger on a name he’d underlined twice. I nodded before I looked up, my eyes drawn back to Tancetta. Could he feel the energy between us? He moved well. A little too gracefully and not with enough power, but he was small. Small could be quick and lithe. And beautiful.
I shook off the thought, focusing on the list in my hands. “Thanks, coach. It’ll be a good year.”
I waited until after class, when Sebastian came out of the locker room, his hair dry as if he hadn’t showered. I fell in beside him. He glanced up at me once then ignored me.
“You don’t belong in that class.”
“I’m enrolled,” he said in a low voice that bothered me.
People stared at us as we wal
ked. Boys were giving him too much attention. I’d gotten used to it, being a leader, but Sebastian shifted uncomfortably.
“What is everyone looking at?” he muttered.
“I have no idea,” I replied with an innocent smile.
He scowled at me. “You. They’re staring at you.”
“Not just that,” Andy said, joining our little group like he belonged there. He wasn’t one of my friends. He was Toby’s roommate, friend who was so clumsy he made Toby look almost graceful. “Orion’s hanging out with you. Not that it’s your fault you’ve been a sickly barfing bag of…”
I knocked him sideways into a wall, effectively ending the conversation.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “This year is going to be tough enough without division among ourselves.”
Sebastian shrugged, trying to look cool about the sudden violence.
I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think it’s going to be a challenge for you?”
“My grades aren’t what I’m worried about.”
“You’re a little bit cocky about your grades, aren’t you?”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think I could graduate with honors. It helps that I’m not obsessed with, what did coach call it, ‘competing with real men’. I’m not convinced that real men are the ones who make fun of somebody because they’ve had cancer.”
“Cancer?” I asked, studying him thoughtfully. He’d never had cancer, just the ordinary illness that most people went through trying to become a Butcher. It had some symptoms of cancer. Losing hair for instance, but that wasn’t from chemo, but from one’s DNA splitting. I’d lost my hair when I was nine. Most of us wore our hair longer because of that memory, losing so much, turning into a skeleton who looked barely human before we grew into our potential.
“Don’t worry, though,” he said, voice rising. “Cancer’s gone, so you can be jerks without feeling bad about it.
Butcher, Baker, Vampire Slayer: A Retelling of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night Page 4
