Kilenya Series Books 1, 2, and 3
Page 81
Jacob’s mom had him stay home from Eklaron and school for a couple of days, but all too soon he had to return to pulling people from the scented air, combat training, and class. He dreaded the attention he would get in school. News had spread through the entire student body, no doubt.
The attention only lasted a couple of days, though, then things mostly went back to what they’d been before his “episode.”
The Makalos gave him occasional updates on the Fat Lady’s potion—there hadn’t been a lot of progress lately. It really worried him, but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it. His combat training with Sweet Pea was going well now, and he still helped pull people from the scented air. School was too pressing for Jacob to spend much time with the Makalos for pleasure. Plus, his nightmares were worse than ever, and always involved Aloren being murdered in a gruesome, upsetting way.
She’d been in Maivoryl City for over two months now—two months! Was she even still alive? Without having a way to get in touch with her, he thought he’d go crazy.
Then he had an interesting conversation with Mr. Coolidge before math one day.
“Jacob,” Mr. Coolidge said, handing Jacob some papers. The color around his face was a light yellow-green—he was intrigued by something. “You have a unique ability to understand things just by looking at them. Are either of your parents like this?”
Jacob shrugged. He’d never noticed anything special about his “understanding” abilities. He looked at the paper—conics—and pulled out his pencil and leaned forward, working over the problems. After several minutes, he looked up again. Mr. Coolidge’s eyes were still on him.
“That journal you had in class on the first day—whose was it?”
Jacob sat upright—Mr. Coolidge had opened the book? “Sir?”
“I flipped through it and noticed it was empty. All but the first page . . . but then the rest of the words just appeared the more I read. It’s a very interesting journal, and I’d like to finish it.”
Jacob’s jaw dropped.
“You aren’t the type to read your own diary in class. It isn’t yours. Whose is it?”
“Just . . . just some guy’s.”
“Who wrote it? Which fairytale is it based on? I’ve searched everywhere and can’t find it.”
Jacob shook his head. “Don’t worry about it—you won’t . . . you won’t find anything on it.”
“I’d like to borrow it from you, if that’s all right.”
“No!”
Jacob backpedaled when he saw the surprise in Coolidge’s eyes. The green disappeared, replaced completely with light yellow—surprise. “I mean, I need to read the rest of it. It doesn’t belong to me—I borrowed it from a . . . from a friend, and have to give it back soon.”
He refused to look at Mr. Coolidge the rest of their time together. He knew he’d lied and hated it. Resolving to turn his lie into a truth, he decided to finish reading the journal as soon as he could. When the bell finally rang, signaling the start of math, he sighed in relief, rubbing his eyes.