Mouth agape, Rachael could only think, Well . . . perfect. At least she knew exactly where she stood with Coleen.
With their peers rapidly filtering away to class or lunch, it was increasingly easier to hear the two exchange words. “Looks can be deceiving,” Coleen said shortly.
“Or in your case, telling,” replied Holden. “Aren’t you an only child? It looks like your baby sister did your makeup.”
That got the attention of the lingering few in the hall. Boys and girls alike were watching with keen interest. Rachael looked around desperately, wondering why no teachers were present.
Now that she had a captive audience, Coleen slapped him.
Rachael only had a space to inhale sharply before Holden slapped her back. The impact wasn’t as loud; Coleen’s head didn’t even move. Chaos erupted anyway.
“Dude!”
“What the hell, man?”
Coleen’s outraged shriek drowned everyone else out. “How dare you!” Her face was blotchy through her makeup. Rachael could almost envision the mascara and lipstick dribbling off from the radiating heat.
Teachers and students were pouring out in spite of the warning bell. Three girls and a guy both flocked to Coleen, a mixture of confusion, anger, and uncertain glances aimed at Holden. An adult Rachael recognized as a teacher by face but not name swept past them all and confronted the feuding two.
Had it been a man, Coleen might have wept immediately, but for a woman she continued her outrage.
“He slapped me,” Coleen accused.
Shrugging, Holden replied, “She hit me first.”
“Great,” the teacher said irritably. “Principal’s office. Now.” She clapped her hands above her head, shouting, “The rest of you, back to class, back to lunch. Show’s over.”
Rachael flattened herself against the nearest locker as Holden and Coleen were steered toward her. The thin metal rattling quietly made her realize she was shaking as though she were coming down from a particularly intense adrenaline high.
Before he passed, Holden caught her eye again. “Later?” he murmured. Rachael nodded dumbly.
There was a possibility Coleen had the mind to do it anyway, but Rachael would never know exactly why the other girl halted and jabbed a finger at her. “She started this. She called me a whore.”
Rachael’s fury spiked. “Excuse me?”
Angrily, Holden interjected, “No, you called her a whore.”
“Enough,” the teacher snapped. “You’ll sort this out with Mr. Selby. You too,” she added to Rachael.
Rachael followed woodenly, staring at her feet and trying not to show how mortified she felt. How had going to lunch culminated in this? This was easily the third worst day she could recall. Plus it was Holden’s fault.
While Coleen complained to the principal behind closed doors, Rachael told Holden so.
Keeping his voice low, he said, “Why third worst?”
Rachael frowned. “You don’t care this is your fault?”
“No, I care,” he assured her. “If I hadn’t hit her, you wouldn’t be here. Completely my bad.”
Unhappy, Rachael sank low in her uncomfortably creaky seat. She could only imagine what sort of debauchery Coleen was weaving now. By the end of the day, word would be circulating about Rachael and Holden strangling Coleen’s kittens together and sharing a row of filthy needles whilst Rachael carried Holden’s unborn child.
Rachael buried her face in her hands.
A hand rested on her shoulder. She jerked back as Holden said, “Quit worrying. This won’t go far. I’ve dealt with people like her before.”
Bitingly, Rachael said, “So this isn’t the first time you’ve hit a girl?”
Holden hesitated. “Well . . . considering how hard she hit and how my ear’s still ringing, I’m not convinced I did just hit a girl.”
In spite of her frustration, Rachael had to bite down on a giggle. She tried to cover it by resting her chin in her hand, but the glimmering mirth in Holden’s eyes told her he’d noticed.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about him slapping another female. That wasn’t to say Coleen hadn’t had some form of comeuppance due. A boy hitting a girl just seemed unsettling and maybe even dangerous.
Then again, Coleen had audibly hit him harder. And Rachael couldn’t deny there was something behind Holden’s simple reasoning behind his taboo action that she sort of liked.
Shifting to straighten her back, Rachael turned to face him. Her voice was hushed as she asked, “Are you really from Switzerland?”
Holden didn’t appear alarmed. Nevertheless, his words were guarded. “What makes you ask?”
“Your brother.”
Grimacing, Holden replied, “Aaron looks at those in his immediate care as his family. We’re not blood related.”
The fact she’d never considered the possibility made Rachael feel foolish. “I see.”
Holden smiled. “But you’re right. Technically, I was born in Hungary. I’ve just moved a lot.”
Puzzled, Rachael inquired, “So why are you an exchange student?”
“Who said I was?” When she fell into an embarrassed silence, Holden added, “It’s not a huge difference, I suppose. I won’t be around town more than a couple years.”
“Probably a good thing, after today.”
“Yup.”
They both sat without speaking as the minutes ticked by. To Rachael’s relief, it was comfortable. For once she didn’t feel the need to keep her head down or make awkward conversation. Holden’s pose was lax. When he met her gaze, he presented her with a friendly wink.
Naturally, that comfort dissipated when the principal’s door opened. Coleen walked out, seemingly demure. The sneer she skewered Rachael with told otherwise.
Mr. Selby waited until Coleen was gone before turning to Rachael. “Come on in, Ms. Adair.”
Heart pounding and uneaten sack lunch in hand, Rachael complied. She kept her eyes rigidly forward as Mr. Selby shut the door behind her.
His office was immaculate. Degrees were framed and displayed behind an oak desk that was so aged it must have belonged to the first principal decades ago. Pens, documents, folders, manila envelopes, and a small notebook were all neatly arranged across the surface. The keyboard as pushed to the side. An outdated computer monitor was in screensaver mode, with brilliant ever-changing strings of light dancing in nonsense patterns over the surface.
Mr. Selby eased into his seat and studied her a moment. An older man, he wore an ill-fitted brown suit to match his hair and eyes, with an unremarkable blue plaid tie. He appeared entirely unassuming. Still, he was an authority figure, and that alone made Rachael nervous.
That, and the last time she’d sat in this office had been on the worst day of her life.
Calmly, Mr. Selby said, “So, what happened?”
Trying to keep her voice steady, Rachael verbally re-enacted her version of events. She stammered a few times. He asked her to repeat herself more than once, only adding stress to her short-circuited thoughts.
Rachael hoped she’d never have to let the police interview her. If this was bad, that scenario would turn her into an absolute wreck.
What seemed to last all afternoon couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. When she was done speaking, Mr. Selby said wearily, “Bullying is a grave matter, Ms. Adair. It’s something I have to take very seriously. Detention is usually what I’d assign.” Rachael’s heart sank when he paused to lean back. He tapped a finger against his armrest and then asked, “How is your mother doing?”
She felt as though he’d asked her to eat the toxic larkspur plant. After a deep breath, she managed, “Honestly, not well. Sir.”
Mr. Selby nodded, his eyes softening. “You’re an excellent student, Rachael. And we’ve never had a problem with you before.”
“Yes, sir.”
The principal lowered his voice. “I’ll let you off with a warning. And the advice to steer clear of certain kinds of trouble.”
&n
bsp; Weak with relief, Rachael repeated, “Yes, sir.”
“If, however, further inquiries reveal your involvement, your punishment will be harsher than simply detention, even for a first offense. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
Without blinking, he asked, “Then is there anything you wish to say?”
Rachael shook her head vehemently. “No, sir. Thank you.”
He motioned her out.
In the lobby, Holden was already on his feet. When he saw her expression, he smiled and said, “Not that bad, right?”
Rachael’s smile was forced yet relieved.
“In here, Mr. Cavanaugh,” the principal’s voice called with a ring of impatience.
Rachael escaped to the deserted halls. She’d missed lunch during the whole fiasco, but wasn’t feeling particularly hungry anymore. Numbly, she tossed the full sack in a trash bin before heading back to her locker to retrieve her supplies again.
The rest of the day went by with aching slowness. Fortunately she didn’t see either Coleen or Holden, even as she lingered by the front entrance after the final bell. When Jackson caught up with her, he immediately began drilling her about the incident. Rumors had already circulated about a salacious love triangle and Coleen trying to defend Rachael’s honor. Rachael wearily disputed everything on the way home, and again when she walked through the front door.
Of course the school had called her father. And of course he was upset—not because Rachael had allegedly been involved, but because the call had been taken by her mother.
“She was worried sick. Damn near had a heart attack! You know how bad stress is for her.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Her father loomed over her at a husky six foot two. Not even a year ago he’d been a bulky, sun-darkened man with a booming voice and relentless steel grey eyes. Since then he’d put on more fat than muscle. These days he frequently forgot to shave. His beard and hair were lined with more grey than brown.
Rachael stood awkwardly in the foyer, her backpack still on her shoulder. Jackson had immediately vanished to his room. Their father was one person he refused to agitate. So Rachael stood alone, meekly allowing Henry Adair to berate her for stressing out his wife.
When he finally cooled from angry to stern, Rachael dared to shrug off her backpack. She stared at his chest, the only part of him at her eye level, and said softly, “May I go apologize to Mama?”
Henry heaved a sigh and stepped out of her way. “Do that. Then go to your room. Dinner’s at seven.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Rachael dragged her backpack upstairs, dropping it just inside the doorway of her room. Then she continued down the hall and stopped just outside the master bedroom. The door was shut, but she could hear soft strains of old country music. Her mother’s favorite.
Rachael closed her eyes, inhaling deep and slow. She counted her own heartbeats before letting out an explosive breath. It didn’t matter what she did to psych herself; she was never fully prepared to see her mother anymore.
Her hands cold and trembling, Rachael opened the door.
Chapter Six
Going for a stroll in the woods was worse than being summoned to the study. Since Aaron kept his human form, Holden did likewise. But human or lycan, the imminent threat was the same.
When they were far enough away from the house and listening ears, Aaron finally spoke. “When I told you to keep an eye on that girl, what part of that task involved hitting another female student?”
Holden’s shoulders tensed at the iciness in his superior’s voice. With strained calm, he said, “Nothing specifically.”
Aaron stopped in his tracks. He whirled to face Holden, his dark eyes expectant and mouth set in a severe line.
To explain, Holden continued, “This girl, Coleen, has it out for Rachael. I don’t know why yet. But it’s obvious. All I did was try to meet up with Rachael. Coleen got angry and called her a whore. She didn’t like my witty response and hit me. I barely tapped her.”
“And got suspended,” said Aaron flatly.
“Nothing’s going to happen in a week.”
“You had best hope not.” Aaron’s body went still but for his eyes. After a few moments of concentration, Holden heard it as well. A small animal, probably a possum or rabbit, was sniffing its way in their general direction.
Aaron looked back at him. Casually unbuttoning the cuffs of his navy blue dress shirt. “What about that girl you hit?”
Rolling his eyes, Holden said, “That wasn’t a girl. That was She-Hulk. Or a dude.”
“How certain of this are you?” inquired Aaron.
It took Holden a split second to realize he was being mocked. Darkly, he said, “I didn’t cup-check her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Hitting a woman is embarrassing enough without being crude,” Aaron agreed. He meticulously rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. After ensuring the shirt was still tucked in, he said, “Well?”
Reluctantly, Holden said, “She was suspended for two days.”
Aaron nodded. He removed his loafers and socks, careful to tuck the socks well into the shoes before crouching to set them down neatly in the grass. He looked up at Holden from beneath his dark eyebrows. “And Rachael?”
“Given a warning. I think more about avoiding Coleen than actual trouble.” Holden frowned. From the sound of Rachael and Selby’s conversation, she had a quiet and spotless record. The two also seemed to have an understanding of sorts about Rachael’s mother.
He jolted out of his reverie as Aaron suddenly repositioned. His leader remained in a crouch, his left leg pointing toward the sound the animal had made earlier.
“Are you aware,” began Aaron casually, “what information is readily available on the internet?”
Holden had to bite his tongue to suppress a sarcastic comeback. Instead, he said, “Yeah, some.”
“Including people. Family history. Genealogy.”
“Yes.”
Aaron motioned for him to hush. Obediently, Holden clamped his mouth shut and waited. His alpha wasn’t in wolf form, but he was nearly as dangerous. Aaron had been at this for so long, he managed to incorporate much of his wolf strength in a human body, as well as retain a human’s reasoning in wolf form, even if he didn’t always go out of his way to prove it. Aaron’s senses were keen; honed to utmost perfection.
So it didn’t surprise Holden when Aaron pounced and disappeared into a tangle of bushes. After a squeak and a gruesome snap, Aaron climbed out of the mess holding something brown, furry, and quite dead. He handed it to his charge, stating, “You will cook this tonight. You will also cook tomorrow, Friday, and each day and night until your suspension is up.”
“Understood,” said Holden briefly.
With that, a lot of the tension appeared to drain from Aaron. His posture became more lax. “The point I was getting to earlier is that I have managed to dig up some tidbits on our local Adairs. What have you not told me yet?”
“Nothing I can confirm,” said Holden.
Nodding, Aaron bent down to retrieve his footwear. “Rachael and Jackson have a gravely ill mother.”
An emotion of an even mixture of fear and anger spilled into Holden. His voice brittle, he said, “You can’t seriously be thinking about turning them if she dies.”
“I did not make her sick,” snapped Aaron. “And no, that is not my immediate intent.”
“Then what the hell is?”
Leaning in, his breath smelling of old clove cigarettes, Aaron growled, “To understand her.” Before Holden could think of a response, Aaron spun and stalked back to the house.
Holden shut his eyes, cradling the pack’s dead meal in his hands. Poor, stupid Rachael, he thought. Oddly enough, he didn’t just pity her now. He actually felt apprehensive for and a little protective of her. Now, when he thought of her as stupid, it had a skosh of affection to it.
Unfortunately for Rachael, whatever else Aaron was learning, his affinity for the girl was becoming stronger. Th
e girl who seemed to treasure her privacy and solitude was likely to lose it all very soon.
At the tender age of fifteen, Sheila Hendricks had led her high school to several victories with her impeccable records on the track team. Her graduating class had rewarded her yearbook photo with, “Most Vivacious Smile.” Nearly every club picture had her eyes sparkling through the faded hues. She’d also been one of the four Homecoming Princesses.
While attending a community college, Sheila had met a mild-mannered man who had traveled across the country as a child before touching base in her home town. His gentle yet firm ways charmed her. After a college courtship, they married just weeks after graduating. He found work with construction contractors, while Sheila found her belly swollen with their first child. After the birth of their son, the life of a stay-at-home mom took well to her; so well, in fact, that she also gave birth to a daughter shortly thereafter. For the next sixteen years she raised their children on her husband’s modest income.
One day, after weeks of fretting, she went in to the doctor’s office to inquire why her stomach was rounding firmly without any other signs of pregnancy. It wasn’t too long before she was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
Two hours later, Jackson and Rachael Adair were pulled from class to learn that their mother had limited time left on earth. A median of ten years was the best they could offer.
These days Rachael had to look at older photographs to remember what her mother looked like before. After chemotherapy, Sheila’s hair had fallen out. When that didn’t work, a bone marrow transplant had been in order. The problem was finding a donor, and Sheila had quietly but adamantly refused to allow her children to do it. Her husband hadn’t fought her. Then again, he hadn’t once challenged her since the diagnosis. Now Sheila was oftentimes too tired to leave her room. Her hair was growing back, short and soft like a fluff of down on her head. The healthy weight she’d put on after her second child was completely gone; her cheeks, elbows, and hands were almost naked bone beneath translucent skin.
Still her warmth and optimism remained. Beneath the dark circles of her eyes, Rachael’s mother smiled brilliantly when her daughter walked in the room.
Howl of the Sequoia (Secrets of the Sequoia Book 1) Page 5