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Shortly after she left, a very petite doctor
walked in and asked for everyone to leave for a moment while she
checked me over. There was some good-natured grumbling from my
friends that was quickly silenced when I gave them The Look, and
they swiftly exited.

“I wish I had that ability,” the doctor
chuckled.

“What ability?” I whispered.

“Being able to clear out a room with a single
glare. I try to, but I usually get told that I’m too cute to be
able to pull off a really good death glare, so I gave up trying
long ago.”

“Oh,” I said, not really sure how to respond
to what she said. She chuckled and began doing all the typical
things that a doctor does when they’re checking over a patient. I
was poked, prodded, had my temperature and blood pressure taken and
asked to answer a few questions about how I was feeling.

“I really don’t like the look of your
throat,” she said as she gazed in my mouth. “It’s still very raw
looking with the beginnings of a nodule on your vocal cords, so it
might be a while before you have full range again.”

“How long before I can stop whispering?” I
asked.

“You can give it a try after the weekend, but
don’t expect your voice to sound normal for quite a while. Other
than that and the muscle strain and bruises, you’re good to go. I
know your mom said she’d be back to pick you up, so you can
continue to rest in here until she returns. I’m going to recommend
that you stay at home for the weekend to give your muscles and
tendons a chance to recover before you have to return to school and
deal with lugging around those huge book bags you kids have to
carry. And make sure you become good friends with Ibuprofen, that
will go a long way towards helping, too.”

I nodded and thanked her, and she left after
final instructions to take a hot bath to try and relax the muscles
in my back. Strangely, Kat was the only one who entered the room
after the doctor left and I gave her a puzzled look.

“They’re all down in the cafeteria getting
coffee,” she explained. “They wanted to see if it really was as bad
as stories make it out to be.”

“Ah,” I rasped, and grinned at her. I was
just so happy to see everyone, even if they were more interested in
hospital coffee than me, that I just couldn’t keep my smile
contained. It vanished, however, with Kat’s next words.

“By the way,” she said a little too casually
for the devilish gleam in her eyes, “you’re being called a hero at
school.”

“What?” I squeaked, and immediately grabbed
my throat as it exploded in pain. Instead of one bee, it felt like
I had swallowed a whole hive and they had all stung me at once. Kat
grabbed my glass of water from the tableside and quickly handed it
to me. I sipped at it carefully until the throbbing lessened.

“Yep,” she said, positively gloating as her
voice took on a melodramatic tone. “The story about how you single
handedly risked life and limb to rescue your best friend from the
clutches of an evil serial rapist and murderer has reached epic
proportions in the school. Sheryl turns positively green with
nausea whenever someone mentions it, because she keeps remembering
how you reacted to her trying to threaten you in the parking lot. I
overheard her telling Brandy that she thought she was lucky to have
escaped with her life.”

“But I didn’t do it single handedly,” I
protested weakly. “Akira helped!”

“Only at the very end, according to him. He
said that by the time he got there both you and Maria would have
been dead twice over if you hadn’t fought so hard.”

I hid my face in my hands and sighed. It was
all I could do because groaning was out of the question.

“Between you, me and the bedpost . . . grate
. . . railing . . . whatever, I think Akira is enjoying building up
your reputation as a badass.”

“Huh? Why?” I looked up.

“Because it keeps the fangirls away from
him,” Kat answered, her eyes now positively unholy in their glee.
“He was mobbed by them on Tuesday and he can’t deny that they exist
any longer. It was brutal, and the poor guy couldn’t really handle
all those girls openly fawning on him and calling him a hero. He
even had to hide in the men’s bathroom to escape them during
lunch.

Then there’s the fact that he’s been here
every day, even missed the second half of school both days and
skipped basketball practice. The fangirls are green with envy, but
no one dares to approach him after he told his side of the story
and how heroic you were. Sheryl is even doing her part to help him
out without realizing it because she won’t shut up about how you
twisted her arm in the parking lot and threatened to break it.
You’re going to have quite the reputation when you get back,
Jane.”

“Great, just great,” I muttered and dropped
my face back into my hands and contemplated simply super gluing it
there. At least then I wouldn’t have to see people anymore.

My rather bizarre musings were interrupted by
the arrival of the rest of the group who all sported cups of
hospital coffee and kept exclaiming about how it wasn’t as bad as
they had heard, it was worse. I shook my head and laughed (ok, it
was more like hissed, but it was close) at them. It was a fun visit
that included comments back forth between Kat and Jessica about
which Tarot card best represented me. They finally settled on
“Strength” (Jessica whispered to me that it could be included with
“The High Priestess” in my representation from her earlier
reading), but refused to elaborate when I questioned them. I
wondered if I should be offended or not.

“It’s a compliment!” Kat finally explained
when she saw my disgruntled look. “A lot of the time keywords such
as compassion, perseverance, and inner strength are used to
describe the ‘Strength’ card. You have all of that in spades.”

I muttered something that even I didn’t
understand under my breath. Most likely it was something aimed at
how I thought they were all Looney Tunes and to stop dragging me
into their world. Which was ironic, considering what I now knew,
but it was the principle of the thing and all in good fun, anyway.
They knew I didn’t mean it, and I knew I didn’t mean it. That was
all that mattered.

The visit ended all too soon, though, as the
group did have homework that they needed to get started on, but
they left me a lovely gift that consisted of my missed assignments,
which earned a less than enthusiastic “thanks” from me. They all
laughed.

“We know you’d rather be reading that shiny
new paperback of yours,” Danny teased.

“Always far more interesting than
schoolwork,” Jeff commented.

“Jeff, you love school work,” I said.

“I know, but I’m also well aware that not
everyone shares my passion for academia.”

I just shook my head and gave them a wave as
they exited. Akira stayed behind for a moment to ask if I needed
anything else, but I replied that I was fine, feeling a little
tired now that all the excitement was over with. My eyelids started
to droop, and though I really didn’t want to go back to sleep after
having been out for two days, I couldn’t seem to prevent myself
from nodding off. I felt my bed give a little jolt, and then I was
being lowered down until I was flat on my back. Feeling suddenly
vulnerable, I curled up on my right side and tucked one hand under
my cheek, the other still clutching the book to my chest like it
was a stuffed animal. I was only vaguely aware of the book being
tugged from my grasp as I slipped away into dreams; the last
sensation I was aware of before sleep claimed me was a pair of lips
that lightly touched my cheek and a whispered word that I didn’t
understand.

Chapter Thirteen

The weekend wavered between zooming by and
dragging so slowly that there were times I thought I would rip my
hair out in frustration. I worked on my homework, studied for the
upcoming SAT (every student’s nightmare), drank a gallon of honey
lemon tea (Maria Recommended for soothing my still painful throat)
and spent what time I had left reading up on
Tengu
. The idea
that they were the reincarnations of haughty priests or samurai who
had misused their power was interesting (and I made a note to ask
Akira about it), but I had yet to see Akira act arrogant . . . at
least, not on the level that my reading material suggested he
should. After watching his fight against the
Oni,
I was more
than happy to agree that he could be dangerous.

“These goblins may deserve their high
opinions of themselves,” I read, “as
tengu
are credited with
a vast array of supernatural powers. Along with shape shifting,
tengu
are said to be capable of teleporting instantly from
one place to another, and of speaking telepathically to humans
without moving their mouths or beaks. They are also famed for their
skills in martial arts, and are said to have trained the ninja,
taught samurai, schooled famous heroes in
kendō
and
possessed the founder of
aikidō
.”

That I could easily believe. Akira had
handled the
katana
like it had been a part of himself, and
had shown a ruthlessness that I had never seen. There was an edge
to him that I wasn’t too sure how I was going to deal with the next
time I saw him in person, and while we had exchanged the occasional
text message it didn’t substitute for an actual face-to-face
conversation. He had wanted to come by to visit, but the coach was
so pissed about him missing the last few practices before the first
game (not to mention the first half of the first game thanks to
visiting me in the hospital) that he had Akira doing weekend
practice.

I still thought it was odd and a little wrong
that an adult was posing as a high school student. I mean, really,
how much more boring can you get other than high school? I couldn’t
wait to get out myself, but Akira seemed fairly content. I had
toyed with the idea of going to see one of his practices, but I was
forbidden from leaving the house under pain of grounding for life,
again, until I looked “more human and less like some kind of abuse
victim” according to Mom.

What was
really
funny about this whole
mess, though, was that my little brothers now treated me with awe
that bordered on reverence. They’ve always been the typical, bratty
little brothers on occasion and did the “let’s pick on our big
sister” routine fairly often, but now they were almost creepily
respectful towards me. Mom said it was just shock from their big
sister going head to head with a man who had been four times her
size (according to the police reports and the artists sketch that
we had had to sit through) and while I didn’t exactly win, I didn’t
lose, either. Mom predicted that the hero worship would probably
die down after a little bit, but she did think that they were going
to be extra careful not to piss me off anytime soon. I thought that
part sounded rather nice, myself.

While I avoided talking on the phone with
anyone because my throat still erupted with fiery needles when I
tried to speak, technology insured that I would not be voiceless.
Frantic emails from Dad were received and answered with lots of
assurances that I was fine, which was followed up by an order to
see the school counselor once I returned so I could talk about what
had happened with a “professional” so that I could “get help
working through the trauma”. I knew he had fired off an email
saying the same to both Mom and the school principal, so I had that
to look forward to along with a lot of stares if what Kat said
about the flying rumor mill were true. I managed to catch Maria
online, who apologized for not getting in touch with me earlier but
said that things were rather strained at home and her Mom was
watching her closely. While I was still really worried about her,
at least she was back to sort of talking to me, and I hoped that
everything that came out the other night meant that I would soon
have my friend back, no matter what her physical condition was.

Then there was Akira. I couldn’t really sort
out my feelings on, well, everything. I no longer felt overly wary
of him after having learned just what he was and what he was doing,
but without that sense of something being wrong, I suddenly felt
rather vulnerable in a way that I hadn’t before. It was a strange
fluttery tickling low in my stomach that made the hair on my neck
stand up and had me scratching at my skin furiously. I wasn’t
entirely sure I liked the sensation, and the fact that I found
myself day dreaming about his wings more often than I wanted to
admit, even to myself, and yeah. I was turning into a bundle of
irritation at myself. I hated confused thoughts and feelings, they
only served to cloud the mind and prevent clarity of thought. Not
to mention they were insanely distracting.

The few times Akira had caught me online he
kept our chats to the topic of our joint project, which I was quite
happy about, and didn’t even bat an eye (or so it seemed, it’s hard
to get the exact tone of a person’s thoughts when they’re in
writing and not speaking) when I requested we change from the
Oni
to comparing both culture’s versions of Bigfoot. I
didn’t think he’d mind, considering, but I still found myself
grateful enough that I told him I would bake him some chocolate
chip cookies. I can’t be sure, but I thought I heard him squee
through the monitor. I had no idea he had a sweet tooth, but I made
a mental note in case it came in handy later. I was never above a
little bribery.

The weekend finally ended and I was allowed
to speak at a level that was a little more than a whisper. My first
attempt at sounding “normal” ended in a miserable failure as what
exited my throat sounded more like a drunk and dying rhinoceros
than an actual human’s voice, but the more I worked with it, the
more I loosened up enough so that you could actually understand the
words that I was saying instead of just one long, indecipherable
croak. I still sounded like my vocal cords had been dragged over a
roughly paved road, but at least it didn’t hurt anymore. When I
passed along the message to Maria and Akira that I was off the
whisper probation, the reaction was immediate and expected.