The Forbidden Trilogy (9 page)

"Lucy!" I laughed and hugged her back just as
fiercely.

"Where have you been, Chica? And what the hell happened
to your face?"

Even in gym clothes, my best friend could cause a riot with
her curvy figure, smooth brown skin, and long, dark Spanish hair.

"Lucy, let's go!" Luke waved at me as he called
his sister. They fell behind their class. "Hey, Sam, meet us tonight, okay?
We need to talk." His face pinched in a frown.

"Sure thing." I pushed Lucy away. "Go, I'll
see you later. I have to get to the office."

"Fine, but I want details. And we really do need to
talk."

She ran off, her ponytail swinging down her back. Though
tempted to spy on her mind to find out what had both of them so upset, I needed
to get to Higgins's office. Besides, I'd see them later, and could fill them in
on my adventures. The rules didn't allow us to share the details of our
assignments with anyone, not even other paranormals. But Luke, Lucy and I had
been best friends since we could remember, and we found ways to communicate
without technically breaking those rules—like a secret language I'd created
several years ago.

I walked on, my mind drifting. Oh, Tommy. How I wished I
could have told him the truth, told him everything about my life.

What would Tommy have said if he'd known who I really was?
It made me sad to think about.

I shook off my melancholy and entered the headmaster's
office.

He didn't stand, or even look up at me, when his secretary
ushered me into his office, just stared down at his oh-so-important papers.

She closed the door, and I settled into one of the chairs in
front of his desk and reluctantly took off my sunglasses. My face would further
condemn my actions. After a moment, he looked up.

"Ah, Sam, you look wretched. How are you feeling?"

Not the opening I had expected. "Bit of a headache.
I'll be okay."

He already had the oral briefing, but I followed standard
procedure. I'd been given time before the drugs to complete my written report
on the plane, and I placed that on his desk

He flipped through it, then shuffled the papers that had
consumed his attention a moment ago and placed them neatly in his filing
drawer.

I fidgeted with the zipper on my book bag. I wanted to ask
about the art contest, and the interview, but I didn't dare jump the gun after
involving the Feds in my assignment and threatening a client.

"You know that stunt you pulled could have gotten this
entire organization in trouble," he said.

"I know. And I wish I could say I'm sorry, but you
don't know what he was thinking, what Beaumont was going to do to that girl—and
other girls. Honestly, this is the biggest creep I've ever met. I had to make
sure he didn't get away."

"You've always been one of our best, never causing
problems. This is your first mistake, so I'm going to let it slide. But this is
a once-in-a-lifetime freebie. Any more trouble and I won't be so nice."

"I know." My whole body relaxed, releasing the tension
I hadn't been aware I carried.

"Good. Well, I have some exciting news for you."

Oh?

"You've been accepted into Sarah Lawrence
College." He pulled out an official-looking letter and handed it to me.

"Oh my God, really? But how? I haven't even had the interview
yet?"

"I called in a favor. I wasn't sure if you'd be back in
time and I didn't want you to miss out on this chance at your dreams. Based on
the portfolio you sent in, a nudge from me and a glowing evaluation from Mr.
Krevner, they agreed to let you in without the required interview."

I stared down at the fancy parchment paper, unable to fully
digest the news.
Dear Sam Smith, It is our pleasure to inform you that you
have been accepted to the undergraduate visual art program at Sarah Lawrence
College....

"Smith? That was the best you could do?" I
laughed, clutching the letter that represented my entire future.

"It's a good name. It's common and doesn't draw
attention to you, all the things you want when you finally enter that
life."

"It's fine, I'll take it. Thank you, Headmaster
Higgins."

"You're welcome, Sam. You deserve it. You've been one
of our best and brightest students. We'll be sad to see you go. That reminds
me," he pulled out another file, "this job just came in, and I think
you'd be perfect for it."

He handed me the brief. I flipped through it: two kids with
para-powers had been beaten and nearly killed at a prep school in New York. I
needed to infiltrate the school and see if any other paranormals attended. I
also needed to track down the perpetrators. Not so bad. At least I'd be in New
York and helping kids like me—but, wait.
Oh God. I so do not want this job.

"Mary? You're sending me off with Mary? You've got to
be kidding me. She's horrible. And what's she supposed to do, seduce the teachers?
I can handle this alone, or send Lucy with me. She's great at these kinds of
assignments. Anyone but Mary."

"I'm sorry, Sam, but Mary has some unique skills that
could come in handy, especially as it's likely that one of the leaders is a
man. You'll need her with you."

"But I just got back! And you promised that was my last
assignment before I left. I have to pack and complete my studies. I want to
spend time with my friends, and there's the art contest!"

"You have a few months before you need to leave. It
shouldn't take you long, and it will give you some extra cash for your new
life. I'm throwing in a $10,000 bonus if you complete this assignment without
any problems."

"That doesn't help with my art contest. I don't have
time to do this and prepare."

Higgins looked down at his desk, shoulders slumped.

Uh-oh.

'How to tell her.... Will break her heart.... Wish I
could skip this.'

"Tell me what?"

He looked me in the eyes, the way a doctor looks at someone
whose loved one has died.

"I have some bad news. There was an accident in the art
building while you were gone. There's a lot of flammable material there and—we
don't know what happened yet, but somehow... a fire started. Sam—"

"No! Stop. This is insane. I don't want to hear
this."

"Sam, your painting. I'm so sorry."

I grabbed my book bag and ran out his door and toward the
art studio. I heard the headmaster follow me but didn't turn to acknowledge
him. I had to see the damage for myself.

On the outside, the building looked fine. A small sigh of
relief escaped my lips. Surely it couldn't be that bad. Maybe I'd have to
repair some smoke damage or something, but I could handle that. Mr. K would
help me.

I moved aside a yellow ribbon that marked the building as
unsafe and walked into the dimly lit studio.

And stopped breathing.

The inside of the building had been gutted and turned to
ash. I choked on a strangled cry.

Higgins put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sam.
Nothing survived."

The remains of my painting stood in the corner. I examined
the charred bits that had been my greatest work and couldn't stop the tears
from flowing.

Higgins tried again to comfort me, but I pushed him away.
"Where's Mr. K?"

"Sam, let's just go back to my office and talk about
this."

Panic stirred in my heart. I raised my voice in desperation.
"Where's Mr. K?"

"He quit. After the fire, he couldn't stand to be here
anymore, and he left. He's gone, Sam, and won't be coming back."

"No, that can't be true. He'd never leave me, not
without saying goodbye. Not before I graduated. You're lying. What did you do?
Where is he?" I ran through the studio, searching for my mentor, but no
sign remained of him. All traces of his work, his passion, his presence—gone.

I sank to my knees and sobbed. Everything I'd ever created,
all of my artistic expression, had been housed in this studio. My entire
portfolio was gone, just like Mr. K. Destroyed. I only had some pictures of the
best pieces, but almost none of the originals. My entire life's work to date.

"I need to be alone."

Higgins left me without a word and I cried into the ash.

Luke walked through my door to wake me up. He'd have been
toast if my para-power included super strength or kickass reactions. Instead,
he got to suffer through my weeping. He probably would have preferred the
fight.

He unlocked my door from the inside and let Lucy in, then
closed and locked the door again.

My suite wasn't as grand as theirs, but it had everything I
needed as a fully stocked and decorated studio apartment, complete with mini
kitchen.

I didn't budge from my bed, nor did I acknowledge my best
friends, but that didn't deter them.

Luke pulled the covers off me and crawled into bed next to
me. Lucy joined him on the other side and spoke softly, as if to a frightened
kitten. "He told you?"

I nodded, unable to speak just yet.

"Did you see the damage?"

Another nod.

"Luke snuck in. He tried to salvage some of it,
but...."

My voice came out in a crackle. "I know. I saw."

"And Mr. K. We have no idea what happened to him. We never
saw him after the fire. I confronted Higgins about it. He says Mr. K quit, but
Sam... he's lying."

That got my attention. If Mr. K didn't quit, did Higgins
fire him and lie to me?

"Doesn't matter. I'm not doing art anymore."

"Don't say that! You're a brilliant artist and you
can't give up just because something bad happened. You have all that art in
you, everything you've ever created or will create. Don't let this steal your
gift."

A melancholy seeped into my soul and quenched whatever small
flame Lucy's pep talk might have ignited. Nothing mattered anymore.

Luke, in an attempt to change the subject, gently brushed my
swollen face. "What happened?"

"I mouthed off to a client, and he punched me."

Their eyebrows shot up in comical unison. Luke glanced at
Lucy, and she nodded her head. "She's telling the truth, more or less. But
she's definitely not telling us the whole story."

"Hey, quit reading me!" I lightly punched Lucy on
the shoulder, grateful to be talking about something other than my ruined art
career. I pulled my red comforter over my head, as if that would keep her out
of my secrets. No such luck.

"Sam, what's going on?" Lucy's voice lost its
playfulness. "You've never talked back to a client before. Not even that
guy who kept undressing you with his mind, and then dressing you back up in his
wife's lingerie."

I'd forgotten about him. He was a real winner too. No one
should ever have to see themselves naked in the mind of a pervert. I shivered
at the memory and mentally closed my third eye to shut out the experience.

"Tell us." Luke spoke our secret language, the one
I had created. It had evolved over the years to include thousands of words. So
I told them everything—about the assignment, the molester, Tommy, Mary at the
hospital.

"She's such a bitch," Luke said.

Gotta love Luke, though Mary sure didn't. She hated the one
heterosexual man in all the world that her powers didn't affect. No one knew
why, but we were grateful.

Lucy eyed me, no doubt waiting for the rest of the story. I
scowled at her, but finally relented. I told them about the boy on the
stretcher and the strange doctor with para-powers.

"Sam, you cannot get involved in whatever that is. You
know that, right?" Lucy adopted the rigid face of Mrs. Kellerbuckle, the
eighth-grade taskmaster at Rent-A-Kid. It was usually funny when she did that.
This time, not so much.

"Yeah, I'm not. It was just weird, is all."

She shook her head. "Not totally the truth, though I
think you believe your own lie at the moment. Just promise me you'll talk to us
before doing anything stupid?"

"I promise."

Before they could start on me again, I slid over Luke and
put in our favorite movie, "X-Men," and we settled in for some
mindless entertainment. I pretended to ignore the voice in the back of my head
that spoke of things best left forgotten.

***

All eyes were on me the next day at school, with the rumor
mill full of juicy tidbits about my black eye, the fire in the art building,
and the sudden disappearance of Mr. K. I kept my sunglasses on and hid behind
Luke as often as possible.

When I bumped into him for the fifth time, he turned to face
me. "Sam, I love you, and I know you're embarrassed, but if you bump me
again, I'm going to have to walk through a wall to make it to class on time.
Got it?"

I nodded and mumbled an apology. He softened and put an arm
around me.

Lucy flanked me on the other side. "It doesn't look
that bad. Honest."

"I don't need to be able to read minds or tell when
someone is lying to know that's a big fat one."

She squeezed my shoulder. "Well, Chica, it could be
worse. And it will get better. You should just ignore it and go on like
everything is normal. People are only staring because you're acting so weird
about it."

She's probably right. But with a mild case of OCD, I
couldn't resist popping into people's minds as we walked down the halls to
English.

'Wonder what happened to her?'... 'Heard she got punched
by a client.'... 'Looks painful.'... 'She must have really screwed up.'... 'I
wonder if Higgins punished her.'... 'I heard she got into a fight with a new
kid... and he's been in the infirmary ever since.'

That last thought stopped me. Were they thinking of my
mystery boy? I searched the crowd of teenagers to see who'd thought that,
probing minds as I did. Everyone rushed to get books out of lockers and head to
their next class before the bell rang. I couldn't pinpoint the person, but it
gave me hope.