Crave (24 page)

“Uh, your who?”

I jerked my head in the freshmen girls' direction. “You know, the girls from the front office? The ones you've kept giggling for days now?”

He looked sincere in his confusion. But how could he pos
sibly have missed the effect his smiles had on them? “I was just being nice to them.”

“Well, would you quit it already? It makes them…” I waved a hand at the two giggling girls a few yards away on the track. “It's getting beyond annoying.”

“So you want me to be rude instead?”

“No. Just try to be more, I don't know, big brotherly.”

“Yes, ma'am, Miss Savannah,” he said, his fake salute making me fight the urge to giggle myself.

Tristan

I hadn't expected to feel much while watching the Jacksonville Indians football team play without me that Friday night at the Tomato Bowl in downtown Jacksonville.

But it stung. A lot.

As I sat beside Savannah in the bleachers in my new escort uniform of a long-sleeve button-up denim shirt and khaki slacks, I remembered how it felt at the start of a game. The adrenaline rushing through my veins. Suiting up in my protective gear and uniform like a warrior readying for battle. The excited roar of the crowd, and knowing they were all yelling for me and my team.

Second quarter was worse. I'd been assigned to escort one of the Charmers officers. As we followed the line of escorts and officers to the visitor bleachers on the other side of the field, I could feel my shoulders and neck steadily knotting up. The tiny blond senior clinging to my arm was cute and sweet. But she wasn't who I wanted at my side. I gritted my teeth and glanced across the field toward the home bleachers.

Just in time to see Savannah returning to the Charmers section with what looked like a box lid full of foam cups.

Heat raced over my skin, and I had to work not to growl.
She shouldn't be fetching for the dancers. She was too nice for her own good.

Most girls wouldn't be so helpful all the time, or put up with half the crap she did. All night tonight, I'd had to listen to Charmers whispering, “Miss Savannah, do you have some hairpins?”, “Miss Savannah, do you have any boot polish?”, “I have a run in my tights, Miss Savannah. Do you have any fingernail polish?” And on and on and on. How could she take the constant neediness? Why didn't these girls bring their own emergency supplies?

I kept expecting Savannah to get onto them for forgetting so much stuff, or at least tell them she didn't have whatever they were requesting. Yet she never once frowned or hesitated to help them. One girl had even forgotten her hat and lived too far outside of town to get it, so Savannah had to leave the Tomato Bowl, drive two miles over to the high school and then walk around alone on a dark campus to find a spare.

Which didn't exactly help my mood. She should have told me where she was going. I could have fetched the stupid hat for them, or at least gone with her and made sure she was okay.

Either she was a doormat, or she was too brave for her own good. I couldn't decide which. One thing I did know…she'd rather be out on that field at halftime in the limelight with the rest of the dancers. She'd tried to hide it, acting busy with prepping wraps and ice bags for the dancers who needed them after performing. But I'd caught the pure longing in her eyes when she'd thought no one was looking.

So why wasn't she a dancer? Was it because she couldn't dance well enough to make the team? It couldn't be for religious reasons. Bethany Brookes had told me earlier this week that everyone had to try out for the Charmers before they could apply to be managers. Including Savannah.

Even if she was the world's worst dancer, she still didn't have to be the Charmers head manager. She could do something else with her life, something that took far less time, energy and patience. Was she aiming for sainthood? Didn't she ever get tired of helping others? Didn't she ever want something for herself for a change, instead of always doing what others wanted her to do?

And why did she put up with the twins calling her a freak in history class when they thought I couldn't hear them?

By the end of halftime, it had all combined into a heated ball in my stomach…. Anger at myself for taking Dylan's bait and getting pulled off the football team during the playoffs. Rage at the Clann for brainwashing all the descendants' kids into thinking a nice, innocent girl like Savannah was somehow a freak who should be avoided at all costs. And fury at Savannah herself for putting up with it and settling for being just a head manager.

So much stupidity and unfairness. And for what?
Why?

I didn't get up when everyone else did for the third-quarter break. I was so mad I couldn't pry my hands from my bouncing knees. I didn't care that staying in the empty Charmers section practically guaranteed that my parents would see me here since they came to every JHS Indians football game to see Emily lead the cheerleading squad on the sidelines near the bleachers. Let them see that I was a Charmers escort. They'd pushed me into this.

I'd had enough of their controlling ways. Because I understood now. I was just like Savannah, wasn't I? I always did what my parents wanted, never stood up for anything I wanted for myself. My parents ran every part of my life. And I let them.

I hated to admit it, but maybe Dylan did have one thing right…some of the Clann's rules were just flat-out wrong.

At some point toward the end of the third quarter, everyone returned to the bleachers. Savannah came back to her seat beside me but didn't sit down. I could feel her looking at me, though I didn't look at her. I couldn't. If I did, I might yell or go hit a brick wall or something. I was already having a tough time controlling my energy level without seeing that sweet, patient expression I knew I'd find on her face.

“Tristan, did you want to go grab something to eat or drink? There's still enough time left in the quarter.”

Once again, Savannah was thinking of someone other than herself. Bitter acid rose up in my throat. “No, thanks.”

“Would you like me to bring you something instead?”

As if my legs were broken? Did she fetch for the dancers so much that she'd become everyone's servant? Gritting my teeth, I pushed out the words, “I don't need a slave, Savannah. If I want something, I'll get it myself.”

“What?” she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“You heard me. I said I can get it myself.”

I never looked at her directly, but out of the corner of my eye I saw her body tense up. A few seconds later, she sat down, her back stiff.

Regret shot through me. I pushed it away. I wasn't going to apologize. Maybe I could have said it better, but I was still right. She did need to stop slaving for others all the time. Apparently I was the only person in her life who cared enough to tell her the truth.

She didn't speak to me for the rest of the game. Which was probably a good thing, because unlike her, I wasn't that nice. I couldn't just swallow my real thoughts and not spit out something that would show how ticked off I was by it all.

My foul mood carried me home, where Mom and Dad waited in the dimly lit kitchen. Dad was already in his favorite
green house robe and matching slippers. Mom hadn't changed out of her designer jeans and Cheer Mom shirt yet.

Mom began, her arms tightly crossed. “So just when were you going to tell us about becoming a Charmers escort?”

I shrugged. They knew now. “What else was there? I'm barely passing Spanish and I suck at chess. You took away football. This is all I've got left.”

“But, son, you know the Clann rules about staying clear of that Colbert girl,” Dad said.

“She's not in charge of the escorts. And helping the Charmers is no different than having the same history class with her,” I said, working to keep my returning fury in check.

Mom threw her hands in the air with a loud huff. “Why must you be so difficult? Why can't you just go to school, come home and do your magic training? You're already so far behind. How do you ever expect to lead the Clann if you keep wasting your time like this? And what is the Clann going to think about you working with that Colbert girl?”

“It's always about what the Clann thinks. What the Clann wants. What about what I want? You already took football away from me. What else are you going to take?” Blowing out a long breath, I turned and braced my hands against the cold granite surface of the island. “Maybe I should just leave the Clann.”

Mom gasped.

“I get how important it is to you that I follow in your footsteps and become the next Clann leader,” I said. “But that's what
you
guys want. It's not what I want.”

Dad stepped closer to me. I turned my head to look at him. His face was twisted with hurt and confusion. “I thought you were enjoying the training. Do you really hate magic that much? Do you hate the Clann? Do you hate what I stand for as the Clann leader?”

My anger deflated a little. “No, Dad. Training with you has been fun. I love the time that we spend together working on spells and charms and stuff. But it's not what I want to do with my life. Magic is cool, but it's like a hobby.”

“I thought football was your hobby,” Dad muttered. “Something you would eventually grow out of. Just a passing phase.”

“Yeah, well, it's not.” I dropped my head and stared at the chaos of the mottled black-and-tan granite. “Look, I get it. I know I screwed up, and maybe I deserved to be taken off the football team for a while. I was stupid and I lost control. But my life can't be just about school and magic for the rest of the year. I need something else to do, or I'm gonna go crazy here.”

Silence filled the kitchen for a long moment.

Finally Dad sighed and said, “All right, son. Let your mother and I talk this over tonight, and we'll all discuss it over breakfast. In the meantime, why don't you go do a little grounding and then get some rest.”

They wanted me out of the house so they could talk. Fine, whatever. I nodded and headed out the patio door, sitting on the grass for a couple minutes. But for a change, I was already drained. I'd never spoken to my parents like that. All I wanted to do now was sleep. So I went back inside, up the stairs and down the hall toward my room.

At my doorway, I heard my parents' voices coming through their closed bedroom door. I hesitated, then eased closer until I could make out their words.

“Now, Nancy, you can't keep pushing him so hard,” Dad said. “He's going to rebel, just like I did. Then he'll end up taking off, and we won't see him for years.”

“Oh, please. Like he'd really run away from home. He wouldn't last a day on the streets.”

Dad chuckled, the sound muffled through the wood. “Oh, you'd be surprised. I made it for two years before I met you and you talked me into coming back home. Plus, I didn't have that big ole trust fund to rely on like Tristan will when he turns eighteen.”

Mom sighed. “I'm just so sick of all this football nonsense. How are we ever going to convince the Clann to make him the next leader if he won't buckle down and focus on his training?”

“He'll come around. If you stop pushing him. Let him be on this whole helping-the-Charmers thing. It won't hurt anything, and besides, he probably just wants to be around all those dancers. If I was his age, I'd want to be a Charmers escort, too.”

“Are you sure it's not the Colbert girl he wants to be around?”

“Nah. That was over years ago. If he wanted to rebel, he would've done it back when we first separated them.”

“I don't know, Samuel. I still think it's a bad idea.”

“You think too much. Come to bed.”

Time to leave. I eased along the hall, paused at my doorway, then continued on down the stairs and outside, flopping onto the grass on my back so I could stare up at the stars.

So Dad hadn't wanted to be the Clann leader, either, at first. Huh.

 

I spread my hands palms down on the grass, not to ground, but just to connect. To sense once again where I fit in this world. If I cleared my mind, I could actually feel it, that subtle pulsing of nature's energy beneath me. I was lying on one big battery, every blade of grass an outlet I could plug in to and take from or give back to as I wished.

I didn't reach for that energy, though. It was enough tonight
to simply feel it, to know that I could tap into that power if I needed to.

I wasn't powerless against my parents, after all.

Until tonight, all my life I'd been drifting, unsure of who I was or what I wanted other than to play for the NFL. I'd let my parents make every decision for me, and I'd never complained much.

Now I still didn't know who I was. But I knew with absolute certainty what I wanted. Who I wanted. What I would give and do for her.

I'd finally found something worth fighting for. And somehow, I'd found my own freedom while I was at it.

 

I had a new kind of dream that night.

In the dream, I seemed to be connected with Savannah. No barrier separated us. I was able to sit down right beside her in the moonlit grass.

But she wouldn't speak to me or even look at me. And for the first time in any dream I'd ever had of her, she wore what I thought of as her Ice Princess mask. She was right there, just a few inches away from me. I could reach out and touch her if I dared. But I didn't, because no matter how near our imaginary bodies were to each other, she was still every bit as untouchable as in history class.

I woke up the next morning on edge and spent the rest of the weekend worrying about Monday.

Tristan

I knew things were off track as soon as I saw Savannah headed my way Monday morning. She wasn't carrying her thermos cup of tea. And she was wearing the Ice Princess mask, her face cold and remote.

I tried to reassure myself that she was just having a rough morning. “Good morning, Savannah.”

“Good morning.”

No tea today meant no chance to hold her mug for her and touch her fingers in the process.

She opened the doors and headed upstairs, her steps brisker than usual. She didn't glance back at me on the way up, didn't pause once she reached the hallway.

She was silent as always during her morning routine of unlocking doors and grabbing equipment. But her silence was somehow different today, cooler, as if she were all business and the real Savannah wasn't even here.

“Rough morning?” I asked as we exited the building and the silence became too heavy.

“No, not really.” Her lips formed a smile that looked suspiciously like the same one she'd given Dylan in history after he'd knocked her books to the floor.

Okay, obviously I'd screwed up at the game Friday night.

We entered the practice field and drew closer to the gathering dancers. But I didn't care that we'd run out of time for private talk. If I didn't apologize now, she might not give me a chance to later.

“Listen, Sav, about what I said—”

“Mister Tristan, while we are on team time, I'll have to ask you to please call me Miss Savannah. As I clearly stated before, it's the team rules, and how we show
respect
for one another.” She didn't look at me as she spoke, her brisk stride never hesitating until she reached the edge of the fifty yard line where we always set up the sound system. “Okay,
Miss
Savannah.” The formal address felt all wrong coming out of my mouth now. Another barrier between us. “I'm—”

She held up a hand. “We need to get to work. Let's discuss this later please.”

And then she walked away to do her early-morning meeting with the team director.

Oh, yeah. I'd screwed up big-time.

I thought I'd at least get to apologize at the end of practice. But she was sneakier than I'd expected. She had one of the freshmen managers walk with me to put up the trainer bag and sound system instead. The next morning, she got to the school before me and already had the sound system set up on the field by the time I arrived. Even that wouldn't have been an obstacle, except she had the sophomore managers there with her, too.

Tuesday through Thursday's practices were more of the same, with her constantly hiding behind her managers or
sending me on office errands so she could avoid being alone with me. But then Keisha told me what time Savannah had been getting there at the school each morning.

So Friday morning, I made sure to get there even earlier.

Savannah

As soon as I saw him waiting outside the foyer doors, my shoulders stiffened. I pressed my lips together. If I opened my mouth right now, this could turn ugly. I might start talking and be unable to stop. There were too many things I wanted to say to him, questions I yearned to ask. Like why couldn't he just leave me alone? Why did he have to keep on breaking my heart?

Did he feel even the slightest bit sorry for all the years he'd refused to speak to me and pretended I didn't exist?

I unlocked the doors in silence, the clicking of the lock's release echoing in the foyer. He held the door open for me, and I tried my best to squeeze past without touching him. Even as my entire body begged for the exact opposite to happen.

Anne had tried to warn me and everyone else that he was a heartless, spoiled player. I should have listened to her instead of thinking he'd changed.

My eyes burned as we crossed the shiny linoleum floor and entered the staircase, my hands shaking as I gripped the metal rail and climbed the winding stairs.

Was it some kind of game to him, messing with my heart and my mind? Was it a big joke, getting me to open up and talk to him so he could turn around and treat me like crap again? And in front of others, too. At the end of the game, no less than five Charmers had asked me what I'd said to make Tristan act like that.

What
I'd
said! When all I had done was try to be nice to him.

He waited until we were halfway up the stairs before speaking. “Now can we talk?”

I swallowed hard as tears filled my vision. Praying my voice wouldn't shake and give me away, I mumbled, “What about?”

“I want to apologize to you.”

I froze at the third-floor landing, sure I'd heard him wrong. After a few seconds, I found the strength to push the hallway door open. Maybe this was a new part of his game.

I unlocked Mrs. Daniels's office.

He followed me inside. “Sav, I'm sorry I was rude to you. It was…hard to see my team playing without me.”

Part of me melted a little at that and wanted nothing more than to turn and hug him.

But then I really thought about his words, and fury replaced the ache in my chest. Even if he'd been upset, he shouldn't have taken it out on me. He acted like he was the only person in the entire world who had ever lost something that mattered to them. Like I wasn't in his exact same position at every Charmers practice and performance, watching others do what I would give anything to be able to do, too.

Not to mention the lovely experience he'd given me twice now of making me think we were friends only to toss me aside yet again like the worthless trash he apparently thought I was.

The anger gave me the courage to swallow back the tears, turn and face him.

“You say it was hard to see your team play without you.” Just talking hurt my throat, it was so tight. Still, I somehow pushed out the rest of the words. “But what do you know about what's hard? All your life you've had it so easy. Jacksonville's golden prince, the rich boy all the girls want to date. The Clann's future high Pooh-Bah witch leader.” I waggled my fingers in the air, the years' worth of hurt and anger all
boiling up to push me close to the edge. It was all I could do not to yell at him right now.

He froze, those achingly gorgeous eyes of his widening. “What are you talking—”

A laugh escaped me, sounding hollow and empty even to my ears. He truly thought I was clueless, didn't he? “I know all about the Clann and your magic. My family are descendants, too—they were Clann until they weren't perfect enough, pure enough, for your kind anymore.” I closed the distance between us until only inches separated us. He wanted to talk? Maybe it was time we really talked. About everything. “You want to know what's hard? Try having your best friend suddenly refuse to speak to you. Try not knowing what you did wrong, and begging your former friends to forgive you, and them just pretending you don't even exist anymore. For
seven years.
I must have been out of my mind to think you and I could be friends again. All you're going to do is treat me like crap, just like you did Friday night. And all I was trying to do was be nice to you!”

He dragged a hand through his hair, making a mess of it. “Look, you're right. I was a jerk all those years, and an even bigger jerk last week at the game. I mean, yeah, my parents told me to stay away from you, and I was trying to be a good kid and follow the rules. But I shouldn't have. And I'm not anymore.” He cupped my shoulders, his hands burning me right through my sweater. “Please believe me, I never wanted to hurt you like that. And I'm more sorry about it than I can ever tell you.”

His voice poured over me like ice on a burn, his words everything I'd wanted to hear for years.

But it still didn't quite explain his acting like an ass at the game. “I get why you were upset Friday night. But why take it out on me? Are you sure this isn't a Clann thing? They didn't put you up to this, did they?”

“What? Hell, no! I had to fight with my parents just to get to stay on as a manager.”

That stunned me into silence for a few seconds. “What? Why would you do that?”

His entire body froze, and I wondered if he was even still breathing. After a long hesitation, the muscles in his neck worked as he swallowed hard. His hands, shaky now, slid down to cup my elbows, bringing my hands up to rest on his forearms. “Because I miss hanging out with you. We were best friends once. I miss that. I miss
you.
”

All my anger drained out of me, leaving this strange sense of lightness and returning warmth inside. Tears of a different kind burned my eyes now. “Really?”

He grinned. “Yeah, really.”

I couldn't stop an answering smile from forming. “Okay. But no more acting like an ass. I'm the head manager. I've got a rep to maintain here. How am I supposed to boss those Charmers around when I can't even keep my own managers in line?”

He laughed and faked a salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”

“And you get to carry the sound system
and
the trainer bag. For at least a week, for your rudeness to the team head manager.” My lips twitched with the effort not to laugh.

“Yes, ma'am, Miss Savannah.” He grabbed the bag's strap and slung it over his shoulder.

As I followed him down the stairs, he looked back at me and grinned.

And that's when I realized how hard just being friends with him was going to be.

Tristan

At the end of practice, I hung around Mrs. Daniels's office with Savannah.

“Hey, I was thinking…you should keep an extra hat or
two in your truck,” I said. “You know, in case anyone forgets theirs at the game tonight.”

“Hmm, good idea. I'll have to remember to grab a couple this afternoon.”

“Why not grab them now while you're here?”

She shut and locked the closet door. “Because I have to come back up here this afternoon anyways.”

“I thought we didn't have practice the afternoon before a game?”

“We don't. But I do have to load all the Secret Sis gifts into my truck for the game.” She waved a hand at the dance room.

I peeked through the doorway. A cabinet ran down the length of the back wall opposite the mirrors. Its counter was covered with blue-and-gold gifts of all shapes and styles. I gave a low whistle. That was one heck of a gift pile. With forty girls on the team, even if she put the presents into big boxes, she'd still have to make several trips.

“Do the other managers usually help you?”

“No. But they're not heavy, and I like the exercise.”

“Yeah, as if you need that. Okay, I'll see you this afternoon, then.”

“No!” Sheer panic erupted in her voice and across her face.

I looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“I mean, it's fine,” she added. “I really don't need your help. I'll see you at the game, okay?”

Her cheeks were pink, and she was looking everywhere but at me. Oh, yeah, she was definitely hiding something.

I'd just have to swing by the dance room after school and see what she was up to.

Savannah

I kept thinking the more time I spent around Tristan at Charmers practice, the easier it would become to ignore him
in history class. But the only people I could successfully ignore in there were Dylan and the Brat Twins. In fact, I'd gotten so good at tuning them out in class that the twins actually seemed to think I was deaf now. Which was pretty amusing, considering my already batlike hearing seemed to be growing
more
sensitive every month. Thankfully Dylan had decided to leave all the bullying attempts to the girls for a while.

Unfortunately, even my supposed deafness didn't stop the twins from trying to bait me before the start of every history class in increasingly louder voices.

Today, the conversation was about who in the school was worth taking a bullet for. A stupid question, in my opinion, but the twins seemed to consider it a deep, debate-worthy topic.

“Hey, Tristan,” Vanessa said. “Who would you take a bullet for?”

“Uh, anybody in the school, I guess,” he muttered without turning to face them.

That's my Tristan. Smiling to myself, I pretended to focus on reading a book for an English assignment and prayed Mr. Smythe would hurry up and get to class.

“Oh, surely not just anybody,” Vanessa whined. “I mean, you wouldn't take a bullet for the freaks, would you?”

“Such as?” Tristan sounded like he was warning the blondes about something, his voice dropping to a near growl.

“Well, like Freaky Eyes there,” Vanessa stage-whispered.

Three guesses who
that
was. It took everything I had not to snort with laughter. The Brat Twins were so transparent they were pathetic. They were just trying to make me mad. But they kept using old material in their attempts. And then they were dumb enough to wonder why being called a freak no longer bothered me much. I turned the page in my book
and continued reading, confident that my Ice Princess mask was in no danger of cracking today.

“Sure,” Tristan replied. “Why wouldn't I take a bullet for her?”

“Because she goes around putting these horrible love spells on the guys,” Hope answered, not even bothering to fake a whisper. Half the class had to have heard her. “Probably because she's so ugly. It's the only way she could ever get a guy to like her!”

The twins erupted in high-pitched giggles.

Now that was going too far, even for them. Fury tried to warm up my stomach, and my eyes stung. Oh, no,
no way
was I going to cry. I quickly imagined my anger turning into ice water running through my veins.
Ice Princess,
I reminded myself.
You are surrounded by ice and untouchable.
My heart rate slowed down, and I felt that coldness within spread to my face.

Sometimes, like now, my ability to embrace the emotionless cold within me was almost frightening. It had to be from the vampire side of my genes. It even made me
feel
like a vampire. But it was a heck of a lot better than breaking down into pathetic tears in class.