Learning to Soar (White Dove Book 3)

by Maya William

Not daring to steal a peek at Samuel, I continue scooping ice cream.

  “Samantha, be careful with Portia.” He takes my hand and stops me. The warmth of his touch spreads up my arm and expands to the rest of my body. “I don’t like the way she stares at you when you dance.”

  What does that mean?

  “I don’t believe she meant any harm. She just got excited about the whole costume party and bragged about being invited,” I explain.

  “Could be.” He shrugs. “But it didn’t give her the right to invite other people or share your address.” He pulls out his cell phone. “Here, look at this.”

  He hands it to me and points at a message he received around seven-thirty p.m. today.

  Hi, this is Portia Collins.

  Cool news, everybody! Costume party this Friday.

  249 North Solar Drive, Goose Creek.

  Bring your best outfit and let’s all celebrate Halloween.

  It’s going to be lit!! Tell all your friends about it.

  PS: I’ll be dressed as Ariel, so don’t you dare show up with the same costume, or I might go all medieval on you.

  LOL!!!

  I need to read it at least three times to believe what he showed me.

  No. Way.

  Not once does she mention Joy or this being her birthday party, or the location being our house. Instead, it sounds like she’s hosting the party.

  I’m about to go all medieval on her, Big Guy.

  When I scroll through the responses, I see that a lot of people already replied excited and informing her they passed on her message. My head snaps up to Samuel’s face.

  “I just saw the message a few minutes ago, Samantha,” he confesses almost in a whisper. “Please be careful with her. Friends don’t do this kind of thing to people they care about.”

  He takes three bowls of ice cream and leaves the kitchen.

  Beatrice’s warning comes back to me.

  “Beware of wolves dressed as sheep.”

  Seems I found another big bad wolf.

  “How about we create a list of people who aren’t welcome and make everyone show their student ID’s before we let them in,” Samuel suggests, stepping into the dining room. “We’ve already identified some troublemakers during our research, and if they show up, I bet they’ll try to test the patience of your security team,” he says as he turns to Father Gomez.

  He nods.

  “Great idea, Samuel,” Oliver agrees and turns to Lyra. “Can you create a list of names?”

  “On it.” She quickly moves her laptop mouse.

  “We should put the guys from the swimming team who we discussed in the past on it, and Abraham Tribecca,” Zach proposes.

  Lyra quickly types in the names while Samuel deposits the bowls of ice cream on the table.

  “I would add the people who spend half their time in detention,” Joy says.

  Lyra nods as she keeps typing.

  “How about Anya and…” Samuel glances at me. “Portia.”

  “Oh, she’s on it all right!” Lyra’s eyes narrow as she quickly types Portia’s name.

  Abigail’s eyebrow rises while she reads something on her cell phone. “Make sure to put her at the top of the list!” She looks at Lyra. “And add a comment about her coming as Ariel, to make sure she doesn’t slip past security.”

  Portia is not going to be happy when she realizes she’s no longer invited, but then again, she never was.

  Purr Like a Cat

  “What do you mean I’m not on the list?” Portia’s annoyed voice travels to the table where Darcy and I sit in the cafeteria.

  I glance at Darcy, who raises her eyebrows, her eyes shining with happiness as she looks at the table where Barbara and Kellan hand out flyers with the information for the “costume party.”

  Lyra worked her magic all night long, and by morning, she’d developed a bar-code system where an invitation is linked to a student ID and a program for students to RSVP. The rest worked hard this morning printing the invitations for the original guests and flyers with the party information on it.

  By lunchtime, they’d set up a table in the cafeteria with a big banner on it for the “Outlaw Heroes Costume Party.”

  Lyra, Joy, Kellan, and Barbara sit with their laptops, either handing out invitations for the original guests, flyers, or marking students who RSVP who will get a discount at the cashier. According to Lyra, this will help us get an estimated number of people attending.

  Barb slowly shakes her head, her attention on a printed list they created. “Sorry”—she turns to Portia with an innocent expression and shrugs—“you aren’t on it.”

  I’m amazed at how she keeps a straight face.

  “But you can purchase your ticket on Friday,” she continues with the act. “I can sign you up right now on my laptop, and you can take advantage of the ten-percent discount because you RSVPed,” she offers with a toothy smile.

  Portia’s nostrils flare at the comment. “You can’t charge for this party!”

  “Why not? All earnings will be given to charity,” Barb explains in a sweet voice. “Principal Stinson, bless him”—she places her hand on her heart—“allowed us to put up this table and hand out information about the party to increase awareness and participation.”

  “But…but… I was invited!”

  When her hand slams on the table, Barb doesn’t even flinch. “Hmmm, Portia Collins, right? Let me check the list.”

  Barb turns and glances at Kellan, who rolls his eyes, but I catch a devilish glint in hers while she picks up the printed-out list.

  “Hm, Portia Collins, Portia Collins, where could you be. Oh, dear!” she exclaims excitedly as if she found Portia’s name.

  The backstabbing wolf exhales happily.

  “Looks like you’re not on it!” Barb finally lets herself break into a giggle and shakes her head.

  Portia’s face is priceless.

  Darcy laughs while my hand flies to cover my mouth.

  Oh My Big Guy! Hell is about to break loose.

  “In fact”—Barb’s brow furrows—“didn’t you send the entire school a message yesterday about you hosting a party on Friday?” she innocently asks before Portia can open her mouth to argue.

  Portia’s anger vanishes as she blanches.

  Barb pulls her cell phone out. “Yeah, I could swear I read a message like that yesterday,” she says absentmindedly while moving her fingers across the screen as if searching for it. “I hope our gathering doesn’t mess up your party,” she adds for good measure.

  Wow, remind me never to cross Barbara. If she wanted to, she could run the entire school with that fierce attitude.

  I feel a brief pang of sympathy for Portia. I want to feel sorry for her, but then again, she put herself in this position. Barbara’s simply pointing out the fact that her not coming to the party is one hundred percent Portia’s fault.

  “Yeah, um…well,” Portia stutters, picking up her backpack.

  “Oh!” Barb says with a high-pitched voice. “There must be some mistake!” Her hand flies to her mouth as she turns her gaze back to Portia. “Why does the address in your message sound familiar?”

  “Umm…well… I need to leave.” Portia turns on her heel and hurries away from the table.

  “Thought so.” Barbara eyes Kellan and raises an eyebrow.

  “We need to make sure to delete the address in the message, or at least change it.” Kellan points at Barb’s phone.

  Barbara chuckles. “Or make a hell of a marketing job on this party.” She bites her lip.

  Kellan pulls her closer and kisses her on the forehead. “Just stay inside the budget.”

  “Stupid budget.” She pouts, trying to sway him

  He just chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve done a lot more with less.”

  She turns her head and surveys the cafeteria, her eyes settling on a table.

  “Time to give some free invites.” She stands and smooths her skirt. “Knightley!” she calls toward a t
able, gaining the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. “Come over here, I have something with your name on it!”

  She raises the hand holding the invites and fans herself with them.

  Knightley stands. He eyes the rest of the crowd as if he expects somebody else to join him, but when Barb points her finger at him, he walks over to her, his handsome smile widening as she talks to him.

  “Perhaps I can help with the marketing.” Darcy glances at me and winks. “Be right back!”

  She gets up, walks to where Joy sits, and whispers something in Joy’s ear, making her laugh and nod.

  Joy takes an invitation, writes something on it, and hands it to her.

  “Ugh, good thing it’s Thursday.” Darcy returns to the table, grabbing her backpack. “One more day until the party!”

  I take mine and follow, catching up with her, wondering what she told Joy to get an extra invitation. “What did you do?”

  “Well, there’s no better way to get some extra marketing than by bribing the one who controls it all.” She bites her lip and tilts her head toward a girl with big glasses, eating alone while reading a book.

  When Darcy reaches the table, she gives the girl a light tap on the shoulder.

  “Becky?” Darcy calls, getting the girl’s attention.

  Becky turns and eyes my friend, pushing her glasses up her nose, her ponytail moving from side to side. She smiles, revealing a set of braces.

  She looks exactly like what I imagined a nerd would.

  Sorry, Big Guy. I know it’s a stereotype, but it’s the truth.

  “I need a favor from you,” Darcy says.

  “How may I help you?” she replies, revealing a beautiful, sweet, and gentle voice.

  Aww, she speaks like a Disney Princess.

  “We need one of your fabulous articles on your blog, Facebook page, and even Twitter. For the party.” Darcy points toward the information table where more people are now gathered.

  Becky glances at it, then turns toward Darcy. “I don’t understand.”

  “We need you to make the party sound like the social event of the school year.” She hands over the invitation.

  Becky’s eyes widen when she gets a hold of it, her features coming alive.

  Finally, I read what Joy wrote on it: Becky’s name and a special request to come to the party.

  “That’s tomorrow,” she points out with a smile.

  “And I know you’re that good,” Darcy says.

  “I won’t deny it!” She puts her invitation into her backpack. “Consider it done!”

  “Excellent!” Darcy gives her a thumbs-up, walking backward to where I stand. “Sammie, give her a thumbs-up,” she whispers the moment she reaches me.

  Okay?

  I do as she asks, earning a bigger smile from Becky, “the one who controls it all,” as Darcy called her.

  “Samantha?”

  My head snaps in the direction the voice comes from, and I see Archie walking up towards us.

  “Allow me to escort you to your Spanish class,” he offers, taking my backpack from me.

  “There’s no need.” I stretch out my hand, trying to steal it back. “I can get to class without any problem.”

  “Well, you can, but some vultures are on the hunt for a free invite.” He pulls my backpack closer to his body. “My duty as a knight is to protect my Lady Twinkle Toes from such horrid beasts.”

  Annoyed, I pout and narrow my eyes.

  Ugh, Big Guy. When he gets in knight mode, no one can dissuade him.

  “My Lady Fray, may I help take the weight off your shoulders as well?” he asks Darcy, who laughs at his words.

  “Thank you, Sir Herondale.” She giggles and hands him her backpack.

  “Always a pleasure to protect such a talented Nephilim.” He places the backpack on his shoulder, then turns toward me. “And such a beautiful lady,” he adds with a wink.

  What is he even talking about?

  Spanish class seems to move at a snail’s pace, or a paso de tortuga as Miss Esperanza referred to it when one student mentioned it during our read out loud spelling bee practice.

  The terrifying list with all the words finally arrives, making our stomachs drop straight to the floor when we realize four hundred words is a lot. The worst part is, we need to spell with the proper phonetic sound in Spanish for each letter.

  Big Guy, at least my brain will finally learn a little bit of Español.

  “Roll your tongue longer with the double r,” she explains while doing an example, making it sound like such an easy task. Which it’s not. “Repeat after me: los fierros del ferrocarril.”

  Honest to the Big Guy, no matter how hard I try, the result still sounds pathetic.

  “Flap your tongue against the roof of your mouth,” she insists. “Place the tip of your tongue on your palate where you would put it to pronounce t or n in English.”

  I do exactly as she said.

  “Okay, now, exhale through your mouth, allowing your tongue to vibrate against your palate.”

  After following her instructions, I feel there’s a slight improvement, but I still have a long way to go before reaching her level of expertise. At least the rest of my classmates are in the same situation.

  “Señorita Becerra?” a male voice interrupts our poor attempts.

  I turn to glare at the guy who managed to get the perfect tongue toll to pronounce the r and double r on Miss Esperanza’s name. My glare quickly changes to a goofy look, though, when I spot Samuel standing at the door.

  Come to think of it, the double r does sound sexy on him.

  Grrr!

  Nuts! I can’t even get that one right!

  Miss Esperanza’s head snaps toward the classroom entrance, and her smile widens. “¡Señor Solis, bienvenido! Would you be kind enough to repeat, los fierros del ferrocarril?”

  Samuel chuckles but immediately repeats the phrase with a perfect accent.

  Darn it!

  “Bravo, Señor Solis, that was beautiful!” She applauds. “Everybody, please continue practicing while I tend to him.” She indicates Samuel, stepping closer to the door.

  Frankly, Big Guy, he’s totally cheating. He already knows how to speak Spanish, so it shouldn’t count!

  Miss Esperanza talks to him, then her eyes set on me. “Señorita Melbourne, please come over here.” She motions with her hand for me to join them. “Bring your backpack,” she adds when I stand.

  Every single eye turns toward me—not something I enjoy. I take my bag and walk over, avoiding looking at my classmates and focusing my gaze on the floor.

  When I reach the door, I glance at Miss Esperanza.

  “Repeat after me. Los fierros del ferrocarril,” she says.

  The result doesn’t sound promising. Whatever comes from my mouth is far from what she said, making my classmates laugh.

  Miss Esperanza turns toward them and narrows her eyes. “Like you can all do any better.”

  The class quickly quiets down.

  “Samantha, can you do an impression of a cat purring?” Samuel asks.

  Not wanting to be the classroom joke once again, I shake my head.

  “Trust me,” he says with a smile.

  Oh, Big Guy!

  Closing my eyes, I do my best attempt at a purr. My tongue slightly vibrates against my palate, just like Miss Esperanza said it should when pronouncing a double r.

  My eyes snap open.

  He smiles. “Put more force into it. That will help to mark the sound.”

  Following his instruction earns me a happy clap from Miss Esperanza. “That was perfect! Or should I say purrfect? Thank you, Miss Melbourne. You may leave with Mr. Solis.”

  She steps to one side and motions with her hand toward the door.

  “Now, the rest of you, time to purr,” she addresses the group.

  Following Samuel out of the classroom, I resume my purring, practicing to perfect it.

  “Time to dance,” he declares once we reach the
main hall.

  “Weren’t you going to skip classes today to practice?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yes,” he replies, “but after the whole mess with the party, I don’t want to leave you alone during ballet with Portia.”

  Well, you plan to leave me alone with them when you go to your presentation. How is this any different?

  “I spoke with Monsieur Pietro and explained we need to leave early today and tomorrow. He didn’t agree until I promised him to arrive early both days,” he explains. “Plus, he wants us to show him the routine we practiced during our free time.”

  My eyes widen as I wonder which one he means from all the ones we’ve worked on.

  “Nothing you should worry about. You already know all the choreography by heart.” He winks. “Plus, Maria appreciates having a different set of eyes to critic our technique.”

  Oh, nuts!

  After changing, we warm up and quickly practice the routines for the school dance.

  It feels strange to have Monsieur Pietro’s critical eye finally one hundred percent on us. He quickly spots mistakes, and his perfectionism could give Maria a run for her money.

  At the end of practice, he gives us one of his rare smiles and nods in approval with the result. A few dancers arrive, indicating our time is up.

  “Monsieur Pietro?” Samuel quickly asks before he dismisses us. “I was wondering if I could get your opinion on a personal project.”

  He nods and patiently waits while Samuel plugs his phone in and asks one of the guys who already arrived to play the music once he cues him.

  Samuel runs to where I stand.

  He whispers to me the choreography we’ll perform, “Out of the Woods.”

  My head snaps up, eyes big as saucers, hoping he’s joking.

  He winks and goes to a spot on the other side of the dance floor.

  Why the hardest one?

  Dragging my behind to the other side of the room, I mentally prepare for the complexity of the steps the choreography requires.

  The story of the dance explains something about a couple finding each other after a quarrel.

  When the first notes of the song play, Samuel nods, indicating we need to start.

  We move slowly, meeting at the center of the stage, mixing ballet with contemporary. Our steps start slow and easy, this part a basic pas de deux. The trick here lies in the girl completely trusting her partner to do the lifts because her focus needs to go to properly finishing her lines, otherwise it would appear messy and amateur.