Raven and the Dancing Tiger (6 page)

"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 them.

"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.

Big signs outside the door proclaimed "No shoes!" so Petie took his off just before he walked in, placing them and his socks in one of the cubbies beside the door. The room was warm, like all of Ravens' Hall, so Petie felt comfortable in his T-shirt and jeans.

Petie had never trained in the Warrior Room before. Prefect Aaron had said he was too young the last time he was here. But the assignment had just showed up on the revised schedule slipped under his door.

It wasn't just for today, but every day for the whole two weeks.

When the two tall boys—the troublemakers, Chris and Thomas—came in the door, Petie wondered if there had been a mistake. Or maybe a trick.

But Prefect Kitridge came in next, as did half a dozen other kids, though most of them were older than Petie. Today she wore a white tank top and loose, brown yoga pants. Her blue and red tattoos looked washed out in the harsh lighting, but her orange and green hair still shone brightly.

Kitridge walked slowly to the front of the room, put her fingers in her mouth, and whistled. No one had been talking that loudly, but now she had everyone's attention. "Y'all are here for training as fighters and warriors. That means training and training only. No fighting, not here, not anywhere on school grounds. Do y'all understand?"

Petie muttered, "Yes, ma'am," with everyone else.

"The number one thing I'm here to teach you is control. Y'all are fierce, and some of you think you know how to fight." She paused and glared at the troublemakers. "But y'all got no finesse."

Petie shook his head. He wasn't even certain what finesse was.

"I'm here to teach you how to be subtle, how to be in control, and how to stay in control, even when your blood's racing and your hands are itching and you're raring to go."

Did she mean be in control of Cai? He remembered the fight from the day before, when he hadn't been in control, not really.

"Today, you're
gonna
learn how to fall. If you don't know how to fall, you're just
gonna
get hurt. Now, Petie, right?"

Petie swallowed nervously and nodded.

Cai puffed himself up defensively.

"Come on over here and show '
em
how it's done."

"Me?" Petie shook his head, ashamed at how his voice squeaked.

The other kids laughed.

Kitridge just
tsked
at them. "Y'all know why I insist on a range of ages for this class? It's because Petie here will do this better than any of you. There'll be some things that y'all will do better than him, at least to start. But in this one thing, falling, which is the most important thing, he'll do it best. Come 'ere."

Petie gathered himself together and walked next to Kitridge. Her gray eyes were almost kind.

"Now, I want you to curl to the side when I push you, okay?" She showed him where she expected him to tuck himself, then she shoved him, hard.

Petie curled and rolled, automatically coming back up to his feet.

"Did you see that?" Kitridge asked the rest of the class. "That was exactly right." She had Petie demonstrate a few more times.

Petie bit his lips to hide his smile: His mom wouldn't want him to gloat, even if he was really good at this.

"That's great," Kitridge said. "None of y'all will do that good."

"Of course he can fall. He's short. Closer to the ground," one of the tall boys complained.

"Chris, right? Come here."

Chris glanced at his buddy, then swaggered forward. Though he was tall, Kitridge looked him directly in the eye. "Push me," she said.

Chris shrugged, looked again at his buddy, then suddenly shoved her, without warning, moving much faster than Petie expected.

Kitridge flowed and folded, rolled, and stood just as quickly, shooting up and shoving Chris just as hard.

Chris stumbled, but didn't fall. Instead, he shook his head and spread his arms, bent over, his eyes raven-hard.

Petie couldn't see feathers, but he knew they were close to the surface.

Cai shuffled restlessly, suddenly very awake and near.

Petie held both of them very still.

"You're not really thinking of attacking me, are you sugar?" Kitridge shook her head. "I wouldn't."

Chris gave a shudder and stood up tall again. "No." His voice sounded full and human.

Cai relaxed and Petie grew less tense.

"That's good. Now, even with your height, you can learn to fold and fall. And you must." Kitridge stared hard at Chris.

Chris broke the look first. "Yes, ma'am."

Kitridge had them drag out soft mats, then directed them to fall, over and over again.

Though Petie was good at it, he learned more about controlling his hands and his arms, as well as falling on both his left and right side.

Toward the end of class, Kitridge paired each student up with someone about the same height. Petie was paired with one of the three girls in the class, Sylvia. They took turns pushing each other and falling. Sylvia's hands were hot and she had a honking laugh, but she laughed at both Petie and herself, which made her okay.

When Kitridge finally called an end to their practice, Petie felt tired and dizzy, and his thigh muscles were sore. But he was looking forward to the next class, more than when he'd started.

Prefect Kitridge showed them how to put their hands together over their chests and bow to the cardinal points before she dismissed them.

Petie grinned as he put back on his socks and shoes. This was going to be okay. He could do this.

Cai was also happy—the impression Petie had was that Cai wanted Petie to learn to fight. He was a bit uneasy with that, so Cai tumbled once, making Petie more dizzy but still giggling as he left the Warrior Room.

"Yeah, show us how it's done," came a harsh voice from behind.

Petie didn't fall and flow when the unexpected hard shove came from behind. Instead, he turned on his attacker, puffed up and ready to fight.

The pit of Petie's stomach felt like it was still tumbling, and his hands trembled in his fists, but he wasn't backing down. He'd done too well in class. He could do this, too.

Chris, startled, gave a squawk. He recovered quickly. "So you want to play, little boy?"

"No fighting."

Prefect Kitridge suddenly stood beside them, glaring at both of them.

"If I ever catch either of you—no, any of you fighting," she said with a pointed glare at Chris and Thomas, "there will be consequences."

Petie stood up straighter, ashamed that he'd let himself be drawn in. Why was Cai so ready to fight? It wasn't Petie, not really. Though honestly, it wasn't just Cai. Just the way he, they, felt.

"Getting your wings clipped hurts like hell," Kitridge told them. "And that's one of the consequences. Just one."

Petie didn't know what it meant to get his wings clipped, but it sounded like it would hurt.

"Learn control. No more fights."

Prefect Kitridge turned and walked back into the Warrior Room. Petie didn't look at the other boys still standing there, he just nodded and started down the hall, his arms wrapped over his chest.

They couldn't fight, him and Cai, but he had to protect himself, somehow, from those boys. He didn't have to look behind to know they still stared at him, that they were still out to get him in trouble.

Suddenly, warrior training didn't sound like as much fun.

"I'm glad you asked me to dance again," Sally said as Peter led her to the floor. More couples had joined in, but there was still room to dance in the corners. The air buzzed from all the people laughing and talking. Like most of the older Seattle buildings, there wasn't any AC. However, cool night air blew in from the wide windows, and black industrial fans were scattered around the room, trying to move the air around as well.

Peter had tried not to approach Sally again, worried about Tamara, but found himself helplessly drawn to Sally, watching her from the corner, always knowing when she was on the floor, where she was, who she danced with.

"What if I hadn't?" Peter asked, teasing.

Sally shrugged. "I would have waited. Until you did."

Peter shook his head and spun Sally out, keeping her at arm's length, turning her a few times, then turning himself. He didn't know if she felt the same way he did, couldn't ask. But he could hope. Peter knew he was a good dancer, considerate, and a firm lead—he knew all about showing off his partner, letting her shine as well. However, this was the first time he'd really felt it.

The dance was all about Sally, bringing her close to dance side by side and "showing her the love" as his first dance teacher had called it, then spinning her out and watching her do her thing, the pair of them circling and shimmying, twisting their feet and legs, hopping with their own individual styles.

He'd never felt so connected with a partner, catching her laughing eyes across loosely held hands, adding his own flair but really showcasing her.

When the song finished, Peter brought Sally close to dip her, but also to take in more of her scent: her slightly salty sweat; the sweetness of her shampoo; the warm, womanly essence of her. He reluctantly let Sally go. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, unwilling to let her stray far.

Cai cawed a caution—neither of them could afford to get drunk, not with Tamara there, perched in the corner and ready to strike.

"Some juice would be good," Sally said. "I don't really drink when I dance."

"Totally understand," Peter said, nodding as they started walking toward the bar. "I sweat a lot, too, when I dance." Horrified, he realized what he'd just said. "
Uhmm
. Not that I think you're sweaty. Or gross. Or anything."

Sally giggled at him. "It's okay. I realize I'm beyond glistening at this point."