Unafraid

by Michael Griffo

  “Blimey, that thing is huge!” Fritz remarked as Ciaran passed the book over to Ruby.

  She ran her fingers over a series of raised bumps on the book’s cover and said, “This thing is called Horticulture: Principles and Practices.” She flashed a wide grin at Ciaran. “This is exactly what I need, Ciaran, thank you.”

  Smiling proudly, for Fritz’s benefit of course and not Ruby’s, he replied, “My pleasure.”

  Fritz made a face and mouthed the words “my pleasure” to mock his friend, which only made them both start to laugh. “What’s so funny?” Ruby asked.

  Not wanting to rat on his friend, Ciaran made a generalization that he hoped Ruby would understand. “It’s just Fritz being Fritz.”

  “I can only imagine,” Ruby replied, clutching her book close to her chest. “My brother told me all about how cheeky you can be.”

  Despite his reputation, Fritz tried to defend himself. “Penry called me cheeky?!”

  For a moment Ruby seemed distracted. She was staring directly in between both boys, almost as if she was trying to look through the bookshelf to see what or who was on the other side. Neither boy noticed, however, as they were too busy staring at Ruby themselves. After a few seconds, Ruby refocused and tilted her head toward Fritz. “I know you’ve been on your best behavior, but I know all about your shady past,” she said in a hushed whisper. “Remember, Penry and I were twins. If he didn’t tell me something, I just had to read his mind.”

  If touché had a facial expression, it was being worn by Ciaran. Fritz, on the other hand, looked like he had just been force fed several jumbo pieces of humble pie. After a long pause, Ruby burst out laughing. She didn’t need sight to know that her little hoax had had its desired effect. “Gotcha, Ulrich!”

  Using Fritz’s silence to his advantage, Ciaran led Ruby over to an empty table in a corner of the library. As he watched her deftly pull an assortment of objects out of her backpack, he realized this girl was quite self-sufficient and didn’t need an ounce of anyone’s pity. What she did command, however, was respect.

  “What’s that?” Ciaran asked as Ruby placed a small device that looked like an e-book with a detachable keyboard on the table.

  “It’s a blind student’s best friend,” she replied, attaching the keyboard to the tablet. “An electronic notebook. I can type in notes, and then it’ll play them back to me with text-to-voice software.”

  “That’s amazing!” Fritz exclaimed.

  “It really is,” Ruby agreed. “I don’t think I could survive here without it.” Once again she looked at the boys as if she could really see them. “Or without my new friends.”

  “Ruby!”

  The girl had even more friends than she knew. Or could hear. Imogene was going to run out from behind the bookshelf, but she was so happy to see Penry’s twin sister that she ran right through it. Another benefit of being invisible. “Ruby, it’s me, Imogene!”

  “What was that?” Fritz asked.

  With one touch of a button Ciaran quashed Imogene’s hopes that she could be heard, if not seen. “My watch alarm,” Ciaran explained, pressing a tiny button on the side of his watch. “Sorry, Ruby, can’t be late for swim tryouts.”

  “Do you, um, need someone to walk you back to your dorm later?” Fritz asked, hoping he didn’t sound too obvious.

  Smiling, Ruby replied, “Saoirse’s picking me up, and we’ll head to St. Joe’s for dinner.”

  Without anything else to say and knowing that Blakeley would have their heads if they were late for tryouts for the new season’s team, Ciaran and Fritz left Ruby with her book and newfangled device and rushed out of St. Joshua’s. They had no idea that they weren’t leaving her alone.

  It was so good to see an old friend and be out of that gloomy, damp cave that Imogene didn’t even care that she couldn’t be seen or heard. She didn’t understand why, since others could see her. The only explanation she could come up with was that Brania and Nakano had played major roles in the events that had led up to her death, so she somehow remained connected to them. Whatever the reason, it was obvious that she was changing yet again. And Imogene really didn’t care; she just wanted to sit next to the girl she had once called her friend. However, it wasn’t a simple task.

  Imogene tried to pull out the chair next to Ruby, but once again her hand went right through the wood. It didn’t matter, as long as she could be somewhere other than that cave. When Brania yelled at her just a few moments ago, Imogene didn’t know where she’d wind up after she disappeared. She assumed she materialized here in the library because it was one of the places where she had always felt safe. Her head ached trying to make sense of it all, so she stopped. She wanted to enjoy every second of this respite for however long it lasted. Curious, she watched the blind girl’s fingers dance over the raised bumps at an incredible speed and was overjoyed when she saw Ruby look up at her. Although Ruby couldn’t see Imogene and Imogene couldn’t make physical contact with Ruby, it was clear that they were each aware of the other’s presence.

  Imogene thought it was a good feeling, safe and familiar. Just as familiar as the scent of fresh roses that suddenly and inexplicably filled up the room.

  chapter 10

  The overpowering smell of chlorine filled up St. Sebastian’s, which could only mean one thing: swim team tryouts were about to begin. Blakeley liked to add extra chemicals to the pool on the first day of tryouts to set the mood, let the kids know that even though they and the school were firmly planted on land, for a few hours at least, water reigned supreme. It was something Michael and Ronan already knew.

  Breathing in deeply, Michael found the smell invigorating. Chlorine wasn’t as intoxicating as salt water, but it was a close second. Ronan couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Michael and how he looked in his swimsuit. “Crikey!” Ronan gasped. “I forgot how good you looked in your swimmers, love.”

  Smiling impishly, Michael didn’t disagree. He had grown another inch over the summer and had worked hard to put on a few more pounds of muscle, so he knew he looked pretty good standing there in nothing but his Speedo. He had also noticed that a few dark-blond hairs had sprouted in the cleft of his chest and in a vertical line that started just below his belly button. Ronan had told him that even as a vampire his hair would continue to grow and his body would continue to show signs of improvement; he just didn’t really know what to expect. Michael liked the changes. He knew they didn’t make him human, but the connection to his old species was somehow reassuring. He felt even better now that Ronan had finally noticed them too. “You have to start paying closer attention,” he joked.

  Not to be outdone, Ronan made sure he had the last word. “I’ll just have to remember to keep the lights on tonight.”

  Running out of the locker room, Ciaran joined them just in time to catch Ronan wink and Michael blush and figured he had stumbled headfirst into a private conversation. “Should I do a one-eighty and leave you two alone?” he asked warily.

  “No!” Michael said, laughing and grabbing onto Ciaran’s arm to ensure that he stayed put. “We could use a distraction.”

  Ciaran could handle that. After all, he was able to distract Ruby from focusing only on Fritz; surely he could entertain Michael and Ronan for a little bit. In fact, standing next to Michael he found it easy to relax and have some fun. Over the course of the last year he had learned that it was possible to celebrate the positive aspects of his life and not just dwell on the negative. It wasn’t his natural tendency, but with practice it was getting easier. So was being silly for absolutely no reason.

  Bowing regally, Ciaran said in a voice worthy of a character on one of those Masterpiece Classic miniseries, “Never let it be said that Ciaran Eaves did not comply.”

  “What news do you bring forth from the hinterland, brother?” Ronan asked, in an equally aristocratic voice.

  “The hinterland?” Michael repeated.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Ronan replied, “Leave me alone. I’m playin
g along!” Resuming his role, Ronan spread his legs farther apart and crossed his arms to face Ciaran. Despite being clad in nothing but a skimpy bathing suit, Ronan still managed to look like a king addressing one of his subjects. “Tell me the news, Lord Eaves, and pray, speak only words that will glorify your tongue.”

  Unable to hold his own tongue, Michael groaned, “Oh blimey!”

  Ciaran slapped Michael on the shoulder, making it clear that he was enjoying the improvisation. Truth was he was simply enjoying the playful repartee with his brother. “On the breeze of the late summer wind comes news that one of our fallen soldiers will reenlist to fight for the sovereign once more.”

  This time Ronan couldn’t hold his tongue, but it wasn’t to mock his brother, it was to praise him. “On the breeze of the late summer wind?!” Ronan exclaimed. “That’s brill! Have you been brushing up on your Austen lately? Sounds like something from Pride and Prejudice.”

  “Actually I was imitating Wuthering Heights,” Ciaran explained, “which I just finished reading this morning.”

  Ronan’s eyes bulged even wider. “Good for you, mate! ’Bout time you read something other than a textbook.”

  Clearing his throat, Michael interrupted. “Looks like the fallen soldier is entering the battlefield.”

  All three turned toward the locker room entrance and saw Blakeley marching into the gym, followed closely by Nakano, who was once again wearing the official swim team bathing suit—a navy blue Speedo with gold A’s on both hips. Ronan was more impressed than ever with Ciaran. “Blimey! You weren’t just being literary,” he said. “You were being literary and dropping clues!”

  Ronan might have been in high spirits, but Blakeley was even more pumped. Although Nakano remained at the far end of the pool, the coach took his one-man parade all the way around the pool, addressing the students without breaking a stride. “Mr. Kai here has come to his senses and decided to rejoin the team,” he announced.

  Every head in the room turned to look at Nakano to gauge his expression. Was this true? Was this some dumb joke? Was the volatile student going to freak out again, tell everyone to sod off, and run from the room? Just when the silence was becoming deafening, Blakeley spoke. “What do we think about that?”

  No one except Michael noticed that Blakeley directed his comment toward him, as an obvious warning that he didn’t want Michael to repeat his actions of last year, which had led to Nakano’s abruptly quitting the team. Don’t worry, Coach, Michael thought. That won’t happen again. He didn’t change his mind when he saw Nakano staring at him defiantly, almost willing him to say something nasty and pick a fight. Michael had no intention of doing that. He really wasn’t sure why he was reconnecting with Nakano; he just felt it was the right thing to do. So right that Michael’s applause led the group and soon the clapping turned into whoops and cheers. Those closest to Nakano were patting him on the shoulder and welcoming him back to where he was obviously missed.

  Jostled by the crowd, Nakano turned and found himself staring at Michael, who was about to extend a hand to Kano as an olive branch of sorts. But before Michael could open his mouth to speak, Kano issued a promise. “Say one word, Howard, and I’ll quit all over again.”

  Stunned, Michael telepathically confided in Ronan. “I was just going to say that I was glad to see him back.”

  Ronan just nodded and smiled at Nakano and then responded to his boyfriend. “I think he already knows that.”

  After making one complete lap around the circumference of the pool, Blakeley finally stopped. “Good!” he bellowed. “That’s what I wanted to hear!”

  In his hand he swung the metal chain with the whistle on it that he usually wore around his neck. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, it flipped in the air, swinging round and round as he surveyed the group. He eyed the students and knew that they were just that, kids, nothing more, but after the past year, after dealing with Dr. MacCleery’s murder and the mysterious circumstances surrounding it, he didn’t trust what he saw any longer.

  He caught Ronan and Michael eyeing him, and for a second he lost his rhythm. The chain slipped and floundered in the air, the whistle bouncing off his knuckles and falling limp against the back of his hand. Blakeley knew that those two were at the center of all the chaos and disruption that had visited the school recently. He didn’t know if they were the cause or if they would wind up being their salvation, but he did know that whatever had happened—and whatever would happen—they were and would be involved.

  Look away, he told himself. You’re stronger than they are, whatever they are. He whipped the whistle around in his hand with even more force. Whatever they are?! Where the hell did that come from? And what the hell was that supposed to mean? Blakeley had no idea what he was thinking; he had no idea where his mind was going. Damn, if everything was subject to question, then obviously, so too was his own sanity.

  When he heard Alexei cough, he was pulled out of his thoughts and back to the present. He was a coach, not a philosopher, and he had a motley bunch of students to turn into ace swimmers. He might be going through his own private purgatory, but he also had a reputation to uphold. And he planned to do just that, as gruffly as possible. “Ya look like a bunch of pasty duffers, you do!” Looking into the group he looked for someone to pick on. “Especially you, Fuente!” he yelled. “Ya look like you spent the summer hiding under your bed.”

  Once again Diego displayed his ability to remain unflustered when berated by a teacher. “You know, it really is a fallacy that all Spaniards are dark skinned, sir,” he replied. “Besides, my family’s from the north.”

  Finally, things were getting back to normal. “I don’t care where your bloody family’s from! Ya look like a polar bear!”

  The boys laughed so hard that Diego was unable to inform Blakeley that polar bears were expert swimmers and therefore he took his comment as a compliment. His thanks, however, would have to wait as Blakeley had more announcements to make.

  “As you all know, we have a new school doctor,” he said, his voice not as harsh as before, “who’s got some new school rules.”

  Michael cringed at the mention of Dr. Sutton, but cringed even more when someone responded to Blakeley’s comment by crying out from the crowd, “Coed swim team?!”

  Smirking unprofessionally, Blakeley replied, “You yobs don’t know what to do with girls on land. How the bloody hell do you think you’d know what to do with them in the pool!?”

  “Some of us know,” Michael whispered to Ronan. “We just don’t care.”

  Smirking just as wickedly as Blakeley, Ronan responded by bumping his hip into Michael’s butt.

  “And one of those new rules is that the new doc is enforcing mandatory physicals for each student athlete,” Blakeley continued. “I think it’s a bloomin’ foolish idea, but I’m just the daft gym teacher, not some medical expert.”

  Another cold tingle sprinkled down Michael’s spine. “Ronan, this means we’ll be exposed!”

  Another smirk graced Ronan’s face. “And so will the good doctor.”

  The cold tingle was replaced with the warm sensation of relief. “Oh yeah ... I forgot about that.”

  One thing Blakeley didn’t forget was to save the best announcement for last. “Awright, shut it! I got one more thing, and it’s the biggest of ’em all.”

  Like any good leader, Blakeley waited until the murmur in the crowd subsided, until he could feel the tension grow in the gym, until he had everyone’s full attention before he spoke again. “This year the National Swim Team Competition is going to be held right here at Double A.”

  As he expected, that’s all he had to say. Everyone knew what an honor it was to host the competition and that teams from schools all over the United Kingdom would come here for a weekend to vie for the title of the best in the country. There were prizes given for each discipline—backstroke, breaststroke, freestyle, relay—and to the best all-around athlete, and the most coveted Team of the Year award was given to the team that displayed
the best athletic skills as well as superior sportsmanship.

  The guys went wild, screaming, jumping up and down, pumping the air with their fists. Alexei got so excited he did a flip into the deep end of the pool. Equally carried away, but less agile, Diego tried to imitate Alexei’s move, but only wound up performing an elite-level belly flop. Blakeley was so satisfied with the amount of excitement his announcement created that he didn’t even scream when he was sprayed with a wave of water following Diego’s plunge. He just made a mental note to bench Fuente so he wouldn’t be able to participate in any of the races.

  “The competition will take place during the Tri-Centennial Celebration,” Blakeley shouted, unzipping and taking off his now-wet track jacket and tossing it to the floor. “And since we’re hosting I expect us to win Team of the Year!”

  An even louder roar engulfed the gym and even more guys jumped into the pool, splashing around, dunking each other, and shouting incoherently. It was no wonder that when Fritz ran in from the locker room he thought he was missing a fight.

  Slapping Ciaran on the shoulder, he asked, “Who threw the first punch?”

  Under the din of the crowd, Ciaran filled Fritz in on what was happening, then wanted to know why he was so late for practice. “We left the library at the same time,” Ciaran said. “What happened to you?” It was the same thing Blakeley wanted to know.

  “I was helping Ruby Poltke get to the library, Coach,” Fritz announced proudly, completely unaware that Ciaran looked utterly confused by his statement.

  “You too?” Blakeley replied. “Eaves already told me he was helping her, and he was able to make it to practice on time.”