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Authors: Michael Griffo

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BOOK: Unwelcome
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Ronan, Michael, Nakano, and Fritz each took their positions on top of their swim blocks, goggles on, bodies bent, heads down, arms stretched out behind them, no one daring to move a muscle until the loud blast of Blakeley's gun was heard. But Michael couldn't help himself; he was too close to Ronan, the magnetic pull between them too strong for him not to shift his eyes the tiniest bit to the left to get a glimpse of him before they were all underwater. He was glad he took the risk. In his arched position, Ronan's body was like sculpted white marble, his calves a solid curve, his thighs strong and thick, his right arm a series of rolling muscles. When Michael looked up to see Ronan's perfect profile, he was thrilled to see Ronan smiling back at him. He was trying to get one last eyeful of Michael as well.
While the echo of Blakeley's gun still reverberated off the walls and windows of the gym, the boys were already in the pool, stroking, stroking, stroking, left arm, right arm, deep breath, kick, kick, kick, each trying to win, each trying to claim the first victory of the season. Michael felt the cold water rush past him, envelop him, and he imagined he was swimming in the Atlantic Ocean off Inishtrahull Island toward The Well. He tried to swim toward the finish line with the same abandon and the same purpose. If he did, maybe he could get there first.
But Ronan was a formidable opponent. He had more experience and knew better than anyone on the team how to move with unabashed freedom in the water. And even though he loved Michael and wanted him to achieve every one of his goals, Ronan also hated to lose. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Michael had a slight advantage over him, less than half a stroke but a definite advantage, and Ronan was duly impressed. Not impressed enough to admit defeat prematurely, however. Using all his natural and preternatural skills, Ronan surged his body forward to pull ahead of Michael to come in first, which everyone, including Ronan, expected would happen anyway. No one, however, expected Michael to come in second.
“Kano, you're slipping!” Blakeley called out. “You let Howard beat you by two full strokes!” Before he could continue berating Nakano in front of the whole team, his cell phone rang. Looking at the number displayed on his phone, Blakeley grimaced and started walking toward the locker room. Just before he disappeared from view, he hurled one more barb over his shoulder. “B team, get ready so you can show Mr. Kai how to swim like a loser.”
Michael spit out some pool water he laughed so hard. “Looks like I'm beating you in everything these days!”
Lifting the yellow goggles off his eyes and onto his forehead, Nakano stared at the pool water for a moment. There were still little waves rising and falling all around him from the race. He was confused by Michael's comment. Not by the words; he knew they had nothing to do with swimming and everything to do with Ronan, but by the tone. It was arrogant and smug. Nakano had been spending so much time with Jean-Paul that he hadn't thought that much about Ronan and less about Michael, and he thought everyone had moved past all that, grown up a bit. Guess not. “Like I care,” Nakano finally replied, in a quieter voice than Michael had used. “I found someone a lot better than any of the boys here at school.”
Still feeling the power of the swim and obviously feeling the pangs of jealousy more strongly than he originally thought, Michael tried to keep his mouth shut, but couldn't. Climbing out of the pool, Michael felt adrenaline pump through his veins, he felt the water race down his face, his chest, his legs, and the late afternoon sun penetrate the gym windows and warm his body. He knew how he looked, like a glistening young god, and he knew looking down at Nakano, who was still half submerged in the pool, that he would think he looked like a god too. He took advantage of his superior position and hurled another insult at his nemesis. “Yeah, you had to go find some old man because nobody here wants you!”
Even if Ronan spoke out loud, he wouldn't have been heard, not with the roar of laughter that sprang from the crowd, but he knew Michael had heard him telepathically. Since Ronan created Michael and together they had offered their souls to The Well, they were linked; symbolically, they were one. However, they could also exercise free will and choose to sever that connection forever or for a moment, as Michael did now. He didn't want to hear Ronan's unspoken warning to back off from Nakano because he's stronger; he was strong too, didn't Ronan know that? He was stronger than ever before. And to prove his point, he pushed Nakano back into the pool just as he was on the top step of the ladder.
Although Ciaran couldn't eavesdrop on Ronan and Michael's telepathic conversation, he knew Ronan well enough to know what he would say. He also knew his words would not help Michael change his mind or his actions, so Ciaran grabbed Ronan by the arm just as Michael dove into the water after Nakano. “No,” Ciaran advised. “He's got to learn on his own.”
Propelled by a desire Michael didn't completely understand but couldn't resist, he grabbed Nakano by the ankle and, just as Kano's head broke through the surface of the water, pulled him back down. Caught by surprise, Nakano had time only to take a quick breath, hardly enough to fill up his lungs, but he wasn't concerned about that. He really wanted to know why he was being attacked. Motives would have to wait because Michael wasn't showing any mercy.
Nakano felt Michael's grip around his ankle tighten and in the next second he was being hurled sideways with such force that when the back of his head hit the bottom of the pool, he thought he was going to black out. This wasn't just a game; this was a fight and one that Nakano was losing.
Michael couldn't believe he was winning; he really had the upper hand. After all those years being bullied, being afraid and weak, he was finally the stronger one, the one with the power, the one who could push people around, and he was happy to admit that it felt good. At least for a while anyway.
The third time Nakano kicked his leg, he was able to break free from Michael's hold and when he did, the force of the movement made Michael stumble back a bit and lose his footing, his arms rotating furiously to create two little whirlpools on either side of him. He placed his foot on the bottom of the pool to regain control and was about to push off to hurl his body into Nakano's, but what he saw made him stop. Nakano had decided to change the rules and not fight like two teenagers. He wanted to fight like what they were, two vampires who didn't particularly like each other.
Fangs hanging over his lips, eyes black as hate, Nakano lunged forward, and before Michael could swim out of the way, he felt two powerful hands around his neck. Immediately he was hurtled back in time, back to that other place that had caused him so much pain, back to being the victim, and he felt his body and spirit grow weak. He saw foul things in Nakano's eyes, things he didn't ever want to see again, things he didn't think a person would willingly latch on to, and he knew a bit too late that even though he had more power than he ever had in his life, there were still people, things, more powerful than he.
Somewhere in the distance he heard screaming voices, chanting, gruff and persistent. He wanted to hold on to those voices, use them to pull him up and out and away from this fiend who was attempting to kill him, attempting to finish what he had foolishly started, before it was too late. He felt Nakano's thumbs press harder onto his throat, push into his larynx, and he felt pain. He was a vampire. He wasn't supposed to feel physical pain, he wasn't supposed to be able to die—or could he? He had no idea; he wasn't sure of anything anymore except that he had to fight back and he had to fight back now.
He managed to wedge some fingers in between his throat and Kano's thumbs and instantly the pain was relieved; it wasn't gone, but it gave Michael a chance to regroup and regain his strength. Pushing upward, Michael was able to lift himself so both he and Kano were now vertical instead of horizontal. He looked right into the eyes of his opponent, the black lifeless eyes, and he saw his image. It was clear and strong and it wasn't alone. Ronan was right beside him.
Underwater, Michael turned his head to the left and then the right, but Ronan was nowhere to be found, except he was everywhere. “Use me, Michael,” he heard Ronan tell him. “My power is within you.” He then realized the image wasn't literal, Ronan wasn't physically present but a part of him, emotionally and spiritually. It was all the strength he needed. Using the force that Nakano was exerting to work against him, Michael released his grip just slightly so Kano, caught off guard, perched forward, giving Michael the mere second he needed to swing both his legs up and push them into Kano's stomach. Michael didn't wait to see where Nakano landed, he sprang up out of the water and let the air race back into his body. It was over. His first fight was over and he had won. Yes, he had some help, but he still won and that's all that mattered. Nakano, however, was not ready to concede defeat.
Climbing the ladder, Michael was about to step onto the gym floor when he felt a hand grab at his bathing suit and toss him back into the pool. He was so startled that he didn't hear Blakeley's whistle blow or the splash he made when he jumped into the pool to prevent Nakano from coming after Michael. It was due either to exhaustion or to fear of retaliation that Kano didn't fight back against Blakeley. He still wanted to teach Michael a lesson, but he knew if he let himself go and used his full strength against his teacher, he would suffer the consequences at the hands of Brania and the others. He was furious, but he was trying not to be stupid.
“I turn my back for one second and this is what happens!” Blakeley shouted. “You act like a bloody animal!”
Just as Michael emerged from the water, he saw Nakano pointing a finger at him. “He started it!”
The American? Blakeley found that hard to believe, it wasn't like him; he was, oh, what was the right word? Bookish, refined, whatever the word, he wasn't a bully and he didn't pick fights. Nakano on the other hand did. “Apologize.”
Nakano was dumbfounded. “What?!”
It was Blakeley's turn to point a finger. “You know the rules in my pool! You start a row, you apologize.”
“I told you I didn't start it!”
“Tell it to somebody who bloody well cares! Apologize right now or you're off the team!”
Glaring at Michael, Nakano wasn't able to conceal his hatred. It could be felt and Michael knew there was no way Nakano was going to apologize, so he had to make a choice: He could let Blakeley continue to think Nakano was the initiator or he could admit the truth. It was an easier decision than he thought. “I started the fight.”
Oh, how Blakeley hated to be contradicted. “What?!”
“I'm sorry,” Michael said. “It was me, I started it.” Michael couldn't see Ronan, but he knew he was proud. “Nakano, I . . . I'm sorry.”
That isn't good enough,
Nakano thought. “What about you?” he asked Coach Blakeley.
The gym teacher wasn't sure he heard Nakano correctly, so he thought he'd give him a chance to rephrase his question. “Would you mind repeatin' that?”
I don't need this anymore,
Nakano thought.
It's like I always suspected; they're all jealous and I am way too good and way too mature for this
. “You know something? I quit! I'm done playing with the boys!”
First everyone was speechless and then Fritz broke the silence the only way he knew how, with his trademark laugh. Nakano had barely fled for the locker room before, one by one, the rest of the students joined in and the gym was filled with laughter instead of shouting. Blakeley made a feeble attempt to quiet everyone down, but even he knew it was pointless, the students needed this release after such a tense situation, so being more practical than professional, he joined in. And when the laughter finally subsided, he announced the new revised team rosters. “Ciaran!” Blakeley shouted. “You're taking Nakano's place on Team A.” Ciaran tried to act indifferent but wasn't entirely successful, gladly accepting the whoops of congratulations from his friends, and when Ronan grabbed him by the shoulder, he didn't pull away.
“Welcome to the big time, brother,” Ronan said.
“Thank you,” Ciaran said. “Or I guess I should really thank Michael.”
Michael wasn't at all sure that he deserved thanks. In fact, at the moment he wasn't sure what he deserved. Blakeley was sure of one thing, though; he needed another swimmer. He studied his clipboard and then cried out, “Bhattacharjee!”
A slight Indian boy with a thick mop of black hair and reddish skin the color of sun-faded brick stepped forward from the crowd. “Yes, coach?”
“Amir Bhattacharjee, you're the newest member of Team B,” he announced. “This is your chance to make something of yourself. Don't screw it up!”
The cheering continued, and since he and Ronan were of different species, Amir thought it was safe to whisper to himself, but he was wrong. Ronan heard his words as clearly as if they were shouted. “Don't worry, Nakano, I'll make our people proud.” Ronan didn't make the same mistake and silently remarked to himself,
Oh, well, one vamp out, another vamp in.
 
“I don't know what happened to me.” Showered and dressed, Michael needed to get away from the continued chatter and was staring out the ice-covered windows that encased the far wall of the gym, gazing at what could be seen of The Forest. When he thought about how dumb he acted, how reckless, he was embarrassed and confused and could hardly look at Ronan.
BOOK: Unwelcome
10.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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