Ashes and Ice (6 page)

“Dom?” Courtney’s nasal voice drags out the “o’s”. She aligns herself beside him and grabs his arm. “Let’s go! I thought we were going, to, you know…” She lets her voice hang as she walks her fingers up from his abs to his chest. She stiffens as she realizes the huddle of people grow quiet with her intrusion. She flicks her eyes to me then to Jade, and then rolls hers, exasperated. “Oh my god, Dom. Do we really have to waste time on the loser and…” Her gaze shifted up from Jade’s boots to her face and crinkled her nose in disgust, “the new town freak?”

My muscles tighten angrily. I don’t know why I feel so protective of Jade especially when Jade sits still, relaxed, one hand with an apple, her mouth casually chewing as she returns Courtney’s stare.

“Now, now, Court. Don’t be mean.”

“Why not? She made you all look like jackasses on the track today. And, just look at her!” She pointed flamboyantly. “She’s like, is just, so, you know…”

“You are very articulate.” All eyes shoot to Jade chewing her apple.

“What did you say?”

“ARTICULATE. Would you like me to fetch a dictionary?”

Jared laughs.

“Whatever. Shows what kind of chick you are. Hanging out with this stupid loser over here.” Courtney tilts her head in my direction.

I feel like life is a leaking balloon.

“He’s been even more pathetic since his dad dropped dead.”

My knuckles whiten as I clench my teeth and dig my fingers into the lunch tray.

“If you had any sense,” Courtney says brushing her hair back, “you’d be trying to hang out with us.”

“I’m sorry,” Jade’s voice is calm, almost monotone. “I did not realize I was welcome to sit with the whores and perverted bastards of the school. The invitation is noted.”

I gasp. I gasp so loud it sounds like air has been sucked from a tire. A few people look toward us sensing the tension. Blonde-boobs, I smile inwardly thinking of Jade’s nickname for Courtney, sharply inhales. I brace myself.

“Excuse me?”

I look up to see Dominic’s black eyes boring at Jade. I expect an angry glare; instead, he seems completely amused.

“Well you see,” Jade eases back against the cafeteria table and takes another bite of her apple. “I prefer to spend my time with decent, intelligent human beings,” Jade waves her hand in my direction and I feel myself flush. “Not with dumb wenches who open their legs to whatever male walks by—”

“You bitch!”

Jade smirks—a devious and oh so sexy look.

“Or,” Jade eyes Dominic head to toe with half-open, bored eyes before continuing, “Sorry excuses for men that only know how to think with one head—and not the one above their shoulders.”

I know flies could use my mouth as a landing pad, it gapes open so wide.

That’s when it happens—a wild rush of action.

Courtney reaches for Jade’s hair and in one swift motion Jade ducks, pivots and snatches Courtney’s neck and slams her against the table face-down. Jade seems equal parts bored and disgusted, as if she had just killed a mosquito and had to wipe its remains from her windshield.

Courtney screams, trying to flail away. Everyone gasps and a few tables around us stand up and stare.

Jade is no longer soft lines and curves. She’s jagged and fierce and she doesn’t let go of Courtney’s neck.

Flashes of Clara, the redhead in the woods, and the brunette in the barn scratch into my brain—wait, what brunette? I see her face, see it so clearly, a silhouette against a brightening sky in the massive doorway of the barn and then, and then, oh god…

More blood.

The sight grates against my nerves, twitching my fingers. I clench my fists.

“Jade?” It’s a soft voice, a boy’s voice, light-filled Connor’s voice.

The dark thoughts scatter. I chase them away with my shame. Before I can meet anyone else’s gaze, I grab my bag. Courtney flinches away as I lean in towards her.

“Don’t provoke me.” It’s almost a growl. It is a warning for both of us, because I am not sure how far I can be pushed before I break and the blackness spills in and drowns out the rest of me.

“Wait!” The ice tumbles in, drowning me so no one hears me screaming.

My whole body jerks upright, the dream dissolving. Gasping, I try to focus on steadying my breath, not because I need to regulate my oxygen, but because the sharp, desperate sound scares me. As my breath slows, my shoulders relax and I look around my messy room.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. My head snaps sideways and my body tenses. The alarm blares on. I sigh, shake my head, completely convinced alarms are quite treacherous, annoying things. Getting out of bed, I start pulling on my clothes and grabbing my things before I remember I was suspended yesterday. I flop back down on the mattress.

I was relieved when the principal sent me home. The school’s walls were making me feel claustrophobic and combustible.

As soon as I left the building, I had a feeling, a tingle like static electricity washing over me in waves. I had walked home, unsettled and curious about the tiny pricks scouring over my body and every few moments I glanced behind me. It was a strange, subtle feeling, but I felt someone—or something—followed me. Whenever I sneaked a look, there was nothing and no one behind me, and I resolved not to look back anymore, until I found myself peeking over my shoulder again and cursed myself. Once I walked down a few more blocks though, the feeling was gone and I felt empty and alone again.

Empty and alone like now.

I stretch across the mattress.

Then it hits: a brutal wave of nausea and a pull, deep in my belly, in my bones, my whole body desperate to move.

My dream. Come and find me. The old man!

I go, ramming my feet into my boots, stumbling out my door. I run down the stairs.

“Hey, darlin’! Have a good day at school, ya’ hear! And bring home an appetite ‘cause Nanan is making gumbo.” I brace myself against the doorframe to the living room, the nausea building while I stand still. I hadn’t told Nanan about the suspension. Not yet. She looked so happy when I came home yesterday. I helped her cut up vegetables and she had called me a good ol’ southern girl with a pair of biker boots.

“I will, Nanan. I can’t wait”

I had stopped cutting vegetables when I felt the cold twisting my gut and tickling my fingertips making me grip the knife tighter, enjoying the way the blade could so easily slice.

Then I stopped. I had told Nanan I was tired and needed to go to bed. I went to my room, locked my door, and sat in the corner until the chill ebbed, until my fingers stopped twitching.

I walk out the front door, down the sidewalk, and stop at the street. I close my eyes and feel the energy pulsing in my core. It swirls inside me and then pulls me right. I don’t question it, just follow.

Relief floods my limbs as I let go and allow my feet to march me to wherever the pull is taking me. Left on Bonifant, keep walking, right on Dodge, left on the street with no street sign, but next to a huge magnolia, keep walking.

No, stop.

Heat rushes over me, hot fire but sweet as honey. I look around.

A few steps away from the huge tree, I catch a whiff of the sweet flowers, the green, warm smell. For a moment, something else competes with my body’s pull forward, another sensation, an impulse to go under the shade of the magnolia, curl up, and rest—but not just rest, to be at peace, to be comforted, to be…

I shake my head, suddenly feeling ridiculous for pausing, for letting the anxiety in my limbs build to a tremble. I keep going, lefts and rights, landmarks and unmarked roads until I come to a dock.

I stop before stepping onto the planks of wood. My chest tightens. My breath labors as I stare across the wide open water. It’s massive and terrifying. I edge backward, shaking my head, pulling away, ignoring the energy coursing in my veins demanding me to stay put.

I don’t like docks.

They hover over bodies of water, beckoning, trying to convince me I’ll be safe on it. I can’t feel safe on a plank of wood over swampy, murky water, over something so powerful and unpredictable. Something that kills.

I stand still and stare out past the dock, breathing in out. I crook my head and shade my eyes against the sunlight. I can’t see the other side. I see the tiniest sliver of a glow. It flickers and fizzles out, but I know what I see… a light, an energy calling me to it. New Orleans. Once the name registers in my mind, my body’s tension releases and I collapse on the ground. New Orleans. New Orleans! That is where I need to go!

I jump to my feet and run back home, nearly skipping between each running stride.

“What do you mean?”

“First off, the new girl humiliated her in front of the whole lunch room and second, I heard Dom was checking out the new girl and Courtney totally flipped out.” He shook his head, his breaths rasping out in a wet, sloppy sound. “I would hate to be the new chick. Anyone on the receiving end of Courtney’s evil is done for.”

I hated to think about it, but Matt is right.

“So, she’ll be back on Monday?”

“Yep, that’s what I heard.”

I nod and go back to eating.

Then I realize something. “Um, hey, Matt.”

“Yep?”

“I know you know my name, but uh, we’ve never actually met. You know, officially.”

“Yeah, I know.” He looks uncomfortable for a second and then reaches his hand out to me. “Hello, Connor, I’m Matt.”

I grin and shake his hand. “Ok. It’s official. Sorry it took me so long to you know…”

“No, I understand, especially since…” His voice trails off. “Um, well, you know. Um, I’m really sorry about your dad.”

His statement surprises me. “Oh, I…”

“He was a really great guy.”

I hadn’t even realized Matt had known him. “Thanks.” Then I nod in agreement. “He really was.”

“Yeah, I mean, he was brilliant! When we worked together…”

“Wait, what?” Worked together?

“Yeah, you know, like I dunno, six or seven months ago… that big project he was working on?”

I stare at him. Dad had holed up in his study more and more before he died. It was a sort of frantic, desperate kind of work. It was jarring to see. He was always so happy-go-lucky, so laid back, and then he started to work early in the morning and late into the night, frantically writing. Mom and I had tried to interrupt him from time to time, but in the end, he would glare at us with such unfamiliar, angry eyes that we stopped. We left the door closed and let him work. Sometimes, it seemed the work was what killed him, accelerated his sickness. He looked ragged and pale by the end. “What was the project exactly?”

Matt looks at me and wiggles his eyebrows. “The translations?” He says it as if that would jog my memory, but I didn’t know anything about my dad’s last project.

Matt presses on, “The translations of the ancient text he found?” When he sees my blank expression, he seems exasperated. “I have a knack for languages. Savant, really. I take weekend classes at the U for ancient ones.”

How did I not know this about my classmate? A savant? This wheezing hot mess of a kid? “That’s—cool.”

“Yeah, well, your dad thought I was really gifted with ancient languages and would let me help translate things from time to time, like an internship.”