The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1)

by Dela

  She laughed. “He’s created his own hell with his professional book-smart thinking, hasn’t he?”

  “Just how book smart is he?”

  “Would two masters, four bachelors, and degrees in medicine and law count?”

  My breath stumbled out in small gasps. “Did he ever practice anything?”

  “Not once.”

  “Why?”

  She gripped the wheel gently with her delicate hand. “Because he couldn’t focus. His life revolved around finding you.”

  I slid my hands between my knees and shivered, feeling more selfish than ever. “Do you think this is permanent?”

  “I don’t know. He’s too worried he could ruin everything if he involves himself with you.”

  “And I’m not?”

  Her eyes narrowed at me. “Good point.”

  Gabriella pulled onto my street long before dusk. The snow that had piled over my wagon was gone, and two snowmen had appeared on my neighbors’ lawn. I was glad my car was useful for something.

  “Anyway, Dylan and I think it’s a good idea if you two take some time off from each other. I can take you to school until we get out for winter break.”

  “Thank you, Gabriella.”

  Her smile was comforting. “De nada.”

  Dark clouds covered the valley the next morning when Gabriella and Tita showed up promptly at seven. Gabriella was dressed appropriately today, with black boots over shrink-wrap pants and a long sweater woven with gold thread. I looked twice at my last-year’s clothes: a white sweater and jeans so thin there were holes at the knees.

  At lunch, I told Tita I needed a break and sat with my friends. It was nice sitting with humans. Their conversations were normal, nothing to do with blood or power, or about how different I was. I felt my life coming back until Ashley began asking strange questions.

  “So Zara, is it true that Lucas imports his shampoo?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Well, he does have the best hair in school—sorry, Hayden.”

  Hayden reached for his hair, a hamburger in his other hand, and humphed. Tana leaned in enthusiastically. Her hair was curly and stiff with way too much hairspray.

  “I heard he imports it from Brazil and that he pays a hundred dollars a pop,” she said.

  “What? No, you’re wrong. Who would do that? That’s ridiculous,” I remarked.

  I glanced at where they waited on the other side of the cafeteria. Gabriella was trying to contain a laugh, while Lucas looked upset.

  “He’s crushing on you like mad,” Tommy noted from the far side of the table.

  A cough erupted from the back of my throat. I chugged a big gulp of juice and cleared my throat.

  “No, he isn’t,” I said, but blushed with mortification when I noticed Lucas’s mouth crack and form soft dimples in his cheeks. I looked away.

  “Zara, what is the deal with their tattoos?” Jett asked before shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. I’d forgotten that eating with boys was sometimes like feeding time at the circus.

  “What do you mean, ‘what is the deal’?”

  “What do they mean?” he clarified.

  “I don’t know, Jett. That’s a good question. Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

  My response shut him up for the moment, but then he asked, “Is something wrong with your car?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you riding to school with Enrique every day?”

  I pursed my lips, bothered by the name-calling.

  “You seem to be awfully quiet for someone who spends a lot of time with them,” Tommy said.

  The sip I had just swallowed got stuck as my throat contracted. It inched its way down with painful slowness. Afterward, when I could breathe again, I stood up.

  “See you guys later,” I said.

  Jett looked confused. “Where you going?”

  “For a walk.”

  Tita had already turned toward me.

  “It’s a blizzard out there,” Jett stated, bewildered.

  “Well then, nothing will change, will it?”

  I pulled my coat on, gathered my stuff, and walked outside. I hadn’t expected this storm from such a calm morning. Strong wind pushed me toward the outside tables. I heard a whisper and spun to follow it, but the whizzing flakes created an opaque wall.

  Something grabbed my left arm, and I screamed.

  “Zara!” Tita’s voice was almost mute in the storm, and I could barely see her through the tangled flurries. “Come inside!”

  She escorted me inside to an empty hall, where Lucas leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked so dashing, all in black with his bright blue sneakers, and a part of me was mad that I was excited to talk to him again.

  “I let you go for one minute, and see what happens? I’m sorry, but I cannot grant your wish. You are stuck with me until this is all over. You’re coming home with me after class.”

  “Whatever.” I started walking in the opposite direction.

  “Where are you going?” he called.

  “Back to class. I still have two more hours of school.”

  A gust of wind blew the damp hair off my shoulders. Lucas suddenly appeared in front of me, so close that I could smell his imported shampoo. There was spice in it. I took another deep breath to identify it as he leaned in with a smirk.

  “It’s the ginger,” he said with lazy eyes. “And no, I don’t import my shampoo from Brazil. You forget that I can hear you.”

  “Actually, I did not forget.” I rolled my eyes and pushed past him. He stopped in front of me again with another gust of wind, leaning in closer this time.

  “You are coming with me right now,” he ordered.

  “What’s going on?” Jett remarked.

  Lucas and I glanced at him, the snowflakes waging war behind his back as he approached. I stepped sideways.

  “Nothing, Jett. Go away,” I said.

  Jett stopped at Lucas’s side and looked up with a territorial look. “Leave Zara alone.”

  Lucas raised his eyebrows with disbelief when I grabbed Jett’s arm quickly. “Jett, just go. Please.”

  He shrugged my hand away and got in Lucas’s face. “Comprende, Fernando?”

  “Jett, stop!”

  Lucas tucked his fingers into fists. “If you ever touch Zara again, I will hurt you.”

  They were ridiculous. Blue versus green. It was a Jedi battle waiting to happen, both fighting over the same possession—though I was certain Jett would lose, and fairly quickly. Jett finally stepped away, preserving the remainder of his dignity, and turned to me with a bewildered expression. “I’m looking out for you, Zara. Be careful.” Then he turned back into the slushy wind and disappeared.

  “We’re leaving. Now,” Lucas insisted.

  My knees suddenly went weak. “How?”

  He perked up, almost laughing. “I can carry you, or you can walk,” he joked.

  I groped for words as I followed him outside to the parking lot, where he shielded me from the storm with his jacket. It was toasty inside the car, but I observed that the storm gave us privacy as well. I couldn’t see past his speckled windshield.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he cranked the heat to the highest setting. “I never should have reacted the way I did. And I’m sorry I ever made you cry.”

  His eyes were swelling, but he chuckled ironically, tilting his head back as he looked up at the padded ceiling while his Adam’s apple moved slowly downward. He reached for his dark hair and tugged. “Know what’s funny? You wish to be rid of me, and I wish to be with you.”

  “Lucas, I don’t . . .”

  He turned to me in our bubble. “My family admitted to me last night how much you cried. All those nights—” He choked. The lump in his throat stilled. He turne
d to the whiteout outside.

  “Lucas, it’s not what you think. I wasn’t crying because I want to be rid of you. I cried because I wanted you to act on how you felt.”

  “I can’t.”

  His anguished face was unbearable, and it was my turn to look away, ashamed to be putting him through this torture. “I know.”

  “I have always been able to do whatever I’ve set myself to do, except with you. You are the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Do I take that as cruel irony or flattery?”

  He smiled a little and then fell silent, lifting his hand to touch my hair gently. The warm tingle made me lean into him. “You are the only person I would do this for.”

  “I know,” I repeated in a whisper.

  Then his hand cupped my cheek softly, and I grabbed his wrist for strength. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Never leave me,” I said.

  “I promise.”

  The car was a furnace, forcing me to move away from his warm touch. As I was turning down the heat his phone rang, if only for half a beat before he answered it. A moment passed, and he became distraught. His fingers combed distractingly through his dewy hair.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s Andrés. He says to go home. If the executioners came while we were driving in these conditions, we wouldn’t be fast enough.”

  A minute later Lucas was shifting gears and driving away. “Are your parents home?”

  “They are both at the shop.”

  “Then I will wait with you until Valentina can come for the night watch.”

  He looked at his watch as he wheeled onto our barely visible driveway a few minutes later. “She should be here soon.”

  “Why do you call your parents by their first names?” I asked.

  “I’ve spent enough time away from them that it became natural.”

  A loud boom of thunder overhead made me jerk. Lucas slowly rolled his eyes to the sky.

  “The Milky Way’s dark rift is aligning with the sun. There’s only two weeks left until Solstice. If the weather stays like this, you will come straight home after class,” he said.

  I nodded as the pushing wind whistled inside the car.

  “Have you had more problems with blacking out?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Good.” He sat up and looked behind him. “She’s pulling into the neighborhood.”

  I followed his eyes to the back windows but could only see the inside of his clean car. The wall of whiteness outside blocked my view of the street. I grabbed my bag and shuffled my hand through the junk in search of the house key. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  His smile was a wide beam spread from cheek to cheek. “Claro.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, opening the door.

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, right.” I grinned, though it felt funny, and then hurriedly closed the door.

  Inside, I went straight to the window of my room and looked out. Valentina’s red Mercedes was at the curb across the street, polka-dotted by the storm’s swelling bluster. I grabbed my phone to send Lucas a text.

  For what it’s worth, I wish it were you outside my window tonight.

  I’m here, no matter where my body is.

  Oh . . .

  Does that bother you? I can switch with Valentina if it helps you feel better.

  Not bothered, I’m just working through some things. It’s just that . . .

  Just what?

  Never mind, have a good night.

  Now you’ve got me thinking real hard, not possible to rest . . .

  I turned for the bathroom and cleaned my makeup off. I hadn’t planned to reply, but my phone beeped again.

  Don’t be shy . . .I need to know . . .

  It’s embarrassing.

  I’m coming over.

  NO!! I’ll tell . . .

  Time passed as I waited for the courage to say how I now felt about him. It scared me that he didn’t scare me anymore. It scared me how in I was. I rolled onto my back and stretched, smiling as the embarrassment got the best of me. I pictured him distracting himself while he waited for me. There wouldn’t be any rug left if he kept picking at it like he had when I was there. Another beep sounded from the edge of the bed.

  Really?? Is it really that bad?

  We need to work on your patience.

  You’re killing me.

  I’m not into you for your body. I mean, I like your body, but I like your brain too, as stupid as it is sometimes . . . oh gosh, can’t believe I just said that. This is so bad, isn’t it? What I’m trying to say is . . . I feel calm when you’re near. And you never judge me for something that I feel might upset you. Sorry, I know this sounds stupid.

  I know exactly what you mean. I feel the same. Only difference . . . I’m infatuated with your brain . . . you’re perfect, Zara Moss.

  So truce?

  Si, muñeca. Truce.

  I set the phone down and rolled over. I wanted to know what things he’d done that I wouldn’t judge him for. I knew we were an unlikely pair, but pieces of me thrived on our togetherness, our witty remarks, and our flirty texts. I felt I had a pretty good idea of who Lucas was, but—not now, but sooner rather than later—he’d have to tell me everything about himself. That wall needed to be broken down.

  As the gale weeks passed, training stopped, winter break came, and I spent every waking hour at home with Lucas. I didn’t understand it, but I felt dingy. It was a sort of darkness that webbed within, making the bright wintry weather seem dreary. Dylan saw it as a blessing because it seemed to have replaced my blackouts, but I didn’t feel myself.

  I knew I really wasn’t right when I woke up on December twenty-first, the day before Solstice, ran to the toilet first thing, and heaved. Nothing came out, but I was pale in the mirror, and I felt dehydrated. My lips were chapped. I rubbed my arms and went back to my room, where the air felt stagnant and cold. I shivered again and thought about packing for Mexico, but instead I put my phone on silent and fell back asleep.

  It was dark outside when I woke, and a rainbow of colors from the Christmas lights on the roof lit my room. I heard Mom return from the mall, and though I curled into a tighter ball on my bed, there came a knock on my door.

  “Zara, Lucas is downstairs,” she called.

  I checked my cell on the pillow. There were eight missed calls from him.

  “Coming,” I moaned.

  Mom was waiting at my door. “You look horrible. What happened to you?”

  “Nothing did. I just woke up.”

  “Well, you look it.”

  I ignored her and made my shaky way downstairs, wrapping my sweater around my waist. Lucas was sitting in the high-back chair in the living room but stood as I approached.

  He gave me a funny look. “Are you okay?”

  “Why does everybody keep asking me that?”

  He took a step closer. “Have you packed?”

  “Not exactly.”

  I could tell he was waiting for Mom to leave. He leaned in and whispered, “Andrés will be out front tonight. I just needed to see how you were doing.”

  “I feel funny,” I responded.

  I stared at his blue shoes while the roiling in my stomach surged.

  “Nausea?”

  I crossed my arms over my queasy belly. “I feel like I’ve been poisoned.”

  He lifted my chin gently. “Just try and get some rest tonight.”

  “You should too,” I said.

  He chuckled. “That’s not going to happen.”

  When Mom moved to the family room and gave us some privacy, I started panicking. “I’m confused about tomorrow. How can we leave for Mexico if the executioners haven’t come yet?”

  “They will com
e. Trust me.”

  “But . . .”

  “Zara. Enough. Let it go. Have faith, please, because this is completely out of your control,” he pleaded.

  I looked down, unsure if I should say it, but sure enough to speak. “I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you and your family. If things get badly . . .”

  “Never.”

  “Lucas, you have to think clearly here.”

  He grabbed my shoulders and squeezed gently. “I’m not sure I’m the one not thinking clearly. Listen to yourself . . . leave you . . . let you go?”

  My stomach tightened. I bent over it and winced. “Yes, I want you to promise me you’ll let me go if any of you are at risk of dying.”

  “We don’t die.”

  “You know what I mean.” I snapped.

  He lifted my chin again to meet my gaze. A soft tickle formed where our skin met. His soft eyes understood, comforting me enough to relax my muscles and stand straight.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “We have taken extra measures to make sure you are protected.”

  “Like what?”

  He looked at his watch and took a step toward the door. “I have to go. I will come get you when it is time.”

  “When?” My voice quivered as I followed him.

  “Whenever the executioners decide to come.” He shrugged carelessly and pivoted to the door. “But pack, please.”

  I shook my head again, scared that he was leaving.

  “I will see you soon.” There was a silent pause, and then he slanted his head down to kiss my cheek and slid outside before I could recover.

  Packing was impossible. When I realized I had debated on which pair of shorts to bring for ten minutes, I gave up and slid into the chilled bed. What would it matter if I wasn’t alive? Underneath the peacock-colored flannel, I prayed for the slightest bit of sleep, but it was impossible on my deathbed.

  At midnight the fear subsided, and I finally fell into unconsciousness. In my dream, there were no visions of chestnuts roasting or sugarplums dancing. There was a bitter blackness that consumed me until I found myself staring at a face I’d only seen once before: the handsome, dark-haired man with the chiseled face from my blackouts. The one who brought the dagger down into those girls’ chests. He seemed to be looking at me as his mouth creased in an evil grin. You’re mine, he mouthed as my body swayed back and forth.