by B. F. Simone
She gave it to him, but not before running her finger over the shiny bits of white. She moved to the edge of the yard to give Tristan and Brian space and catch her breath. She tried to ignore the fact that she saw Will looking through the back window. It was where Lucinda sat and yelled things while she watched Tristan and Katie practice.
Katie watched as Tristan went through the same steps with Brian. The first two moves he got easily and Katie’s stomach jumped a loop of joy. It was nice to see him standing on his own two feet. At first, she used to feel a little triumph when he fell. Seeing him covered in dirt and sweat, scrunching up his face in anger was like payback. Payback for pretending she didn’t exist. Payback for acting as if this space between them, this thick silence, was normal. But then she’d see the desperation in his eyes when Tristan hit him hard for missing a step; when Tristan would say, “I’ve killed you three times in the last ten minutes. That’s pathetic.”
Brian only made it through half of the steps before he started to lose balance and misstep. Even though she couldn’t read his mind she could feel the desperation seeping out of him. It was as if her smile, the electric pulse, and the pride she had felt about herself had turned against her, becoming a mass of bile in her stomach.
He fell to the ground. Again. She didn’t turn away. She watched him and each time he’d leave an opening for Tristan to land a fatal move.
“If you—"
“I’ll get it,” Brian said, cutting off Tristan.
Katie watched him fail ten more times. Each time, the dirt kicked up more violent as he hit it.
She moved over, toward them. Each foot-step heavy, and thought out.
“It’s your footwork,” she said, offering him a smile. “You just have a small misstep. Try it like this,” she showed him the maneuver slowly.
He wasn’t even looking in her direction.
“You see if you put your left foot higher, the swing will come more natural.” Just standing next to him felt violently wrong, like being on a frail bridge as all the ropes creak with tension. All she had to do was run to the other side before the bridge collapsed. “You just have to move your foot—"
“Shut up, Katie.” Brian voice was low.
“I’m trying to help.”
“I’m not doing it wrong. I’m doing it the way my dad showed me. I think he knows more than you do.”
Her cheeks were on fire. He looked at her with disgust. A look she didn’t deserve. Does your dad know how much of a failure you are? She wanted to say it, but she couldn’t. “What’s wrong with you? What have I done to you.”
“You think you know everything. You’ve been a junior guardian for what? A few months? And now your living in my house. Trying to throw crap in my face. Get over yourself.”
She didn’t think her mouth could drop any further. What is he talking about? She lived in his house because her father abandoned her. She didn’t think she was any better than him. She didn’t even know what she was doing half the time. She had more bruises than she could count. She earned every little victory she got. She worked harder than she’d worked for anything. Never once had she flaunted any of that in front of him. And whenever he made an idiot of himself she made it a point to look away, to spare him any more embarrassment. You want me to get over myself? “You’re right, what do I know? I’m not the one who spends most of practice on the ground,” she spat.
His nostrils flared and he bit his lower lip until it turned white. Neither of them moved, stuck in the eye of a hurricane waiting for the storm to hit. The longer they stared the more she saw the desperation in his eyes. He was looking through her, and that was worse than anything he could possibly say. She wanted him to—wished he would—say something. Yell, scream, or call her names. The only sound was the last creak of their friendship finally snapping.
He turned and left her and Tristan standing in the backyard. Her eyes burned and her hands shook.
“Now that the dramatics are over, can we get back to work?” Tristan said.
Katie sat on the ground. She couldn’t train after that, her mind surged replaying the last few moments over and over in her head.
Tristan sat next to her. “Let’s work on your meditation then. You really suck at it and there is a test next month.”
“No.”
“Okay. Let’s talk. You two always been this weird?”
She got up, grabbed her bag and got ready to go inside. Of course we haven’t always been like this. Everything started to crumble the day you showed up.
At school was no different. Instead of politely ignoring her, Brian acknowledged her presence with contempt. In chemistry, she watched Brian chat with his new circle of friends. She didn’t hate him having other friends, she just hated two things: he had stopped being her friend and Christi was officially apart of that new group.
Christi wore her skirt hiked up higher than the dress-code allowed and her button-up shirts always hugged her breast so tight, Katie counted down the days before one of the buttons would pop off and blind someone. Her perfume reeked and the nasally voice she used when answering questions was horrid. What did guys like about her? Christi wasn’t that pretty. Katie wasn’t exactly a heartbreaker, but she knew she was definitely prettier than that smelly thing. How could Brian even be friends with someone like that?
Tristan nudged her. “Stop obsessing over Brian. Let it go.”
“Get out of my head.”
“I’m not in your head. You’re staring—in a psychotic way.”
“It’s obvious you’ve never had a best-friend before. You just don’t stop being best-friends. That’s not how it works.”
He looked at her. “Maybe Brian’s right. You’re a little know it all.”
“He didn’t mean that.”
“Just like you didn’t mean to say you’re better than him?”
“Shut up—"
“Miss Watt, can you finish balancing this chemical reaction?” Mr. Beaver said, looking over his shoulder, a green dry erase marker in hand. He had a way of getting the ink from the green marker on all his white shirts. Always the green.
“No, sorry I—”
“Then you’ll kindly refrain from asking your teacher to ‘shut up’.” He went back to writing on the board and chuckles filled every corner of the class—especially Christi’s nasally one. Katie opened her notebook and drew a stick figure.
This is you, she thought eyeing Tristan. When he looked at it, she scribbled all over its body. She looked back at him waiting to see the shock or disbelief in his eyes, but none of that was there. His face turned red, and then he laughed. His laughter shook her bones and jostled her heart. She frowned, but her heart pounded even more.
“You’re like a five year-old,” he said as tears glassed his eyes while he tried to stifle the noise. He laughed harder.
“Shhh, you’re going to get us in trouble,” she whispered, feeling his laugh itch up her throat. She smiled, and then it was over. They laughed so loud Mr. Beaver threatened to give them detention.
After school—even though it was cold—Katie, Allison, and Tristan went to get ice cream. They went to her favorite shop and Larry, the owner, looked pleased to see them. Tristan didn’t actually order anything. He looked uncomfortable when Larry tried to strike up a friendly conversation. It embarrassed her when he blatantly ignored him and walked over to the window.
Katie ordered a triple scoop of rainbow sherbet and Larry plopped on a fourth scoop free of charge.
“Always the best for my best customer,” Larry smiled he had an accent that Katie still couldn’t place. He looked fairly young, maybe in his thirties, but she could tell he was older by his eyes. He had gray eyes like hers. “Your friend seems charming,” he said.
“As charming as they come,” Katie said, exaggerating an eye roll.
“You should date better boys. He’s a trouble maker.” Larry smiled at her but she got the feeling he was being serious.
“Totally not my boyfriend,” Katie said, wondering why he�
�d even think that. He could have easily been Allison’s boyfriend, or they could have just been three kids walking into a shop to get ice cream. Katie paid and sat down.
Tristan looked more annoyed than ever. Obviously eavesdropping on her conversation.
She devoured half her ice cream in one sweet minute. She’d forgotten how beautiful the flavors of rainbow sherbet were.
Tristan asked her if she’d ever seen any out-of-shape guardians.
“Since I only know the small population Boise has to offer, no.”
“It’s because they don’t eat—” Tristan stopped and stared out the window. A man with burn marks on his face and a wretched limp passed by. Allison gasped.
“Allison,” Kate said astounded, “I know you can be mean but that’s just—"
“Quiet,” Tristan hissed, glancing at Larry who seemed none the wiser. He rushed them to finish their ice cream. He didn’t talk again until they were out on the street.
“It was a fate wasn’t it?” Allison asked Tristan as they walked past Sunny Music.
“Yes. And it was tracking. The nasty ones shape-shift to look like that when they’re close to what they want. They know people’s natural reactions are to stare, giving them a good chance to scan every face.” Tristan said.
“What if that was just a perfectly normal man with burn scars,” she asked, feeling like they were being a little dramatic.
“His eyes. They were blank. You would have known to look for that if you read a book once in a while,” Tristan snapped.
It wasn’t Katie’s fault she never had time for all her homework. Traci often pretended to understand when Katie would show up with half her work done, but Katie was running out of excuses.
“If fates are Downtown, the rumors must be true. What if that fate was tracking a pure blood.” Allison said, looking like a conspirator. “I read that the last time a Pure blood was assassinated a war broke out. Like a power vacuum everyone scrambling to gain power. The violence spread into our world like wild fire. The real precursor to the first World War.”
“Katalina. How comfortable are you with a gun?”
“You mean to carry around? That’s illegal for anyone under twenty-one,” she said, laughing.
“I didn’t ask you about the law. I asked you how comfortable.” Tristan’s black hair looked wilder every step he took—as if each movement shifted it into a more madden state of being. He reminded her of the stray cat she used to feed. Before it disappeared, she would sneak up on it and it’s hair would puff up like a spiky cotton ball. “Katalina,” he yelled.
“I’m not.” He knew that. The last gun she held shot out yellow paint.
“Knives?”
“Plastic ones—”
“Start carrying at least three—real ones.” He pointed at her. “There, by your ankle and one in your pocket, and one there.” His finger lingered on her thigh.
“How am I suppose to wear one on my thigh?” Katie nearly burst into laughter. She’d most likely cut off her fingers just touching one. Did he forget he only trusted her with a plastic knife. Plus, Lucinda would never let that slide.
“You almost always wear a skirt.”
“Jesus, Tristan. Before I go around looking like Laura Tomb Raider. Why are you acting like a crazy-person?”
Even Allison had stopped laughing. She looked serious, like Tristan. It was clear, Katie wasn’t getting something. She was the one left out of the loop again. Her stomach started to turn.
“You have to protect yourself. You have to be prepared for anything. What if I’m not around?”
“Prepared for what?”
“Anything,” he yelled at her. A feeling told her the wall, she suspected he held up between them, was about to be flooded. His hair stood on its ends; fear and mania seeped out of him and into her mind. She couldn’t shake the cold that creeped into her skin making her jump as a car backfired next to them. It climbed into her mind, a darkness, reaching around her head and swallowing it whole. She didn’t understand the fear. She didn’t need to, because she felt it.
He studied her face and the terror that, she knew, was plastered on it. His expression changed and his emotions pulled away from her like a vacuum sucking away wisps of smoke. But it was too late. She had already felt it. “Just in case,” he said calmly.
“What aren’t you telling me,” she said to him silently.
Katie looked at Allison, and Allison shared her look of confusion. “He just means it can be dangerous when wars break between clans or covens. Sometimes they spill over up here and people get hurt. Vampires are notorious for causing commotions.” Allison rummaged through her purse and pulled out a bottle of pepper spray. “Maybe you can hold on to this. I have a ton of this stuff. We can’t have knives at school but carrying around pepper spray when I don’t have my pocket knife makes me feels safer. Plus, you know, normal people can be dangerous too.”
Katie took the pepper spray. Allison shrugged as they looked at Tristan again. He was gone in his own mind. Somewhere too far for them to find.
Snow started to fall the week before Thanksgiving break. The snow was better than the rain that had murdered any hope of a practice without wet puddles. Every day she’d go to school looking like she’d been in a fight with a bucket of dirty water, and every night she went to bed feeling like she got beat up by a hurricane. But today, was the first snowfall of the year. Aside from it being the worst hair day she’d had in weeks—dirt and snow from previous night, plus one squirt of shampoo, does not mix well—she was excited for what today meant. Tons of holiday breaks. Any break from Mrs. Barnes’ constant essays on werewolf involvement in industrial age London, or Traci hassling her about working on her core was a blessing.
Her core. It was something they worked on every Friday in Field Study with Mr. Carver. They had to meditate until they felt a type of coating over their skin. The reason they were called guardians. They were untouchable by their paranormal counterpart. If anyone had bothered to tell Katie that before, she wouldn’t have spent nearly every day being paranoid about the decision she’d made.
It wasn’t an easy thing though, Katie still hadn’t figured out exactly what it was, and it wasn’t exactly something someone could show her. Mr. Carver spoke about it like putting on a coat. No one in the class could do it except Allison and Adam, and even then it was only for a few seconds.
Katie could barely meditate, and yet it was another Friday, another day to practice…
School probably wouldn’t have been as tiring as it was lately, if Tristan weren’t pushing her even harder in practice. But nothing was going to get in the way of today. Dry bar-soap hair, stiff legs, or having dropped her deodorant on the bathroom floor and then using the broken up pieces to prevent a long day of bad body odor? Nope, none of that was going to taint the day that marked the—summer aside—best part of the year.
To start it off, it was Friday! The best day of the week because there was no after school activites. To make it better, Lucinda canceled their morning training—most definitely auspicious. She’d had a chill in her spine when she woke up and was thrilled to stay in doors warm and inactive. She even snuck in a few cups of hot chocolate before Tristan walked into the kitchen ready to leave.
She almost skipped to school. It felt like a good day.
“I’m running an errand today.”
Yet another glorious sign.
“A sign for what?”
“Nothing,” she smiled. “Why are you leaving this time?” she asked, feigning only a slight interest. He canceled their training sessions every so often to run secret errands, but only in the evenings. For all she knew, it could be another lie, he could be going on dates. Vampire girls with no morals or self-respect. Then again, what was his type? He never told her anything about him, his hobbies, his likes, dislikes—aside from chastising her, books, and being called girly.
Your fault for having hair blacker than a fresh dye job. No one’s hair curls that perfectly around their face.
He cut her a look from the corner of his eye. “I’ll be back before this evening, make sure you warm up before practice.”
Katie shrugged, pretending she didn’t care—but once they got to the school her stomach jolted. She hadn’t expected him to leave just then.
He waved at her with his crooked smile as he turned and disappeared around the corner leaving her in a sea of student bodies. She felt confused and misplaced. He was gone…and she was—alone. No one to hear her thoughts all day. No one to chastise her.
She was free!
School dragged; by second period, she was vacant and despondent. And it’s only the second hour….
As the day blurred, she let her head fall to her desk as Mrs. Barnes called roll. She eyed his empty desk, startled to find herself wishing he was there. He would be making a sly comment about her having coffee withdrawals or maybe poking fun at her makeshift ponytail of twisted curls and pencils. Hell is selling frozen popsicles. I think we’ve become…friends.
Cue the manic laugh. He wasn’t exactly friend material. He was a jerk, always on her about doing homework, and down right brutal during their training sessions. Every other day he bruised her so bad she wouldn’t heal for weeks. These stiff legs were his fault. Though, she didn’t make it any easier for him to like her. She was unrelenting when letting him know what she really thought about him. But he deserved it.
Yet, there was his empty seat. She missed him, that was for sure; but it was the antics she missed. Not him in her head. She was a diary with no lock, and he was a book with empty pages. It wasn’t fair.
“I’m glad you’ve started stalking someone else for a change. The way you used to follow Brian around was kind of pathetic,” a suicidal voice said next to her.
Does Christi want to die? Sure, Christi probably could have beat her up a few months ago, but fighting Tristan taught Katie one thing: she could fight anyone and come out alive and on top.
“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to pound your face into the desk,” Katie said, not looking at Christi.