Miss Mayhem

by Rachel Hawkins

  Dad frowned. “You never yelled at Ryan like that.”

  “Sure I did,” I said, even though when I thought back, I realized that was a lie. “You just never heard me. And seriously, Dad, this is no big deal. Promise.”

  Another lie. I was furious, nearly shaking with anger at the idea that David wanted me to offer up Bee like some kind of Get Out of Paladin Life Free card. And if there was a part of me that didn’t necessarily like giving up control, well . . . I could think about that later.

  Now, I just smiled at Dad. “I’m going to head back out there now,” I said. “I promise not to bean David with my baton. But if I do, luckily I know a good lawyer.”

  Dad rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was trying not to smile. “I’m a tax attorney, honey. You murder someone, that’s on you.”

  I grinned back, then thought of Dr. DuPont, my shoe sticking out of his neck. What would my dad think if he knew I already had killed someone? That I was about to go through some kind of tests that might end with me killing more people? Or someone killing me?

  When I went back outside, David and Bee were sitting near the fence, talking. As I approached, whatever conversation they’d been having died, and David nodded at the house.

  “Is your dad going to kill me?” His thin shoulders hunched forward, one ankle crossed in front of the other.

  “Not today,” I said with a cheer I didn’t feel.

  David’s eyes met mine, and I could tell there was more he wanted to say. This argument wasn’t over yet, and that made me feel a weird combination of sad and frustrated. Why couldn’t he see that this was the best way to handle things?

  Leaning down, David grabbed his bag. “So I’m gonna head home,” he said. “See you tomorrow, Pres?”

  “Yeah,” I told him, walking over and slipping an arm around his waist before going up on tiptoe to press a quick kiss against his lips, willing him to let this go, to let us be okay.

  He kissed me back, but when I pulled away, that wrinkle was still between his brows. “See you tomorrow,” I said, ignoring the wrinkle. “Don’t forget, we have an assembly bright and early, and I want to see you in the front row.”

  Nodding, David smiled the littlest bit. “Got it. See you then.” He waved to Bee, then let himself out the back gate.

  After he was gone, I turned back to Bee. “So you want to work on more baton twirling?”

  A wide grin split Bee’s face, and overhead, the sun filtered through the leaves, leaving pretty dappled shadows on her skin. “Or we could practice something else.”

  With that, she lunged at me.

  Instinct took over, and I dodged, dropping to sweep my leg underneath her feet. But she was quick, and leapt away from my kick with a laugh.

  And then it was on.

  In a weird way, it was like we were back in cheerleading practice. Bee and I had always been a great team, and nothing had changed. Every punch she threw, I countered. Every kick, I matched. And when she caught me by my wrist, flipping me over her back, I actually laughed at the sheer fun of it. Not only did I have my best friend back, but I finally had someone who could train with me, who could let me release my abilities to their full extent.

  When Bee and I were done, we were both sweating and breathing hard, but we were also smiling, so much that my cheeks ached.

  We sat on the grass, and from beyond the fence, I could hear a car driving down our street. The wind rustled through the leaves overhead, and birds were singing. It could not have been a more perfect spring day, but I couldn’t help the little chill that went down my spine. It wasn’t the sense of dread and pain that came when David was in trouble—it wasn’t nearly intense enough for that—but I frowned anyway.

  “Bee,” I ventured, “you know what David said . . . I’d never want you to do that for me. I wouldn’t ask you to.”

  She glanced over at me, the breeze blowing wisps of blond hair into her face. “I know that, Harper. But I would. If you needed me to.”

  I shifted on the grass, scratching a spot behind my knee. “Bee, I know this isn’t something you really want to talk about, but . . . when you were with Alexander, did he train you?”

  I couldn’t tell if the look in Bee’s eyes was wary or embarrassed, but in either case, her gaze slid away from me and she gave a little shrug. “Sort of. There was a room there with these dummies I could kick, but no weapons.”

  “Makes sense,” I muttered, then leaned closer to her. “And you never saw anyone but Alexander?”

  She shook her head. “That girl who took me, Blythe. She was there at first, but she was gone within a day or two. Other than that . . .” Trailing off, she shaded her eyes, studying a bright blue bird perched on our privacy fence. “It was just him.”

  I frowned and settled back against the tree trunk. “I don’t get it. The Ephors are supposed to be this . . . group. Like the Illuminati or something. Why is he the only one who seems to be in charge of anything?”

  At that, Bee looked at me, resting her cheek on her raised knees. “Maybe he’s an overachiever,” she suggested, and that dimple appeared in her cheek again. “Maybe,” she added, “he’s the you of the Ephors and doesn’t like delegating.”

  I bumped her with my own raised knees. “I guess that’s possible, but still, it seems weird, right?”

  With a long sigh, Bee leaned her head back, the sunlight and the leaves casting shadows on her face. “What about this isn’t?” she asked.

  She had a point.

  For a while, we were silent, both lost in our thoughts, and I was actually a little startled when Bee said, “I feel sorry for him.”

  “Alexander?” I asked, wrinkling my nose, and she shook her head.

  “David. Having powers you don’t really get, people trying to kill you, people trying to keep you safe, and not being able to do anything about any of it. I mean, it’s not easy for you or Ryan, either,” she added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear, “but y’all get to be active instead of waiting for other people to fix things.”

  Stretching out my legs, I let my head drop back against the trunk, too. “I never thought of it like that, exactly. Is that what y’all were talking about earlier?”

  Bee unfolded her legs, mimicking my posture. “Kind of. He was apologizing for asking me to do the Peirasmos. Said he’s spent a lot of time trying to come up with solutions, and that one just occurred to him before he really thought it through.”

  I definitely felt better about that, but it was still a little weird to think of David and Bee, like, sharing confidences and stuff.

  “I don’t think there is a solution to all of this,” I told her, and Bee looked over at me.

  “That’s . . . depressing.”

  I laughed, but it sounded a little forced. “It’s not so bad,” I said. “Once David gets his powers back and under control, I’m sure having a future-telling boyfie will be the best, plus I get to be a ninja, and that’s always fun—”

  Bee reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Harper,” she said, and I recognized her “don’t give me that BS” look. It was something about the way she tilted her head down, making me meet her eyes.

  “Okay,” I conceded, crossing one ankle over the other. “It sucks. It sucks a lot. But it’s the way things are, and there’s no way to change it.”

  Her hand fell away, fingers playing in the grass between us. “If David did just leave . . .”

  I sat up, looking at her more sharply. “Did he mention that to you, too?”

  She didn’t look up, using one nail to split a blade of grass. “A little, but apparently there are wards keeping him here for the time being?” Now she lifted her gaze. “What would happen if he broke them?”

  Surprised, I blinked at her. “I . . . don’t know, honestly. I guess it would hurt him, or do something bad.”

  It was a little embarrassing to admit that I knew so little about something so major, but Bee only gave a slight hum and split another piece of grass.

 
Chapter 15

  I GET THAT most people think that school assemblies are totally boring, and they’re not always wrong—if I never have to sit through another meeting on selling wrapping paper to raise money for the Grove, it will be too soon—but I was actually looking forward to Friday morning’s. Maybe it was because I got to speak before it started, and I always enjoyed things like that, especially now. There was something comfortingly normal about walking up to the podium and speaking confidently to the other students, even if it was only about upcoming service projects and the Spring Fling. It reminded me that there were still things in my life I controlled.

  Or maybe I was psyched because I got to talk about the dance. In any case, I sat in the folding chair next to Lucy McCarroll, the sophomore class president. I’d dressed nicely today, wearing a yellow-and-green Lilly Pulitzer dress Mom had gotten for me on a shopping trip to Mobile. Headmaster Dunn made his remarks first, reminding us about upcoming ACT dates and not to leave litter in the parking lot and to remember that “after last year’s unfortunate incident with farm animals in the band room,” senior pranks were expressly forbidden. It may not have been a display of great manners, but I scanned the bleachers in front of us as he droned on. I spotted Bee almost immediately, sitting next to Ryan, and I smiled.

  She grinned back, giving me a little wave, and then leaned over to say something to Ryan. His gaze flicked toward me, but I couldn’t read his expression. Apparently the Mary Beth incident was still an issue. Which was fine, since the whole defacing-the-wards-and-not-telling-me thing was very much an issue as far as I was concerned. So I let my gaze move away from him, searching out David.

  Who was . . . not there.

  I spotted Chie and Michael talking to each other on the very top bleacher, clearly not listening to Headmaster Dunn. So where was David? He always sat with them, and if he wasn’t there, then I’d expect him to be next to Bee and Ryan. I’d told him I was going to speak this morning, and, hey, even if I hadn’t, assemblies were mandatory.

  There was no tightness in my chest, no sense that anything was wrong with him, but still, it was weird.

  I racked my brain, trying to remember if I’d seen him this morning, all while studying the note card in my hand like I was going over my remarks. Okay, yes, he’d been in the parking lot, wearing some atrocious shade of green. So where—

  Lucy’s elbow nudged my ribs, and I realized the gym was quiet, Headmaster Dunn waiting expectantly by the podium.

  Shoot.

  Rattled, I stood up, smoothing my skirt down over my thighs with one hand while the other clutched my note card. I usually breezed right through things like this, but right now I was unsettled. When I stepped up to the podium, the microphone released a shriek of feedback as I adjusted it, and I winced, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  “Sorry about that,” I said with a pained smile. “Anyway, um, good morning, Grove Academy. As you know, I’m Harper Price, your SGA president, and I wanted to mention a few upcoming—”

  It hit me like a brick.

  One moment, I was fine, albeit nervous; the next, I was gasping and clutching both sides of the podium, my entire upper body in a vise. I could feel sweat break out all over me, prickling at my hairline and my spine, and when I managed to open my eyes, I saw that Bee had risen to her feet and was already moving toward me.

  “Harper—” Headmaster Dunn said, laying a beefy hand on my shoulder.

  I gritted my teeth, my knees feeling weak and watery, adrenaline racing through me, alarm bells going off in my head.

  No, wait. Those weren’t in my head.

  It was the fire alarm.

  Easing me out of the way, Headmaster Dunn faced the six hundred or so students in the bleachers. “All right, kids,” he said easily enough, but I saw the furrows around his mouth deepen. “You know the drill. Orderly line, out the main doors and into the courtyard.”

  It was a drill we ran at least twice a semester, and Headmaster Dunn’s calm baritone voice kept everyone from panicking as they began to file out of the bleachers.

  Everyone but me.

  I stood there, waiting until the last person disappeared through the big double doors, and then I turned, heading for the back doors of the gym. Those were the ones that led to the main school buildings, and that, I knew as surely as I knew anything, was where David was.

  Headmaster Dunn’s hand on my arm stopped me.

  “Whoa there, Miss Price,” he said with a friendly smile. “Wrong way, sweetheart.”

  “I need to get my bag,” I said lamely, and he shook his head.

  “You know the rules,” he said, his thick eyebrows drawing together. Under the gym lights, his bald head gleamed. “Way more important that you get out okay than that your stuff makes it. Come on.”

  There was no thinking. I drew back the arm he was holding, fast enough that it surprised him, throwing him slightly off balance. I saw his eyes go wide for a second, and his mouth made an almost perfect O shape as he stumbled.

  A knee to his outer thigh had him dropping lower, and then, with his hand still clutching me, I drew back my free arm and elbowed him in the temple, hard.

  He dropped like a sack of rocks, eyes rolling back in his head, and trust me, I felt super bad about it.

  But David came first, and every cell in my body was urging me to get to him, get to him now.

  Alarms were still going off, and as I entered the main building, I could smell smoke, acrid and bitter.

  Heart racing, I made my way to the English hall, where the journalism lab was. He was there, I could feel it, and underneath all my worry, all my Paladin senses going crazy, there was this little flicker of irritation.

  I’d told him I was speaking this morning, told him I’d wanted to see him, and instead, he’d skipped the assembly to do stuff for the paper. It shouldn’t have been as annoying as it was, but for whatever reason, it seriously bugged me. I did stuff that was important for him, right? I’d joined the stupid paper, and—

  I rounded the corner, and all of my anger vanished. One entire end of the English hall was in flames. I don’t know what I’d expected, but that was definitely not it. It seemed to be pouring out of the janitor’s closet at the end of the hall, and for a second I froze, watching flames lick up against the walls, consuming the banners SGA had hung for the Spring Fling, racing along posters, flickering in a huge pool underneath the closet door.

  My heart hammered against my ribs, my stomach twisting, and I felt legitimate panic surge through me, even underneath all my “David’s in danger” feelings. The classrooms—

  Were empty, I remembered with a wave of relief. The assembly had seen to that. But as I made my way farther down the hall, I couldn’t help but think that if they hadn’t been, if there had been students trapped in there, I wouldn’t have been able to save them. Not until I knew David was safe.

  It was a disturbing thought, and I made myself shove it away, trying to focus on what was happening.

  There was another smell mixed in with the smoke, a heavy, chemical odor, and I wondered if some of the cleaning products had exploded or something. And then I looked again at that spreading pool of flame, and with a sudden jolt, I realized that it wasn’t spilled bleach or ammonia. It was gasoline.

  Someone had set that fire on purpose, and I thought I had a pretty good idea of who.

  Of course, none of that mattered right now. Right now, the main thing was getting to David. Throwing an arm over my face, I ran to the journalism lab. The fire was only a few yards or so away, and the doorknob was already warm to the touch as I twisted it.

  My eyes watered as I scanned the room, but there was no sign of David.

  Still, he had to be here. I felt it. “David!” I called, rushing in and bumping into a desk. It screeched across the linoleum, and I called again. “David!”

  And then I saw his messenger bag propped against the door of the darkroom.

  Several years ago, some parents whose kids had been super into photograp
hy had donated the funds to have the darkroom installed in the newspaper lab, but hardly anyone used it anymore.

  Except David.

  The little light over the door was on, showing that it was in use, but I ignored that, flinging open the door to stare at David, who whirled around to glare over the top of his glasses.

  When he saw it was me, the glare lessened a bit, but he still didn’t seem thrilled. “Pres, you know you can’t open—”

  Then he stopped, lifting his nose. “Wait, are the alarms going off? Is that smoke?”

  Without answering, I reached in, grabbed him by the sleeve of his ratty sweater, and tugged him out of the darkroom.

  I could already hear the wailing of sirens as I pulled David through the empty halls of the school, heading for the doors that led to the courtyard. He was safe now, so I didn’t feel like my chest was in a vise, but my stomach still churned. The English hall hadn’t totally gone up in flames, but the damage was going to be huge. We’d probably have to move classes out of there for the rest of the semester, a thought that made me feel angry and sad and sick. My school. The place I’d spent so much of my time trying to make perfect. But since I couldn’t even begin to process that right now, I turned to David.

  “Why were you in there?” I asked over the various sirens, and David pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “I forgot that I had some photographs I wanted to develop, and the assembly seemed like a good time to get them done.”

  Now that David wasn’t in imminent danger of becoming charcoal, I whirled on him right there by the front doors. “I told you I was speaking this morning.”

  He frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “Yeah, but just about the dance, right? You already told me everything you were going to say.”

  It was the worry getting to me, I think, the worry and the knowledge that my school had been attacked and pretty seriously damaged. I couldn’t freak out about all of that right now, but I could snap at David. “So you didn’t care?”

  He blinked at me. “Are we seriously going to do this here?”