Illusions Page 18

  The hall was empty. There were a few more minutes before the flood of humans would be released, and they would pour out of their classrooms, half climbing over each other to get to their meals, ravenous beasts all. He spun the sticky dial on his locker—not that he would care if someone made off with anything he kept in there—and yanked on the latch. He casually tossed his backpack in and tried to decide what to do for the lunch break. Would Yuki want to have lunch with Laurel’s group? He wanted to see Laurel, but he didn’t know if he could bear the sight of David. Not today.

  Tamani heard footsteps and turned to see David walking along the opposite side of the hallway, glaring. A few other kids were milling about—they must have gotten out of class early. What was that saying humans had about speaking of devils?

  Tamani knew he should turn away, ignore the boy’s dirty looks and petty one-upmanship. He knew better than to feud with a human. He had a job to do.

  Instead, he returned David’s glare, measure for measure.

  David slowed down, then stopped in front of Tamani, the air between them cooling tangibly.

  “You got a problem, Lawson?” Tamani asked.

  David hesitated. He was clearly out of his element. But Tamani knew from two years of experience just how stubborn and persistent this human boy could be. He wouldn’t back down. “You know what my problem is,” David replied.

  “Let me rephrase,” Tamani said, taking two steps forward. “You have a problem with me?”

  “I have nothing but problems with you,” David said, matching Tamani with two steps of his own, bringing him within arm’s reach.

  Tamani took one more step forward, halving the gap, and felt, rather than saw, eyes turn toward them. “Tell me how you really feel,” Tamani said, so quietly he doubted anyone else even heard.

  “Even my vocabulary couldn’t quite describe it,” David said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  It wasn’t exactly trash talk—maybe nerd trash talk—but Tamani had to admit it was clever. “Luckily,” Tamani said, a malicious grin playing at the corners of his mouth, “I know a lot more words than you, òinseach.” He threw the Gaelic word at David with more scorn than the literal translation probably warranted. The lunch bell rang, but Tamani scarcely heard it.

  “You’re just baiting me,” David said, but he sounded unsure. Hesitant. “You want me to make Laurel mad. You want her to feel sorry for you.” More students were gathering around them, hopeful for some entertainment.

  “Not at all,” Tamani said, placing the fingertips of one hand against David’s chest. “I want to put you in your place, burraidh.” He pushed just hard enough that David had to take one small step backward to keep his balance.

  The combination of confusion and anger had just the right effect. David stepped forward and pushed Tamani back. He could have kept himself upright, or taken David to the ground with his own momentum, but instead Tamani staggered back, then came forward with both hands outstretched. He put a lot of show into the push, but little effort; still David had to take two steps back this time. Before he could recover, Tamani moved in close and shoved him one more time, so David’s back hit the lockers with a rickety metal clang.

  “Fight!” an anonymous student shouted from the crowd. Others took up the chant. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

  Oh yes, Tamani thought. A cornered animal will always fight.

  As David’s fist slammed into Tamani’s jaw, he was forced to admit that the boy had a good arm. But Tamani’s pain was swallowed up in satisfaction; David had thrown the first punch. He was fair game.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  LAUREL WAITED OUTSIDE CHELSEA’S CLASSROOM AND grabbed her arm as she walked out. “Are you and Ryan eating lunch with us today?” Laurel asked.

  “I think so,” Chelsea said. “Why?”

  “You just sneak off together sometimes,” Laurel said—though they seemed to be sneaking off a good deal less than usual these days. Chelsea steadfastly refused to confront Ryan about Harvard, and keeping her mouth shut about it seemed to be taking its toll. “I wanted to check.” The truth was, she didn’t want to face David alone. Not yet. She was still mad that he’d “bumped” into Tamani that morning. She didn’t think she had the patience to head off both guys’ bad behavior today.

  Laurel heard the commotion before she saw it. She and Chelsea rounded the corner just in time to see David slam his fist into Tamani’s face. In the time it took her to blink, Tamani had David by the shirt. David took one lightning-quick blow to the stomach and doubled over, gasping for breath. Tamani held on and raised his free hand to strike again.

  “Tamani!” She ran forward, shoving people out of her way to get to them.

  Tamani held on to David’s shirt a moment longer, but when Laurel emerged from the crowd, he shoved David back, releasing his T-shirt and leaving a wrinkled circle where his hand had clenched it.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Laurel yelled, looking back and forth between them.

  “He started it!” David shouted, looking like he was about to attack Tamani again.

  “He hit me,” Tamani said calmly, addressing his complaint to Laurel with his hands resting easily on his hips. “What was I supposed to do? Let him?”

  “You wanted me to hit you and you know it,” David said, lunging forward. Ryan grabbed David by the shoulder and pulled him back. David shoved Ryan’s arm away, but he didn’t try to go for Tamani again.

  “Oh, please,” Tamani argued, looking at David. “You’ve been wanting to take a shot at me since day one, admit it.”

  “With pleasure,” David growled.

  “That’s enough!” Laurel yelled. “I can’t believe . . . what the . . . forget it!” she said, raising her hands sharply to cut off all protests. “You want me to choose? Fine, I’ll choose. I choose to walk away from you both! I don’t want either of you if you’re going to act like this. I’m through.” She spun on her heel and started shoving her way toward the front doors.

  “Laurel!” The desperation in David’s voice made Laurel stop and turn.

  “No,” she said levelly. “I’m not going to do this again. We’re done.” She didn’t look back as she broke into a run. She heard footsteps behind her, but she couldn’t stop—wouldn’t stop.

  “Mr. Lawson! What is the meaning of this!” She’d recognize his voice anywhere; it was Mr. Roster, the vice principal. “Mr. Collins! Tam Collins, come back here this instant!”

  Laurel kept going and no one called after her. She shot through the front doors, grateful she’d driven that morning instead of riding with David—or Tamani. She jammed the keys in the ignition and for the first time she could remember, peeled out of her parking spot. The asphalt lot was not yet thick with milling students and Laurel didn’t touch her brakes until she pulled up to the first stop sign.

  Her hands naturally steered her to the 101 and it wasn’t until she was halfway there that she realized she was heading to her old house. She found it rather ironic that since moving away from Orick, she’d mostly gone there to see Tamani. Now she was running away from him.

  And David.

  She didn’t want to think about that.

  There was some light rain on the way down, but Laurel didn’t bother to close her windows. Her windshield was spotted and her hair a little damp, but she just pushed it away from her face. It began raining in earnest as she pulled into the unpaved driveway, and the clatter of raindrops tumbling through the canopy grew almost deafening. Laurel rolled up her windows, pushed open her door, and decided to take shelter in the cabin instead of the forest.

  Besides, she was in no mood for lectures from Shar. He might follow her into the house, but in the forest he would be unavoidable.

  Absently, Laurel fiddled with the knotted sash that kept her blossom bound. Her wilting petals didn’t spring up so much as sag out, shifting gradually into place as she walked toward the cabin door with her shirt hiked to the bottom of her ribs. She jiggled her key in the deadbol
t—sticky from disuse—and finally managed to make it turn. She had just laid a hand on the doorknob when she heard another vehicle crunch down the long driveway. She glanced around for something she could use as a weapon, then realized if it was anyone hostile, the sentries would handle them.

  But when Tamani’s convertible appeared around the bend, a whole new kind of fear set in.

  His top was down and he was soaking wet. “Laurel!” he called, springing out of the seat almost before his car stopped rolling.

  “No!” Laurel called over the rain, which drummed heavily on the tin roof of the cabin’s small porch. She pressed her back against the door, her hand still tight around the doorknob. “I came here to get away from you!”

  Tamani paused at the small wooden gate, his hand resting on the fence post. Then he strode forward, his eyes filled with purpose.

  “I don’t want you here,” Laurel said as he drew closer.

  “I’m already here,” he said softly. He was just inches away from her, but he didn’t touch her. Didn’t even try. “The question now is whether you want me to leave.”

  “I do,” Laurel said, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rain.

  “Why?”

  “You . . . you make everything confusing,” she said, her emotions overflowing into stinging tears that she swiped at with angry hands.

  “I could say the same about you,” Tamani said, his eyes boring into hers.

  “So why are you here?”

  He lifted his hands and made as if to lay them on her arms, but just before they touched he stopped and let them fall. Then, simply, as though it were all the explanation she could ever need, he said, “Because I love you.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  A heavy sigh escaped Tamani’s lips. “Look, not my finest moment, obviously. I was mad. I’m sorry.”

  “What about Yuki?”

  “Yuki? I—” Tamani frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. Then his eyes widened as realization dawned. “Oh, Laurel, you don’t think—”

  “She really likes you.”

  “And I would trade every minute I have ever spent with her for one second with you. Every instant I’m with Yuki is an act, a game. I have to find out what she is, what she knows, to keep you safe!”

  Laurel swallowed hard. His words sounded like truth. For a moment she pondered whether this truly was all the explanation she ever needed. But she mustered her resolve; he had only answered half of the question she really needed to know. And as he could not read her mind, if she wanted an answer she was going to have to ask.

  “Would it hurt you more if I was with David because I loved him, or if I was with David because I wanted to make you jealous?”

  “Hurt—?” Tamani started immediately, before the analogy could sink in. Then he stopped and studied her, as they stood beneath the cabin’s porch, the rainfall settling into a steady liquid hiss against rooftop and treetop alike. And though it was the only sound for miles, she couldn’t hear it over the sound of her own ragged breath.

  Quietly, almost too quietly to hear, Tamani spoke. “I would never do something just to hurt you.”

  “No?” Laurel asked, much louder than Tamani, her voice rising louder with every word as she finally asked the question that felt like it had torn deeper into her every day. “What about at the dance? You were dancing with Yuki and I looked at you. And you turned away and held her closer. Why did you do that? If you didn’t want to hurt me, then why?”

  He looked away, as though slapped, but he didn’t look guilty. He looked pained. “I closed my eyes,” he said, his voice so low and strangled she could hardly hear him.

  “What?” she asked, not understanding.

  Tamani held up a hand and Laurel realized he hadn’t finished—he was having trouble speaking at all. “I closed my eyes,” he repeated after a few shallow breaths, “and imagined she was you.” He looked at her, his face open, his eyes honest, his voice a song of anguish.

  Without thinking, Laurel pulled him to her and her mouth met his with a passion, a hunger, she felt powerless to fight. He braced himself against the door frame with both hands, as though he were afraid to touch her. She tasted the sweetness of his mouth, felt the strength of his body against hers. She still had one hand on the doorknob, so she turned it. Their combined weight sent the door flying open and, stumbling backward, her fist tangled in his hair, Laurel pulled Tamani in after her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THEY REALLY HAD STAYED TOO LONG—IT WOULD BE nearly dark when they got back—but they’d kept finding reasons to stay. To linger in the empty cabin, holding hands, or laughing at memories of Laurel’s childhood, or stealing just one more kiss—one kiss that turned into two, then ten, then twenty. She knew that once they left the cabin, everything would get complicated again. But for those few hours, in the empty house with no electricity, phone, internet, or television, the world was theirs alone.

  But they couldn’t keep night from falling. She had considered just staying—she was safe at the cabin, maybe even safer than at home. But though it was Tamani’s job to keep her safe, it was her job to keep her family safe. And she couldn’t do that from fifty miles away. Besides, her parents were probably worried. By the time she had collected herself enough to remember that Tamani had a cell phone, they were in separate cars, headed back to Crescent City.

  The drive went much too quickly and soon she was within a few blocks of her house. She looked in her rearview mirror and waved at Tamani as he peeled off and headed to his apartment, watching his taillights until they disappeared. It was only when someone honked behind her that she realized she’d been sitting at a green light.

  Stars were peeking out behind the clouds by the time Laurel pulled into her driveway. She was going to be in so much trouble. Her mom’s car was in the garage, though it didn’t look like her dad was home yet. Pocketing her keys, Laurel attempted to sneak into the house and was immediately foiled by her mother sitting in the front room sipping a cup of tea and reading a gardening magazine.

  Laurel shut the door behind her. “Um, hi,” Laurel finally said.

  Her mom studied her for a minute. “I got an interesting call from the school’s attendance office today.”

  Laurel cringed on the inside. She busied herself with loosening her petals from their silken bonds.

  “You were absent from all your afternoon classes.”

  The speech she’d planned all the way home evaporated. So she remained silent. A single petal came free with her scarf, and Laurel wondered if she would lose them all tonight, or if this one had been jarred loose by the day’s activities.

  “And then you walk in after seven o’clock on a school night—with no word whatsoever—and your eyes are sparkling like I haven’t seen them in weeks,” she finished, her voice soft.

  “I’m sorry I worried you,” Laurel said, trying to sound sincere while suppressing a smile. Her apology was sincere, but a guilty smile would undermine that.

  “I wasn’t worried for long,” her mom said, swinging her legs over the side of the couch. “I’m a quick learner. I went out to the backyard and talked to your sentry friend, Aaron.”

  Laurel’s eyes widened. “You talked to Aaron?”

  “He told me Tamani checked in at about noon and told them you were safe with him. So I stopped worrying.”

  “That was enough to make you stop worrying?”

  “Well, I stopped worrying about your safety, anyway. I saw the look in that boy’s eyes the other night. There’s no way he would let anything happen to you.”

  That grin she just couldn’t stop curled back onto her face.

  “Don’t think that gets you off the hook though; you’re still in trouble. We’ll talk punishment when your father gets home.” She sobered now. “Seriously, Laurel. What were you thinking? Does David know where you are?”

  Laurel’s face fell and she shook her head.

  “Is he at home worried sick?”


  “Probably.” She felt awful.

  “Did you want to call him?”

  She shook her head in a stiff, jerky way.

  “Oh.” Then a long pause. “Come in the kitchen,” she said finally, pulling gently on Laurel’s arm. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  As far as her mom was concerned, tea fixed everything. Have a cold? Have some tea. Broken bones? There’s tea for that too. Somewhere in her mother’s pantry, Laurel suspected, was a box of tea that said, In case of Armageddon, steep three to five minutes.

  Laurel sat on a barstool and watched as her mom fixed her a cup of tea, then stirred in ice cubes until it was cool.

  “I noticed you losing a petal there,” her mom said conversationally. “Would you mind if I preserved a few? They really smell fantastic. I bet I could make a killer potpourri.”

  “Um, sure,” Laurel said, trying not to feel too weird about her mom making something out of her petals.

  “You get rained on much today?”

  “A bit.”

  “Well,” Laurel’s mom said after spooning some sugar into the tea, just the way Laurel liked it, “that’s all the small talk I’ve got. Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  Laurel put it off just a few more seconds as she sipped her tea. “David and Tamani got in a fight at lunch. A fistfight. Over me,” she finally said.

  “David? Really?”

  “I know, right? But they’ve been angry and mopey lately. And there have been little confrontations the last couple weeks. I guess they just blew up today.”

  Her mom was smiling now. “I never had two boys fight over me.”

  “You say that like it’s fun. It’s not fun!” Laurel protested. “It was awful. I broke up the fight, but it was just too much. So I left.”

  “And . . . Tamani followed you?”

  Laurel nodded.

  “Where did you go?”

  “To the cabin in Orick.”

  “And Tamani joined you?”

  “I didn’t ask him to,” Laurel said defensively.

  “But he did.”