Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen)

by Christine O'Neil

  Hope it helps,

  He

  It was a B day at school on Friday, which meant I didn’t have art or mythology class, so I had a totally Mac-free seven hours, and I needed every second of it. It had been a big week, and the info I’d learned was more than I’d heard since this whole mess started. It was a lot to take in, but with each hour that passed, I found myself more and more grateful for it. And for Mac, even after all his efforts to make me hate him.

  Strange how someone who I would’ve added to the top of my list of people I would most like to see doused with honey and red ants—if such a list existed, which it doesn’t—was now the person I looked at with something like respect. Not hero-worship, but when I thought about him there was definitely a puffy pink aura around him with some stars and other shapes that hadn’t been there before.

  Somehow I knew he was telling me the truth. Not all of it, maybe, but more than I’d ever gotten from anyone else so far. That made him special—I stared down at the note I’d just found in my locker now that I’d blocked his e-mails, and I rolled my eyes—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a pain in my ass or that he was going to stop screwing with me.

  One thing I’d say for Mac Finnegan. He sure made things interesting. I just wish my life hadn’t been soooo frigging interesting to start.

  “And, what are you doing with your time today, Miss Raynard?”

  Hortense stood over my computer station and glared down at me. From that angle, I could make out each individual black hair on her chin, and it was an effort to make eye contact. I crushed Mac’s letter in my hand and smiled, determined to avoid a repeat of the other day.

  “I was just reading something, but until now, I was working on a mythology project.” Not true, but what a stellar cover-up. If she checked my search history on the PC, she’d see that I’d Googled everything from Wadjet to Jupiter in hopes of figuring out what Mac might be. I hadn’t learned all that much and still had no clue about Mac was, but I was feeling pretty smug that I’d covered my ass, and almost hoped she would check.

  She didn’t. Instead, her beady eyes narrowed and a heavy brow rose to settle just above Cro-Magnon height.

  “What is that in your hand?”

  A few of the kids in class laughed like hyenas, obviously excited at the prospect of another show-and-tell.

  This time, I was ready for her. I held up my empty left hand. “Nothing.” I wiggled my fingers as proof, and then proceeded to bust out a complex finger-snapping routine in the style of the gorgeous castanet-playing Greek belly dancer at Stavros’s Restaurant. It created the perfect distraction while I tossed the crumpled note from my other hand between the crack of the computer desk and partition.

  I was still congratulating myself on my speed when Hortense threw me for a loop.

  “Stand up and help me move this bank of computers.” She looked both furious and oddly gleeful, her stance getting taller as she hulked over me.

  It was a clear intimidation tactic, and one I’m sorry to say would have worked on me last year. As afraid as I was of my powers, I had to admit there was a piece of me lately that felt better knowing they were there. Safer. More in control of situations, even though that part of me was so out of control sometimes.

  “I have a bum hip, so I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said with what I hoped was a regretful smile. It was a clear lie. I mean, the sixteen-year-old population wasn’t exactly rife with bum hips. But she’d have to call me on it, and if I did have a bum hip, she’d be screwed.

  We stared at each other in the world’s longest, most intense standoff in the history of Crestwood High but eventually, after I actually injured myself straining my neck, she relented.

  “Fine. Vaughn, help me with this bank of computers.”

  Vaughn stuttered and then shook his head. “I, uh, have asthma, so I’m not supposed to lift heavy things.” He pulled an inhaler out of his pocket and took a puff for proof. If I hadn’t already kissed him, I might have done it then.

  Hortense wasn’t happy though and her nostrils flared. “I see. Anyone able to help?”

  She looked around, and I held my breath. Even though I wasn’t particularly popular and there were some morbid souls in the room who wanted to see the carnage, there was a code among most students that prohibited them from outright helping a teacher bust someone. My relief was all-encompassing when no one raised a hand.

  “Fine,” she said with a grim smile.

  Great.

  She zeroed back in on me, and the light in her eyes made my breakfast lurch. “Then I’ll just have to make sure to leave a note for Mr. Banto when he comes to vacuum tonight, asking him to move it for me. We can discuss what he finds tomorrow after class.”

  I kept the smile on my face, but it took some effort. The school had sent out an edict a few months back. “That’s What She Said” was not to be distributed, read, or printed on school grounds, and if they found a copy, swift action would be taken against the student in possession. They’d tried several times to figure out who was behind it but so far had gotten nowhere. And since most kids read it on their phones using their personal e-mail, it was largely one of those don’t ask, don’t tell situations.

  Having a printout of Mac’s column, which hadn’t even gained the administration’s notice yet, could cause all sorts of problems for me and probably Mac. In that particular letter, he all but signed it with his use of UK slang.

  It wasn’t like we were counseling people to smoke crack or run away from home, but the school liked to control the information students got, and heaven forbid someone followed some of our advice on school time and the administration could be held liable for it. It was opening a can of worms I so didn’t want to open.

  “Sounds good,” I said with a curt nod. She didn’t leave, but I opted to pretend she did and turned around to face my computer again. I could feel her standing behind me, and it was an uncomfortable minute as she tried to figure out what she should do next. I got lucky when she apparently decided she’d done enough for the time being and finally walked away.

  I let my tense shoulders relax and tried to think of how to handle this latest mini-crisis, but before I came up with anything, the bell rang.

  In the scheme of things, what with a triad of demi and semi-gods basically watching my every move, having put a kid in a coma, and dealing with this pesky, love-sucking affliction that I had four weeks to figure out “or else” a shit-ton of awful was coming my way, it was hardly a blip on the screen, but I was at the point where I just didn’t need any more stress in my life.

  I gathered up my books and resolved to sneak back into the computer lab during lunch to get that note and hide another fake one in its place. I scooped up my backpack and all but ran out of the room so Hortense couldn’t give me any more crap.

  When Libby met me at my locker a minute later, I was feeling almost upbeat, considering.

  I had this annoying task to take care of, but once that was out of the way, I had a pretty light day ahead of me. And then? Time with Mac.

  My brain automatically went back to replaying yesterday’s training session over and over in my head. Whenever I thought about it, I got all flustered inside. I didn’t know if it was excitement that I finally had a chance to get a handle on this thing and make it work for me or if it was the anticipation of seeing him again. Cuz who doesn’t want to hang out with a super hot guy who thinks you’re a parasite? But that feeling…that warm, gooey feeling in my gut whenever I saw him was hard to ignore.

  Jeez, I was pathetic. A week ago, he was my nemesis, and now I was contemplating what it would have been like if I hadn’t fought him. If I had let him kiss me when he’d grabbed me. His lips were firm and pretty much perfect, and I got the feeling if he did, it would have been different than all the other kisses I’d ever had.

  Not that that was saying much. I’d only kissed five guys. Bink was the first. When we were around four years old I announced that, if he wanted to play in my little plastic
turtle-shaped pool that came complete with a tiny slide and a bucket for dumping water on each other, he was going to have to plant one on me. He thought about it, made an icky face, plucked the binky out of his mouth, and planted one on me. It was pretty okay, I guess. Dry, brief, and grape lollipop–scented—my contribution.

  Then there was Giovanni Bertolli. I was in seventh grade—my chubby, awkward kindergarten-through-sixth-grade phase had resulted in an eight-year dry spell—at the St. Joseph’s Carnival. That kiss, after a ride on the Ferris wheel, was everything the one with Bink hadn’t been. Wet (so wet), long, and corndog-scented. I’m not ashamed to admit that I felt so violated—like I’d been subjected to an ambush root canal—that I burst into tears afterward.

  He was a sweet kid, and I don’t think it was intentional, but whoever had given him first-base pointers had seriously steered him wrong. It was like someone had told him my tonsils were made of fudge, and he was a chocoholic. Gag-worthy.

  After that, there was one with my two-legged race partner at Camp Wabash named Neil, and the one with Vaughn, both entirely unremarkable.

  And then there was Eric. I’d pretty much decided after that one, I was out of the kissing game altogether, if I had any say in the matter.

  Until now.

  “What are you doing after school?” Libby asked me as I traded my morning books for my post-lunch ones.

  “I’m…” I blinked at her and came up empty.

  After the change started and I found out that my mom had lied to me for most of my life, Libby and I had made a pact to always tell each other the truth. Aside from the whole, “Yep, you look great in that muumuu and those cowboy boots” type fibs and a small omission from the Eric incident, I’d always kept my end of the bargain.

  I couldn’t tell her about my deal with Mac, that was for sure, but I wished I could have at least told her he was a semi and that we were training together. Not telling her meant four weeks’ worth of lies every time I was with him, which made me feel like shit. But I also didn’t feel right breaking his confidence. He had shared things with me that he wasn’t supposed to, and to then go and tell those things to Libby seemed wrong and ungrateful. I had to ask him whether or not it would be all right to tell her just the basics. Until then, I needed to stall.

  She stared at me, brows raised. “You’re…?”

  “I’m going to work out for a while this afternoon with my mom. I’ve got to get in shape.” There. Only half a lie. I did have to get in shape. I was just working out different muscles.

  She chewed on her apricot-glossed bottom lip and eyeballed me hard. “For what?”

  Great question. I hadn’t worked out since…never, and now all of a sudden I wanted to get in shape? “The dance. I want to get in shape to look good for the Swirl.”

  “You’re going to the Snowflake Swirl?” She squealed and started bouncing with excitement. Literally. She pried my hand off my locker and dragged me closer to bounce with her. “I’m soooo excited! I thought you said it wasn’t your thing?”

  It totally wasn’t. I’d never been a real girly-girl. My makeup routine consisted of cherry lip gloss and a slap of mascara, and my hair was long and wavy—brush and go. This was a definite about-face for me.

  Libby was waiting for an answer.

  “Maybe it’s time to try and get out there, you know?” Lie. I had no desire to get out anywhere, but it was definitely what she wanted to hear. Her face lit up and I lost at least fifteen best friend points for being a big fat liar.

  “I’m so glad, Mags. You’re a good person. It’s time to forgive yourself. It wasn’t even really your fault, and—”

  I waved a hand to cut her off. There would be no forgiving myself for Eric and as dishonest as I was being, I wouldn’t fake that. “I don’t want to talk about it or overthink it. I just want to try to get in better shape and see how it goes, okay?”

  She nodded and smiled. “Oookay, but wow, you must be seriously considering going if you’re working out and holy cow, that’s so crazy! We’re going to have so much fun!”

  She started bouncing again, while I let a string of mental curses rip. Was there anyone in the world worse at coming up with an excuse off the cuff than me? It was so bad, it would have been comical if I hadn’t just committed myself to what seemed like the worst idea of the century.

  I tried to backpedal, tugging my hands away from Libby’s and giving off a stern vibe. “If, and only if, I get in shape. It’s only a couple weeks away, and I’m not going if the chicken wings are still jiggly.” I lifted my arm and waggled it, pointing to the relatively undeveloped triceps that was hidden under my shirt.

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Your arms are lean and awesome, especially considering you hardly ever do any exercise. You can’t expect to get cut to shreds without ever doing a push-up.”

  “Well, that’s all about to change.” And when it didn’t, I’d have the perfect excuse to skip the dance. Problem solved. I could almost hear Professor McGonagall subtracting five more friend points from Gryffindor.

  “Does this all have something to do with Mac?”

  Her blue eyes lost some of their twinkle, and I didn’t blame her one bit. From her perspective, he was nothing but trouble.

  “You guys seem to be having a lot of…discussions lately, but I thought they looked tense, not…” She raised her eyebrows. “Tense.”

  “No, no,” I said, holding up my hands like, Get the heck outta here. “This is just me trying to get in shape.”

  “All right, because I don’t trust him. After that stunt he pulled with Vaughn, you need to watch your back around him.”

  Yet another reason why it was better not to tell her the truth about Mac. “It’s fine. I swear.” I got one of those weird, phantom pains that comes out of the blue sometimes, and I imagined guilt rolling up and punching me in the spleen. Well played, guilt.

  She didn’t seem totally convinced, but she nodded anyway. “I’ll get to work on a healthy diet program for you, then. I know you like your meat.” She wrinkled her button nose and continued. “So it will have some lean protein but also lots of green vegetables and stuff, too.” She couldn’t hold back her natural enthusiasm for a good project, and the last of the concern faded from her eyes as she rubbed her hands together gleefully. “This is going to be so much fun!”

  Eating foliage and exerting myself until I was sweating and short of breath sounded fun to her. My girl was clearly twisted.

  The first bell rang, and I slammed my locker shut, hoping to also close the door on this conversation. “I’m going to come eat with you at lunch, but then I’ve got to run out and pick up something I left back in Hortense’s class.”

  I couldn’t involve her in this thing with Hortense because it would only lead to more questions and to her wondering why I was so bent on protecting Mac. I never did go back into the computer lab at lunch. When I walked by, Hortense was sitting at the desk eating what looked like a bowl of gruel from a movie about orphans. It was like she had a sixth sense because just as I was about to duck out of view, she looked up and caught my eye. And then she smiled.

  Fucking Hortense. I so did not need this right now.

  By the time I got to the abandoned house that afternoon, I was a bundle of nerves over the situation. At no point during the rest of the school day had I managed to even get close to that piece of paper. Hortense wasn’t budging and every time she saw me, she looked a little giddier.

  And then this whole Mac thing was driving me bonkers. One minute we were sworn enemies, and now we were…not.

  No matter what he said, that was a fact.

  It was one thing to be mad at him, but this newer, more complicated reaction was far more terrifying. No good could come of me relying on him or trying to form any kind of relationship with him. He’d agreed to this grudgingly, and as soon as it was over, one way or the other, I’d be alone again. Either I passed the tests and he went away, or I failed and I went away.

  And it will be
like you never knew him at all.

  The thought bugged me more than it should have. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted all along?

  “Hey,” Mac called from the window of the car as he pulled up to the house. I waved and waited until he got out and led the way down to the back yard. In true New Hampshire form, it had snowed a couple of inches during the school day and boots made satisfying crunching sounds on the crusty cover as I walked. I focused on those instead of watching Mac’s wide shoulders doing their best to block my view of the sky in front of me. So what if he was cute? Ladies thought Ted Bundy was cute. Bats were cute; even poison frogs were cute.. All deadly. All to be avoided like the black plague. Okay, maybe bats weren’t deadly. But if I saw one, I would definitely die of fright, so in my book, that totally counted.

  “Uh, you know the note you left in my locker?” I asked, remembering what I’d been wanting to tell him. I dropped low and made a show of retying my sneakers.

  “I do.”

  His voice held a smile, and I realized that although he’d been tasked to make me go berserk, at some point, he’d gotten a taste for teasing me. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  “Well.” I straightened. “It’s about to get found. By Mrs. Verbiglio.”

  I waited for the realization that he was going to get in trouble to sink in, but he stared at me blankly.

  “So?”

  “So,” I said, exasperated that he was being thick about it. “That means once she reads it, she’s going to be on your tail. And once she finds out He is you, you’re going to get suspended.”

  Maybe that didn’t matter to him. Maybe he didn’t even really need to be in school at all. What did I know?

  “Well, that won’t work.” He sucked on his bottom lip, looking thoughtful, and I was glad to see him taking me seriously. “I can’t be away from you right now. Every day counts.”