by H. D. Gordon
The implications I drew from the combination of these things were no good, and for what seemed like five very long seconds, I was too dumbstruck to say anything.
Andrea held my glare defiantly before asking me in a growl what the hell I was looking at and shoving past me before I could answer. I rotated on my heels, watching her go, my mind flying a mile a minute.
Once she was out of sight I turned back to the closed door of Coach Sanders’s office and knocked. A gruff voice told me to enter. Reminding myself to keep a neutral expression, I opened the door and stepped inside the small space, careful to leave the door open behind me.
“Aria,” Coach Sanders said. “What can I do for you?”
I barely heard the question, as I was too busy absorbing every minor detail about the environment and the coach’s demeanor. Coach Sanders was a slightly sloppy, large man, and his office matched the first part of this description. It consisted of a desk, behind which he sat—hitching his belt as I entered—and two more chairs that served visitors. One of these chairs was pushed way off to the side, and despite the clutter of stacked papers, various pictures and mementos, and what I assumed were game tapes, the desk behind which he perched was completely clear, free of adornments.
“Hello,” Coach Sanders said, waving a hand at me. “Earth to Aria. What do you want, girl?”
It was a feat to keep my voice even, and for a few seconds I couldn’t even remember why I’d come here. I cleared my throat twice before words came. “I, uh, I wanted your permission to do something with the team, sir,” I said at last.
Sanders had been leaning forward in his chair and studying me, and when I took too long to say something his eyes narrowed at me as if trying to assess my assessment of him. With this answer, he sat back again, apparently assuaged, and laced his hands over his potbelly. I consciously kept my lips from twisting.
“Okay,” he said. “Spit it out.”
Now I felt my lips twitch, but kept hold of my poker face. “I would like to have a fundraiser for a woman named Roseanne Rhodes. I’d like the team’s help with this.”
I went on to explain about Rachel’s condition, and how I wanted to hold a carwash/bake sale and donate the funds to the cause. It was admittedly difficult to concentrate on the pitch. My stomach had tightened up in a way that made me more than uncomfortable. Coach Sanders listened to what I had to say, then ran a hand over his graying mustache.
“You going to be the one to set this up? Do all the legwork?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir, with your permission.”
This answer clearly pleased him, as I knew it always did with older males who felt they held a power position, and after a few more insignificant questions, Coach Sanders agreed and sent me on my way.
Leaving his office felt like slipping out of a snake’s den.
CHAPTER 17
With all that was going on, I didn’t get a chance to talk to Andrea Ramos about what I’d thought I’d seen at the coach’s office until that following Friday. There was no lacrosse game that evening because we had a by-week, as well as the Spring Fling the following Saturday night.
I stayed busy with schoolwork, organizing for the fundraiser, work at the flower shop, and the small moments of chill time I got to have with my friends. Despite the distractions, I had decided that I definitely needed to reach out to Andrea, though I didn’t exactly expect it to go pleasantly.
When I saw her walking out of school on Friday afternoon, I told Sam and Matt I’d see them later and hurried to catch up to Andrea. She let out a huff and rolled her brown eyes as I pulled up beside her.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
I checked out our surroundings to make sure I wouldn’t be overheard. I decided the best way to deal with it was to just say it outright. “I want to know what happened the other day in Coach Sanders’s office,” I said.
The way her shoulders tensed and her aura shifted spoke legions. She almost paused in her tracks, but caught herself and continued walking, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “Buzz off. I’ve got places to be.”
I reminded myself to be gentle. Andrea Ramos was not my favorite person in the world, but if what I thought was happening was actually happening, I needed to be extra tactful. I wrung my hands, knowing that the best way to get someone to be vulnerable with you was to show them your own vulnerability first.
“When I was in first grade I had a bus driver by the name of Tyrell Johnson,” I said, the name still bitter on my tongue, even after all these years.
Andrea looked over at me like I was nuts. “What the hell are you talking about?” she snapped.
I ignored this and continued, watching my Converses move over the sidewalk as we pressed along. “He was such a nice man. All the kids loved him, including me. He would bake the best cookies and give them to us as surprises. Any time one of the children had a birthday, Mr. Tyrell would make them a special cookie with the first letter of their name painted on top in icing.” I swallowed, breathed.
“I don’t have time for this, loser,” Andrea replied, though I could tell she was listening.
Again, I ignored her comment. I was suddenly back twelve years ago, on a yellow school bus that should have been a safe place. I grabbed Andrea by the arm and pulled her to a stop. We were a couple blocks from the school, alone save for the normal bustle of the city. She looked like she was going to throw off my touch, but I spoke before she was able.
“Turned out Mr. Tyrell was not a nice man,” I said. “Turned out he was a pervert who’d been molesting children who rode his bus for years. He would threaten to tell their parents horrible things if they told on him, and they were so young and afraid, they believed him.” I held Andrea’s gaze. “I believed him.”
Andrea’s smooth, light brown face had gone sickly pale. She was no longer trying to pull away from me. In fact, judging from her aura, it looked like she was seconds from crumbling. She said nothing for what seemed to me a really long time. Then, in a voice that was as mean as it was rooted in hurt, she said, “Is that why you’re such a bitch?”
With this, I dropped my hand, and she smirked and walked away, leaving me on the sidewalk staring after her. I wasn’t angry about this response. On the contrary, I pitied her.
***
“Oh no, she didn’t!” Sam exclaimed when I gave her a rundown of my encounter with Andrea. “What kind of evil wench says such a thing?”
I laughed at this as I went over to where my suit was, taking it out of the case and preparing to go on patrol again, even though I was tired from school and work all week and kind of just wanted to chill.
“It’s no big deal,” I said. “I’m not ashamed of what happened. I’m not the one who should be ashamed, despite the beliefs woven into our society. That’s the difference between Andrea and me. I’ve healed. She hasn’t, maybe because she’s still being hurt.”
Sam smiled at me with some sadness, and I returned the gesture as I saw pride strike through her aura. “I’m not the only one who says some smart stuff from time to time, Aria Fae, you know that?”
“Yeah, well, surround yourself with intelligent people, it’s bound to rub off the same way stupidity does.”
Sam considered this. “Unfortunately, I think stupidity is slightly more contagious.”
I laughed. “So it would seem.”
“You don’t have to go out tonight, you know,” she said, changing the subject. “The beast hasn’t been spotted in over a week. Even the police force is starting to pull out the extra troops they brought in. Maybe the creature won’t come back.”
I nodded. “Or maybe it will. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Speaking of being safe and not sorry,” Matt said, entering the warehouse with a grin stretching from ear-to-ear. Or at least I assumed, since his wild curly hair always covered his ears. “I’ve got a new toy for you, Aria.”
I jumped up into the air like a kid on Chris
tmas. When Matthew Brown said he had something for me, it was always something awesome. We followed him over to the card table where we held all of our team meetings, and he hefted the bag he was carrying onto the top of it, whatever was inside making a metallic thump.
“Sounds heavy,” I said.
Matt began to unzip the bag. “For me, sort of. For you?” His brown eyes flashed down to my biceps. “I think you can handle it.”
I bolstered at this, sticking my chest out and narrowing my eyes slightly as I grinned like a fool and nodded at Sam. She rolled her eyes and laughed at my stupidity.
As Matt removed the object from the bag, I clapped my hands together and jumped up again. “A crossbow?” I said. “Super badass!”
Matt laughed, pulling out the weapon and snapping his wrist, making the wings on the bow flip outward with a small robotic sound. “Not just any crossbow,” he said. “A crossbow made by yours truly. This thing is equipped with a laser sight—not that you’d need it with your aim—and is powerful enough to tear through Kevlar, or, I’m hoping, the skin of a certain beast. It’s got a hundred pound pull along with a small engine to increase speed force, so you have to be pretty strong to even use it, but that should be a piece of cake for you.”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know if I want to kill this beast thing,” I said. “Or if it even can be killed.”
Matt held up a finger. “I thought you’d feel that way, which is why I have these.” He reached back into the bag and pulled out an arrow that was about a foot long. Down near its tip, there was a small vile that held a clear liquid.
“What’s that?”
Matt raised his brows. “That is epinephrine, and what I’m hoping it will do is make this beast revert back to whatever form he had before the experiments were done. If that is indeed how it became this way. Sam and I were going over the genetic sequences Caleb showed us, and we think this might work.”
I shook my head, in awe of these two. “You guys are frickin’ geniuses!” I said.
They both laughed. “We know,” they said in unison.
I went out on patrol shortly thereafter, feeling way too cool for school with my new beast-stopping weapon and the wind blowing through my hair, but despite my enthusiasm, our big blue friend failed to make an appearance again.
Even the papers and the news had stopped talking about it, and Sam was right about the police force regulating their efforts again. It had only been a week, the destruction caused by the Blue Beast still visible, but the memory of the thing already fading in the minds of the people, like a terrible nightmare one can’t quite remember the next morning.
CHAPTER 18
“I can’t believe so many people showed up,” I said, spraying down a new Lexus with the water hose I was holding, watching the soap suds run in white foamy rivers onto the concrete.
Raven rolled her eyes and threw a sponge at me, which I dodged like a friggin’ ninja.
“Why are you surprised?” she asked, tipping down her black sunglasses to pin me with those dark eyes. “Have you looked at me in this bathing suit?”
“I’m pretty sure everyone has looked at you in that bathing suit, Raven,” I said. “Congratulations. You like to bring the attention of strange men to your body.”
“You’re just jealous,” she replied, sauntering off to greet another car that was pulling into the lot. Over her shoulder, she said, “You should be thanking me for helping with this charity act, fairy.”
As if Coach Sanders hadn’t demanded the whole lacrosse team to show up for the fundraiser. I rolled my eyes and returned to my rinsing.
“Well, she seems like a real bitch,” said a familiar voice behind me. The speaker moved closer to my ear, the familiar scent of expensive cologne confirming the identity. “Actually, it’s me you should be thanking. I made all my rich friends come get their cars washed.”
I turned on my heels, smiling. “Caleb Cross,” I said. “My knight in shining armor.”
Dimples appeared on his cheeks. “It’s Armani, actually.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “Of course it is.”
“I’d hug you,” he said, “but you’re all wet. Not that I’m complaining.”
I looked down at my old t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts, a slow grin coming to my face as my eyes flicked down to the running water hose in my hand and back up to Caleb.
Caleb’s eyes widened. “Aria Fae,” he said slowly, “don’t you look at me like that. You keep that thing away from me, or I’m packing up all my rich friends and we’re leaving.”
I took a small step toward him, tilting my head. “I don’t like threats, Mr. Cross,” I said.
“And who is this?” said a sultry voice behind me.
The fun drained out of the moment instantly. I turned around and faced Raven. “No one, hussie,” I said, surprised at myself but unapologetic.
This made Caleb smile. He held his hand out to Raven. “Caleb Cross,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Raven replied, running her tongue out over her red lips and making me twist my own. Her coal-lined eyes flicked to me and back to Caleb. “Here I thought you had poor taste in everything, fairy. Apparently it’s just your fashion sense.”
She turned back to say something to Caleb that likely would’ve made me jealous, but before she could speak, Caleb leaned around her and said, “Aria, darling, what time should I pick you up for the dance?”
Raven snorted in disgust. “What does everyone see in you, fairy?”
Caleb answered for me. “Class,” he said. “For one thing.”
With this, Raven flipped him the bird and resumed flirtations with other customers. As I watched her walk away, I gave Caleb a little kiss on his cheek, handing the hose off to one of my other teammates so as not to get him wet.
He placed his hand over the spot where I’d kissed him, as though a divine had touched him there. “What was that for?” he asked.
I couldn’t help a smile at this. “Don’t play dumb, Casanova, and you can pick me up at seven since the dance starts at eight. I mean… if you still want to take me.”
Caleb threw my words back at me. “Don’t play dumb, beautiful girl,” he said. “Of course I still want to take you, but let’s make it six, and I’ll take you out to eat beforehand.”
Anyone who’s met me knows that I wouldn’t argue with that.
***
I know what you’re thinking, and no, I didn’t see my relationship with Caleb Cross as a betrayal to Thomas Reid, nor vise versa. The whole situation with my former colleague and one-time lover Nick Ramhart had made me do a lot of thinking on the whole matter of my love life, and this is what it came down to:
I was a young woman, and as such, I didn’t know much regarding the subject of love. I didn’t know what I wanted in a partner, or if I wanted a partner at all. When I thought of a boyfriend, it was Caleb’s face that came to mind. He was my age. He was kind to me, and I found him undoubtedly attractive… but when my hormones would swoop down on me in the dead of night, or would insert themselves into my dreams, it was Thomas who always played the lead role.
The truth of the matter, however, the epiphany that had descended upon me in my meditations, was that I would never tie my happiness to the affections of a man. I would never depend on a man to bring me joy and purpose, and I loved the freedom of being alone. I loved myself. Over my eighteen years, I’d watched so many women under the spell of men, watched them sacrifice and suffer, wanting so badly to be loved, only to find themselves trapped and more unhappy than they were before.
I was only half human, but I’d grown up mostly in human society, and human society drilled into their females the idea that a woman is not complete without the presence of a man, that the ultimate goal was to get married, bear children, and commit themselves to a single male for the rest of forever. Humans taught their daughters to believe this while simultaneously encouraging their sons to pursue as many sexual exploits as possible, as if every additional notch
on the bedpost was a trophy of honor.
I might not know much about romantic relationships, but I knew enough to know bull-hockey when I saw it. I would not allow myself to feel a certain way based on these skewed social norms. This didn’t mean I was going to deliberately hurt anyone, or go throwing myself at whomever I saw, only that I would allow myself to gain experience as my heart saw fit, and I would not condemn myself for it.
This also didn’t mean that it wasn’t slightly awkward when I saw Thomas in the stairwell, wearing the shiny black dress I’d picked out for the Spring Fling. When I heard him coming, the sound of his gait a dead giveaway, I almost turned back around and hightailed it into my apartment, opting for the fire escape exit, but I panicked and paused too long, and Thomas saw me.
I felt roses bloom behind my cheeks as his hazel eyes ran the length of me, and a very distinct color ran through his aura. We stood there for several long, heavy seconds, him three steps lower and gazing right at me, and me in ridiculous high heels and makeup.
“Going out?” he asked, and the words were a touch choked.
“It’s the Spring Fling,” I said tugging at the hem of my dress, which almost reached my knees but felt somehow shorter with him staring at me that way. We hadn’t spoken since he’d made his little revelation to me on the rooftop about what he did for a living.
“You’re going with that Cross boy,” he said.
It was not a question, but I nodded. “Caleb’s nice.”
“Is he?” Thomas asked.
My hackles went up in defense of Caleb. “Yes, he is.”
“What about his father?”
I moved passed him down the stairwell, not liking the turn this was taking. “Why are you asking me? I’m sure you have ways of finding out things like that.”
Thomas grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks and causing heat to pulse where he touched me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just want you to be careful.”