Going Down in Flames (Entangled Teen)

by Chris Cannon

  His grin, combined with the way his sweat-soaked shirt stuck to his muscular chest, caused a few butterflies to flit around her stomach. Further up in line, Clint and Ivy caught her attention and waved.

  “How’d you get mixed up with them?” Keegan asked.

  “We met at Orientation.”

  “You hang around the Wilderness guy, too. What’s his story?”

  How could she explain Zavien? Best to keep it simple. “He set up my living arrangements.”

  They moved forward in line.

  “Why do you live with the Greens?”

  “The school didn’t know where to place me. The Greens offered me accommodations because they were curious about me from a scientific standpoint.” Since they were playing twenty questions, she decided to ask one of her own. “Do you know any Reds who might be related to my dad?”

  “McKennas?” Keegan paused. “None I can think of.”

  “My dad was an only child, but I hoped there might be a distant cousin around here somewhere.”

  “Your friend is on the podium.” Keegan pointed to Clint standing on the platform, facing off against Quentin.

  “Watch Quentin. See how they fight. The Blues use their speed to outmaneuver you if they can.”

  Clint swung first. Quentin ducked to the side and struck at Clint’s legs. The Black dragon wobbled, recovered, and swung again. Quentin took the blow and brought his jousting stick down on top of Clint’s weapon. Clint lurched forward. Quentin swung at the Black dragon’s hips and knocked him off the platform.

  Clint uttered obscenities on his descent into the foam pit.

  Bryn laughed.

  Ivy climbed onto the podium next and held her own against a Green female. She toppled the other girl in five moves.

  “Ivy’s good.”

  “She did all right,” Keegan said.

  Bryn studied the different fighting styles and strategies until it was her turn. When she climbed onto the podium, she faced Rhianna. The tall, slender girl held the jousting stick in a loose, easy grip.

  “Here goes nothing.” She held the jousting stick in front of her at a diagonal angle and hoped she wouldn’t be humiliated.

  Rhianna struck first, hitting Bryn’s right shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but it did knock her off-balance. After widening her stance for better balance, Bryn swung low at Rhianna’s hips. The tall blonde moved fluidly out of the way. Bryn took a blow to the hips, but didn’t budge. They were getting nowhere fast. In an imitation of Quentin, she brought her stick down hard on Rhianna’s. When Rhianna leaned forward to maintain her grasp, Bryn swung low and knocked her off the podium.

  Clint and Ivy cheered.

  At the base of the podium, she was surprised to find Quentin.

  “You copied my move,” he said.

  “It works. She’s too fast for anything else.”

  Rhianna came up next to the other Blue. “I’m a dancer. It’s easier to move out of the way than to deflect the attack.”

  “What do you two think you’re doing?” Jaxon looked ready to pop a blood vessel.

  “We were having a civil conversation,” Bryn said. “But I guess that’s over, since you’re here.”

  Jaxon ignored her and spoke to Rhianna. “I don’t want you to associate with her.”

  Bryn pointed at Quentin. “Does he pull that lord and master routine on you?”

  “He’s tried,” Quentin said. “It doesn’t work.”

  Rhianna stepped away from Jaxon. “It doesn’t work on me, either. Don’t confuse the title ‘future husband’ with ‘king’. They don’t mean the same thing.”

  “I bet they do at his house,” Bryn muttered.

  Jaxon turned to Bryn with fury on his face. “Never speak of my family.”

  Bryn pointed her finger at him like it was a weapon. “I don’t give a rat’s ass who your father is or how much money you have. You don’t give me orders.”

  Mrs. Anderson appeared next to Rhianna. “Is there a problem here?”

  Jaxon growled under his breath.

  Smoke shot from Bryn’s nostrils.

  “Hit the showers and go to class.” Mrs. Anderson waved them toward the locker rooms.

  Bryn stalked away. Clint and Ivy fell into step beside her.

  “That was great,” Clint said. “I thought Jaxon was going to have an aneurysm.”

  Ivy shook her head. “Poor Rhianna. Can you imagine living with him?”

  “I’d poison his food,” Bryn said.

  “I’d shift, bite his head off while he slept, and be done with it.” Ivy stated this like she was talking about the weather.

  Clint stopped in his tracks. “I’m in love with a scary woman.”

  Ivy patted his chest. “It’s simple. Don’t piss me off. I won’t kill you.”

  Bryn chuckled as Clint veered left to the appropriate door. She followed Ivy into the girls’ locker room where she was relieved to discover the showers were curtained off for privacy.

  Once she was back in her real clothes, she raked her fingers through her hair. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Wet hair may work for you, but I need a blow-dryer.”

  “Do we have time to go to your room?”

  Ivy led her to an unmarked door. “Through this door, you’ll find everything a female could ever need to look fabulous.”

  Bryn walked into the room and gaped. Countertops and mirrors ran the length of all four walls. Girls made use of the blow-dryers and flat irons, which were plugged in every few feet. Other girls rummaged in baskets containing sample size packets of makeup and lotion from Bath and Beauty. There were even spare clothes hanging on a rod in the corner. A small sign said, Please clean and return what you borrow.

  The amount of money the school shelled out to make students look good astounded her. “I guess appearance is everything.”

  Since all this was provided, she might as well take advantage. Finding an empty space at the counter, she used the blow-dryer.

  They met up with Clint outside the locker room and headed over to the dining hall where Bryn piled her plate with lasagna, salad, and breadsticks. Zavien appeared at their table with two pieces of chocolate cake on his tray.

  “Did you shoot fireballs at anyone today?” He held one piece of cake toward her.

  She snatched it from his hand. “No. It was a slow morning.”

  “She threw herself at some Blue dragon during Basic Movement,” Clint said. “It was quite the spectacle.”

  Ivy clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting out her food.

  Zavien frowned. “When I asked you to be nicer to the Blues, that isn’t what I had in mind.”

  “I didn’t throw myself at Quentin.”

  “Liar,” Clint said.

  “Ivy, you’re closer. Smack him for me.”

  Ivy cuffed him on the back of the head. “Behave.”

  “I didn’t flirt with Quentin,” Bryn said. “I tripped on the treadmill and fell on him. He was nice enough to catch me.”

  Zavien snorted. “How does one trip on a treadmill?”

  Bryn pointed her fork at Clint. “He commented on some weightlifter’s personal equipment.”

  “Hey,” Clint protested.

  Bryn stuck her tongue out at him. “Two can play at the misinformation game.”

  “Anything else I should know?” Zavien asked.

  She pulled the piece of cake closer. “I may have argued with Jaxon.”

  He reached for the cake, and she threatened to stab him with her fork. “Don’t even think about it.”

  He gave her a pleading look. “We talked about this.”

  “I was having a normal conversation with Rhianna and Quentin. Jaxon got all high and mighty with Rhianna, but she stood up for herself. I was impressed.”

  Zavien took a bite of his hamburger and gestured she should continue the story.

  “Jaxon yelled at me, I yelled back, and Mrs. Anderson broke it up. End of story.”

  Zavien regarded her with
suspicion. “Clint, did she leave anything out?”

  “She made nice with Keegan and a few other Reds,” Clint said.

  “Quentin and Keegan? You had a busy day.” Zavien sounded irritated.

  Could he be jealous?

  “I have a theory,” Clint said. “I think Bryn has the whole forbidden fruit thing going for her.”

  “Really?” Maybe she wouldn’t be dateless after all.

  “Don’t sound so happy about it,” Zavien said. “This is an added complication we don’t need. You’re not supposed to attract attention.”

  She’d be happy with his attention, but this didn’t seem like the time to mention it.

  The rest of the school day proved uninteresting. Jaxon appeared to be brooding over the supposed betrayal of his girlfriend. Bryn liked it when his mind was elsewhere. The constant glare she usually endured had begun to feel like sunburn.

  After Proper Decorum, she parted ways with Clint and Ivy, intent on taking a nap before dinner. If she didn’t meet them at six, they promised to fly over and wake her.

  When she reached her room, she changed into a purple tank top and her giraffe-print pajama pants and climbed between the cool sheets.

  Sometime later, she heard a knock on her window. “Go away.”

  “It’s time for dinner,” Clint called out as he climbed into the room. Ivy followed behind him.

  “I had the weirdest dream.” Bryn sat up, throwing off the blankets.

  Clint pointed at her pajama bottoms. “Did you dream an angry giraffe wanted his pants back?”

  Ignoring him, she tried to focus on the dream, but it drifted away like smoke. “I dreamed… It was something about searching for treasure.”

  “Maybe you have a secret desire to be a pirate,” Clint said.

  Her stomach growled. “Right now my only desire is to be fed.”

  She hustled out of bed and dressed in the bathroom. She darkened her lips and cheeks with Quintessence. If she could find a way to extend the trick to her clothes, she’d be ready in no time.

  The dining hall was half empty by the time they sat with their trays. Bryn’s plate contained a pile of nachos bigger than her head.

  Clint raised his eyebrows.

  “What? I’m hungry.”

  Ivy pointed at the wall. “They’ve posted the announcements about the Fall Dance.”

  Great. Just what she needed. An event to remind her that she didn’t have a boyfriend. Not that she wanted to go. Dances were stupid.

  Her thoughts must’ve shown on her face because Ivy pouted. “Girls are supposed to like dances.”

  “Dancing with friends is fun,” Bryn conceded. “A dance where boys and girls pretend they’re having a good time while wearing uncomfortable clothing isn’t fun.”

  “Thank you.” Clint wiped at a spot on his tie. “Dances were invented to torture those of us who don’t relish dressing in a penguin suit.”

  Ivy stabbed her salad. “Maybe I’ll go to the dance with someone else.”

  Clint’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

  Ivy reached into her pocket and pulled out an ad for formal dresses. “I’d go with someone who wants to see me wear this.” She pointed to a simple strapless sheath in fire engine red.

  Clint cursed under his breath. “You’re not going anywhere in that dress without me by your side, and you know it.”

  Ivy smirked. “I counted on that.”

  He smirked back at her. “Manipulative wench.”

  Ivy laughed, and then passed the ad to Bryn. “You’d look pretty in the blue dress. It would bring out your eyes.”

  The blue dress had a flared skirt and spaghetti straps. It would look good on her. Damn it.

  “I’m not going, so I don’t need a dress.”

  “You never know,” Ivy said. “Keegan keeps looking over here.”

  Bryn snorted. “If that’s any indication, then Jaxon should ask me to the dance.”

  Clint spewed soda across the table.

  Bryn threw her head back and laughed.

  …

  Over the rest of the week, Bryn settled into an easy rhythm of going to classes, hanging out with Clint and Ivy, and emailing her parents and Beth. She told her parents she was adjusting and doing fine. What they didn’t know about the expulsion from history class wouldn’t hurt them. Finding things to share with Beth was harder. Their emails were becoming less frequent, which made her sad.

  Most days, Zavien appeared at lunch or dinner to offer her cake. If he came to her room in the evening, he’d rub her neck. She fantasized about kissing him. Not that he ever showed any interest. Damn it.

  All in all, life wasn’t bad.

  Jaxon continued to leave dog-related items on her desk. Even though it bothered her, she tossed them back and made a smart remark or incinerated them. People seemed to laugh at her comments more than his attempts to call her a mongrel. She found a few more notes in strange places. The one she found shoved into her book bag yesterday was the most disturbing. Not because of the generic threat it contained—“You don’t belong here.”—but because someone who hated her had been that close.

  On a positive and slightly frustrating note, Keegan continued to speak to her. Sometimes it seemed like he was flirting with her, but he never mentioned the dance.

  On Saturday morning, she intended to sleep late. Unfortunately, the damn alarm clock woke her at the same hour it had all week.

  After bashing the alarm clock with her shoe, she tried to go back to sleep. Her stomach growled. Facing other students in the dining hall didn’t sound fun. She’d been surrounded by people all week, and now she wanted time to herself. What to do about food?

  Wait a minute. Garret had said something about vending machines. They should be easy to find. She checked in the mirror and decided her yoga pants and tank top were decent enough to wear in public.

  The machines were tucked in an alcove by the stairs. While she waited in line, she surveyed the other bleary-eyed students. Robes and pajamas were the standard dress. No one spoke, which was fine with her.

  She purchased two cups of coffee, a container of milk, two small boxes of cereal, a banana, and doughnuts. Back in her room, she ate doughnuts at her desk while emailing her parents.

  When she was on her second bowl of cereal, Zavien came in her window, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt decorated with a skull and crossbones. Would a pirate hat fit over his spiked hair? How hot would he look with eyeliner?

  “What’s that look for?” He sprawled on the couch and snagged her second cup of coffee.

  “Just wondering where you left your parrot and eye patch.”

  “I like this shirt.”

  Pretending to analyze his clothes, she took a moment to appreciate the fit of his jeans and the way the black cotton shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders. “It’s a cool shirt. How’d you make it across campus without the dress code police arresting you?”

  “It’s the weekend.”

  “And…?”

  “We can wear what we want as long as it’s in good taste.”

  It felt like Christmas had come early. “We can wear jeans on the weekend?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank God. The thought of putting on a skirt and blouse was enough to keep me in my room all day.”

  “You are free to roam about the campus in denim. The only rule is all shirts must tuck in or come past your waist. No bare midriffs allowed. The Directorate nearly had a coronary when girls let their thongs show above their pants.” He gave wicked grin. “I thought it was a good look.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You would.”

  He laughed, and then he pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. “I asked Miss Enid to check family trees, and she said there aren’t any McKenna’s listed after your dad, except you, of course.”

  “So much for meeting up with any Red relatives.”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  Garret stood in the hallway with a notebook and stopwatch in han
d. “I thought we might record your flight times today.” He spied Zavien lounging on the couch. “I didn’t realize I was interrupting.” His tone radiated disapproval.

  “You are.” Zavien gave a cheeky grin before taking a sip of coffee. “We were about to fly over to Dragon’s Bluff to do a little shopping.”

  Bryn raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Clint and Ivy should be here any minute,” Zavien added.

  This was news to her. “Sorry, Garret. What about tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Fine.” He stalked off.

  She shut the door and turned back to Zavien. “Are we shopping, or did you say that to annoy Garret?”

  “We’re shopping. Annoying Garret was a bonus.”

  She took a quick shower and put on her favorite jeans, a soft T-shirt, and—thank the Lord—tennis shoes. Not wearing dress clothes was heaven.

  When she walked into the living room, Zavien tilted his head and studied her T-shirt. “Is that Munch’s ‘The Scream’?”

  Bryn held her shirtfront out. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s appropriate. I’ve felt that way around you on several occasions.”

  She ignored his comment and spoke to Clint and Ivy, who had arrived while she was in the shower. “What are we shopping for?”

  “We’re shopping for dresses.” Ivy gave a big grin.

  Bryn slouched. Just what she wanted to do. Shop for a dress she’d never have a reason to wear.

  “Some of us are shopping for dresses.” Clint put his arm around Ivy’s shoulders. “The rest of us are going for lunch.”

  Ivy raised an eyebrow at Clint. “Didn’t you know? Boyfriends help their girlfriends pick out dresses.”

  Clint went still like maybe he hadn’t heard right. “Boyfriend?”

  Ivy shrugged. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” She didn’t look so sure of herself all of a sudden.

  If Clint made a smart-ass comment, Bryn was pretty sure Ivy would deck him.

  “Yes.” Clint moved close and whispered something in Ivy’s ear. Then he brushed his lips against hers.

  It was so romantic. Bryn turned away, blinking back tears.

  “Sap,” Zavien muttered.

  Bryn felt she had no choice but to pick up the empty cereal box from the coffee table and wing it at his head.

  “Hey.” He patted his hair. “Watch the spikes.”