“Good luck with that,” I say. My dark chestnut hair is staying exactly as it is.
Jen smiles optimistically—foolish girl—and hurries away from us. I can’t focus on her for very long, though, not with Lance pulling me against his chest more tightly now that she’s gone. He drops a kiss on my forehead, and I lift my chin hoping he will move down to my lips. Kissing Lance is about the only thing that will take my mind off tonight. To my satisfaction, Lance does bring his mouth to meet mine, but the brief touch does nothing to soothe me.
“What’s wrong with your hair?” Lance asks.
Hair, I can talk about hair. Maybe.
“It’s not curled and hairsprayed and poofed a mile off my head like hers.”
Lance twists a lock of my long hair around his finger and smiles. “Don’t get me wrong, I love your hair how it is, but would curls really be such a bad thing? It’s been a long time.”
“Don’t,” I warn him, my tone making it perfectly clear that we are done talking about hair. Lance sighs and lets the strand fall. There’s still a gentle pressure in his eyes, like there always is when this topic comes up, but this is not an argument I’m willing to have. Seeing that, Lance switches topics.
He reaches into his jeans pocket for something hidden there, and says, “By the way, happy sixteenth birthday, Libby.”
“I suppose it was too much to hope for that you’d forget,” I say.
Lance shakes his head with the mischievous smile I adore. I wish I could skip this day entirely, but my eyes wander down to his hand as he slides it from his pocket. The hint of something sparkly sets my insides fluttering wildly. I can barely suppress the excited giggle rising in my chest. He always knows just how to make me smile. He has since we were little.
The silver chain pulls free and dangles in front of me. I watch the pendant dance. Its two blades of wheat, single butterfly, and a sinuous snake that wraps around the other two glitter in the muted light. The sign for Naturalism. Like Jen, he believes my assertion that it is my talent, my only talent. A faint flash of guilt runs through me before I can smother it and put on an enthusiastic smile that isn’t totally false. Lance grins at my reaction and fastens the necklace around my neck. His hands stay there and pull me closer for a kiss. The heat of his lips on mine burns away my fear and anxiety, replacing it with warmth and comfort.
I want more. I want to stay locked in this sphere of imagined perfection for the rest of my life. The need to breathe pulls Lance back too soon. I slump against my locker in disappointment despite how wonderful his kisses make me feel. Lingering with his head touched lightly against mine, his hands stay behind my neck as well. My eyes stray to the blade strapped to his left wrist. The only weapons allowed on campus, the sign that he is a member of the Guardian class always makes me shiver.
Not wanting to dwell on what that knife is meant to do, I turn my head and find myself staring at the perfectly even and symmetrical row of scarred flesh on his right wrist. The diktats look like scars, but scars would never be so perfect. And no one would survive having their wrist sliced vertically so many times. Without meaning to, my fingers stray to the diktats and gently brush across the seven marks. Two for his talents, Speed and Strength. Two for being given a Warrior name. And three for belonging to the Guardian class.
“I was just teasing about the pain. You know that, right?” Lance asks softly, his bright blue eyes filled with concern. He is intimately aware of my feelings on the subject. Friends since childhood, Lance has seen almost every one of my dozen broken bones firsthand. He was even involved in a few of the unfortunate exploits.
The tender concern in his voice is endearing, but not in the least bit reassuring. Regardless, I still nod and try to smile. Lance isn’t convinced.
“Really, Libby, it’s not that bad. It stings more than anything. You’ll be fine.” He holds his right wrist next to mine and rubs his thumb across my skin. “Everything will be okay. You’ll forget the pain as soon as it’s over, and in a few hours we’ll match.”
That’s what he thinks. I tuck my left arm behind my back, not wanting to think about it.
“What did your mom give you for your birthday, anyway?” Lance asks, changing the subject.
Taking my new keys out of my pocket, I dangle them with a scowl. “Not the one I wanted, of course.”
He laughs. “Did you really expect your mom to buy you a twenty-year-old Ford Bronco? She would never allow you to be seen driving something like that. Which one did she get you, the Audi or the Lexus?”
“The Audi.” The venom in my voice doesn’t keep Lance from grinning. He’d been hoping for the Audi. It is much faster than the Lexus. And Lance loves to go fast.
“Maybe we can take it out after your Inquest,” he suggests. The eager shine in his eyes is very nearly catching. The last word of his sentence sours any hope of my reciprocating his enthusiasm.
I offer him the best smile I can manage, which isn’t much, and say, “Yeah, maybe. Let’s go to lunch. I’ve got some homework to finish.”
Lance’s arm wraps around my waist and guides me down the hall. I try to focus on the feel of his touch, but all I can think of is how stupid it is that I’m worrying about my homework. My chances of not being murdered after my Inquest are pretty slim, which means this assignment is the last one I will ever turn in. At least there’s one upside to dying.
About the Author
DelSheree Gladden lives in New Mexico with her husband and two children. The Southwest is a big influence in her writing because of its culture, beauty, and mythology. Local folk lore is strongly rooted in her writing, particularly ideas of prophecy, destiny, and talents born from natural abilities. When she is not writing, DelSheree is usually teaching yoga, coaching gymnastics, reading, painting, sewing, or studying about teeth as a Dental Hygiene student. Her works include Escaping Fate and the Twin Souls Saga. DelSheree’s newest novel, Inquest, set to be released by Briona Glen Publishing in 2012, is the first book in The Destroyer Trilogy. Inquest follows sixteen-year-old Libby Sparks as she tries to escape her destiny to destroy the world. But Libby soon realizes dodging fate might not be worth the price.
Connect with DelSheree online at:
http://www.delshereegladden.com
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/DelShereeG
Twin Sous Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/TwinSoulsSaga
Destroyer Trilogy Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheDestroyerTrilogy
Book Blog: http://theediblebookshelf.blogspot.com/
Qaletaqa Page 34