“I don’t know what I should do,” I murmured. “Should I try to convince Cara’s dad that I’m not a witch? Or should I just let him think what he likes and hope he eventually realizes the truth—or at least as much of the truth as I want him to know?”
Marly smiled and brushed my hair back away from my face. It was such a thoroughly Michael gesture that I was instantly fighting tears again.
“Sweetie, don’t let him get to you. Is something else going on? It’s not like you to get so broody over somebody like Matt Pryce.”
I was tempted to share everything with Marly. Her sympathy and love made me feel so safe, and it would be easy to just tell her about Ms. Lacusta and all my other woes. But in the next moment I knew that I couldn’t put her in the position of lying to Michael or my parents. I was going to have to shoulder this particular burden on my own, for now at least.
I shook my head. “No, it’s just the usual school stuff. And… I miss Michael so much. I know it’s only been a month, but it feels like forever since I’ve seen him.”
Marly drew me into a warm hug. “I know. He feels the same way. But he told you about homecoming, right? We’re working out a way to drive up there that weekend. Luke might not be able to come—by November, we’ll be busy again at the nursery, you know that—but I should be able to work it out to go. Wouldn’t that be fun, just a girls’ trip?”
I knew she was trying to cheer me up, and so I nodded and smiled as brightly as I could.
“I’d love that. But now...” I grimaced and moved away from Marly’s embrace. “Now I better head home before my mother sends out a search party.”
She smiled ruefully. “Okay. Try to keep your chin up. And you know if you need me, I’m always here, day or night.”
I nodded. “I know. Thanks, Marly. See you Friday.” I slipped out and into the diminishing light of the early evening.
Thursday morning was blessedly uneventful. I sailed through my morning classes with glorious ease. And to my relief, Ms. Lacusta was nowhere to be seen.
I left calculus feeling an unusual sense of calm. My conversation with Michael last night had been sweetly satisfying, consisting mostly of the silly nothings that can have such meaning between two people in love. Michael amused me with stories about his classes, the people who lived in his dorm and his own adjustments to life in college. I was glad to listen to him talk and relieved that he didn’t ask too many questions about my own day.
Now I turned into the library and found a quiet table in the corner. I hadn’t even opened the book that Ms. Lacusta had given me the day before; I’d left it in my backpack, hidden from my parents’ eyes. And if I were honest with myself, I had to admit that I wanted it out of my sight, as well. I didn’t want to think about what a book belonging to Ms. Lacusta might contain.
I pulled it out of my bag and laid it gingerly on the table in front of me. The cover was black, and when I ran my fingertips over the worn material, I could feel raised designs and odd letters. I couldn’t read them; although some of the letters looked familiar, others were completely foreign. They reminded me vaguely of a Russian book I’d seen once in a museum, and I wondered if they were in fact related to that language. Given my knowledge of Ms. Lacusta’s background, I assumed that the words were in Romanian.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the cover and looked at the first page. Similar words were centered there, and I couldn’t read them any more than I could the cover. I was beginning to wonder why Ms. Lacusta would give me a book written in a language I couldn’t possibly understand.
But as I flipped through the first few pages, I realized that the book wasn’t entirely ancient. While the original pages were indeed written in an alphabet that was foreign to me, opposite each of those was a newer page, covered in English words. Both sets of pages were handwritten, and I recognized Ms. Lacusta’s writing on the more recent sheets. The book had been rebound to include both the old and the new.
At the top of the first English page were centered the words A History of the Matriarchs. And in the neatly penned paragraphs below it, I discovered a fascinating description of the early days of a strange and unique people.
As I turned the pages, I noticed that while Ms. Lacusta’s writing seemed to run throughout the entire book, the handwriting of the older pages changed. Different hands had obviously recorded history over the years.
Despite a little residual apprehension about this book, I soon found myself completely absorbed in the words.
These Matriarchs had their roots in a tiny segment of the world near India. It was in that place that their powers were born, slowly evolving from simple nature charms into more involved spells. These women lived with their families in the midst of violent conflicts, and during one of the worst, they were torn from their homes and forced to travel long miles west across difficult terrain.
I could feel the sorrow in the words that described the journey, as young children sickened and older women weakened. The powerful ones—they had begun to refer to themselves as the Matriarchs at this point—desperately tried to use their skills to save their loved ones. Death could not be prevented, but they learned and remembered.
They arrived in a foreign land as slaves, viewed and treated by the locals as little better than simple farm animals. The Matriarchs knew that their greatest strength lay in staying together as a people, and they fought to keep traditions and to pass on both the history and the power. Some families formed small bands and roamed the countryside, traveling throughout Europe. Others chose to remain in the tiny Romanian villages.
The Matriarchs never stopped honing their abilities. They became known among the natives as wise women or witches, both feared and respected, hated and distrusted. It made no difference. Generation after generation, both their power and their reputation grew.
When the bell rang, I was in another world. Slowly I put away the book, carefully hiding it in the bottom of my bag again. I joined the throngs of students moving along the walkway and headed for the cafeteria. I wasn’t early to lunch today, and I had to stand in line with everyone else. Still preoccupied by what I’d read in Ms. Lacusta’s book, I was able to block out most of the thoughts swirling around me.
Cara and Amber were already at the table when I sat down. They both looked at me expectantly, Amber with more than a little concern.
“Where were you?” Cara asked. “I think Amber was about to go hunt you down.”
“Sorry,” I replied, concentrating on pouring the dressing on my salad. “I got held up.”
“What do you have before lunch again?” Cara and I had never discussed my independent study. I knew I couldn’t tell her that I was taking woodshop; it was too much of a risk that she would discover the truth and then be doubly suspicious. I chose instead to be vaguely truthful.
“I have independent study. I was in the library today, and I just got caught up in my reading. You know how I love history!” There, I thought, that should throw her off the trail—and I wasn’t lying. I had been reading history.
Amber hastily changed the subject, and I lapsed into silence as we ate. The juniors at the other end of our table were having a lively conversation about a party they were planning to attend this weekend, and I concentrated on listening to their minds so that I didn’t have to hear Cara’s.
I was only about ten minutes away from escape into my afternoon classes when the air changed suddenly. Before I could react, Rafe slid onto the bench next to me and grinned at Cara and Amber. Fleetingly I wondered why my first reaction to him was always annoyance. Then I heard his mind, loud and clear, and I remembered why.
“Hello, ladies! Don’t you all look lovely this afternoon.”
Cara laughed appreciatively, and Amber smiled at him in return, tilting her head as she said, “Hey, Rafe. How are you settling in so far?”
He shrugged. “It’s going okay. Classes are classes, no matter where you are. People aren’t staring at me so much anymore. I guess they’re moving on.” He turned t
o face me fully. “You are very much the girl I wanted to see right now.”
I just barely resisted rolling my eyes and settled instead for raising one eyebrow. “Really? Why?”
He smiled a little more, amping up the charm factor. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“What?” I was instantly wary, afraid that it might have something to do with chemistry and Ms. Lacusta. I didn’t want to discuss that topic in front of Cara and blow my cover.
“My car wouldn’t start this morning. Don’t know what it is, but my grandfather dropped me at school on his way to work. I was hoping that you would give me a ride home this afternoon.”
My mind spun as I tried to think of a good reason to say no. Work would have been a perfect excuse, but even if Rafe didn’t know my schedule, Cara and Amber did and would call me on it. I caught Amber’s eye hopefully.
“Well, maybe Amber could... ?” But she was already shaking her head.
“Sorry. I’ve got a dentist’s appointment.” She pointed at her mouth as if to demonstrate. “I have to leave early, in seventh period.” She shot me an apologetic look.
Cara was my last ditch hope, but when I turned to her, she was gazing at me imploringly. Like Michael and his family, Cara lived outside the town of King, and she didn’t have her own car. Instead her parents drove her to and from school every day, which I knew was a source of great embarrassment to her. Even if I couldn’t hear her thoughts, I would have picked it up in her eyes. Although I didn’t quite understand her mortification at not having a car—I myself wouldn’t be driving if Michael hadn’t lent me his car—I couldn’t upset her that way. I sighed in defeat.
“Okay. I’ll drive you home.”
“Cool!” Rafe’s satisfaction was evident.
“You just want an excuse to ride in my car,” I accused him.
He smiled. “You read my mind.”
Across the table, Amber’s gasp was audible. Cara and Rafe both turned to look at her. In an admirably quick cover up, she launched into an elaborate coughing fit.
“I guess the water went down the wrong way,” she explained when she could speak again. Her eyes widened only slightly when she looked at me, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling. I turned back to Rafe.
“If you want a ride, meet me in the parking lot right after school. Don’t be late, or I’ll leave without you.”
As always, he was unshaken by my rudeness. “I can meet you at your locker if that would be easier,” he suggested.
“No!” I didn’t want to be seen walking to my car with him. It would look too much like something it wasn’t. The last thing I needed was King High gossip to link my name with his. I knew Michael trusted me, but I hadn’t even mentioned Rafe to him yet. That in itself might appear suspicious.
It almost seemed that he knew what I was thinking, for he laughed shortly and shook his head.
“Okay, I get it. Parking lot it is. I won’t be late.” With that, and a nod to Amber and Cara, he was gone, out the door as I looked after him in bemusement.
“Geez, Tas, you were a little short with him, don’t you think?” Cara was frowning at me. “I mean, he just needed a ride. Why is it a big deal?”
“It isn’t,” I replied, looking away. “I just—he likes the car, and I know that’s why he wanted me to drive him. And it’s not my car. It’s Michael’s.”
“I really don’t think Michael would care,” Cara wasn’t going to let this go. “Don’t you think he trusts you?
“Of course he does. And I don’t intend to give him any reason not to.” I leveled my gaze at Cara. “But you’re right, Rafe is probably harmless enough, and he’s certainly not bad looking. Why don’t you go after him?”
Amber sucked in another breath, but this time neither Cara nor I spared her a glance. Cara’s eyes flashed at me.
“Thanks, but I’m not interested. Not in him, anyway.”
My heart was pounding, and I could hear Cara’s thoughts as clearly as if she were speaking them directly to me. Strong emotion usually intensified my abilities. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. I knew that if I didn’t, I’d end up saying something that I’d regret.
“Hey.” Amber touched my arm, concern etched on her face. “The bell’s about to ring. Come on, let’s go to our lockers.”
I nodded and rose, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and grabbing my tray with my other hand. Cara didn’t move from her seat, but her eyes followed me as we left the cafeteria.
“What was that all about?” Amber demanded as soon as we were outside.
I blew out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I don’t know. It got pretty intense there, didn’t it?”
“But why?” Amber was mystified.
“I think... I’m pretty sure Cara likes Michael,” I answered slowly. We had arrived at my locker, and I opened it and looked inside blankly, unable to remember what I needed for the afternoon.
“Likes him, likes him, you mean?” Amber’s dismay was evident.
“I think so. No, in fact, I know so. I heard her thinking about him, at Anne’s party. And just now, she was thinking that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if I did let Rafe get the wrong idea. She’d like it if Michael found out and was upset at me.” I finally switched my books and closed the locker door.
“Are you really worried?” Amber asked.
I shook my head. “No, not about that. Not about Rafe. Michael does trust me. And I’m not interested in Rafe. He just aggravates me. But there are other things going on that would upset Michael, if he knew.”
“You mean Ms. Lacusta.”
I nodded. “Yes. And it’s killing me not to tell him. I’ve never had a secret from him. He’s the first person I could be totally honest with, the first one to know the real me. And now I’m keeping part of me from him—well, it would be a problem if he knew.”
I turned to Amber. “So we have to make sure Cara doesn’t find out about the independent study with Ms. Lacusta. She’s mad now. I think she’s upset enough to tell him if she figured it out. I can’t let that happen.”
“You should tell him,” Amber said firmly. “If you tell him, well, yeah, he’s going to be mad, at least at first, but when you explain it to him...”
“No. Not yet. If he were still here, I wouldn’t even think twice about it. But the problem is that he’s so far away, and he doesn’t think I can take care of myself. Once I can prove that I can, I’ll be able to tell him. Until then, we have to be very careful. Okay?”
I could feel Amber’s uneasiness. She didn’t agree with me, but I knew that she would never betray me, either. She sighed and nodded.
“Okay. But Tasmyn, don’t let this go on too long. You need to tell him. I know Michael, and he loves you too much to let this come between you.”
My afternoon was decidedly less pleasant than my morning had been. I brooded about having to drive Rafe home, about Cara’s words and thoughts at lunch, and about Amber’s gentle warning to me.
I knew she was right, but at the same time, I also knew that I couldn’t burden Michael with my own problems, at least not until I had a better grasp on how I was handling them myself.
When the last bell rang, I headed for my locker, half expecting to find Rafe waiting for me there despite what I’d said. To my relief, he was nowhere to be seen. Absently I switched out my books, leaving some in the locker and adding others to my backpack. When I turned to leave, I saw Cara passing me. Although I was certain she had seen me—and could, in fact, hear it in her mind—she kept her eyes carefully averted. Obviously our lunchtime conversation had stayed with her, too.
The afternoon heat was still fairly intense as I walked toward the parking lot. I stifled a groan when I saw Rafe lounging nonchalantly against the driver’s side of the Mustang.
“Hey,” he greeted me as I approached. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked to drive?”
I stood near the trunk of the car and gazed at him steadily, wordlessly.
&nbs
p; “I’ll take that as a yes.” He sighed in exaggerated disappointment and pushed himself upright, moving around to the passenger’s door in no particular hurry.
I tossed my backpack in the back and climbed into the seat. A small butterfly of nerves rose in my stomach as I considered my still-new ability to drive with a stick shift.
“So tell me about the lucky guy.” Rafe stretched his legs out and I realized with resentment that he must have moved the seat back. He was certainly making himself at home.
“What lucky guy?” I asked, concentrating on maneuvering out of the parking lot.
“The guy who scored both you and this car.”
That little seed of annoyance blossomed into full-blown anger. “Michael didn’t score me. We have a relationship with each other. We’re—we...” I had no desire to go into the details of what Michael and I shared. It was none of his business. “And the car has been in his family for years,” I finished lamely.
“Okay, okay.” Rafe held up his hands as if in defense. “So tell me about Michael then.” He put an extra emphasis on the name.
“Michael is wonderful.” I pictured him, seeing him so clearly in my mind that my breath caught and my eyes burned. “He’s the most intelligent, kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever met. He’s loyal to his friends, an incredible student... and he’s great to his parents.” I smiled then, unable to contain it. “There’s no one like Michael.”
Rafe whistled, long and low. “Ah. I get it.” He shook his head. “You’re totally gone over this guy.”
I rolled my eyes. “You could never get it. You’ll never understand.” I glanced down a crossroad as we slowed to stop at an intersection. “And I don’t even know where I’m going. Where do you live, anyway?”
King 02 - Breathless Page 10