King 02 - Breathless (10 page)

My mom was running water over silverware, and I knew she wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation. My father, on the other hand, was frowning at me, and I could pick up his apprehension.

“Oh, that’s nice, Tas! Was it one of your teachers from last year?” My mother looked at me expectantly.

“Actually, it was. It was Ms. Lacusta.”

My father sighed heavily. My mom dropped the dish that she’d been holding into the sink.

“Tasmyn! You told her no, didn’t you?”

I avoided meeting their eyes. “No… well, at first, yes, I did tell her I wouldn’t do it. I—obviously I don’t want anything to do with Ms. Lacusta. But then Ms. Ross just kept pushing me, and she said if I didn’t agree to have Ms. Lacusta facilitate my independent study, I’d have to take an elective instead.”

“Tas, you’d be much better off taking an elective than you’d be spending so much time with—with that woman. I understand that this guidance counselor might have pressured you into agreeing to do this, but we can take care of that. I’ll go in there tomorrow morning and straighten it out—”

“Dad,” I interrupted. “I know what you’re saying. But listen. Ms. Lacusta isn’t going to stop here. She isn’t going to leave me alone. If this doesn’t work, she’ll do something else. And what I realized was that if I’m near her, I can keep control of the situation. I can listen to her, try to see what she’s planning…”

My voice trailed off because my father was shaking his head emphatically.

“No! Tasmyn, absolutely not. According to both Amber and—and Nell, what happened last year was largely attributable to the influence of that woman. She might not have been holding the knife—” his eyes skimmed over the scars on my neck— “but she might as well have been. There is no way that we’re going to deliberately put you in her path again. The fact that you remained in her class last year made me unhappy enough, but at least you were in a classroom full of other people—plus, she was still on probation then. It would have been too risky for her to try something else at that point. But this is different. You’ll be frequently alone with her. She’ll think that now everything has died down, everyone has forgotten. She’ll be feeling safe again, which makes her very dangerous. No. No.”

Everything that he said had already occurred to me. I knew it made perfect sense. But I also knew that sometimes what made sense wasn’t necessarily the right thing to do.

Wearily I leaned my head against my hand. “Daddy, I know all of that. But you’ve got to trust me on this. I need to be close enough to Ms. Lacusta to hear her. I don’t know for sure how much she’s guessed about my abilities. But in order to protect myself, I have to be informed. This is the best way, and it just fell into my lap.”

My mother sank into the chair next to me and lightly ran a hand over my hair. “Tas. You know how we feel about you using your talents deliberately. Your father is right. You cannot do this. Tomorrow you go in, and you tell this Ms. Ross that you’ve changed your mind; you want to take an elective instead of independent study. And if she gives you any trouble, your father and I will take care of it.”

I could feel that their minds were set. Nothing I could say at this point would change anything. I nodded and retreated to my bedroom.

My cell phone was on the nightstand next to my bed. I saw that I’d missed Michael’s call, which didn’t surprise me. I’d purposely left the phone in my room, anticipating the difficult discussion with my parents wouldn’t benefit from an interruption.

I fell across the bed, briefly wondering if I’d be able to avoid telling Michael about the whole Ms. Lacusta situation. After all, it was basically a non-issue now, with my parents standing firm.

But when I returned his call, I could hear the concern and tension in his voice. “Tas? Are you okay? First I couldn’t get hold of you, then my mom told me that you’d seemed a little off this afternoon. I’ve been worried.”

Still lying on the bed, my arm over my eyes, I smothered a sigh. “I’m fine. It was just a long day. You know how first days are. And the nursery was crazy,” I added, hoping to throw him off the subject.

“But what happened in school? I can hear it in your voice. Something’s up.”

“Oh, look who’s the mind reader now,” I commented wryly. “And aren’t you lucky, distance doesn’t seem to slow you down.”

“Tas, don’t do this. What’s going on?”

“Okay, okay…” As succinctly as I could, I told him the whole story, including the just-concluded talk with my parents.

“So you see, it’s really nothing,” I finished.

There was silence on the other end. I closed my eyes, frustrated once again that I couldn’t hear him thinking, couldn’t
feel
him.

“Tas…” His voice was tired. “I can’t believe you’d even consider doing that. Why would you let her talk you into it?”

Instantly my defenses were up. “I think you’re overreacting, just like my parents. It’s not like I agreed to go on a foreign study program with Ms. Lacusta. I didn’t say I’d move in with her and be her apprentice. We’re talking about a single class period, maybe once or twice a month, in the school. In the building. Filled with other people.”

“Tasmyn, if you think she’d stop at that, you’re hopelessly naive. For her, this was a beginning. Getting her foot in the door. She spends time with you, somewhere you feel safe, and before long, she’s in your head. And what about your Nell dream? Didn’t it occur to you that maybe that warning was about this very situation?”

“It was just a dream. You said that yourself. How could it have anything to do with what happened today?”

Michael snorted. “Stranger things have happened, haven’t they?”

I chose to ignore that remark. “Michael, it’s not as though I went off looking for an opportunity to spend time with her. This was just something that seemed like an okay idea today when I was talking with Ms. Ross. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was easier to agree. But it’s nothing to worry about now. Tomorrow, I’ll go in and tell her that I’m going to take home ec or whatever, and it’ll be done. So you don’t have to get all over me about it.” I was weary and annoyed and tired of people thinking I wasn’t smart enough to take care of myself.

There was a note of strain in Michael’s tone, too. “I’m not getting all over you about it. But I’m not there to watch your back this year, and I’m worried about what could happen.”

“I lived without a bodyguard for seventeen years before I met you.” It wasn’t a kind thing to say, but I wasn’t feeling very kind.

“You didn’t live in King before you met me. You were never at risk the way you are now.”

“I can take care of myself. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were!” Michael’s voice rose, and then I heard him blow out a sigh, probably of frustration, I thought. I could just picture him running his hand over his hair, as he did when he was concerned or upset.

“Look, Tasmyn, it’s late, and we’re tired. We’re going around and around here, and I think we’re both saying things we might not really want to say.” When I was silent, he continued. “Why don’t we just talk about this tomorrow, okay? I’ve got a load of reading to do before I get to sleep, and I’m sure you’ve got homework, too.”

“Okay.” My voice was low as I struggled to keep the tears out of it.

“I’ll call you tomorrow night.”

“Okay,” I repeated softly.

“Night.”

I’m not sure I could have responded, but it didn’t matter, for I heard the click on the other end of the line. I dropped the phone on the nightstand and fell across the bed, too confused and uncertain to collapse into the tears that had threatened earlier.

I pushed myself off the bed and moved restless around my room. My eyes lit upon the half of the sand dollar I’d found on our last trip to Clearwater. It was on top of my jewelry box, and each night I touched it gently with the tip of my finger, remembering.

Now I carefully picked it up and examined its jagged edge. Our two pieces had fit together so perfectly less than a month ago, before Michael had left. With a pang, I wondered if the fit would be so complete after this year apart had worn at both of us.

I deliberately left for school a little earlier the next morning so that I would have time to see Ms. Ross before classes began. I didn’t want to lose my nerve, and I had promised my parents that I would take care of it right away.

I hadn’t slept well again. No specific nightmares this time, but I was restless and awoke with that vague sense of wrongness that I’d felt before when I was at odds with my parents over something. I knew it was my conversation with Michael that was making me feel so off today. We had never really had a disagreement that we hadn’t resolved almost immediately, and the feeling of being slightly off-kilter lingered with me.

The school office was much quieter this morning, and when I asked if Ms. Ross was in, the secretary waved me toward her door. The guidance counselor was sitting at her desk, much the way I had left her the previous day. She was absorbed in something on her computer and didn’t see me until I knocked softly on the door jam.

“Oh! Miss Vaughn, right? What can I do for you?” She was brisk but not unfriendly.
Didn’t I take care of everything with her yesterday?

I hurried to my point. “I’m sorry to bother you again, but after I thought about it, I decided I’d really rather take an elective in fourth period, instead of the independent study. Can we change that?”

Her manner and her thoughts turned decidedly frostier. “I thought we had that all straightened out. Why did you change your mind?”

I wanted to tell her that it was none of her business, but instead I invoked the parent clause.

“My father and mother think it would be better for me to have an elective.”

Ms. Ross sighed. She wanted to argue, I could hear that clearly in her head, but she decided it wasn’t worth taking on my parents.
As if I don’t have enough to do,
I heard her think crossly.

“Fine. Which elective do you want to take?”

“I was thinking home economics,” I replied meekly. She typed something on her keyboard, waited a moment, then frowned at the screen.

“Home ec is filled that period. We have to keep that to a small class because of the nature of the subject.” She clicked a few more keys, then scrolled down a page. “Wood shop has a few openings.”

Inwardly I groaned. I could handle some baking, sewing and child care projects, but saws and sanders were a different matter entirely. Ms. Ross was looking at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

“Okay,” I sighed. “Wood shop will be fine. Thanks.”

I left Ms. Ross’s office with an amended schedule, an add form for the wood shop teacher to sign and the overwhelming sense that she thought I was making the wrong decision.

I questioned it myself in fourth period. The class was filled with boys, mostly freshmen and sophomores. There were two other girls, both of whom gazed at me with frank suspicion. Since I had worn open-toed shoes, I wasn’t permitted to work on any of the machines. The teacher reminded me that only safe shoes were allowed in his class and handed me a book of woodshop projects so that I could choose what I wanted to make this year. Glumly I flipped through the pages until he dismissed us a few moments before the bell rang.

I rounded the corner, heading for my locker and wondering how I was going to get through a year of woodshop.

“Tasmyn.”

I stopped abruptly and turned in the direction of the voice, trepidation making my heart beat erratically. Ms. Lacusta stood in the shadowed doorway of a nearby empty classroom.

Before I could answer her or even think, she beckoned me. “I wondered if I could have just a minute of your time.”

Torn, I looked around the nearly empty walkway. The bell would ring shortly, and throngs of students would fill the outside corridor. But at the moment I felt very alone and vulnerable.

I felt her amusement and knew I was easily read. “I promise you, I intend no harm. I only want to… talk with you.”

I moved slowly and reluctantly toward her. “Okay. What… what do you need?”

Ms. Lacusta’s laugh was low and ironic. “Oh, I don’t need anything, Miss Vaughn. It’s what
you
need, actually.”