Learning to Soar (White Dove Book 3)

by Maya William

  She shakes her head and sighs. “They usually like to make you work for one of the pieces they take. Which means it’s not in here.”

  Darn it! I really can’t afford to lose more time.

  Thankfully, when we leave the locker room to keep searching, Samuel isn’t there.

  Beatrice dials my number again and again, and by sheer luck, I hear the familiar tone. I touch her arm and point in the direction the sound comes from.

  We follow it to a door, and my body freezes. I know what lies behind the door.

  The pool.

  Beatrice opens the door and walks inside. With heavy feet, I follow her. A cold shiver runs down my spine when Beatrice’s head lifts to the highest diving board, where the sound appears to originate from.

  No, no, no, no.

  “Do you want me to go and get it?” Beatrice kindly offers after I don’t move an inch.

  “Yes, please.” I don’t recognize the foreign sound coming out of my mouth.

  “Here, hold mine.” She hands over her cell phone, and I take it with both hands, pressing the small electronic device against my chest.

  She quickly climbs the stairs, reaches the board, and slowly walks down the plank so the movement doesn’t bounce my phone into the threatening water.

  This feels like a scene from a psychological horror movie.

  Is everything going to be all right? Will my phone be the next victim to die?

  But thanks to her good balance and the lightness of her feet, she manages to rescue it.

  Thank you, Big Guy.

  The air returns to my lungs as she climbs down, and we exchange phones.

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  She chuckles, while we run back to the locker room. “It was nothing.”

  “No, honestly, thank you for helping me find all my stuff.” My throat closes, because thanks to her aid, my family doesn’t need to find out how my things got spread all around the locker room and the pool.

  She shrugs. “If it was the other way around, I know you would have helped me.”

  Searching the locker room, yes. But the pool? Sorry to burst your bubble, but I draw the line at anything involving deep water.

  When we reach the locker room, Samuel waits for me outside. He does a doubletake as we approach. He frowns, focusing on the items in our hands. “Is everything all right?”

  “Sure. Just wait one more minute.” Not daring to meet his questioning gaze, I cowardly walk to the locker room.

  Once inside, Beatrice and I both pull sweaters on, take our stuff, and bolt out at the same time.

  Ignoring Samuel, I focus my attention on Beatrice, asking her questions about school and which grade she’s in.

  She timidly informs us she’s a senior while playing with the long sleeves of her sweater, pulling them with her hands and quickly releasing them.

  When we reach an intersection in a hallway, she stops.

  “It was fun to meet you, and thank you for giving me pointers on my dancing.” Beatrice signals with her head toward the opposite direction from where we parked. “My car’s on this side of campus.”

  “Have a nice weekend.” I wave goodbye.

  “You, too,” she replies.

  And thank you, Beatrice, for not saying anything about what we were doing.

  Once she disappears around the corner, Samuel stops me from going left by gently taking my arm.

  “Samantha, can you please look at me?” He gently lifts my chin. “Is everything all right?”

  Shoot! Big Guy, what are you doing?

  “Uhm… Y-y-yes.”

  His gaze moves down to my outfit.

  Darn it! I forgot I’m still wearing my dance attire.

  “My shirt got soaked”—I scrunch my face, trying to distract him—“and I’m sweaty and gross right now.”

  He shakes his head and narrows his eyes. “And how did your shirt get soaked?”

  Give me a break.

  “Oh, well…ehm …it’s a small prank the girls played on me.” I smile, trying to be dismissive about the whole situation.

  Of course, the nagging little voice at the back of my mind starts to shout at me.

  Come on. Technically, I’m telling the truth.

  “By the way, I think I met some people who are dealing with anorexia.” I change the subject. “Today, some girls invited me to their table during lunchtime. They’d hardly eaten anything, and when one girl attempted to eat a French fry, another one stopped her and gave her an earful.”

  He stays silent for a moment. “Which girls?” He tilts his head to one side.

  My nails dig against my palms, and the temperature in my stomach becomes volcanic when he knows the name of each girl I describe.

  “Do you share classes with all of them?” I put an easy tone in my voice and a huge grin on my lips, hiding the darks thoughts going through my mind.

  “No, a couple of them are freshmen and sophomores. Portia, Chloe, and Bianca are juniors, and the rest are in the senior class,” he explains, “like Beatrice.”

  Yeah, his exact knowledge about their lives fuels my jealousy.

  “Oh!” My voice comes out high-pitched. While dealing with my internal turmoil, I grip the strap of my backpack and tilt my head in the direction of the car.

  “However”—he leans against the lockers and focuses his gaze on my face—“it would be interesting if you could point out which of the girls got your items soaked.”

  He takes my face in his hands, trapping me so I can’t make a run for it.

  “Maybe it wasn’t intended as an innocent prank?” he asks suspiciously.

  My mouth opens and closes several times before forming an answer. “I don’t know who did it. They took advantage of Beatrice and me staying behind. But she explained they like to pull these kinds of jokes on the new girls. Kind of like an initiation to the group.”

  Well, it’s a plausible excuse, though it’s not necessarily one hundred percent true.

  He squints as if thinking over my answer and slowly nods, not looking fully convinced.

  “We should probably go. I already took too long giving Beatrice those pointers and searching for my shirt.” I snap my mouth shut before blurting out more information.

  “Beautiful, there’s something you’re not telling me.” My heart protests when he brings his hands down, releasing me from the small cage he trapped me in.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I shake my head, walk forward, then turn around when he doesn’t join me. “But we should speed up before Abigail decides to extend my grounding for as long as I live,” I joke.

  He reaches for my hand, grabs it, and stops my poor attempt to walk away. Pulling me closer, he caresses my face with the back of his hand, keeping the other one around my waist. “Samantha, I wish you would trust me.”

  After hiding the whole locker incident from him, I bite my lip to stop myself from lying further. My stomach and conscience won’t be able to handle any more of it.

  He deserves the truth. But my confession comes at a steep price. Leaving Calvary. I really, really don’t want to do that.

  Gazing into his eyes proves to be a big mistake because my mind draws a blank, forgetting his words. The following messages pop inside my mind.

  Information received by the hearing device, however, can’t be processed by the brain. Neurons currently working hard to reconnect system and to overwrite the hormone virus. Please, stand by.

  His eyes focus on my lips and stay there. “I missed you at yesterday’s family dinner.”

  Connections might be permanently broken.

  “David asked about you all night and wouldn’t allow me to sit in your spot. Mom kept glaring at me as if I caused all the trouble, and Maria went berserk when I told her Abigail grounded you indefinitely.” One corner of his lips quirk up, and my stomach flutters with excitement at his nearness. “But I was utterly miserable. You managed to crawl deep into our hearts in three weeks, my beautiful girl.”

  Heari
ng receptors are highly compromised, since I know I imagined that last part.

  My heart, however, beats faster.

  “Promise me, when Maria and I leave, you’ll still go to the family dinner each week. I don’t want Mom to get depressed and David to be uncomfortable because there wouldn’t be a point in having it with just the two of them.” He raises his eyebrows as if pleading.

  Hearing receptors are back up, connections restored, and information processed, and… What the heck is Samuel talking about, Big Guy?

  A cold sensation quickly replaces the warm one. “When will you be leaving?”

  He sighs loudly, and his shoulders slump. “Tuesday morning, after Joy’s birthday party.”

  So soon? That gives me less than a week and a half.

  With a smile on my face and a crumbling heart, I ask, “How long will you be gone?”

  “Might be three weeks or a month and a half, depending on how things go.” He turns his gaze to the floor. “But I’ll be back for Thanksgiving week.”

  Not good enough.

  “What about school?” I ask, not having the heart to ask the real question: What about me?

  “Oliver informed Peter, before we entered Calvary, about my previous commitment,” he explains. “There shouldn’t be any problem.”

  But why did nobody tell me? Plus, honestly there’s a big problem here. I’ll miss him terribly, Big Guy.

  Is there any chance we can get him back earlier?

  “You’re free to practice the school recital in the studio whenever you want.” He takes my hand and intertwines our fingers. “We already warned Melissa that you might be stopping by to work out.”

  I mean, thanks, but…what’s the point? My instructors aren’t going to be there to help me.

  He pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me.

  I don’t attempt to pull away. Instead, I let myself get lost in the comfort of his warm body and scent.

  Time for a reality check. This commitment happened before he began the Calvary investigation, which means before I became a variation in their perfect Flock equation. Obviously, I can’t do anything to stop him from leaving, but I would rather he feel comfortable and focus on whatever commitment Maria and he have by letting him know I’ll be looking out for his family.

  Okay, Big Guy, I see your point. I might not fully agree with it, though.

  I pull my head back, and I give him an encouraging smile. “I promise to go to the family dinners and keep an eye on David and your mom.”

  “Thank you, beautiful.” A spark reaches his eyes. “Now, we should get you home. There are a lot of things we need to do to prepare you for Oliver’s crazy Saturday exercise. Lyra already expects you for shooting class.”

  My face scrunches at the reminder. “So, I’m not grounded from that?”

  He throws his head back, laughing at my whine. “Nope.” He releases me and gets ahold of my bags, making sure to take my hand afterward while we walk to the car. “This is a priority and was scheduled before the infraction. Therefore, you must attend. However, afterward, you’re back in the dungeon.”

  Ugh! Big Guy, do you happen to know how long Abigail plans on keeping me grounded?

  Paintball

  On Saturday morning, Barb hands me a pair of cargo pants with a green camouflage print, together with a beige T-shirt, and tells me to put my hair in a ponytail. Coming from Barb, the fashion queen, I’m shocked at how unfeminine the style is, especially with the manly, heavy brown boots.

  After a quick breakfast, we divide ourselves into three different cars. Archie calls dibs on Zach’s and declares that he and I are the only two allowed inside it. The rest quickly drive away.

  Meanwhile, my palms sweat when, true to his word, Archie hands me the car keys and happily declares, “What better way to compensate for all those missing hours of practice than by driving for one and a half hours to the Gotcha Field?”

  Before I can open my mouth to protest, he slides into the passenger seat and honks the horn, urging me to get inside.

  Please, BG, take care of us.

  During our car ride, my mind barely makes sense of Archie’s words, too focused on the road ahead than on Oliver’s plan involving paintball guns.

  Thanks to the Big Guy, we reach our destination in one piece.

  When I step out of the car, ready to kiss the ground, the tall tower inside the compound distracts me. My head tilts back, following the length of it, and my eyes widen when I see a line at the top that tightly stretches diagonally until it vanishes into the surrounding foliage.

  “Zip line,” Archie mentions.

  My head snaps toward him. To my great horror, his eyes glint with mischief.

  I really don’t want to know.

  Archie motions for me to go inside the main cabin while Kellan, Zach, Samuel, and he retrieves the items we’ll need from the car trunks. Oliver, Joy, and Abigail happily chat with the clerk. Meanwhile, Barb and Lyra help me select the paintball gun, protective gear, and goggles they’ll rent for me to use.

  By the time they finish, I feel ready to go to war rather than play a game Oliver calls, “Follow the leader.”

  Once I’m set up, everyone else dresses for the game. My eyes widen when I notice how my clothes and gear clash with the rest of the girls’ identical gray uniforms. Clearly, Barb had a hand in their selection, unlike the guys who each bring their own preferred style. Except for Kellan, who matches the girls.

  “All right, the magic hat will decide which team each of you will be on.” Oliver picks up a hat and tilts it down. Inside are small papers folded into squares.

  “When did we cross platform Nine and Three Quarters and find the Sorting Hat?” I joke, imagining Oliver as Dumbledore starting the Sorting Ceremony. Our current options are the Zach House or Abigail House.

  Archie and Joy laugh.

  “Dibs on Gryffindor!” Archie raises his hand. “Which would be Zach’s team, of course,” he explains, glancing at Abigail.

  She rolls her eyes but remains quiet.

  “I believe Ravenclaw should be Abigail’s team,” Lyra mentions, earning an approving smile from her leader. “After all, we are very smart girls.”

  “Slytherin would be more likely,” Archie murmurs, earning a slap on the back of his head from Joy.

  “Ouch! Joy!” He rubs the affected spot, glaring at her.

  She smiles and quickly puts herself between Abigail and Archie.

  Oliver loudly sighs and turns his eyes upward.

  He removes names from the hat, telling us beforehand which team the name he calls out will belong to. Barb happily cheers when she ends up being on the same team as Kellan. Archie doesn’t bother to hide his displeasure when he gets sorted into “Slytherin.” I can’t blame him. I get sorted into the same house, though, which seems to cheer him up, marginally.

  The teams end up as follows: Zach’s team is Lyra, Barb, and Kellan. Abigail’s team is Joy, Samuel, Archie, and me.

  Technically, mine isn’t bad; not if I have these three to play with.

  Oliver points to two big plastic bags resting at his feet with boxes inside marked as ammo.

  “Here are the paintballs for each of your teams. Abigail picked red, leaving Zach with the blue ones. As usual, each team needs to capture the other’s team flag, which have already been distributed in the field.” He eyes all of us, making sure we pay attention. “For a hit to count and eliminate a participant, the paintball needs to leave a mark as big as a quarter. Once eliminated, you need to return here and report to me.

  “Each team will be able to communicate with each other using the earbuds and small microphones I’ll provide you.

  “You’ll have ten minutes in separate cabins to memorize the map and determine your strategy. I recommend you each take advantage of your strengths and consider your opponents’ weaknesses.” He gives a final nod and points at each of the small cabins.

  Abigail steps in front of our group and tilts her head toward our assigned c
abin. “Okay, team, time to gather up.”

  Inside, a map hangs on one of the walls displaying the whole arena, our current location, a few paths, images of towers, the zip line, mountains…and, at the other side of the field, a red and blue stud. While studying the map, Archie mentions the warzone is designed as a woods ball field.

  My confused expression brings on the explanation of the different types of Gotcha Fields you can find: speedball, urban warfare, outlaw, and this one. The difference between them is the setting and the obstacles the participants may face. In this case, nature kindly provides slopes, boulders, trees, mountains, and human-made obstacles such as towers and bunkers.

  Because nature did a poor job and needed to upgrade the difficulty? Jeez Louise, cut me some slack, BG.

  Abigail points at our current location, then at the studs that indicate the location of the flags. She, Archie, and Samuel discuss different routes we can take to capture the other team’s flag while Joy and I sit behind them.

  Abigail shoots down ideas with various excuses.

  I agree with turning down Archie’s strategies, although being the quickest way to capture the other team’s flag, it sounds crazy. To my surprise, she listens to Samuel’s more down-to-earth suggestions.

  “Archie, you and Joy are fast on your feet. However, you’ll be more useful to play bait, allowing us to identify where Zach and his team are hiding,” Samuel points out.

  “But zip-lining will be the fastest route, and we will outrun them.” Archie points to the tall tower on the west side of the map. “Zach won’t expect us to use this method. He’ll be expecting Abigail’s usual cat-and-mouse strategy, like the previous times we played this game.”

  “I already told you, once up there, we’ll become sitting ducks, out in the open and with no chance to protect ourselves.” Abigail fists her hands. “It’ll only take Lyra a few seconds to shoot us down and for us to lose the game.”

  “She won’t expect us to use my strategy, and by the time she’s ready to fire at us, we’ll all be on the other side of the zip line. Plus, Lyra wouldn’t dare shoot you,” Archie says.