Fractured (6 page)

I watched him like a movie. The way he put his elbow on his desk and pressed his thumb between his eyebrows, propping his head up with his knuckles as he wrote. The way his eyes scanned the hall, not just on guard, I realized, but taking everything in. Every flyer, every person, the lockers and the trophy case—his gaze slid over all of it, tracing and memorizing, and the whole time, his lips were curved up into this tiny smile, easy to miss yet impossible not to stare at once you knew it was there. If I had been tossed into high school cold, I couldn’t have pulled it off. But Malachi looked like he’d won the lottery. It made me want to ask him about it, to hear what kind of future he hoped for now that he was here. And I wanted to be a part of it.

At lunch, we loaded our trays and threaded our way toward an empty table in the corner. As we were walking, Tegan waved us over to hers, where she sat with Aden and a bunch of her friends.

Malachi nudged me with his shoulder. “They want you to sit with them very badly.”

I laughed. “I think it might be
you
they want to sit with.”

His brows lowered in confusion. “Me?”

“You really don’t know how you look to people, do you?” Tegan and Laney Fisher were staring at his chest. Jillian Flemming and Alexis Campbell were staring at his face. And the guys were all kind of sizing him up, like they wondered if he was as much of a BAMF as they’d heard.

Malachi looked down at his jeans and white thermal shirt and frowned. “Raphael said this was what people wore. He told me that I would blend in. You should have said something if—”

I leaned my head into his shoulder, working hard not to crack up and sneaking in the opportunity to inhale his scent. “It’s not your clothes, my friend. Look, don’t worry about it; all right? You’re just kind of mysterious to them. If you’re ready to answer a bunch of questions about where you come from and what it’s like there, I’m fine with going over to sit with them.”

Malachi’s eyes darted over to Tegan’s table. “That boy, the one named Aden, is in my physical education class.”

When he saw Malachi looking, Aden stood up and made this exaggerated get-over-here wave. All eyes at that table were on us.

“Holy cow, dude, I do believe Aden Matthews is bro-crushing on you,” I said with a laugh. “At least he has good taste. Look—we’ve got to go over there now.”

Malachi gave the empty table in the corner a look full of longing. “Is that an order?”

I nodded solemnly. “It’s in the high school code of conduct, clause H-twenty-three-point-one-five, that if the two most popular people in school invite you to their table, you have to answer their summons. Plus, it will increase your pain tolerance.”

Malachi’s expression told me he actually thought there might be such a code. “Very well, then.”

As we approached the table, Aden and Tegan scooted down, and Ian and a couple of other guys made way on the other side. Levi, another of their close friends, moved around the end of the table to sit next to Jillian, his girlfriend. I ended up sandwiched between Ian and Malachi. They were built similarly, with lean hips and broad shoulders, leaving plenty of room for my ass but no room for the rest of me. I wondered if I might drown in testosterone and Axe body spray before I finished my sandwich.

I was taking my first bite when Greg, Nadia’s ex and one of the baseball team’s relief pitchers, approached the table, tray in hand and clearly irritated that I was seated there. He was one of the hangers-on, a kid who desperately wanted to be a part of this clique. But like me, he drove a crappy secondhand car, and his clothes were more likely to come from Walmart than J.Crew. One would think I’d feel some sympathy for him … but I didn’t. He hadn’t treated Nadia very well, and I’d come to the conclusion that he was a wannabe user who latched onto her because it made him look good.

I refocused my attention on the conversation as Ian scooted even closer to me to make room on his other side.

Laney flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder. “How are you liking our school?” she asked Malachi in a loud voice, enunciating every word and speaking slowly.

Aden and Ian snickered, but Malachi gave her a polite smile. “I am enjoying the classes very much, and particularly literature. I had only read Rilke in the original German, so I am happy to have the opportunity to read it in English as well.”

Laney’s eyes went all dreamy, and her tongue traced her bottom lip. “Wow. You speak beautiful English,” she said breathlessly. And then she made this weird, little yipping noise and glared across the table at Tegan. “It’s true,” she said, all pouty as she reached under the table to rub her shin.

I reached for my fork, not sure whether I wanted stab Laney with it or use it to eat my salad. I was still trying to decide when Ian’s elbow collided with my arm. “Oh, jeez, sorry,” he said, giving me a surprisingly sweet, apologetic smile that revealed deep dimples. His shaggy brown hair hung over his forehead as he looked down at me. “I’m a lefty. No one should ever have to sit on that side of me.” He tucked his elbow against his body.

“You should see him in the batter’s box,” said Greg, obviously trying to make nice. “Pitchers don’t know what to do with him. It’s one of the reasons we’re gonna take state this year.” He lifted his chin at Malachi. “You must have played some sports in school, right?” He looked like he was ready to recruit Malachi on the spot.

Malachi shook his head. “I never had much opportunity to play sports.”

Aden looked completely baffled, probably because he’d seen Malachi’s abs in the locker room. Tegan, who had been poking at her plateful of iceberg lettuce, set her fork down and put her arm around Aden’s waist. “What are we doing tonight?” she asked him.

Aden leaned in to kiss her cheek. “We were actually planning a guy thing, Teg. Sorry.”

Tegan flushed, but she smiled up at him anyway. “Maybe Saturday.”

He raised and lowered his eyebrows a few times. “Definitely Saturday.” He turned to Malachi again. “You want to come out with us tonight? We could show you how we have fun around here.”

Ian, Greg, and Levi smiled while the girls looked sullen.

Malachi wiped his mouth with his napkin. Under the table, the fingers of his other hand brushed against my thigh. “Thank you for the invitation. Perhaps another time. Lela and I have plans tonight.”

Now my cheeks were pink, for sure. It had been such a soft-spoken, casual statement, but he might as well have shouted it. Everyone’s eyes were on me, conveying everything from resentment to curiosity to admiration. Greg stared at me like he’d never before realized that I was a girl. Laney looked like she wanted to flee to the bathroom and burst into tears. And Ian … I was stunned to see the glint of interest in his green eyes. For a year now, most of these guys hadn’t even thought to glance in my direction, and I definitely hadn’t looked in theirs. Apparently, all it took was for one hot guy to like me, and the rest of them were suddenly taking notice.

Aden shrugged. “Maybe we’ll hang out after the volunteer thing that our women are dragging us to. Ow!” He rubbed his arm, which had been on the receiving end of one of Tegan’s sharp little elbows.

“Stick to the left side,” instructed Greg. “His throwing arm is school property.”

Tegan smiled at him sweetly, but her dislike for Greg was one thing we had in common. “I’ll remember that,” she said icily. Then she looked at me and Malachi. “You two
are
coming tomorrow, right? The rest of these losers turned me down.”

I forced myself not to roll my eyes. “Yep, wouldn’t miss it.”

“You’re such a good friend, Lela,” she said. “Oh, and can you drive me? My dad would kill me if someone snatched the emblems and rims off my Beamer.”

Malachi’s hand closed over mine and squeezed. It was enough to keep me from telling her where she could shove her BMW emblems, but not enough to keep me from wondering if I’d added one more thing—a friendship with Tegan—to my impossible to-do list.

FIVE

I WENT HOME AFTER
school, tried to catch up on my homework, and ate dinner with Diane. She grilled me about the movie and whether Malachi had been a gentleman, and I told lies about the former and the absolute truth about the latter. Well, except for the part about how he nearly killed some muggers.

After dinner, we watched the news, and I listened to Diane freak out about the new sightings of the Animal Guy … and at least one sighting of an Animal Gal. Equally unnerving were reports of vigilantes on the streets, determined to capture Animal Guy, either on camera or for real. The city had announced it was upping patrols to the East Side and southern Pawtucket. Police had issued statements reiterating that anyone with a weapon had better have a permit to carry it, and that they would have zero tolerance for rule breakers. It seemed like they were less worried about the Animal Guy and more concerned about regular citizens getting their crazy on. Part of me was relieved, and part of me was cursing. The more people were on guard, the less likely someone was to be dragged away. On the other hand, some people were going in search of the Mazikin. The whole thing had the potential to get seriously out of control.

After Diane left for her night shift at the prison, I picked up my motley crew of Guards and drove us through Providence, along the narrow streets of the East Side, toward the area where several of the Mazikin sightings had taken place. It was less than a mile from the place where we’d be tomorrow morning, helping Tegan serve up soup to the homeless, which made me both eager to find the nest—and hopeful that it wasn’t anywhere near this part of town.

Jim looked vaguely sick as we got out of the car, and I had to wonder if, like Malachi, he didn’t have much experience riding in one. Either that or he was hungover. Henry claimed he didn’t know where Jim had gotten the bottle, but while we were at school, the younger Guard had been getting trashed. Malachi had returned home to find him vomiting into the bathtub. Judging by the stony silence on the ride over, the last several hours had been rough for all three of them.

Jim was freshly showered and dressed in new clothes that made him look like an all-American high school kid. Like the rest of us, he was armed, but not obviously so. He carried a baton in the backpack slung over his shoulder and had a knife in his pocket. “Now what?” he asked, sounding like he’d rather be at home sleeping it off.

“Now you wait for your orders,” Malachi barked, making Jim wince and rub his temples.

I touched Malachi’s arm, but pulled my hand away when I realized Henry was watching us closely. “Jim and I will patrol north and west. Malachi and Henry, head south and east, toward some of the homeless camps along the Blackstone River. We can meet back here at midnight.”

Malachi looked like he wanted to argue, and I couldn’t blame him. I would so much rather patrol by his side, but I’d already thought this through. Henry and Jim didn’t even know how to spot a Mazikin, and I suspected Malachi would end up throttling Jim if I paired them up. “What is our course of action if we discover a Mazikin?” Malachi asked.

“Unless it attacks you, I want you to stay out of sight. Text me your location, and follow it. We need to find the nest, and that’s more important than eliminating a single Mazikin.”

Malachi smiled. “I think those are excellent orders, Captain.”

His words brought warmth to my chest that I badly needed—because I could tell he meant them. “Thank you. Be careful, okay?” I said it to him, but then shifted my gaze to Henry, who eyed me for a second before nodding.

Jim and I trudged up the block and turned left onto a smaller side road. It was about nine, still early, but already dark enough to make me grateful for every streetlamp. We zigzagged through the neighborhood for over an hour, but saw nothing more suspicious than a group of teenagers heading into a duplex that was practically shaking from the bass pumping inside. I was about to suggest that we return to the street where our car was parked when I heard running footsteps and male laughter. I sniffed at the air, trying to detect a hint of incense that might tell me whether they were Mazikin, but all I smelled was the garlic and spices coming from someone’s kitchen nearby. “Let’s get a little closer and see what’s happening,” I said to Jim as the laughter was punctuated by shouts and crashes.

“Sounds like someone’s having a good time. That’s a crime around here?” Jim asked.

I ignored him, tensing when I heard a familiar voice say, “Dude, don’t point that at me. Aden, I’m serious!”

It was Ian Moseley, our classmate. My stomach churned as four guys rounded the corner several yards ahead of us. Aden, Ian, Greg, and Levi. Dressed in jackets, with beanies pulled low over their ears, they had the loose-limbed grace of privileged boys who thought the world was a giant amusement park. Aden was in the lead and holding what looked like a paintball gun, with a long, narrow tube for a barrel.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing,” he slurred to the others, shaking the thing and sending several pellets splattering onto the concrete in front of him. “Oops.”

Ian, his hair concealed by his cap, was reaching out to take the gun away from his friend when he noticed Jim and me watching them. He squinted at us like he couldn’t quite believe it. “Lela?”

“Hey.” I waved spastically, realizing in that moment how awkward these next few minutes would be.

His eyebrows shot up as he zeroed in on Jim and then looked back at me. “Didn’t Malachi say you two had plans?”

“Uh …”

“Those plans changed,” said Jim, throwing his arm around my shoulders and yanking me close.

I elbowed him in the side before I could stop myself, and he grunted and stepped away as Levi, Greg, and Aden guffawed. Ian, who appeared to be the only sober one among them, stepped forward like he thought I needed protecting, so I tried to smile. “I’m catching up with Malachi later,” I said.

Aden was laughing so hard that he could barely stand up straight. “You’re a busy girl,” he said, but barely got the words out before Ian shoved him. He lost his balance and staggered into a mailbox, which he draped himself over, still chuckling.