by Nicole Grane
Chapter 6
“And she didn’t punish you?” Iris was awestruck.
The four of us sat huddled around the table eating breakfast, talking in hushed tones.
“The day before, she wanted to rip my head off, and last night . . . I don’t know. There was something weird about the whole thing. It was like she was trying to subtly say that being a Slayer was . . . futile. She actually said it was foolish. Are you sure she’s on our side?” I looked to Iris. “I mean she’s not a Daimonas supporter, is she?”
“Of course she’s on our side!” Iris looked aghast that I’d even utter such a thought.
“The important thing is you didn’t get into trouble.” Aubree pointed out the obvious.
True. “But why not? The old bitty hates me.” Okay, slight exaggeration, but only slight.
“In times like these, it’s better not to question, but to be thankful.” Iris patted my hand gently. I was stunned: “Times like these”? Where the hell did she come up with this stuff?
“Well, Ms. Leech was right about one thing.” Aubree had our full attention. “If you make it as a Slayer, you’ll be the first. You’ll open up a whole new world of possibilities for women!”
“She's right,” Iris stated. “Women will finally be allowed to fight alongside men; if they wish to that is.”
Great, no pressure there! Apparently Mageians hadn’t heard of “equal opportunity!”
“How awesome would that be?” Aubree had a far-off look about her. No doubt envisioning herself as some sort of celebrity doted on by countless males.
“Look. I never said I was going to be a Slayer. My experience consists of being face planted onto the floor, having my ass handed to me in front of a whole class of boys, who by the way all hate me being there, and leaving my left lung somewhere on the track field. I'm not even sure why I'm in the class in the first place.”
“First days are always hard, Evie, it’ll get better,” Iris promised. “As for the reason you were chosen . . . isn't it obvious? You're George Hollyander's daughter. If you can't survive . . . none of us girls could!”
Yet another reason to thank my dad for sending me here. I knew Iris meant them as words of encouragement but honestly, if she’d gone through the humiliation I had, being thrown to the floor, and later having circles ran around her, she might not feel so cheery about sticking in there.
“Yeah, first days are great. I wonder if day two has another shiner in store for me?” I touched my cheek gently, wincing a little. I’d tried with considerable effort this morning to cover up the “welcome” I’d received yesterday in P.E. Tried being the operative word.
“Roland Vandenberg is watching you.” Gillian muttered excitedly.
I shrugged.
“Are you crazy? He’s a—”
“I know. A ten on the hot-o-meter,” I grumbled, pulling myself up from the table. “I’ll see you guys later okay?” I left the table leaving the girls no doubt thinking there was something seriously wrong with me. I mean, any one of them would go berserk with as much as a backward glance from the blonde babe-magnet. But I had a lot on my mind. I hadn’t slept all that much last night. Ms. Leech’s sudden change of heart and Gunny’s insinuation that my dad had been hiding me for years left little room in my brain for small talk or backward glances from the illustrious Roland Vandenberg.
Why is it, that whenever you don’t want to be bothered, people flock to you?
“Hollyander!”
I didn’t even stop walking. A group of no less than six guys from P.E. swarmed around me.
“Let me help you with that.” Victor, a taller boy, with sandy blonde hair removed my book bag from my shoulder, and swung it over his.
“Thanks, I think?” I viewed him with skepticism. There didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive behind the gesture . . . he smiled and walked close beside me.
“So Hollyander, you coming to class today?” Chad flanked my other side, attempting to put his arm around me. I shrugged away, causing some snickers from the others. He shot them a stern look.
“I’ll be there.” I quickened my pace. This was one octopus that could keep his tentacles to himself!
“Good, we wouldn’t want you to give up after only one day.” I could hear the false concern in his voice. I rolled my eyes. “But if you did, we’d understand.” He baited the hook. “I mean, I’d hate sparring with a bunch of men if I were you. You might get hurt.”
I held back a laugh. “I don’t think that will be a concern.”
“Oh man, Chad, I think you just got slammed.” Victor was a little quicker than the rest. He nudged my elbow and winked.
I couldn’t help but grin back. Victor was easy on the eyes and he seemed nice too. He and Iris would make a good match. Too bad he hung out with Chad’s jerk squad.
“You’re not one of the guys,” Chad barked in my ear.
“Clearly, although, with the amount of steroids you’re pumping in, I don’t consider myself the only girl on the team.” I eyed his bigger than my B cup chest.
Chad stepped in front of me, stopping me short. He didn’t look so friendly anymore.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I snapped. I could see the uneasy expressions of the others in my peripheral.
“Do you think you’re going to fit in, Little Girl?”
“Little girl?” I folded my arms, asserting myself in front of him. I was not backing down from this jerk. No way!
“Do you really think I care what you think?” My tone was every bit as surly as his.
Chad moved closer, his massive body pressing slightly up against mine. His eyes narrowed.
I smirked. “Shall I kick you in the nuts now, or later?” True I was half his size but I was fairly certain it would take little effort on my part to hit my mark.
“Chad, come on man, back off.” A boy, I think they called him Wyatt, had his hand on Chad’s arm, attempting to move him away.
Chad shrugged away from him, his eyes still fixed on mine.
“Chad, this isn’t cool,” Victor spoke up. All signs of humor were gone. “Leave her alone, man.” He stood shoulder to shoulder with me. What the hell were these guys hanging out with this Neanderthal for? Did they really want to be lumped in the same class as him?
“You will never be a Slayer,” Chad spat. “You don’t have what it takes.”
“Gunny seems to think I do.” I didn’t know where that came from. I’d just been telling the girls that I didn’t want to be a Slayer. That it was too hard. Now I was defending the very idea that I could be, just to prove a point to this over-sized ape?
“What’s going on here?” An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind the crowd. It was deep and rich with an accent I’d never heard before.
“Antonio.” Chad looked away from me for a moment, his expression becoming uneasy.
My eyes followed. A tall boy with dark hair and eyes approached. He looked a few years older than I was. His body was more defined than my classmates here, with the exception of Chad. Although this boy, Antonio, looked to be more physically fit. There was something about the way he carried himself. The others gave him a wide berth as he weaved in between them. I looked closer . . . it was the boy from the dining hall—the one who’d been watching me from behind his book. I’d know those eyes anywhere. They were dreamy . . . dreamy? That so did not sound like me.
Antonio took a look at the close proximity of Chad to me. “You’re not planning on hitting a girl are you?” There was an edge to his voice.
Hell yeah! Chad grinned. She needs an ass kicking!
I looked at him incredulously as if he’d shouted that from the rooftops. Yet . . . his lips hadn’t moved? I studied his face. Was I going crazy? That was exactly what he’d been planning to do. I was certain of it. I could hear him screaming the words from within. I could see it in his eyes. The little wheels in his brain turned quickly in his head, forming a lie.
“Of course not,” Chad scoffed. “I’m just trying to explain to
Red here that Slaying is no place for little girls.”
“Red!” He did not just call me Red? “I am not a little girl!” My hands were fisted at my sides. It was all I could do to not stomp up and down and scream at him.
Chad scanned the length of me, taking in my powder blue sundress with little red roses on it.
I glared back at him, daring him to call me a little girl once more.
“On second thought, maybe you should come to class. It might be fun rolling around on the mat with you.” He winked.
“Enough!” Antonio snapped. His expression was hard. “Leave her alone.”
Chad leaned in closer; his warm breath blowing across my ear. “Nice legs!”
Oh . . . that was it. Without warning I put my hands on his shoulders and drew my knee up hard between his legs.
“Oumph.” Chad doubled over, his hands gripping onto what I’m sure was most dear to him.
There was an echoed “ohhh” from the crowd. I glimpsed each of them, wincing at the assumed pain.
“Don’t ever threaten me again!” I held my hand out to Victor. My book bag was returned promptly. He took a few steps back.
“See you in class. Jerk!” I stormed off, late for math—again!
Mr. Reynolds excused my tardiness. It being only my second day, he was willing to overlook it. Thank God for small favors.
“They’ll let anyone in here.”
I cringed. No, no, no! Not Stacy. Please not Stacy. I looked up from my notebook and smiled. Stacy had taken the desk beside me. Lovely!
“I heard you’re in sixth period P.E.” She looked like a cat that’d just cornered a bird. Smug.
I didn’t answer. I glanced at the front of the room. Mr. Reynolds was watching us. I resumed my work, praying I wouldn’t get detention my first week of school.
Stacy leaned in closer. “You’re not one of those . . . tomboys, are you?” She grimaced. “Although, that would be better than if you were one of those girls who just likes playing with all the boys. You know the type, the ones that try to steal everyone’s boyfriend.”
Yes, I knew the type. That’s exactly the kind of girl she thought I was. Witch! I was so not one of those girls. Stacy would be shocked to know that I hadn’t even kissed a boy.
“Not that I blame you,” she continued. “I mean, rolling around the mat with all those guys.” She fanned herself with her notebook, the very thought flushing her. And in that instant, I knew. She was one of those girls!
“I’ve started a betting pool that—”
“Ahahh!” Stacy shrieked as her desk collapsed to the floor, taking her down with it.
Everyone jumped up to see the commotion, everyone, but me.
“You Witch!”
“Miss Wilcox! You will not use such vulgarity in my classroom!” Mr. Reynolds stood over Stacy, assessing the situation. “What happened here?”
“She broke my desk!”
“Your desk, too?” My tone was condescending. “Yesterday it was the sprinklers.”
Soft laughter broke out amongst the class.
“Really, Miss Wilcox. I hardly think it’s fair to blame Miss Hollyander for this unfortunate mishap. The screws must have come loose.”
Nice choice of words. “See, Stacy? It’s just good old-fashioned bad luck.” I gave her a sympathetic smile.
Stacy got up from the floor and dusted herself off. She leaned over my desk, her eyes tight with fury. “I don’t know how you're doing it, but I will find out. You. Don’t. Fool. Me!” she growled the words through clenched teeth.
“That will be quite enough Miss Wilcox. You may take the seat by the window.” Mr. Reynolds pointed sharply to the desk in the corner.
“But–”
“Now, Miss Wilcox,” Mr. Reynolds ordered, cutting off Stacy's protests. He stooped to pick up the pieces of her desk.
“Humph!” Stacy spun around dramatically and actually stomped off.
I smiled to myself, savoring the sweet taste of victory . . .
Mr. Reynolds called the class back to order and we spent the remainder working in silence.
I was quick to dash out when the bell rang. I didn’t need another confrontation with Stacy. The temptation to mess with her was too great. But funnier than that, was her desperate attempt to prove that I’d screwed with her. The whole class had looked at her as if she’d flipped her lid.
I rushed across campus to my next class, Fundamentals in magic. Why the heck did all my classes have to be so flippin’ far apart? I was totally out of breath by the time I reached the door—very unattractive.
I slunk into class just as the bell rang, and took the chair beside Iris. Luckily, Ms. Powell was nowhere to be seen.
Iris groaned as she read the overview on the board for today’s lesson. “I really stink at fire charms. Why must we keep reviewing them?”
“Hello . . . because you stink at them,” I pointed out the obvious.
She gave me a sideways glance. “Why do you look so keyed up?”
“I’m not keyed up,” I said defensively. I fidgeted in my chair. I was totally keyed up.
Iris frowned but let it go.
“Mr. Brown, you should not be milling around the room, please take your seat.” Ms. Powell had returned with her notebook and a large box.
“Now class, I have a special treat for you.” Ms. Powell had an annoying habit of talking to us like we were kindergartners. It was only day two of being subjected to her more than cheery disposition, but already my stomach churned. By the look on the faces around me, I wasn’t the only one feeling sick.
Chocolate cupcakes? I thought.
“Chocolate cupcakes!” She pulled one out of the box. “With sprinkles!” The faces around me perked up.
I stared at her momentarily stunned. How did I know she had chocolate cupcakes in that box?
“Today, as I’m sure none of you know—”
“Is your birthday?” I murmured. I looked up from the drawing I’d been doodling. The whole class was staring at me. If I could have stepped out of my body, I’d have stared too. How in the world did I know that? She hadn’t said yes, but I’d bet the dress I wore that it was her birthday. I smiled flatly.
“Y . . . yes Miss Hollyander. It is my birthday. How ever did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” I offered. “I figured cupcakes and birthdays went hand and hand.” Feeling the awkward stares still on me, I added, “that and the birthday card on your desk.” Birthday card? How did I know there was a birthday card on her desk? I hadn’t even looked at her desk.
Ms. Powell looked over at her desk and giggled. “Oh yes, that probably did give me away.” She looked embarrassed. And with that, I was forgotten. She proceeded to explain today’s lesson: Lighting a candle.
I sunk back into my chair and watched the rest of the students try to light their candles. What was going on with me?
“I hate this!” Iris snapped. It was the first time I’d actually heard her sound angry. “What’s the matter with you? You're not even trying? I thought you said you could do this stuff?”
“What? Oh.” I’d been so pre-occupied with how I’d known about Ms. Powell’s birthday that I forgot about our assignment. “I waved my hand over the candle and murmured “Floga” under my breath. The candle lit up.
Iris stared in disbelief, her eyes wide with shock.
“Sorry.” I shrugged, offering her a small smile. It was the truth. A Floga charm was one of the easiest spells I knew. I’d taken it for granted that everyone could do it. I hated it that Iris had such a hard time of it.
A few chairs down, a boy managed to blow up his cupcake instead of lighting it. Traces of chocolate clung to his hair and face.
“Poor James,” Iris said sympathetically.
I rolled my eyes. “That is exactly why we’re being punished and not allowed to do magic outside of class, Iris. It’s morons like that—”
“Well done, Miss Hollyander!” Ms. Powell stood over me. Low murmurs broke out, as e
very eye was now on my lit cupcake. I was the only one in the whole class who’d managed the Floga charm. I smiled sheepishly.
“You may leave early today Miss Hollyander. Don’t forget to take your cupcake. It’s yummy!”
I glanced over at Iris. Her face was flushed. Her hair was slightly messed from running her fingers through it frantically. She had a wild look about her that I hoped never to see again—she still hadn’t lit her candle.
“Want some help?” I almost hated myself for asking. I knew she’d refuse.
“No. I’m going to light this candle if it’s the last thing I do.” Her eyes were transfixed on the wick with determination once more.
I blew out my flame and gave her an encouraging smile before I walked out. If only every class could be so easy.
I had ten minutes before the bell would ring. Ten minutes of quiet. Ten minutes before Iris came crashing through those doors, cursing because her candle wouldn’t light.
I sat down under a large willow and examined my cupcake. I moved my hand over the wick—it lit. Magic came so easy to me. It always had. It never occurred to me that others struggled with it. I waved my hand over the candle again, extinguishing its flame.
“That’s impressive!”
I looked up, shielding my eyes from the sun. A dark silhouette stood over me. My eyes adjusted to see Antonio smiling.
“May I?” He gestured to the ground beside me.
I shrugged. “It’s a free country.” Dang he was cute.
“So it is.” He sat down beside me, his legs outstretched, one crossing over the other. “Not many kids your age can control a Floga charm like that.”
“Kids my age?” Who did this guy think he was? “You’re not much older than I am,” I said defensively.
Antonio smiled to himself. No doubt recalling a personal joke. Whatever. I expected it was at my expense, although I couldn’t prove it. Yet!
“I’ve got to go.” I moved to get up.
Antonio jumped to his feet and extended his hand to me. “May I?”
I hesitated, afraid it might be some trick. After all, he was hanging around with Chad’s jerk squad . . . sort of. Yet, there was something about Antonio. Something that told me he wasn’t like other boys.
“I won’t bite,” he promised.
I took his hand, the warmth of it surprising me.
Antonio smiled, as he pulled me to my feet, his eyes locking briefly with mine. They were like pools of swirling chocolate, drawing me in deeper. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it. Perhaps he was going to tell me that he thought I was devastatingly beautiful . . . or not.
“Excuse me.” He let go of my hand, stepping away.
I felt flushed all of a sudden. He was beyond cute. No, cute was reserved for the dweebs in my class. Antonio was no Junior. I wasn’t even sure he was a Senior. But one thing I did know, a trivial word like cute would not suffice as an adequate description of him. Now, gorgeous on the other hand . . .
“Are you alright?” I asked. “Your cheeks . . .” Was he blushing? Why?
“I’m fine!” His eyes evaded mine.
Okay? I stooped to get my book bag—he beat me to it.
“Thanks.” I took it from him hesitantly. “Here.” Without thinking, I handed him the cupcake.
“What’s this for?” He took it from my hand, carefully avoiding the icing. His fingers brushed softly against mine, our eyes meeting once again. Beautiful . . .
“What?” My mouth gaped open a little. Did he just say . . . “beautiful?” What’s beautiful? I studied him carefully. His mouth hadn’t moved . . . and he was still awaiting my answer. “It’s your favorite!” I blurted out. I must have looked as stunned as he did. His expression mirrored mine–shocked. How did I know it was his favorite?
“How did you . . .?” His forehead creased with confusion.
I laughed, trying to mask the awkwardness. “It’s chocolate. Isn’t it every guy’s favorite?”
He still held a confused look as he focused on the cupcake in his hand.
The bell rang, thank God, providing me with an excuse to slip away. I threw my bag over my shoulder.
“Evie!” Iris was waving me over.
“I gotta go. Enjoy the cupcake!” I gave him a small smile and ran over to Iris with my best sympathetic look affixed to my face. Somehow I knew that she hadn’t been able to light her candle—big surprise there.
