Mortal Danger (The Immortal Game) (32 page)

“Do you mind calling my mother to reassure her I’m with you?” She dialed and offered her cell with a sheepish look.

“Not a problem.” Mom waited for the call to connect, then said, “Hello, this is Mildred Kramer, Edie’s mom. I’m verifying that the girls are here. We’re working out this afternoon.” A pause. “Absolutely.”

Davina took the phone back. “I should be home by seven, latest. See you then.”

Faculty got a discount at the fitness and rec center, so my parents kept our membership active, though only my dad used it regularly. He said doing mindless reps helped him think through thorny problems. We bypassed the classes and went directly to the equipment, where we spent forty-five minutes sweating. Afterward, I felt good, loose and limber.

“Still up for choreographing a routine?” Davina asked.

“Absolutely.” That might be an overstatement, but I
had
promised.

After her shower, my mom watched us with an expression of bemusement. “Are you two in a talent competition?”

I laughed. “In my case, more like un-talent.”

“You’re not … horrible,” she said, probably trying to be supportive. “You just need practice. Davina has obviously put more time into … whatever you’re doing.”

“It’s for cheer tryouts,” Davina answered.

My mom froze, as if I had confessed to a secret meth addiction. “Is this true, Edith?”

“I’m not really trying to make the squad. I’m just going to support Davina.”

“Ah.” Apparently she could get behind feminine camaraderie. Mom sat down on a mat nearby and half watched us practice for another hour while tapping on her tablet.

By the end of that time,
I
was no better, but Davina seemed to have her routine down. We didn’t have any clothes to change into anyway, so I said, “We can go now if you want. Thai takeout for dinner?”

Mom nodded. “Pad thai sounds good.”

“I wish I could stay, but my folks are expecting me.” Shrugging, Davina made a what-can-you-do face.

Outside, I gave her a hug. “See you at school.”

“Do you want us to walk you to the station?” Mom asked.

Davina grinned. “I’ve been on the T by myself before, but thanks anyway.”

Since it was getting dark, my mom insisted. Davina seemed torn between appreciation and annoyance. At the subway steps, she merged into the throng of college students with a cheery wave. I talked my mom into a haircut on the way home and then I dragged her into a store that sold mineral makeup. I knew she wouldn’t stick to a complicated beauty regimen, but dusts and powders wouldn’t take long. All told, by the time we picked up the Thai food, it was pretty late, close to eight before we got home. It was also the most fun I could remember having with my mom in years.

“We have to do that again soon,” she said. “Saturday afternoon?”

“Definitely. I’ll show you how to use the stuff we bought, if you want.”

She hugged me again, this time without asking. “You probably think I’m odd for not knowing any of this, but … I remember once, when I was eleven, my mother got me
only
beauty products for Christmas. She got me a curling iron, hair spray, fancy brushes, hot rollers, eye shadow. When I opened all my packages, I pretended to be thankful, then I went to my room and cried. I thought she was saying that I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough—that it wasn’t enough for me to be smart.”

Wow. I never knew that.
“So you turned your back on all girlie stuff. I get it.”

“But … it’s fun with you.”

“I don’t let it rule my life or anything, but I like feeling pretty.”

“So do I,” Mom admitted quietly. “But I never thought I was, so no point in trying.”

“You should never give up,” I said, conscious of the irony of me saying that. But I had come to believe it.

“So when you came home this summer, I was taken aback. It felt like you were trying to tell me something. Then I realized I was transferring old hurts. If I’d known you were interested in a makeover, maybe we could’ve worked on it together. I just never wanted to make you feel like my mom did me. I always wanted you to feel that however you are, it’s okay with me.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I was almost crying, unable to see for the stinging in my eyes.

In that moment, I desperately wanted to tell her everything. Fear for her safety kept me silent, along with remorse over what I might’ve done. She seemed to think so highly of me; I couldn’t stand to tarnish that image. To give me time to recover, she patted my head and went to talk to my dad. I went to my room for five minutes to settle down.

Dinner was lively; I actually paid attention when they were talking about the new project and to my surprise, I had ideas to contribute. My mom made notes while my dad treated me like I was a genius.
I could get used to this.
If working with my parents led to my optimum future, at the moment, I didn’t feel like fighting.

Now and then, the Pandora’s box in my head slammed from side to side, thoughts of Brittany and Russ trying to escape. I didn’t let them. There was no other way I could cope.
I have to push forward. If I quit, they win.
Stubbornness kept me in school, still turning in work.

Friday, cheerleading tryouts went every bit as bad for me as I’d anticipated. I didn’t screw up my personal routine, but I had zero aptitude for learning choreography. Though I didn’t fall down, that was about all that could be said for my performance. Davina, on the other, was like a rocket, bright, on point, and utterly graceful. If the teachers who picked the squad didn’t put her on the A-list, then I could only assume they had already accepted bribes from parents who wanted a cheerleader in the family.

“You feel good about your chances?” I asked her afterward.

“You know … I do. Thank you.” She hugged me.

That made the ordeal worth it.

Saturday morning, I had the SAT. Fortunately, I was no longer grounded and I didn’t have to explain that the test I claimed to have aced last spring, I never took. I felt like I did well, but I wouldn’t find out for a while. Then I met my mom for lunch near the university, and after our food settled, we went to the fitness center, nothing extraordinary, but these were things I’d rarely done with my mother.

This is normal. Feels like another country.

But … I could get used to living here.

THE DARK SIDE DOES NOT HAVE COOKIES

A week later, Davina and I stood in front of the list Miss Tina, the cheerleading coach, had just posted. Girls clustered around, making it impossible to see, so I pushed my way to the front as the crowd thinned. Occasionally excited squees popped up, but most of the hopefuls trudged off with their dreams crushed.

I ran my fingertip down the page. “There you are on the varsity list.”

“No way.” She bounced forward and then danced in a circle when she confirmed.

Unsurprisingly, I didn’t even make alternate, but since that wasn’t the point, I didn’t care. “Happy?”

“Yeah! Surprised, though. I honestly thought this crap was fixed.”

Maybe some slots, but Blackbriar cared about trophies, which meant they needed some athletic girls on the squad. Otherwise, they’d be screwed later in the year. She got out her phone, already dialing to tell her mom. This was the happiest she’d been since Russ died.

I’d expected Kian to make up for lost time, but he was busy with classes—or so he claimed. Instead of spending time together, I got texts and Snapchats, like we were in a long-distance relationship.

That week I also got an e-mail from Jen.

Hope you’re happy. I’m in THAILAND. With my grandmother. My mom told her about what happened to Brittany and now I spend my mornings lighting candles in shrines and temples. I’m finishing the semester online, but Blackbriar is holding my spot. I’ll be back after winter break.

We miss you,
I sent back.
And I’m sorry if this was all in my head. If so, I’ll get help.

Her answer came the next day.
I don’t think it was.

That was all she said, but it reassured me that she didn’t hate me for sending her into exile. Mr. Love still watched me and Nicole looked more and more like a ghost, but the rest of Blackbriar got back to normal. Every night, Davina had cheerleading practice and, like Kian, I joined drama, not because I wanted to act, but it might help with college applications. I also spent more time with my parents between working out with Mom and talking about the laser array they were working on. Their theories on time travel and alternate realities were kind of fascinating, especially when paired with actual hypotheses.

With his increased workload and me in extracurriculars, I saw Kian even less; he picked me up twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. Sometimes we went out on weekends, but he seemed … different. Since he’d showed me his apartment, there was a new distance between us. Though he’d told me he was unpacking his boxes, he hadn’t invited me over again to see how it turned out.

The resulting quiet felt more like the calm before the storm than a permanent peace. While I planned for college, studied, and spent time with my mom, I feared the silence would be shattered by a scream—or a disaster of such epic proportions that the enemy needed time to put all the pieces in play. Kian’s remoteness only reinforced that impression. He denied anything had changed and he said the right words, but sometimes I caught him looking at me with an ocean of grief shining from his eyes. His words came back to me in quiet moments:

I am afraid.

Of what?

Having you. Losing you.

But I couldn’t let sorrow or worry keep me from living. Otherwise all of this had been for nothing. So, even knowing things weren’t … right, I had to persevere. I’d never give up again.

*   *   *

A week after I took the SAT, I confronted him about it. “Kian, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, why?”

“You’re different.”

He just smiled and kissed me.

No matter what I said, he refused to open up. So I resigned myself to letting him tell me what was wrong in his own time. The distance hurt, even as it reassured me that I could trust him: I suspected he was shielding me from something bad … and I let him.

I wish I hadn’t.

It took about three weeks for my SAT results to arrive, and I grabbed the envelope from the mailbox before my parents saw it. Hiding in my room, I opened it alone, relieved to find my scores were high enough to get me into my school of choice, provided the rest of my application package lined up. I spent the next week scribbling my essay and then I sent the packets, grateful I could do most of it online. I used my mom’s Visa to pay the application fees, and then it was oddly anticlimactic. Replies should start in January; I finally felt like maybe I had made up for lying to my parents for all those months.

Apart from the tension between Kian and me, things were looking up. I still felt terrible about what happened to Brittany and Russ, but the tinnitus I had noticed around him made me question whether it was my fault. And if his death wasn’t related to me, maybe her illness wasn’t either.
I want so much for that to be true.
Some days, I could almost convince myself that was the case, and it let me carry on. But wishful thinking didn’t explain Mr. Love at all, so I couldn’t entirely accept the coincidence theory. Deep down, I was waiting for the third calamity, like Davina’s grandma predicted.

The day before Halloween, I noticed that the bizarre events had slowed way down. They didn’t stop entirely, or I would’ve caught on faster; sometimes I glimpsed the thin man on the subway platform, but he didn’t approach me. Belatedly, Kian’s words echoed in my head:
You don’t know the deals I’ve made
—to keep me safe or to stop the attacks? I was afraid to ask if he’d contacted somebody at Dwyer & Fell. God only knew what Wedderburn would do if he suspected Kian was a traitor. But maybe I had already gone off course, so the opposition had no reason to stalk me anymore. If so, I wouldn’t find out until graduation when Wedderburn informed me that I’d become a waste of time, and I could earn my keep by offering deals to people in extremis.

Sadly, that might be the best-case scenario.

With that possibility whirling in my head, I was glad when Davina distracted me by bounding up to my locker wearing a smile. I still caught a melancholy look now and then, but since the rumors were now centered on Nicole Johnson instead of Russ and Brittany, it was easier for her to pretend not to be heartbroken. I thought it best to go along.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Party at Cameron’s tomorrow. His parents are never around, but this has their stamp of approval, so it’s high-end, big-budget scary. I wasn’t even sure he’d do it this year.”

“No invites, not even online or whatever?” Since I had attended zero parties in my life, I was well aware that I might sound stupid.

Davina shook her head. “Pretty much everyone knows about it. If you know how to get to the house, you don’t get kicked out on Halloween.”

“Costumes?”

“Definitely. You’ll go, right?”

“Why not?” I could work out with my mom on Saturday afternoon, talk physics with my dad … and miss date night with Kian.

I don’t even know if he’ll mind.
My heart ached.

“Sweet. My mom can drive us, if you want. I guarantee she won’t let me have the car, and she’ll want to make sure I’m going where I claim I am.”

“The party won’t be loud enough to make her change her mind?”

“Not if we get there early enough. I’ll pick you up at half past six.”

“Sounds good.”

After school, Kian picked me up at the normal time, but he was even more preoccupied than usual. I seized on that as an excuse not to say anything until he parked outside my apartment. I’d never broken a date with him before, so I had no idea how it would go. If he acted like he didn’t care, that’d be worse than hurting him.
Well, for
me.

“We still on for tomorrow night?” he asked.

At this point, we were regulars at the classic movie place in Harvard Square. A pang went through me as I shook my head. “Actually I’m going to a party with Davina.”