Dark Seraphine (The Seraphine Trilogy) (2 page)

BOOK: Dark Seraphine (The Seraphine Trilogy)
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Standing among the kids gathered by the doorway was my Walker. I thought she had left. Seriously, I didn’t get why she
just stood
there watching me and kind of shaking her head a tad. That silky hair of hers flowed around her shoulders, highlighting the deep red of her lips. I narrowed my eyes at her, hoping my smirk came across just as sure of myself as I was embarrassed.

* * *

“So, I heard that you’re the first person in detention this year,” Kyle announced. His mouth was filled with bread. “Come on, man. Get through the first day, won’t you? What happened?”

I glared at him for a short moment. My situation wasn’t his fault, nope, even though he made me want to pound him. It was Walker girl’s fault, the one with the gorgeous hair, wicked brown eyes, and the nice, um yeah,
I’ll
just stop right there. Let me add to that: the Walker chick
that
suddenly started talking to me. That took them off of the ghostly list like I always figured. Nope. This girl belonged to something else entirely.

“I seriously do not want to talk about it,” I muttered, my mouth filled with pizza that tasted like cardboard. I glanced around the cafeteria
,
half expecting to see her. I didn’t though. I did see everybody else that I hadn’t seen over the summer. I spent most of the past couple of months working with my uncle at his surf shop. The strange thing was I didn’t see any Walkers while I stayed at
his
place.

Kyle had studied my profile a while before h
e said, “Okay. So how
about we discuss something a little more, eh-em, interesting.”

“No. As in, I don’t want to talk about Erica Jensen.” I bit into half of my roll so I didn’t have to say anything else.

“She’s single again,” he sang out.

I smirked. “Just where do you think that information will get you? Repeat after me: Erica Jensen is not…for…me. Even better, Erica probably isn’t for anybody except Thorne. Somebody with a name like that will probably beat you to death for looking let alone speaking to her.”

He scoffed. “Why you gotta be that way? Always bringing me down when I want to try to get close to someone?”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m just trying to have your back. The jealous type was a term somebody made using Thorne’s face as the ideal example.”

“I’m not worried about any of that. Besides I got a chance to speak with Erica…alone.” He emphasized the word alone and wagged his eyebrows. Yeah, I was slightly impressed.

Erica Jensen and Thorne Wiggins were an on again, I-hate-you-again type of couple. Where Erica had this disgusting love affair with the color pink, Thorne balanced her obsession out with his brutal track record. His father was an international heavyweight boxing champion, and Thorne was training to follow in his footsteps. He led the recent formation of the school’s first junior boxing league to victory. That was how he got his nickname. He jabs an unsuspecting punch into his opponent, and they fall.
Usually
his victim didn’t get back up for a long time. End of story. Why would Kyle want to mess with somebody like that? His actions proved to be way beyond my thought process.

“Hello, my people.” Shani clanged her tray
on top the table
, slid over to the seat beside me, and sat down. Kyle and I both perked up. “Hello, handsomely Caleb with the smoky gray-brown eyes. Did anyone ever tell you how much of a pretty boy you are?”

“Yes, actually, Shani you say it almost every day,” I smirked. She was purposely ignoring Kyle. Over the summer, the two of them fell out over something serious. Although the three of us had been friends since elementary school, the rules tended to change when a relationship worked its way into the mix.

“Yeah, real smooth trying to use my best friend to make me jealous,” Kyle said to Shani. She glanced around like she couldn’t see him. Her waist length braid almost swung over into my salad.

“Did you hear that, Caleb? I think I heard a voice that should be apologizing to me,” Shani said.

“All right. Look you two. Get it out and get it over with, real fast. Whatever crappy things you need to say, now is the time to talk about them. I’m not going to be the victim of your lovey-dovey issues all year. Understand?” I glanced from one best friend to the other, looking for some sign that they did at least realize how I felt.

They glared at each other over the table. Neither one intended to be the first to give in it seemed. I’d had enough. Between the Walker and my embarrassing moment in trig and the lover’s quarrel between my two best friends, I was ready to hit something. And we were only halfway through the first day of school.

“I’ll tell you what. I’m heading out to the gym. I need to pick up the list of students I’ll be training in my defense class. Maybe you two can smooth out your differences by the day’s end.”

“Fat chance,” Kyle blurted.

“Ditto!” Shani replied without looking at either of us.

“You two are hopeless. See you after the bell,” I muttered and walked out of the cafeteria.

On my way into the gym, I glanced at the sign-up board just outside the doorway. I’d taught self-defense classes to girls, and even a few guys after school for the past three years. Hey, it looks good on the college apps, alright? Mom and Dad made me take jujitsu lessons when I was a little boy. A couple of years ago, I stopped going. Although I had earned the brown belt, a respectable midlevel ranking, the status qualified me to train others to defend themselves. The energy I burned in those classes kept me calm and focused. To tell the truth, I looked forward to releasing the negativity pent up inside me. What better way to do that than to toss around a few tack heads.

Glancing over the list, I stopped at the last names that started with a J.
Crap!
Boy was I wrong when I thought the day couldn’t get any worse. At the bottom of the page and written in curvy girlish looking letters, was Erica Jensen’s name.

I don’t know who was against me, but it totally looked like the last year of school was going to be my worst.

 

 

Chapter Two

 


So
,
tell me
,
Caleb.
Do you have what it takes to
turn me into the toughest girl in school?
Or, is it true that you’re all talk?

Erica asked
,
her voice dripping with sarcasm
,
her jade green eyes with the weird brown highlights in the
irise
s piercing through me. I hope she didn

t think for one second that I was going for any of her tricks. I

d seen the way other guys gushed over her. But now
,
she was in my training class.
I
was happy that I
made it through the rest of the day without breaking something
,
or seeing that
Walker
.
T
here was no way that I was going to let
Erica Jensen
mess up my sudden winning streak.

A full group
of fifteen students
turned out for my class. News of girls getting
harassed in public places
was spreading
,
so I expected a large group.
Strange things happened every day. Stuff like perverts that hung out at the public library and waited for young girls to walk by so they could expose themselves.
Seriously, get a life, right?
What I didn

t expect was to see Miss Super Popular

s name sprawled across the bottom of my list. At least two other g
uys taught defense after school. Somehow I
got to be the lucky
dude
of the moment. One question throbbed in my mind. Why?


Did you hear my question?

Erica said to me again
,
her voice rising just a tad.


Oh
,
I think you

re already pretty tough. I will promise one thing
,
though
,”
I said.


What

s
that?

She batted her eyes and gave me her version of a sexy look. I didn

t fall under her spell. She was used to getting her way and I was just another challenge. But damn if something in my stupid chest didn

t flip the slightest bit.

Weak. Get over it dude. She

s so out of your league. And remember she has that hooked nose.


Nothing. Just a side thought.
Why don

t you just get in line with the rest of the
class
,”
I suggested
,
trying to sound tough. She turned
,
giving me a view of her butt in her tight pink gym shorts. Yeah she had a nice backside. But that was the kind of thing the other girls in the class would not like so well. She

d learn to understand the difference between her cheerleader
friends and the rough necks in my
group
soon enough. Or she

d suffer the mean girls

wrath
,
the ones standing in the corner whispering among each other as they stared.

By the end of self-defense training
,
Erica had kissed the mat at least a hundred times. The other girls singled her out. They knew she was
untrained,
and
well, kind of the prissy type
.
The annoyance I felt when she flirted with me earlier
almost in
creased to sympathy by the time the session ended.

On the way out
,
she refused to look at anyone
,
least of all me. I just had to do it. I couldn

t let it go with her getting humiliated by everyone else. I also wanted to prove the weakling in me wrong
,
the one that kept making me notice every detail of her hour-glass shaped body.


Next time you might want to bring your own mat.
I don’t think the school would appreciate it if I let all the kids kick your butt on to theirs
,”
I joked. Laughter erupted around us. Erica

s face turned crimson.

To my surprise
,
she didn

t say a word. Instead
,
she glanced at me with tear-filled eyes. My insides twisted. I sucked at being tough on girls. Gathering her gym bag
,
she shuffled out the door
,
peals of laughter still trailing behind her. Her nose wasn

t in the air this time. Nope. Unfortunately
,
the sarcastic ass honor belonged to me.

* * *

At some point
,
I had to face the parents.
I ceremoniously
dumped all of my training gear on the floor beside the couch. Dying of thirst
,
I headed to the kitchen. There were at least a dozen fruit salad bowls sitting in the fridge. Mom was on her health kick again. All I wanted was some water and something meaty to eat.


Caleb
,
where in this world have you been?

She trudged into the kitchen
,
still wearing her yoga outfit. Her bleached blonde hair was pulled in a high ponytail and the navy blue
leotard s
he wore only emphasized that she needed a touch up. The straw-colored hair seemed like a mistake on her naturally dark Lumbee Indian skin. Thanks to the hea
vens above that guys didn

t have to deal with
torturing our heads
the way girls and moms had
to do
.

Three days a week I taught
people
how to cripple would-be attackers basically by using a strategic placement of their knee.
While
I
did the
defense
thing
,
my mother practiced
meditative yoga techniques. Five days a week
,
she
entertained
ladies in
these
strangely twisted poses of torture.

Mom trudged over to the fridge
,
moved me out of the way
,
and pulled out two bowls of fruit salad. My heart dropped. Glancing into the living room
,
I waited for them
,
also known as,
the yoga ladies.


They

re gone
,”
M
om said and went to work on the first bowl. Her friends enjoyed squishing my cheeks. I was just not in the mood to endure the torture of
rough
hands and
sweat smells. Well
,
maybe if they looked l
ike Rhianna or Katy Perry. But M
om

s group wasn

t overflowing with people my age. Even I was too young to be considered a cub.
Scratch those thoughts.

I redirected my attention back to my mom. The only time she scoffed down food like that was when something weighed on her mind.


Your father called and wants me to meet him downtown in a little while.

She immediately went back to
inhaling the orange slices in her salad
.

There

s something about a new contract to rebuild the inner city parks. Yada yada. I don

t understand any of it
. But
I
’ve got to go down there and show my support.”

I perked up. The project she mentioned sounded huge. Sure
,
my dad worked on the city

s board of engineers
,
and he was over-the-top good with his designs; but maybe this project would put a hitch in my parents

moving plans.
Since I never got the chance to see him anymore, I lived through the social life I created for myself.
While most of the guys on my lacrosse team argued over what seat their dad sat in at the game, I
kept to myself. I knew that mine wasn’t coming. He never did. My mom filled in for him whenever she could.

I sat down on the bar stool across from hers and pulled the second bowl over to me. Large chunks of strawberry sat in clear peach juice. A perverted image came to mind
,
making me think of Erica Jensen
for some crazy freaking reason
. I immediately cleared my head
,
vowing to beat myself for thinking about Erica
in that way
ever again.

Instead,
I thought about the meaning behind my mother

s statement. If Dad found a new assignment that could possibly mean postponing a move
. He would
have to stick around to see the project through to the end. I
made a hot
damn
motion
in my body without actually letting my mother see me doing it.

“He said s
omething
about working with Rick Jensen. They

re going to redesign the city

s boundaries just in case something big ever happened. I don

t know all the details.

She waved her spoon and spoke as if dad

s assignment bored her to death.

While Dad worked,
Mom stayed at home
,
entertaining the yoga ladies and painting
canvases
of Italian landscapes. She always claimed to be the rock for her men. When I thought about it
,
I guess she was right.

You know Rick has that model-gorgeous little
niece
. What

s her name again? Erica
,
is it?

It was almost
like
I felt my eyeballs roll upward even without me actually moving them. Mom lived to play matchmaker with me. This time she was way off the mark though.

Mom.

Ignoring me
,
she said
,

Such a shame. Her story is so sad.

I swallowed a chunky peach
,
and perked up
just
a
tad
. This wasn

t what I expected to hear.


That poor child. I alway
s hate to hear things like that,

she said.


Mom. What? You

re killing me here
,”
I blurted.

Sighing
,
she glanced at me with sad eyes.

Well
,
I don

t want to be a gossip. Just p
romise me you won

t tell your father that we discussed this.
Deal?

I held my hands up.

You got it
.

“Not good enough. I need the pinky,” she said and held out the
little finger
on her right hand, waiting for me to link mine with it.

“Aw, come on, Mom.” I playfully rolled my eyes.

“Agree, or the deal is off,” she said firmly.

I linked my pinky in hers and said, “Deal. Are you satisfied?”

She sucked her cheeks in and rubbed the left side of her face
,
things she did when she wante
d to either chew me out or ask if I needed any condoms
.

Rick told
your dad
that Erica was attacked just before they moved
down
here. When they lived up in that cold polar cap region. Some crazy man barged in and butchered her real parents.

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