Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

  I stepped back and reached for Cora’s hand, something about the girl’s reaction sending panic through me. Other than the weird tats, something was off about these new students.

  “What’s Torin doing here?” Cora whispered.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s go.”

  “No,” Cora protested. “Let’s wait for them.”

  I was sure she meant Eirik and Torin, who were talking, but I wanted space between me and the exchange students. Now.

  “They’ll catch up,” I said and hurried away. Cora followed.

  “All this new eye candy,” she said, barely containing her excitement. “This year’s going to be exciting.” She glanced behind us and added, “Andris can’t take his eyes off you.”

  I glanced back and cringed when he winked again. My gaze shifted to Torin, who was staring at Andris as though he wanted to rip his head off. They knew and hated each other from the look of things.

  “Let’s get started,” Coach Fletcher called out.

  We moved closers, some people sitting on the benches and the ground, the rest standing.

  “This year, we have about a hundred students who’ve shown interest in joining the swim team.” Applause and whistles followed. Coach Fletcher raised his hand and everyone went silent. “Trials will begin a week from Monday, which means you have one week to fill out swim forms. Returning swimmers know what I’m talking about. Newbies, you’ll find the forms at the school website under ‘sports’. Permission forms must be completed and signed by your parents and the medical form filled and signed by your doctor after a physical exam. No one will be allowed in the pool without proper paperwork on file. Make sure you read the requirements, which includes maintaining a certain grade point average. If you’re failing a class, come and see me. We have tutors on the team who can help. All this information is available online. Tell your parents to expect an e-mail about a general meeting for Q&A with me.” He glanced around and grinned. “Right now, let’s have some fun. I’ll call out team captains, who’ll choose a team color and teammates.” He held a box with different pieces of colored fabric.

  We formed eight teams, though some people chose not to play. Eirik, Cora, and I all ended up on different teams. Using sweatshirts and jackets, we split the field into two and marked the end zones. The students with longer pieces of fabric wrapped them around their heads like bandanas while others, like me, tied them around our arms. With eight teams playing for fifteen minutes each, we rotated, giving players a break every fifteen minutes.

  Our coach loved Ultimate Frisbee, so this wasn’t the first time we’d played. Usually, we just had fun, but this time was different. The game became intense in no time. My team, Eirik’s, and Torin’s won the first round, placing us in the top four for the second round. Cora’s team lost, placing hers in the bottom four.

  Standing beside Cora, I watched Torin intercept a throw and force a turnover. He was fast and aggressive, and he could jump. He could play basketball if he wanted.

  “He’s good, isn’t he?” a voice said from behind me.

  I recognized Andris’ voice, and my stomach clenched. “Who?”

  “St. James.”

  I shrugged. “He’s okay.”

  “How do you know Torin, Andris?” Cora asked.

  “He and I go way back,” he said mysteriously, giving her a brief dismissive smile before studying me. He didn’t even bother to try to hide his interest. I fidgeted even though there was nothing he could do to me in front of all these people and in broad daylight. Everything about him bothered me. He didn’t have a European accent even though Blaine claimed he came from Norway. In fact, I couldn’t detect an accent at all. He could be from anywhere.

  “How well do you know St. James?” he asked, glancing at me.

  I didn’t answer even though I knew he was talking to me. Cora prodded me sharply with her elbow. I glared at her.

  “We just met him,” I mumbled.

  “And Seville?”

  This time, I studied Andris. I didn’t like his nosiness. “What about Eirik?”

  “Are the two of you together?”

  “Why do you want to know?” I asked rudely, and Cora sunk her elbow into my side again. I grabbed her arm, but Andris spoke.

  “Just checking out the competition. So you and he …?”

  “Are none of your business.” My team was on again. I practically dragged Cora away.

  “What’s wrong with you? He likes you and you were so rude,” she wailed.

  “I don’t like him.” I searched for Eirik. He was talking to a group of girls to our left. I recognized three of them. “Stay with Marj and Eirik and away from Andris.”

  “Seriously, Raine.” She shook her head. “No wonder you never date. You have trust issues.”

  “I don’t. I saw weird tats—”

  Someone yelled my name.

  “I’ve got to go. Please, stay away from Mr. Norway.” I took off.

  This time, one of the Dahl sisters was on the opposing team. It was the same girl who’d shot me a mean look after the tattoo incident. I didn’t let her presence bother me. Andris was where I’d left him, although he was no longer alone. The other sister was with him. Cora had reached the girls with Eirik and was laughing. Relieved, I searched for Torin. He was at the other end of the field guzzling water, his eyes on me. Somehow having him around was reassuring even though I couldn’t explain why.

  Halfway through the game, I jumped to catch the Frisbee and someone pulled an interception. One of the Dahl sisters. One second she was on my right, the next in front of me, catching the Frisbee. She passed it and smirked triumphantly.

  Ignoring her, I started to run toward the other end of the field. She cut me off and whipped around so fast all I saw was a blur of red before something cracked my ribs and pain ricocheted across my chest.

  The force of her kick propelled me backwards, but I didn’t try to stop my landing. I couldn’t. I was struggling to breathe. Every attempt to inhale sent sharp spears of pain across my chest and up my spine. All I could do was take short, shallow breaths. I tried to glanced down but couldn’t. It hurt too much. As for the girl, I saw her reappear at the other end of the field just before I hit the ground.

  I didn’t exactly land on the ground. Someone broke my fall. I tried to turn my head to see who it was, but I couldn’t move. Every movement filled me with pure agony. My chest burned, and my vision blurred. I must have broken several ribs, or even worse, my sternum.

  “Can’t … breathe …”

  “Hang in there for me.”

  Torin. I felt rather than saw him lower me to the ground.

  “Easy, Freckles. You’ll be okay in a few seconds.”

  Black dots appeared in my vision, and I knew I was blacking out from lack of air. A weird sensation started on my arm and raced toward my shoulder. It spread across my chest, up my neck and face, and then darkness swallowed me.

  When I came to, Eirik and Cora were beside me, their faces wreathed with concern. But the best part was the lack of pain. I could breathe. How?

  “Are you okay?” Eirik asked.

  “What happened?” Cora asked at the same time.

  I struggled to a sitting position. Where was Torin?

  “Is she okay?” Coach Fletcher yelled, and I looked up to see him hurrying toward us.

  “She’s fine,” Torin answered from somewhere behind me. “She lost her balance and fell.”

  What a liar. I wanted to call him out, but first I needed to stop them from fussing over me. I hated the attention. I started to get up, but Cora and Eirik grabbed my arms and helped me up like I was helpless.

  “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Really.”

  Coach Fletcher stopped in front of me and studied my face. “Did you bang your head?”

  “No.”

  He glanced behind me and asked, “St. James?”

  “No, she didn’t. She tripped and landed on her butt. She’s fine.” Torin’s voice was firm and con
fident. Or maybe it was a man thing because the coach believed him instead of me.

  “Okay. You sit out the rest of the game, Raine. Drink plenty of water. Are you playing, Seville, or can another player take your spot?”

  Eirik hesitated, his eyes shifting to Torin. Something passed between them. Then Eirik said, “I’m in.” He touched my cheek. “You okay?”

  I nodded. “Really, I am.”

  He smiled and took off. Cora gripped my arm as though afraid I’d keel over. I just wanted to shake her off, so I could grill Torin about his lies and demand to know how he’d healed me. I hadn’t imagined my cracked ribs or the pain. Then I wanted to find the Norwegian bitch that’d attacked me and slap her.

  I pressed on my ribs. Not even a spasm of pain.

  “You scared me, Raine,” she said. “You looked like you’d passed out or something. Come on, let’s sit under the pavilion, and I’ll get you some water.”

  I didn’t want water or to sit. I needed answers from Torin. “Could you give me a moment with—?”

  The sound of a motorcycle engine filled the air, and my eyes went to the tree where Torin had parked his Harley. He was taking off. Just like last night, he’d moved from one place to another in a matter of seconds. My eyes followed him, not sure whether I should be afraid or grateful that he’d healed me.

  How had he done it? Or maybe I had imagined the pain. Even as the thought flashed through my head, I knew I hadn’t. Torin had healed me. How? Magic? No, that was ridiculous. There was no such thing as magic. Or maybe there was. I swallowed, a new kind of fear rolling through me.

  What was Torin? Was he good or evil? It was obvious the others were like him.

  I searched the field for Andris and the two blondes. They were entering Blaine’s car. Why were they leaving? The games were still going on.

  The one in red, who’d cracked my ribs, looked toward me and smirked. I shivered. There was so much venom in her smile. I had just acquired an enemy who moved like something from a superhero movie and had superhuman strength to boot, yet I didn’t know why.

  THE BIRTHDAY GIRL

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” Cora asked for the hundredth time.

  I rolled my eyes. “Can you tell her that I’m fine, Eirik?”

  Eirik stared straight ahead. In fact, he’d been quiet and preoccupied since we left the park. “Eirik?”

  “Hmm?”

  I exchanged a glance with Cora. A naughty grin crossed her face. She leaned forward and whispered, “Do you want to make out with us when we get to Raine’s place?”

  “Sure,” he said. We laughed. He snapped out of it and frowned. “What?”

  Cora only laughed harder.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He pulled up outside my house and let the engine idle, his way of saying he wasn’t staying. Still scowling, he said, “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “You’ve been rather quiet since we left the park.” I hopped down from the Jeep. “So when are we leaving tonight?”

  “Eight,” Cora answered. “Eirik’s driving.” She tapped Eirik’s arm. “You’re driving me home, so don’t take off. Raine, come with me.” She gripped my arm and pushed me toward the house.

  Eirik didn’t complain about Cora’s bossiness, which was unlike him. He must have taken my orders to be nice to Cora seriously. He reached for his camera. He was always taking pictures, and I was usually his main subject. Even at the park when he wasn’t playing, he’d kept busy snapping pictures. I wondered if he’d captured the moment that girl kicked me. I paused to ask, but Cora kept tugging.

  “Move it, missy. I have two hours to transform you, but right now I want to know what I have to work with,” she said.

  “Transform me?” I unlocked the door and allowed her to push me upstairs.

  “Because your idea of dressing up is jeans, boots, and whatever top you have lying around in your closet. Your mom, on the other hand, has style. Your dad was a class act and … I mean, he is a class act.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Raine.”

  “Don’t be.” My chest tightened as I walked to the closet and opened it. For a moment, I stared at my clothes through blurry eyes.

  “Raine?”

  “I, uh, I have white jeans. Anything that glows under a disco light is fine, right?”

  “Usually, yes, but it’s your birthday and we’re going to the club. Damn it.” Cora hugged me from behind. “I’m so sorry I brought up your father. I don’t know how to deal with this.”

  “Me neither.” My voice shook. “Mom believes he survived the crash, but I’m losing hope. I don’t want to mourn him because … because …” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “It’d mean he’s gone.” Cora’s arms tightened around me.

  I wiped the wetness from my cheeks and took a deep breath, then turned and faced her. She was crying, too. I tried to smile, but my tears started to flow again. “Can we promise not to mention him for the rest of the day?”

  “Night,” she corrected. “And the answer is yes. I’ll focus on prettying you up.” She nudged me aside.

  “Prettying me up? That’s insulting.”

  “Yeah, well, your understated style might work for school and the mall, but not the club. Not tonight,” she said as she flipped through my dresses and sighed. “Just like I thought. Nothing in here. You know what? I’ll come early with outfits, makeup, and hair stuff.”

  “Outfits?”

  “Dresses.”

  “I don’t like wearing dresses, and I have a perfectly decent blow drier, curling iron, and—”

  “Just wash your hair and leave everything to me. Be back in a few. Love you.” She sailed out the door and left me standing there slack jawed. Then I realized what she’d done. She’d deliberately distracted me from the issue with my dad, which meant she didn’t mean to make me wear a dress. Thank goodness.

  By the time I reached downstairs, Eirik’s Jeep was out of sight. Good. Now for the talk with a certain neighbor. I reached for the doorknob and froze.

  What was I doing? I’d vowed to stay away from Torin and his talk of magic. He had weird powers. I shouldn’t even be thinking of confronting him. What would I ask him? How would I start? What if he was evil? From the way he moved, I couldn’t outrun him.

  Swallowing, I paced and debated my next move.

  No, I refused to cower just because I was scared. If he were evil, he wouldn’t have healed me. He had healed me. I hadn’t imagined the pain.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened my door and slowly walked down our driveway. My heart pounded hard as I started down the sidewalk and headed for Torin’s front door. I paused before hopping onto the porch. Once again, I gave myself a pep talk before pressing the doorbell.

  No response. Okay, leave. You tried.

  But I couldn’t leave now that I’d made it this far. I pressed the doorbell again and angled my head to listen for movement from inside. Nothing. The garage door was open and I’d seen his Harley, so I knew he was home. Maybe he was asleep. Relieved, I turned to leave.

  He yanked the door open. “Can’t stay away from me, can you, Freckles?”

  “Don’t flatter …” My voice trailed off when I found myself staring at his bare chest. Not that I was complaining, but did he have something against shirts? “Yourself,” I finished weakly.

  He chuckled, drawing my attention upwards, past the water droplets on his chest to the wet hair caressing his shoulders. At least he had a legitimate reason for walking around shirtless this time. Still, you’d think he’d put on a shirt before answering his door.

  “Can we talk?” I said.

  His brow shot up. “About?”

  “The incident at the park.”

  He looped a towel I hadn’t noticed around his neck, crossed his arms, and leaned against the doorframe. His eyes narrowed. “What incident?”

  “You know, when that girl attacked me and—”

  “You tripped and landed on your lovely ass?”

  “L
ovely …?” My face warmed. “That’s not what happened and you know it,” I protested.

  “That’s what I saw.”

  “Liar.”

  He straightened his body, the smile disappearing from his face. Aye, he was intimidating when he stopped smiling. Antagonizing him would get me nowhere.

  “Forget I said that. Can you, uh, finish getting dressed, so we can talk? Please?”

  He sighed and gave me a look that said he was humoring me. “Fine.”

  I released a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. Since he’d left the door open when he disappeared somewhere inside the house, I peeked in and blinked at the emptiness. When Eirik’s family lived here, they’d decorated the large living room with rich, earthy colors—brown, tan, and dark green. Torin’s idea of dÉcor was one leather couch and a table. There was nothing on the walls. No side tables. No TV. No pictures.

  “Nosey, aren’t you?” he said, appearing suddenly.

  I jumped back, my face flaming.

  “Uh, I, uh …” I couldn’t come up with a single excuse.

  He stepped on the porch, closed the door behind him, and lifted his arms. “Is this better?”

  “Much.” The plain, black T-shirt hugged his chest and arms. Whatever soap he’d used—or was it shampoo?—smelled nice. He walked across the porch and leaned against the top porch rail, his arms and legs crossed. He was barefoot. There was something extremely sexy about a barefoot guy in jeans.

  “Do you want me to wear shoes, too?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

  “No.” Once again, heat rushed to my face. I crossed my arms and hugged myself. Now that it was time for answers, I wasn’t sure where to begin. “What are you?”

  Torin chuckled. “What kind of a crazy question is that?”

  “The kind you ask someone without a medical degree, who saved your life in a matter of seconds,” I said. “You healed me today, Torin. I don’t know how, but I know you did.”

  He shook his head. “That’s an active imagination you have there, Freckles.” His eyes narrowed. “Or you must have hit your head after all.”