Fallen (43 page)

Just then a s
hy, high-pitched voice said, “Hello
.”

I hadn’t even noticed
the two girls
approaching.

I glanced up to find
them
sheepishly staring at me.

It was Jenny McKintridge
from
my European History class
. She had a friend with her who I’d only seen around but didn’t know.
But i
t
was the piece of paper in her hand that actually drew my attention. It looked like our school newspaper.

“Hi,” she said again, having stopped in front of us and
was
now shifting stances uncomfortably. “Is this you?”

She held out the newspaper
,
and I took it. Across the top of the page
in all caps read:

MAGDALENE TANNER:
THE REAL DEAL

I skimmed the article and found that most of it was true. Miranda had gotten a few facts wrong but
nothing of consequence, just some
dates and locations.

“Yes
, that would be me,” I told Jenny, handing the newspaper
back to her
.

“
So you’re
the one who sits in
Jackson
’s Square? The one who speaks to the dead?”

“Yes…”

She stepped forward again, still dragging her friend. “I’m
Jenny
. This is
Sheila
. She just lost her aunt.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said
sincerely
. “Did you want to tell her something?”

That question, so simple and
so innocent, was the catalyst to the unimaginable journey I was
embarking on. This moment marked
the beginning of me delivering messages for fellow students…again.

Sheila’s
eyes lit up as she inched forward with another small step.

“Yes, could you…could you tell her that I’ve saved all her paintings? They won’t be auctioned off. That was very important to her. It was her last request to me.”

“Sure, I can
tell her
tonight.”

“Tonight? So soon?” she asked, astounded.

“Unless you prefer I wait…”

“No,” she replied abruptly. “Tonight would be great. I…I just didn’t know you could do it so fast.”

“Yes, this is the express service.”

“Oh, does that cost more?” she asked.

“No.” I laughed. “No…I was joking
.”

She still seemed unable to
comprehend
the
humor in it
.
“Okay, I’d pay
for
it
,
if it were,” she said
sheepishly
,
as she opened
her purse and
started
digging for money.

Instantly, the regret creeping just inside my consciousness, for violating Ezra’s terms, vanished.
I realized that if someone
were
going to pay more for her message to be delivered, it was
obviously
important to her – so much
so
that any trouble I
may get into,
with Ezra or The Warden
,
for delivering
the
message would be
a worthy tradeoff.
“You know, don’t worry about the money,” I said.

“Well, I need to pay you…” she stated, as if
it
weren’t up for debate.

Recognizing that
it made her feel more comfortable if she paid
,
I
agreed to
accept the money. “Sure, but you can pay me tomorrow when I confirm with you that your aunt got her message.”

Sheila
smiled, the pain in her eyes lifting
visibly.
“Thanks. That sounds great.”

B
y that point
,
I
had two more students
forming a
line to talk with me.

“Uh-oh. Here we go…” Gershom muttered and immediately began packing up his lunch.

It seemed what had become an innocent byline in our school newspaper had turned
into
a massive advertisement.

By the time I got to fencing class
,
I had a total of ten deliveries to make and another two custo
mers
caught up to me
right
before f
encing started.
I already had my
protective
gear
on by the time the
thirteenth
,
and final
,
customer of the day approached me.

Sitting and waiting for class to begin, I heard
the auditorium door open
. Without having to look,
I
knew
who
it was
because the
hair on the back of my neck stood
at attention.

Sarai
took a gym bag
into
the locker room and returned a few minutes later
,
her street clothes
having been
replaced with her
uniform
. Without speaking a word to anyone, she sat down
on the opposite side of the circle, facing me.

She hadn’t put
on
her
mask
yet
,
so I could see her face clearly. It was glowering, eyes incensed. I envision
ed
her grabbing hold of her sword
and
screaming, as she sprinted across the gym floor, refusing to stop until her sword had
decapitated
me.
Thankfully, she hadn’t moved.
I had to give her credit.
The fact that she didn’t even flinch as her nemesis
sat
directly in front of her, exposed and unprotected, spoke volumes about her self-control.

Ms. Valentine walked arou
nd the inside of the circle
,
c
hecking everyone’s gear aloud. “Jacket…Plastron…Breeches…Mask…Gloves…Foil…Excellent. Now, I told you we would be having a quiz today both written and sparing but a student – especially a fencing student – must always be prepared for the unexpected. So, there will b
e no written part of the quiz.”

Whispers, happy ones,
swirled
around the class.

To my dread,
Ms. Valentine went on to say, “That will give us more than enough time to test
everyone’s
skills on the pad.”

It seemed I was the only one
who wasn’t ecstatic
about this
change of plans
. With everyone else so eager to jump in the circle and be pocked and jabbed, I figured the best thing I could do was scoot to the very outer edge of the circle. Maybe Ms. Valentine wouldn’t have time to get to me before class ended
,
and I wouldn’t
have
to spar.
I knew this was wishful thinking. She had been a sergeant in the Army before coming
to the Academy of the Immaculate Heart. Promptness was a necessity, and the stop watch around her neck was not a fashion statement.
She would stay on time.

“Now,” said Ms. Valentine turning in my direction. “Who’s ready for the first assaut?
” Her eyes scanned the room. I dropped my head silently
,
hoping she wouldn’t
select
me.
Yet
it was almost as if I could feel the weight of her stare when she stopped at me.
I was on the verge of desperation when she called out, “
Maggie
Tanner
…
I haven’t seen you spar all semester.
”

It was almost as if I had a flashing beacon on my head.

“It’s only been a few days
into
the semester,” I commented. “
There will be plenty of time later
.”

I knew my response
fell on deaf ears
when her mouth
pursed out of aggravation
and she placed her meaty fists on her hips
, protesting
my obvious disinterest in participating. She had singled me out already. There was no possibility of me avoiding the inevitable sparring match.

“The time is now,” she stated
sta
u
nchly
.

I groaned
,
unashamedly showing
my disappointment in
being
called
first, and
I displayed
my reservation
by
getting up
slowly
– very slowly.

“And who for a partner?
” She spun in the opposite direction, searching for an appropriate candidate with the same height and build.
I was making my way
onto
the mat when
I heard her say
, “
How about…
Sarai?
”

My head snapped up just as her name was called.
Sure enough,
Sarai was
in the motion of standing
, all too eagerly. She
still
hadn’t put on her mask so when she shot me
a glare, oozing with anticipation,
it was clear that she expected to enjoy this sparring
match
.