The Knight Of The Rose (16 page)

Mike that David’s actually a vampire might ease his disdain for the whole biting situation—since it

could’ve been worse.

When Mike laughed, I half expected he’d read my thought, but he simply shook his head and

said, “It’s really damn good to see you, girl.”

“Yeah. It’s kinda weird. I feel like I’m imagining this.”

Mike reached across and pinched me; I let out a breat hy squeal and rubbed my forearm.

“Ouch”

“Feels pretty real to me.”

“That hurt, you know.”

“Grow up,” he said with a grin.

“Hmpf.”

“Shall we go home?” he asked.

I let my arms fall to my sides and smiled. “Sounds good.”

Mike bent down and grabbed his s uitcase, then shouldered his backpack swiftly, wrapped his

arm around my neck, and we wande red slowly out to the par king bay where I left Dad. “Mr .

Thompson. Good to see you again.” Mike shook Dad’s hand firmly.

“Yes, yes, it’s good to have you here.” Dad cu pped his other hand over Mike’s. Oh boy, t he

double handshake—he likes him. “We’ve been hearing a lot about you these past few months.”

“Really,” Mike asked in a leading tone. “What, from Ara?”

“Yes.” Dad grinned. “I started to wonder if you were my daughter’s only friend.”

Okay, I’m officially going to kill him.

“Ha!” Mike looked at me with that cheeky, cocky grin inhabiting his lips. “I was.”

“Was not.” I punched him in the arm. He leaned

away, r ubbing off my pathetic effor t at

violence.

On the way home, Mike sat in the front, talkin g to Dad and marvelling at all the old houses

and wide highways. Wit h the sun high in the east , touching the morning dew wi th its light, this

sleepy little town showed its true beauty; quiet and reserv ed, but most of all, with the approaching

autumn changing the leaves on the trees, it was so spectacularly colourful.

When we pulled into the driveway of home, Mi ke turned and smiled at me. “You never told

me how beautiful this place is, Ara.”

“It’s all right, I guess.” I shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

Each tree had turned a different colour with the autumn air, and as the leaves fell from the

branches one by one, they gathered in piles or floated down the curve of the road, leaving a wash of

yellows and reds and oranges all over Maple Terrace.

But my fairy-tale time-line meant that for ever y leaf which fell away, so too di d the days I

had left with David. Sure it was pretty, but all that beauty was slowly and surely delivering me to

heartbreak.

“Ara would prefer it if they we re Gum trees, I think,” Dad sa id and hopped out of the car—

laughing to himself.

“What’s up, Ara?” Mike asked. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Jumping out of the car, I slammed the door before Mike could comment

on my gloomy temperament.

I was sure a quiet groan came from his throat , but he got out of the car wi th a smile on his

face and walked around to the boot. “I’ll take that.”

“Boy, that’s heavy.” Da d nearly dropped Mike’s bag as he passed it to him. “I must be

getting old.”

“Nah. You’re not old, Mr Thompson. I’m just bloody strong,” Mike said . “I’d have to be

strong to keep up with this one.” He winked in my direction.

“Please, call me Greg, Mike—you’re like one of the family. And who knows —” he looked

over his shoulder at me, “—with the way my daughter talks about you, maybe one day you will be.”

“Dad,” I dragged the word out and buried my face in my hand.

Mike chuckled. “Not likely, sir, unless you have another daughter I don’t know about.”

Ouch.

“I have a son,” Dad mused with a frown.

“Hm. Yeah, not really on that side of the fence,” Mike said.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to adopt you, then.” Dad laughed and patted Mike on the back

as they headed inside, leaving me, shouldering a rise of hurt, to trail behind them.

“When did
he
become the favourite?” I said under my breath.

“Mike, good to finally meet you.” Vicki left her station behind the bench to hug Mi ke. “How

have you been?”

“Good, Vicki. Really good—” Mike said softly. “It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to

the voice.”

Great, so Vicki’s been talking to him on the phone, too. Just bury me now.

Vicki smiled. “I’ve made you some breakfast—figured you’d be hungry after all that

travelling.”

“Yeah, great—” Mike said and sat at the table next to me, “the ai rport food was pretty

average.”

“So, Ara tells us you’ve been accepted into the ah—what was that called again?” Vicki asked

as she busied herself in the kitchen.

“Vicki?” I moaned. “Dad’s already interrogated him. Do you have to do it, too?”

“I don’t mind an i nterrogation, Ara.” Mike n udged me gently with his elbow. “It’s uh—it’s

called the Tactical Response Group. We get to use cool guns, basically.” He grinned and raised his

eyebrows at Sam.

“Do you get to shoot people?” Sam sat on the edge of his seat.

Great, he’s already head-over-heels, and Mike hasn’t even brought a gun with him.

“Well,” Mike’s voice softened, “the only place I like to shoot people is on Halo. Other than

that, we try to avoid it as much as possible. But I have a Taser?” he offered.

“Awesome. Hey, do you play on Li ve—” Sam’s voice became background noise while the

boys talked video games.

Without touching my food, I leaned on my hand and listened to the sound of normal; how the

laughter, forks clinking on plates, and cups resting with a clunk on wood could echo familiarity and

content. Once upon a time, being normal meant having a life with two parents, no grief and no scars.

Now, normal means I can sit in my kitchen, eat food with my family, and at the end of my life—die.

A few months ago, I didn’t know how much I had to be grateful for, but the hourglass of fate

can rock, and tip every-thing out of balance at any time. I know now that I have to take each breath

of normal with a kind of appr eciation I never understood before, becau se imagining, with

David’s interpretation of eternity, if I didn’t have any of t his—I looked at Dad and Vicki, leaning

closer to each other as they laughed—I would miss it all terribly.

“Well, Vicki—” Mike wiped his mouth with a napkin and rested his arm on the table, “—that

was the most amazing breakfast I’ve had in a long time. Ara’s right, you are a good cook.”

“
Ara
said that?” Vicki looked at me with a wide smile and round eyes. “Well, thank you, Ara,

and thank you, Mike. I really enjoy cooking—especial ly for people who eat it without
salt
.” She

glared at Dad.

“What?” Dad shrugged, holding his hands out.

Mike laughed and placed his napkin on the table. “Well, my mother raised me with the strong

belief that it’s considered an insult to the chef when one puts salt on his food.”

Vicki’s brow rose and she smiled. “See, Greg? You could stand to learn a few table manners,

yourself.”

Sam laughed.

“Hm, Ara?” Dad cleared his t hroat, ignoring Vicki and Sam. “Why don’ t you give Mike t he

grand tour?”

“Yeah, okay. Come on.” I stood up and, as always , reached for Mike’s hand, but he quickly

dropped it and tucked his fingers into his back pockets.

“Thank you for breakfast, Vicki.” Mike nodded politely then wandered into the formal rooms

behind me.

“So, this is the lounge room…and out there is the backyard.”

“Is that the swing? Where you s it when you’re sad?” Mike aske d, looking past the porch to

the old oak tree.

“Yes. The very same.”

We walked into the TV room on the other side of the house, and as we came to the fr ont

entrance again, I heard Dad telling Sam, who argued the point, to get ready for school.

“Not much to see, really,” I continued, glad I was getting a day off. “All the rooms join up, so

if you get lost, just follow a wall and you’ll end up back here.” I placed my hand on the railing of the

staircase and smiled.

“I like this. It’s a nice house, Ara. It’ s good to see the places you’ve been talking about all

your life.” He tugged on a strand of my hair, making me lower my foot from the first step to look up

at him. “I really missed ya, girl.”

I missed him, too. But was afraid to say it in case he read it the wrong way and thought I

hadn’t moved past the whole kissing-rejection thing.

From my stare of gloom at the floor, I traced the blue of his jeans and the tight muscles under

his shirt, until my view floated to his brown eyes. The caramel colour reminded me of autumn—they

always had. I used to love the autumn, but there would have to be a different comparison for his eyes

now—now that my autumn would forever be a reminder of losing David. Maybe…

“Ara?”

“Hm?” My eyes focused suddenly on the entranceway and Mike’s face again.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Um—” Did I? Was he talking? I didn’t even hear him.

Mike’s shoulders dropped and he nodded t o himself. “Come on, why don’t you show me

upstairs.”

He walked ahead of me; I leaped up quickly to overtake, sporting a competitive grin. “Race

you.”

“You won’t win.”

“I already am.” I looked over my shoulder at Mike, who grabbed the railing and pulled

himself up, nudging me into the railing as he passed. “Ouch!”

He just chuckled as he raced ahead. “Ha! Told ya!”

“Hey. No fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” he said.

Argh! I hate those one-liners. Maybe I should give him the same ser ving David got for that

comment. “You never let me win,” I huffed with my hands on my hips.

“Ara?” He looked down at me from the top. “I
always
let you win.”

A smile broke out across my face; “Okay, true—I ‘spose you do.”

“Maybe I should stop,” he said, “you’re getting spoilt.”

Hmpf! Am not. “So, anyway—that’s my room.” I pointed to the room across the hall from

Mike’s. “And this is yours.” When I pushed the door open, a cold br eeze brushed over my face and

swept my hair back with a pleasant tickle. Mike stared at me; his eyes narrowed then focused, while

his lips pressed together, but turned up slightly. “What?” I shuffled my feet and looked away.

“Nothing,” he said, but that strange look stayed.

“Uh, well, I’ll just cl ose this window. It’s a li ttle chilly in here.” I broke the tension with a

brisk stride across the room. “So, there’s a bathroom there.” I pointed to the door on the right of his

bed.

“Wow, my own bathroom. Nice.” Mike leaned his head around t he bathroom door, then

smiled back at me.

“And you have a TV.” I walked to the closet; the door on the left of his bed, and rolled out

one corner of the LCD. “We usually roll it away to make more space.”

“Great.” He grinned. “I’ve got a stack of our favourite movies on my hard drive.”

“Awesome.” I nodded, pressing my lips into a thin line.

Mike stared down at me with a half-lit smile, his hands on his hips like he did when he’d

question a suspect, and a narrowed look in his eyes that made me clear my throat.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that, Mike?”

“I’m sorry. There’s just—” He went to walk away, but stopped and gave that same look

again. “—Did you dye your hair or something?”

“Why?” I toyed with the ends. “Does it look different?”

“Not sure.”

“Okay.” I laughed. “That makes perfect sense.”

“Sorry.” He shook his head and hooked his fingers under the handle of his suitcase. “I just

haven’t seen you in so long. I think I forgot how you looked.”

“Oh. Well, didn’t you have a picture?”

He shrugged dismissively, placing his suitcase on the end of the bed. “P robably somewhere.

Why?”

“You could’ve referred back to that.”

He scoffed lightly. “I ‘spose I could. Guess I just didn’t think of it.”

“Oh.” I nodded solemnly.

“What?” he said, ceasing the removal of th e padlock from his bag. “What’ s with the long

face?”

You didn’t miss me like I missed you.
“Um...well, it’s just David,” I said. “I told you—he has

to go away for a few weeks before he leaves indefinitely, and—”

“You’ll miss him?” Mike softened, then pulled me into his chest and squeezed me, always

just a little too tight. “It’s all right, kid, you got me. I’ll keep ya company.”

“I know.” I pushed out fr om his arms. “But, I’ve relied on him so much to get me through. I

just don’t know how I’ll cope without him. I
hate
missing people.”

“Well, what was I, if not the one who helped you get through things, before you came here?”

he said. “You’ll be fine, Ara. It’s not the end of the world, and he’ll be back to say goodbye, right?”

I nodded. It was all I could do for fear of crying hysterically.

“Okay.” He patted my arm. “So just…cheer up and enjoy this time with me. Okay?”

I exhaled through my nose, nodding.

“And sit down. You’re making me feel edgy just standing there, hover ing by the door.” He

motioned to his bed.

I looked at it for a long moment. It doesn’t seem right to sit on his bed now—now that I have

a boyfriend. Mike looked at the bed too, then smiled.

“What? Did you booby-t rap it—like last winter when you and your friends thought it’d be

funny to—”

“No,” I said swiftly, then wandered over a nd slumped down in the cen tre, with my feet