by Cutter, Leah
Not much—people were dancing pretty closely together—maybe only a few feet between them. He'd just have to carve out his own space.
"You look happy," Sam grumbled as he passed Peter his change.
"Parental units are in town. Got fed."
"Dude," Sam said, holding up his fist for a knuckle bump. Peter continued to grin at him.
"See you out there?" Peter asked, passing by and holding out his other wrist to Joe.
"Yeah, yeah, later."
"Thanks," Peter said, blowing on the mark. He didn't want it smearing across the fingers of his first partner—that was just rude.
The center of the ballroom was lit with white, red, and blue lights, the combination making it very bright. The edges were dark, with no lights at all, making it easy to stumble over the chairs and tables there. Chandeliers hung above the wooden floor. A tall black booth in the corner to the right held the DJ. It was Mark, which meant Peter's luck was holding, and there would be great music all night.
Peter walked past the bar in the other corner, noticing that Brin was tending. He didn't try to say hi; she was too busy with her show, flipping bottles and glassware. He'd talk with her later, but he wouldn't ask her to dance. The last time he'd done that, she'd bruised his foot landing on it so hard. It had probably been an accident; however, he hadn't liked how she'd laughed at him.
The crowd looked like the usual mix for a Sunday, with some guys wearing fancy vintage suits while their dates matched in cute 50s dresses and flipped hair. Others were dressed up for modern times in nice shirts and jeans. Still others wore "Seattle chic" flannel shirts and T-shirts with obscure bands' logos on them.
Peter was only wearing a nice, dark purple shirt and black jeans, not his usual vest and suit pants. He hadn't wanted to dress up too much for dinner. He carried his black dancing shoes.
In the far corner, Peter finally saw the rest of his dancing buddies, Adam, Vamshi, and Bob.
"Yo!" Adam called.
"Where you been?" Bob asked. "Called you for Frisbee earlier."
"Oh good, you're here!" Kaitlin came up from the side. "We're dancing now."
Peter held up his dancing shoes.
Kaitlin took them from him and tossed them to Adam, then took Peter's hand and led him to the dance floor.
They paused for a moment on the side, counting the beat, then hopped into it.
Kaitlin was a good dancer, joyous and light on her feet. Peter spun her out right away, letting her turn and turn again, both of them grinning like crazy as the music brought them higher. When he brought her back in to dance next to him, their arms intertwined, their feet still hopping, she said, "Why can't you teach Jay to lead like this?"
Peter laughed and shook his head. It was an old complaint. Jay, her boyfriend, couldn't hear the beat well enough to be a good lead. He tried, though, for Kaitlin's sake.
"I can't help that he's rhythm deaf," Peter said, spinning Kaitlin out so they each danced their own steps, circling each other, holding hands and getting their shimmy on.
She laughed and didn't bring it up again. They danced familiar rhythms—in, out, hop and snap—effortlessly. Peter brought Kaitlin in just at the end of the song so he could dip her, both of them laughing as he raised her back to her feet.
As they walked back to the corner, a newcomer who Peter hadn't seen before came up. "Would you like to dance?"
She was cute, with brown hair tied up in a high ponytail, a plain white T-shirt with a fancy black vest, jeans, and heels.
"I need to change into my dance shoes," Peter told her. "Next song, okay?"
"Okay," she said, shrugging and walking away.
Kaitlin hit Peter on the shoulder.
"Ow! What did you do that for?" Peter asked. Kaitlin hit hard.
"She's cute and you could have changed your shoes later."
Peter shook his head. He'd never be able to explain how meeting a new girl scared him right now. Anyone new, actually. What if they were like Tamara?
Adam scooted his chair over next to Peter while he was tying on his shoes. "So, what's up with you and Tamara?"
"What?" Peter asked, forcing himself to keep his smile on his face and play dumb. "Nothing, why?"
"She was asking if we'd seen you, said she was worried about you."
Peter shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Beats me."
Cai shifted uneasily.
"Is she here?"
Tamara never came to the Sunday night social dance. She always said she had to be up too early Monday morning for work.
"Yeah, she's out dancing."
Cat! Cat!
Peter gripped the edge of his seat to keep himself from standing and bolting.
"Here she is!" Adam said.
"Hi, Peter."
Peter stood slowly.
Cai bristled his feathers.
"Let's dance," Tamara said, taking Peter's arm. Claws dug into the tender flesh of his wrist.
Peter followed Tamara to the dance floor. When she released him, he stood and glared at her.
Fly away.
No. She can't hurt us here. Crowds mean safety.
"Aren't you going to dance with me?" Tamara asked, smirking, placing one hand on Peter's shoulder, getting into position.
Peter shuddered. Her musky perfume floated up to him—she still smelled human—he must be missing something. He raised his hand and placed it in the small of her back, then took her other hand.
"You owe me for that window, you know," Tamara purred as they started.
"You owe me for that leather jacket," Peter retorted. He spun Tamara out, keeping her at arm's length.
Tamara just laughed at him.
"I think I'll keep that," she told him as she came closer, trying to take the lead. "Makes a nice cushion. The leather's good for sharpening my claws."
"What do you want?" Peter asked the next time he drew her back closer so they danced side by side.
"To play this game for a while," Tamara said, as if it were obvious.
"What if I don't want to play?"
"Challenges are so boring," Tamara told him.
Peter spun her out again. Challenges? Like some kind of duel? He danced on automatic pilot for a while, falling into the same set of steps, not trying to mix up the patterns or shapes. But he always kept Tamara at arm's length, turning her, then turning himself, instead of bringing her closer and dancing side by side.
When the music ended, Tamara slinked close enough to speak directly in Peter's ear. "You know why challenges are so boring? Because I always win. Even against you. I'd win."
With a wink and a smile, Tamara walked back to the corner, to all of Peter's friends.
Even against him? What the hell did she mean? What was he going to do? He didn't want to involve Ravens' Hall, but he might not have a choice. Who else would know about challenges? What had she meant?
"Hey—wanna dance?" The girl Peter didn't know came up to him again.
"Sure," Peter said. He automatically got into position.
"I'm Sally."
"Peter."
She gave him a gentle smile as they started. It warmed her face and made her suddenly beautiful, softening her angular lips and wide eyes.
Pretty.
Peter nearly lost his count.
Cai had never said that before, about any girl, ever.
Sally danced well, though it was obvious she wasn't as advanced as Peter. He led her in the Charleston step, both of them kicking together forward, then back, which she followed easily, as well as when Peter moved them to do a side step, followed by a series of slides. But when he tried to lead them into the hand-to-hand Charleston, where instead of them kicking together, side-by-side, they held hands and kicked in opposite directions, she got confused and had to stop.
She shook her head and giggled, an easy, bubbling sound. "Sorry, still learning. Can we try that again?"
"You're doing great," Peter said. And she was. She had a good sense of the dance, recovering
quickly when she did stumble. At the end of the song, Peter dipped her, just because. She smelled like sun-warmed grass and freshly cut wood.
Cai gave a soft caw, followed with, Blue skies.
Peter nodded. "Thanks," he said.
"Thank you," Sally said with another warm smile.
They both stood, awkwardly looking at each other, as the next song started.
Peter knew he shouldn't ask her to dance again. It went against all dance etiquette and protocol. But Cai wanted to feel her hand again, brush his feathers up against her. "Would you like another dance?"
"With you? Sure. You're such a good dancer. I can learn a lot from you."
They got into position and bobbed to the beat for a few counts.
"Are you new here?" Peter asked.
She nodded. "Just moved here. From Mee-nee-so-ta, jah," she added with a grin.
Peter grinned back.
Cai sent a clear picture of a nest, safely balanced in the hollow of a branch.
Peter maintained his grin as he led them through more complicated steps, spinning and turning quickly. Sally flowed easily in and out, kicking out her feet and getting her shimmy on this time, though he wasn't paying as much attention as he knew he should be.
Cai thought she was their mate.
Peter knew it was more difficult than that. He couldn't just sweep Sally off her feet, no matter how his feathered soul longed to hold her in his wings.
The song ended and Peter asked, "Are you taking classes here?"
Sally nodded. "Yeah, I was at the Sunday class just before the dance."
"So you'll be here next week?" Peter asked, knowing he was pushing, but he couldn't help himself.
But Sally merely grinned at him. "This week and every week."
"Good," Peter said, finally backing away. "I look forward to dancing with you again."
"Me, too," Sally said. "Bye, Peter."
"Bye, Sally."
Peter turned back toward the corner, where his friends all waited. He couldn't tell them, not yet. There really wasn't anything to tell. But his heart felt light and his feet barely touched the floor.
Then he saw Tamara sitting in the middle of them, her eyes hard and mean, staring past him, straight at Sally.
Peter suddenly realized that he'd been wrong about being safe in a crowd.
Tamara wanted to get her claws into everyone he knew.
Chapter Four
Petie sat on the bus, staring with longing up at the huge Wyoming sky. It was bluer than he'd remembered, but just as wide and empty.
Cai cawed softly, and rustled his feathers.
Soon, Petie promised. They'd been sitting inside for a really long time, first at the airport in Seattle, then on the airplane, then at the next airport in Denver, and now here on the bus on the way to Ravens' Hall. At least it was warm on the bus; the plane had been so cold Petie had put on both his jacket and his hat, and had asked for a blanket and a hot chocolate. Now, he could sit in just a T-shirt and jeans and not shiver.
Petie wanted to go and run and fly as much Cai did. His skin felt tight and everything was closing in. Only out there could he breathe.
"Wow," said the boy sitting beside Petie. He leaned over Petie to get a better look at the sky. He had darker hair and skin than Petie—actually, than most of the boys and girls on the bus. His face was thin and pinched, as if it had been carved by the wind. He wore a blue denim shirt that was too big for him, jeans that were too small, no socks, and beat-up high top sneakers.
Petie didn't say anything about the boy crowding him because that was polite and what his mom would have wanted.
"I ain't never seen sky like that," the boy said, finally leaning back.
"This is your first time to Ravens' Hall?" Petie asked, surprised. The boy was older than he was, nine at least, while Petie had just turned seven.
"Yeah. My mom couldn't afford to send me."
"Oh," was all Petie said.
Was the boy lying? Or did his parents only just find out about the money the school gave out? Petie had had to take even more tests, study outside of school, so their family could get the money. He'd worked hard, wanting Mom and Dad to be proud of him.
"I'm Jesse," the boy said. sticking out a dark, muscled hand. The fingernails were chewed off and torn, and there was dirt around the edges of them, as if his mom didn't make him scrub often enough.
"Petie, Peter," he replied, still not sure which he liked better.
"Petie-Peter. I like that. Call you the double-P. Or Two-P. Tupe."
Petie smiled and nodded though he wasn't sure if Jesse was making fun of him or not. "Where are you from?" Petie asked.
"Virginia," Jesse said. "Most recently. But we've lived lots a places."
"I've only ever lived in Seattle," Petie admitted.
"Seattle, huh? How can you stand all that rain?"
"In the winter, there's a lot, yeah. But it's really sunny in the summer. And there are mountains."
"And blue sky?" Jesse asked, with a real smile.
"And blue sky," Petie replied.
They both turned to look out the window. Petie could almost taste the cool wind and thin air up above them.
"Maybe I'll hitch a ride. Come visit someday," Jesse said.
"Really? All that way?"
Petie tried to imagine it. Flying all day, then what—human at night? Naked and lost in some cold city alley, hungry and alone? He shivered.
"Sure. Lots cheaper than airplanes."
"But it would take days. Months! Wouldn't you miss your Mom and Dad? And what about school?" Petie stared at Jesse.
Jesse shrugged. "Dad's gone. Mom works two jobs to support us. She don't have time to miss me. And I wouldn't miss school much, either."
"Huh," Petie said, turning back to the window. Going to Ravens' Hall for two weeks was bad enough—at least he'd be able to call home every night, and his parents were coming to Wyoming to pick him up. But flying across the country like what Jesse suggested, always alone…
Cai puffed himself up, feathers brushing up against Petie.
He wasn't really alone. He wrapped a little tighter around Cai. He wouldn't ever truly be alone, not ever again.
"Do you want to sit next to the window?" Petie offered after a few more minutes of gazing at the sky.
"Yeah," Jesse said eagerly.
Petie slid over, across the bus seats, while Jesse awkwardly climbed over him. Petie couldn't see as well, but his mom would be proud of him.
By the time they reached Ravens' Hall, Petie regretted his offer: The inside of the bus was too dark, and he'd been cooped up for so long he felt like he was going to burst. His skin felt tighter than ever and the air seemed stale.
Petie eagerly stood with the other boys and shuffled toward the front, eager to breathe the clear air, regardless of how cold it might be.
As soon as his feet touched the earth, Pete struck off immediately toward the hall, barely holding himself back from running. It was as big as he remembered, white and looking as if it were carved out of the cliff behind it, some kind of cool castle. He saw the ravens sitting on the balcony and window railings. He grinned and took a hitching step, about to run and greet them.
"Hey, you! Don't forget your bags!"
Petie folded in on himself. He didn't want to get his bags and be more weighed down. He still made himself turn around.
"Yeah," one of the other boys said. "We're not carrying them for you."
The tall boy standing next to him laughed meanly. "Besides, isn't it the custom for the younger boys to carry the bags of the older boys?" he asked.
"You got it. Show some respect for your elders," said the first boy.
Petie didn't want to walk back to get his bags now. The two tall boys stood between him and the bus. They were dark like him, with bleached blond hair, wearing basketball jerseys that hung on them, making them seem stretched out. Petie clenched his fists and started walking back anyway, trying to stay out of arm's reach and go around t
hem.
"Oops," was all he heard before a hard hand pushed him.
Cai didn't let Petie fall. He stumbled, flailing, but Cai regained their balance quickly. Then Cai ruffled up his feathers and squawked at the boys, ready to fight.
The boys gave an uneasy laugh, taking a step back.
A warm presence loomed at his back—Jesse—also ready to fight.
No. Petie struggled to unclench his hands, to take control. They're bigger, taller.
No fly away, Cai sneered.
Prefect Kitridge suddenly stood between the two groups.
"Back off. All of you."
Petie shook himself, abruptly in control.
"Chris, Thomas—y'all can't even get into the hall 'fore you're causing trouble," the prefect said. Her blazing orange and green hair stood out on all ends like a spiky ball. Her dark gray eyes were the color of storm clouds. She wore a black leather vest that showed off the bright red and blue tattoos that decorated her arms from shoulder to elbow. She had a nose ring and, since last summer, had added a lip ring.
The two tall boys nodded and shuffled off.
Then the prefect turned and glowered at Petie and Jesse. "Petie, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you had better control. And you," she said, turning her glare on Jesse. "Just 'cause you're new here don't mean you get a pass. No fighting."
"Yes ma'am," Petie said meekly. He hadn't meant to fight.
"Yes ma'am," Jesse repeated.
With one last glare, Prefect Kitridge stomped off.
"Wow," Jesse said softly. "Ain't she somethin'."
Petie bit his lip, then shrugged. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble."
"No trouble at all, little man," Jesse replied breezily. "Just trying to even the odds."
Petie suddenly liked his odds better, of being happy here at Ravens' Hall.
Maybe it wouldn't just be him and Cai anymore.
* * *
The Warrior Room looked kind of like the gym at Petie's school, but the wood floor was dark, not light, and more dark wood covered the walls, making the room feel small and closed in. The bright, caged lights hanging from the ceiling reflected off the wood, but not in a shiny, distracting way. The smell of human sweat and bird feathers lingered.
On the far wall, rows of long, wooden, pale sticks were held snugly by racks. Some had knives tied to the tops of them with bright red and yellow artificial feathers. Flashy martial arts swords hung on the next wall. Ropes, masks, and body armor lay in neat piles in the corner between them, a colorful, dangerous collection.