Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series (46 page)

Returning to the table, with fresh boldness,
he sat down next to Ian, who studied him cautiously. Eddy patted
him on the back randomly. Tianna gaped at him as if he were a pig.
Hazel smiled. Amanda was too busy eating her large slice of pumpkin
pie to notice him.

“More food, Jimmy?” asked Tianna, while
tilting her water glass slightly.

“Yeah, I feel like I haven’t eaten in hours,”
he said dreamily. His head still throbbed relentlessly, like a
cloud of mist had taken occupancy around him.

“My cousin Darien has the same appetite,”
said Hazel, a twinkle in her eyes, gazing at Jimmy as if waiting
for him to blush--he didn’t. “He just fills up plate after
plate.”

Eddy forked the last piece of his apple pie
into his mouth. Tianna drank more of her water. Hazel wiped her
mouth with a napkin. Ian sat there quietly, as if brooding over an
upcoming exam. Amanda sectioned off another piece of her pie.

And that was about all Jimmy remembered of
the evening … he couldn’t remember much else. It all passed by in a
blur. Aside from asking Ian for money at the cash register because
his wallet had somehow gone missing, and hearing the girls laugh at
Eddy for leaving a ten dollar tip for the waitress, he didn’t
remember much else except that curly fries didn’t taste good mixed
with chocolate pudding....

“You seem distracted,” said Carissa, as she
reshuffled the Uno deck. “You never lose three times in a row
without complaining about
something
.”

“I can change that if you’d like.” Jimmy
expertly flung a draw-four card at his sister, striking her in the
leg.

She scowled playfully as she picked the card
up, unbent the left corner of it, and mixed it back into the deck.
“Really, Jimmy, what’s your problem?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, fatigued, as he
traced the cut on his forearm with his index finger, a wound he
didn’t remember receiving, but from the look of it, one he must
have acquired at the sword fighting league earlier today--or
yesterday, for the league was closed today.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve done that.”
She examined his minor injury, which resembled a cat scratch,
except longer and straighter. “How’d you get it?”

“Sword wound.” He shuffled around in the
maple wood chair, setting both hands on the sturdy kitchen
table.

Sadness swam in her light brown eyes; she
frowned with displeasure. “You’re going to get yourself seriously
hurt one of these times.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said tiredly, causing her
to stare astonishingly into his eyes; he rarely agreed with her so
easily.

“You’re sick--that’s it.” Carissa felt his
forehead and then frowned. “Temperature’s normal though.” Curling
her dark hair behind her ears, she thought for a second, before
facing him again. “It’s that new guy, Eddy, isn’t it? You’re afraid
he doesn’t like you.”

Jimmy shook his head.

“I know … it’s the girls then. They didn’t
include you in their conversations, did they?”

But Jimmy just shook his head again.

She persisted. “You were embarrassed around
them?”

He just laughed nervously. “Of course, but
I’ve always been shy around girls.”

She grew more baffled. “The food at the
buffet upset your stomach then?”

He shook his head yet a third time.

By now completely bewildered, she placed her
finger lightly on her chin. “Is it something I did?”

“No.” He rested his head on the table. “I
just have a lot on my mind--that’s all.”

Knowing how her brother could be, she didn’t
bring up the topic anymore, and enjoyed winning two more games.
Putting the cards away, she smiled. “I hope you sleep better than I
did last night.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You three kept me up with all your shouting
and yelling; it’s like you forgot I was even here.” She scooped up
a handful of peanut butter M&M’s from a candy bowl, and began
picking them out individually, popping them into her mouth.

He sighed. “For your information, it was Will
making most of the noise. Besides, you were free to join us
anytime; we do have four controllers you know.”

A brief pause. “I’m shy around new people,”
Carissa admitted, while filling up a glass of milk with her spare
hand. She then looked into his eyes. “Do you think Ian would think
I’m weird?”

“What for?” He quietly stole the milk glass
from her and hid it behind a box of cereal.

“I don’t know. I just feel so different. Most
of the girls at school think so.”

“Why?” asked Jimmy, as he returned the glass
without her even noticing, bitterness worming its way onto his
face.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure.” Sadness
trickled into her eyes. “I try not to think about it.”

“Then let’s not even talk about it,” said
Jimmy, having his own share of reasons for wanting this
conversation to end, as it reminded him too much of his own
struggles. He could already hear the voices of his classmates
ridiculing him and calling him all sorts of names. Dragon slayer
and Jimmy Ivanhoe were just two of the new ones from this week. If
he’d kept a list, it’d be down to at least seventy.

“Would Ian tease me?” Carissa’s voice drowned
out all the others, bringing him out of his self-pity and casting
him into the darkness.

His face hardened like clay. “No, there’s no
way he would.” Ian had never hurled any jokes at him yet, so
there’s no way he’d ever do so to a girl--especially one as
softhearted as Carissa. Ian was different than the others.

The poison drained from her face, leaving a
thin smile, weak but lovely. “If he ever comes over again, I’ll try
to meet him.”

“I’m sure you’ll like him,” he said, the
tension in the air obliterating into thousands of pieces. “He’s
just like Will only he’s not into war movies and historical
documentaries.” He paused for a while before adding, “Oh, and of
course he’s not as loud either and he’s mysterious in a good sort
of way, if that makes any sense.”

She nodded. “Yeah, he seems pretty cool
already.”

“He really is. And he’s funny too.”

As the two of them said goodnight to each
other, they parted ways.

Carissa went back to her laptop to resume
playing a hidden object game based in Egypt, where the goal was to
retrieve the seven ancient artifacts of King Tut. William had
lectured her for over ten minutes about the historical inaccuracies
of the game on Monday, but that had only increased her amusement in
it. Now she made it a point to play the game whenever William was
around just to aggravate him.

As for Jimmy, he returned to his bedroom,
glad that his sister had cheered up, yet distraught over her
explanation for why she was being ridiculed at school. It had to be
his fault. It always was. There was nothing about her that was
different from other girls, except that she was much kinder and
more sensitive to others’ feelings.

Closing his door, and then shutting the
blinds on the window, he squeezed his eyes shut in anger as another
revelation hit him. If it weren’t for him, she would be popular.
She had everything: good looks, good grades, even a good sense of
humor. Yet none of this mattered so long as he was her brother.
This family connection was not something that immature, intrusive
freshmen overlooked.

Rage pouring into his heart from the
double-headed waterfall of resentment and spite, he hammered his
fist into the bed covers. After a little while, though, he felt
ashamed and heavily slunk into his bed, as if weighed down by an
anchor.

Hearing a distant boom of thunder, he only
grew lonelier. A storm was coming, and it sounded severe. He just
hoped it wouldn’t knock out the electricity and that his sister,
who had storm duty this week, would unplug the important appliances
if it got too ugly. He couldn’t handle anything else going
wrong.

Settling into a comfortable position on his
pillow, he thought back to what his sister had said about the sword
fighting league and how dangerous it was and clenched his teeth.
She was right--he couldn’t risk hurting himself, especially as the
league was only adding more fuel to the gossip and wasn’t even
teaching him that much. He had to drop out. There was no way he
could go there tomorrow and even have fun. Every minute would be
torture.

If there were any way he could save his
sister from becoming the hotpot of rumors, if there were any way he
could allow her to live a regular life, if there were any way he
could free her from being thought of as a strange girl, he’d take
it in a heartbeat. Leaving the league was only the first step, the
first of many yet to come. And he’d be sure to take each one, no
matter what the cost.

Wrapping his thick cloak and gray scarf
closer to himself, consciously disregarding the breach in clothing
policy, Kethin slowly approached the top of the mountain, as he
glanced around at his four brothers and two sisters all dressed in
thin gray robes, his teeth chattering from the cold.

It wasn’t long before one of his brothers
spotted him, a deep scowl on his face, his rather short fiery red
hair blowing in the wind. “You’re late.” Melrok glared at him
spitefully. “The meeting’s nearly over.”

But Kethin merely grinned, as he strode
nearer to the group. “Oh? Did I miss anything important?”

Fire erupting in his dark orange eyes, Melrok
disdained to comment, as flames of fire dripped from his hands and
melted the snow beneath him. “Give us your account now, so we can
get out of this forsaken place.”

“It is rather cold here,” said Kethin,
smiling, his teeth still chattering. “I’m surprised you didn’t
dress warmer.”

Suddenly aware of Kethin’s heavy layers of
clothing, Melrok slammed his fist into an already broken marble
statue, shattering it into a thousand pieces. “That is a breach of
clothing policy!” His voice crackled with rage. “We wear no more
and no less than what is required for a member of our order. Do you
refuse to comply with the code?”

“No,” replied Kethin casually. “I just added
an exceptional clause which relates to various temperatures and
certain amounts of clothing--with more or less being added due to
adverse conditions.”

“Heresy,” roared Melrok, as flames of fire
curled around him. “Abide by the rules or die outside them.”

Kethin sighed. “Do you want me to report or
not?”

“Go ahead,” replied Melrok, still seething.
“But this issue will be brought up in future conferences.”

“Of course--that’s only reasonable.” Kethin
paused for a comfortable while and then rang a bell--it resonated
with a loud sound, conjuring up images of monasteries, abbeys, deep
wells, and cathedrals.

As the sound slowly diminished, Kethin began
his report, his tone nonchalant and indifferent, “I have met with
the southern Forest Scourge and have sent them on a mission to
murder Avarin, the crown prince of Sarith. If all follows through
the mist, he will be dead within the span of two days.”

A slight grin on his face, he was just about
to add more, when his brother Arvage interjected, glancing at
Melrok. “Has Lord Zharmun ordered the crown prince’s death?” he
asked, slight emotion in his voice.

“No!” spat out Melrok, his eyes suddenly
piercing into Kethin. “As usual, he is disobeying our father by
making his own quests, instead of only doing the quests he’s
commissioned to us.”
But Kethin just yawned. “I don’t see the problem, brother. The more
chaos that erupts in the world, the sooner he will break free. Do
you deny this?”

It took the utmost effort for him not to
burst out in a rage. “No, but we should accomplish it his way--any
other way is pure rebellion.” Pausing enough to regain his angry
thoughts, he added spitefully, “So, how have you fared in doing our
father’s bidding, Kethin? Is the mermaid captured yet?”

He paused briefly. “She has been captured,”
he said truthfully, although deceitfully, as she had soon been
freed by a strange young man. But they wouldn’t have to know that.
“It is only a matter of time before we get her father to trade us
the rare artifacts Zharmun requested in exchange for her life.”

Against all his negative emotions, Melrok
actually cracked a smile, albeit, a very short-lived one. “Well, at
least you are doing something.”

Kethin smiled, his vivid purple eyes
shimmering with pleasure. “Yes, I am, and I take it your missions
are going smoothly as well?”

Melrok grunted, looking over at Talivar and
Sarvia. “Yes. We only have yet to collect the valha herb, the
shunni root, and the ryvin weed.” Here he paused as if to collect
his thoughts. “As for our other quest, the trap for Prince Taishan,
the crown prince of Amalon, is about to be sprung.”

He smiled. “Very good,” said Kethin
sarcastically, amused, as Talivar glared at him with his swirling
green eyes and Sarvia angrily sent a strong gust of wind towards
him, causing him to wrap his cloak even tighter about him. “And
what about you, Cruvia?” he asked, ignoring his sister’s
antics.

A twisted smile grew on her face, as she
gently tossed a ball made solely out of water back and forth
between her hands. “The ambassador ship from Sarith has been sunk
by my servants,” she stated proudly, curling her long sea green
hair in her slender fingers, as Kethin noted with annoyance that
this was at least the third time she’d brought up this
accomplishment. “As for the Verandel ambassador I sent, she has
established a solid alliance with Amalon. The war with Sarith is on
the horizon.” “And you, Veroth?” he continued, visibly impressed,
although he refused to acknowledge her feats as it would only
increase her conceit.

He hesitated, looking almost guilty, a touch
of sympathy in his silvery blue eyes, his snow white hair drooping
down onto his shoulders. “The dwarves are quickly becoming
convinced to join the human force against the elven kingdom of
Amalon. It is only a matter of time now before blood will be
shed....” Here he trailed off, his voice weak and shaky, his head
downcast and sorrowful.