Luck (4 page)

“Why? I mean, Tristan is all… you know… muscly. And older,” he says. “You guys spend a lot of time together. How could you not like him? And his dad isn’t the president, so you can go places with him and not be stared at.”

“Tristan spends time with me because it’s his job,” I say. “He’s getting paid. And I’m sure he’s annoyed to be spending so much time with a sixteen year old girl. He’s more like a brother to me.”

Except I don’t find my brother attractive.

But finding him attractive doesn’t mean anything.

“I’m sorry,” Damon says. “I’m just jealous.”

“Maybe you just need to spend more time with me then,” I say, feeling weird for doing so. I’m so not good at this whole flirting thing.

He smiles big at my comment. “I would be very okay with that.”

“Ugh, get a room,” I hear Tristan say, right before he sits down beside me.

“Do you see what I have to put up with?” I ask Damon.

“You just have one. I have six. So no complaining,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah…”

I can’t help but think that Damon and I made a positive step forward today. I like that he’s jealous, even though he has no reason to be.

Curious.

That night, while I’m hanging out in the student lounge with Savannah, Kaiden, Madox and Damon, I spot Jade Bello. She’s sitting in a corner by herself, reading a book. I haven’t tried to talk to her since I found out she’s my cousin.

“Guys, I’ll be right back,” I say to them, and get up.

I walk over to her. She doesn’t notice that anybody has walked up. The room is full of people, all talking loudly, but she’s focused on her book. I wonder if she even hears the noise at all.

“Jade,” I say.

She jumps a little and looks up at me. Her face is a little red. “Sorry. Scary scene.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I say.

“It’s okay,” she says, pushing her dark framed glasses up her nose.

“So, we’re cousins.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip, waiting for me to continue.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know. My mum never talks about your mum,” I say. “I didn’t even know I had a cousin.”

“Yeah. They had a falling out. They only started talking again over the summer. After my mom heard about…” her voice cuts off. “Well, your brother dying, she got ahold of her. They’ve talked almost everyday since. My mom is hoping she’ll come visit in America soon.”

My mum didn’t tell me that.

“Your eyes are the same color as mine,” I tell her.

“Yeah,” she says. “Everybody always tells me my eyes are freaky—because they’re such a light color of blue. They look better on you since you have blonde hair. They look paler with my dark hair.”

“Don’t worry. People get nicer when you get older,” I say, remembering what it was like to be a freshman. “And I think your eyes are beautiful with your hair.”

“Thanks,” she says, grinning big at the compliment.

“Do I have any more cousins?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. Neither do I. I mean, besides you and your brothers. My dad bailed before I was born. I never even met him. So maybe I have some cousins on his side, but I suppose I’ll never know.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. I wonder what is worse—knowing your father is a liar, or never knowing him.

“It’s okay,” she says. “My mom is awesome. She’s all I need.”

I can tell what she said is well rehearsed. But it’s not the truth.

“There is nothing wrong with being curious,” I tell her. “About your dad I mean.”

She looks down at her hands. “I don’t want to hurt my mom.”

“Okay. If you ever want to talk about things, let me know. I know a guy who can help you find your dad and your mom would never have to know,” I say, thinking of Tristan.

“Thanks,” she says, looking hopeful. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re okay, Katerina.”

“You too, Jade.”

I think I am going to like having a cousin.

Especially Jade.

She’s kind of awesome.

FOUR

Flashback Tuesday.

Americans are so weird.

More so in the 1980’s.

Big hair. Mismatching clothes. Scrunchies. And don’t even get me started on the awful music they listened to. Not that American music is much better now days. I much prefer Russian music.

“You dressing up for 80’s day?” Tristan asks, and I swing punches at him. He blocks each one with precision. Just once I’d like him not to block. Not that I’d really punch him. I’d stop before I did that. But I’d like to beat him.

“I don’t know,” I say, taking deep, even breaths, like Tristan taught me. “Americans back then were so weird. Not that you guys still aren’t weird.”

He laughs, blocking another punch. “That hurts. You think I’m weird?”

“Very,” I say, swinging my arm at his stomach.

He blocks it.

Dang it.

“I resent that,” he says. “Maybe Russians are the weird ones.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” I say, swinging another punch.

Perfect block.

I decide to try something different. I use my leg.

I watch in slow motion as Tristan falls to the floor.

Oops. I thought he was going to block me.

“My bad,” I say, using a saying I’ve heard a few people on campus using. It’s kind of like an apology, but you’re not actually saying sorry. I like it. I hold out a hand to help him up. He grabs it, but instead of letting me help him up, he pulls me down. I hit the floor beside him.

He laughs.

“Ouch,” I say, rubbing my hip. “That was so cruel, Tristan Thomas.”

“You did it first. Katerina Mikhailovna Vasin.”

“You said my middle name right,” I say, sitting up.

He sits up beside me. “I’m learning Russian.”

“Learning? I thought you were fluent.”

“Nope. I just started learning in July,” he says.

“But you understood Kazimir when he had a knife to my throat,” I say, feeling confused.

“I’m taking advanced night classes,” he tells me. “I Skype with my teacher for three hours every single night. It’s supposed to be a four month program. And I did understand him. I didn’t understand every word, but enough to fill in the gaps.”

“Oh,” I say. “I was wondering why you didn’t understand what I was saying when I spoke Russian to you when we first met, but then you understood Kazimir. It makes sense now. It must be hard to learn a second language.”

“Very,” he says.

“I’m lucky I was raised speaking both,” I say.

He gets up off the floor and holds out a hand to help me up. He pulls me up, and we get back to training.

I think about what Damon said—about him being a distraction while I’m training. I wonder if he’s right. When I train, I’ll probably end up paying too much attention to him. Maybe we should train separately.

“Damon is up to two and a half miles,” I tell Tristan, taking swings at him.

“That’s good,” he says.

“I was thinking about the whole training him thing,” I say. “Maybe you should train him separate, because I think he would be distracting to me. I mean, I like him. You know?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “I agree. You really need to focus on training and I really don’t want to watch the two of you drool over each other when I’m trying to help you. You’re my priority though. I can’t spend as much time with him.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say.

“You want to block now?” he asks. “I’ll try to hit you.”

I sigh, hating this part.

He’s so much better than I am.

“Sure,” I say, knowing that I not only need to know how to fight, but also how to defend myself in said fight.

We start out slow at first. Him throwing punches. Me blocking. Out of ten punches, I’m able to block nine of them, which is a huge improvement from when we first started training.

“I’m impressed,” he says, swinging at me.

“Thanks,” I say, grinning at the compliment.

Tristan never compliments anybody. Ever. So I know I must be good.

He swings another punch, this time at my face.

I move my arm to block it, but I’m too slow.

His fist connects with my nose.

“Agh!” I scream, cover my nose. I feel something warm drip down.

“Oh my… I’m sorry, Katerina. Let me see,” he says, taking my hands away.

I feel the blood dripping down from my nose and my chin, staining the shirt I’m wearing. He grabs a nearby towel and puts it under my nose.

I’m not crying, but tears fill my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Tristan says again, as the tears run down my cheek.

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s so not your fault.”

He wipes the tears from under my eyes. “I made you cry.”

“I’m not crying,” I say.

He frowns. “We should probably go to the doctor and get your nose checked out.”

“I’m fine.”

He touches my nose, making me wince from the pain.

“Come on, Katerina. I’m taking you to the doctor,” he says.

I pull the towel away from my nose and blood starts dripping down again.

I look at the blood stained towel and feel sick to my stomach.

“Are you okay?” Tristan asks. “You look sick.”

“Blood,” I say, everything going fuzzy around the edges.

“You don’t like blood?”

“N…”

The words don’t get out of my mouth before everything goes black.

His job.

I wake up in a hospital bed.

Except this time, it’s not because I was nearly killed. This time, it’s because I fainted at the side of blood. In front of Tristan. Which I am sure he is going to tease me for the rest of my life. I’m positive he will find the whole thing very hilarious.

I reach up to my nose, and wince at the pain when I touch it.

Yep, it still hurts.

“It’s not broken,” Tristan says.

“That’s good,” I say. “But that means you were holding back.”

“Maybe a little,” he says.

“You can’t do that.”

“You couldn’t take me on if I gave it my all,” Tristan says. “I’m trying to train you. And I really didn’t mean to punch you.”

“How am I supposed to learn to fight good if you’re holding back? Kazimir won’t hold back,” I say.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, looking down.

This thing… my life… is a mess. And I’m not sure what to do about it. And the one person in my life that I could trust with anything is dead. More than anything, I wish I had Eduard back. If I could talk to him, he would know what to do.

“I want to go home,” I tell Tristan.

“Christmas,” he says, knowing that I don’t mean back to the school. I mean my real home—Russia.

I don’t want to wait until Christmas.

“So…” he says, his voice trailing off. He has a huge smile on his face. “You faint at the sight of blood.”

I groan. “It’s not my fault.”

“It’s funny.”

“Yeah and if you tell anybody else, I will hurt you,” I say, threatening him. “And trust me, there are a lot of ways to hurt somebody without spilling blood.”

Okay, so maybe I couldn’t hurt him. Not even if I tried. But I still don’t want him to tell anybody. It’s embarrassing.

“Too late. I told Damon. Who wants to kill me now because I accidentally punched you,” he says.

“Where is Damon?” I ask.

“His bodyguards kept him at school,” he answers.

“Why?”

“They don’t want to take Damon off campus right now. It’s for his protection.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you,” Tristan says. “But there have been… sightings. Kids around campus keep reporting seeing a strange man on campus. The description they give always matches Kazimir.”

“Oh my…”

“That’s not all,” he says. “There have been reports of another man too.”

“Another man?”

“Your dad.”

My dad.

He’s in America.

And really close to me.

Maybe I should be scared, but I can’t help but hope that I see him. I miss my dad.

“He won’t hurt me,” I tell Tristan, fully believing it. “My dad. He’s here to get rid of Kazimir. I know he is. My dad loves me.”

“I know you think that, Katerina. But everything you’ve believed of your dad is a lie,” he says. “If you knew the things he’s done…”

My heart beats faster at his words, and I hear the heart monitor.

“I’m sorry. I’m upsetting you,” he says. “I just need you to stick around me the next few days. No offense to Damon’s bodyguards, but I’d rather keep an eye on you myself. I’ll take a break from my Russian language lessons.”

“Hello, Russian girl sitting right here,” I say, trying to think of anything but my dad. “I can help you. Since apparently you’re going to be stuck with me anyways.”

“Okay,” he says.

“But you can’t tell anybody else about the whole fainting at the sight of blood thing. It’s embarrassing,” I say, then scratch my hand. “Ugh, they had to put an IV in?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” he says.

“Can I get out of here?” I ask.

“I’ll get the nurse. I think they said you could leave once you woke up.”

“Good.”

Tristan walks out in the hall to get a nurse. I sit there, waiting. Wishing that I would stop getting into these kind of situations.

The door opens up again, and I look up, expecting to see Tristan walking in with a nurse.

Instead I see Kazimir. My heart races again, but this time out of fear.

“
Well, well. Look what we have here
,” he says, speaking Russian. “
I never thought that boy would leave your side. You come to America and get not one, but two boyfriends.
”

“
You need to leave
,” I say back. I yank the IV’s out of my hand and wince at the pain. I jump up. The machine starts making a loud noise. But I stand up, ready to defend myself.

Kazimir curses and runs out the door just a couple nurses run in. Tristan runs in a few seconds later.

“What’s going on?” one of the nurses ask.

“Sorry,” I say. “I couldn’t stay in the bed.”

The nurses mumble something under their breath, turn off the monitor, inform me that I’m free to go and leave the room.

“What’s going on?” Tristan asks me.

“Kazimir was here, Tristan,” I say.

Tristan grabs my hand, and pulls me close to him. We walk over to the door and he looks down the hallway, I guess trying to see if he can spot him.