Drinking Life (Keeper of the Water Book 1) (3 page)

“We have to leave right away if he found us,” my mother says. I thought before that she looked angry but I hear fear in her voice as well.

“We shouldn’t make rash decisions, we don’t know if this has anything to do with him,” Celeste answers.

“How could it
not
?” my mother says. She takes a deep breath and lowers her voice. I continue to tiptoe closer. “Two soldiers attacked…
soldiers
. That sounds exactly like what happened to – ”

My mother stops talking when Celeste’s head suddenly perks up and cocks to one side. In one swift motion, Celeste spins and leaps in my direction, obviously ready to attack. I barely have time to see my mother shrink in fear before I turn away from the attempted strike. At the last second she holds up when she recognizes it’s only me. The fire in her eyes instantly extinguishes.

“I’m sorry for sneaking up, Celeste,” I say feebly. Apologizing is all I can think to do after seeing her awesome speed and reaction time. I know she’s an outdoorsy type but I never knew she had
that
in her. I used to think my father would protect her from any bear attack that might happen on a tour; now I can see that any bear that tried to mess with her would do so at its own peril. I seem to be learning a lot about everyone today.

“Zannia!” my mother cries and rushes to me. She hugs me tightly and I rest my chin on the top of her head.

“Where is Cassie? You didn’t leave her alone, did you?” Celeste asks. Now she’s the one who sounds nervous as she worriedly searches for her daughter.

“No, my dad is with her.”

The three of us walk toward the field. Celeste asks me what happened and I give her the quick version of the fight.

“What are you leaving out?” my mother asks. I look to Celeste who also nods her head. Despite my worry that they’ll think I’m crazy, I mention the old man, that he’d been staring at me throughout the game
and
while I was in the middle of fighting the soldiers. I tell them it wasn’t that big a deal but the two women glance at each other. It only lasts a split second, but I can tell there’s something behind it.

“What are
you
not
telling
me
now?” I ask.

“Nothing,” my mother says dismissively. “Tell us more about this old man. What did he look like? Have you ever seen him before? Did you talk to him?”

She rambles the questions frantically, growing more upset with each thing she asks. Celeste finally cuts her off.

“Tell me about the attack. Why did you fight instead of run?” Celeste asks. When the cop asked me that same question, he shook his head in clear disapproval. While a tiny groan escapes my mother at the mention of fighting, Celeste’s eyes widen in excitement.

“It felt like instinct, I didn’t even think about it. I just reacted,” I say. “I saw the soldiers—I saw that Cassie froze—and I just reacted.”

I shrug my shoulders. Any sane person would take my answer as
in
sane but Celeste smiles. I think I sense pride in that smile. I’m not sure if that unexpected pride makes me more or less uncomfortable than my mother’s fear. We join Dad and Cassie, who’s wrapping up a phone call.

“No, the party isn’t happening anymore, make sure nobody shows up,” Cassie hisses before flipping her cell phone closed.

Cassie has apparently recovered from her ‘trauma.’ You might think she’d rush into her mother’s protective arms, especially if she realized how well her mother could
protect
. Instead, she sighs at the sight of Celeste and folds her arms across her chest.

“See what happens when you skip one of my games? All
hell
breaks loose,” Cassie whines.

Even
I
want to wring Cassie’s neck for the way she speaks to her mother but I would never dare lay my hands on her. The number one enemy of most girls my age is their mothers but that’s not how it is between me and my mom. Sure, we aren’t exactly the best of friends but that’s probably due to the fact that we’re so different. I like to be active, I like the outdoors—I have my father to blame for that—but my mother hardly leaves the house and always seems nervous when she does. But I know how much she loves me and accepts me for who I am. I reciprocate those feelings for her, differences or not. But Cassie looks for any reason to make her mother the ‘bad guy’ and Celeste just shrugs it off. Her level of patience for Cassie might set an all-time record for the mother/daughter relationship.

“I’ve been talking with Katina recently about how dangerous this area is and I think today’s events confirm that,” Celeste says. My mother nods in agreement and I already know what’s coming. “Plus, business hasn’t been as good here as expected, am I right, Perry?”

Dad nods solemnly. I know business
hasn’t
been great but I doubt it’s as bad as Celeste says. I have a feeling her opinion of this area changed once I mentioned the old man.

“I think it’s time to move on,” she finishes.

“Again?” Cassie whines. “But we’ve barely been here a year; I finally worked my way into the right group of friends.”

“Don’t worry, dear, you’ve always been good at making friends wherever we go,” Celeste says. Cassie sighs, though the noise is mixed with a bit of a grunt and a hint of a shriek. “And I know just the place where we can start over. We’re all going to love it.”

SIX MONTHS LATER

“I hate it here. This school is awful and all the girls here are major losers,” Cassie whines to me as we walk into school. She swats at the air in front of her. “And is it me or are there more bugs here than any other place we’ve been?”

I can’t even see what bug she’s trying to smash—I wouldn’t be surprised if nothing was there and she was just looking for something to complain about. She’s been extra miserable since we moved to the Pocono Mountains in northern Pennsylvania. As much as I appreciate the beauty of nature surrounding us—not to mention the boom in our parents’ business—I’ve also found the transition more difficult than our previous moves. The school here is the smallest we’ve been to yet, which makes it even harder to blend in. And since the Poconos is largely a tourist area where many people keep vacation homes, the population of permanent residents is minimal. Most of the kids at school have known each other for years and aren’t overly friendly to newcomers. This doesn’t bother me so much—I’m used to staying to myself—but Cassie has had more trouble than usual trying to squeeze her way into the ‘cool’ crowd.

For me, the toughest part has been a lack of sports. We moved soon after the attack, before the semi-final match was rescheduled. I read online that my team barely held on to our big lead for the victory but then got crushed in the state final. Not a day passes that I don’t wonder what might’ve been if I was still there. It might have been easier to deal with if I jumped into a new sport but Mt. Pocono High is so small that they don’t offer
any
sports for girls. Apparently there’s barely enough money to support one
boy’s
sport per season and they already had to eliminate major sports like wrestling and baseball and track. After spending so many years not allowed to play sports, you’d think I’d be used to not participating in anything—not the case. I feel like a caged animal. The attack unlocked something in me and without sports to unleash it, I’m going crazy.

Dealing with Cassie’s complaints doesn’t make it easier. I tried joining her in a whine session one day but she made a point of saying how
happy
she was that there were no sports, that now her mom couldn’t force her to participate. I guess it was silly of me to expect Cassie to
fake
sympathy for my benefit.

Spring is in the air so my spirits drop once we walk inside. The hallways are dreary and a moldy odor hangs in the air. It smells like too much water once leaked inside and was never properly cleaned. It’s no wonder the sound of coughing constantly echoes the halls. Cassie and I stick together but I sense her tension as the school’s only group of popular girls walks in our direction. I’m sure Cassie wishes she could duck away but the girls have already spotted us. Regardless of the differences in their height, size and hair color, each girl in the group dresses the same, has the same hairstyle, wears the same sneer at the sight of me. I can’t say for certain but I imagine they chew the same kind of gum, too.

“Ugh,” Cassie whispers to me. “I
hate
these bit- ”

“Hey, Cassie,” says Heather, the blondest—and prettiest—girl in the group, I don’t know if that’s the reason she’s the leader of the pack or if it’s because she gives the dirtiest looks. She proves that when her eyes drift up toward me. “Is this your… bodyguard?”

“Good one,” Cassie says in her fake, high-pitched girly voice. She giggles with the rest of the girls. I roll my eyes and shake my head. I could squash any of these girls with one hand tied behind my back but I don’t feel that urge. In fact, I feel bad for the rest of the girls who’ve so readily accepted their fate as sheep. The group passes by and stops near the lockers of the school’s jocks, each girl pairing up with one of the guys. Cassie calls after them. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“They’re pathetic,” I say once out of earshot. “What did I ever do to them?”

I don’t give them a second glance but Cassie keeps looking back.

“Isn’t it obvious why they hate you?” Cassie asks.

“Because we’re new, I guess.”

“They don’t hate
me
,” Cassie says, clearly offended to be lumped in a group with me. “They hate
you
and it’s because all of their boyfriends totally want you.”

I look back at the group and see several guys watching me as I walk away. Their girlfriends notice and glare at me. I blush yet sigh at the same time. I don’t try to bring on this kind of attention but I’ve been noticing it more often recently. High school guys stare at me but are too immature with their corny jokes and bad pickup lines. And those are the ones brave enough to talk to me. Some of the jocks hit on me when their girlfriends aren’t around but I don’t give them the time of day. They’re so full of themselves already and I don’t need help making enemies. Other boys my age can’t get through a single sentence without stuttering around me and older guys that hit on me are just creepy for trying to get with a high school girl.

“It’s not my fault they like me, I don’t give any of them the time of day,” I say. I look away from them but Cassie still smiles in the direction of any boy with a varsity letter jacket, girlfriend or not. “It’s not like I flirt or bat my eyelashes like
someone
I know.”

“Whatever, I could care less about what they think of me,” Cassie lies. “If it makes you feel better, I could start a rumor that you’re gay.”

“Thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

Cassie and I separate. I walk into history class, a
great
way to start off the morning when I’m already tired. I’ve never fallen asleep in class but I’m probably the only one. Not that my history teacher cares. I’m sure prefers the troublemakers to sleep so he doesn’t have to yell at them to shut up. I take my usual seat but for once, the desk to my right is empty. I figure this can only mean that Jeff isn’t here today. It’s nice having at least
one
ally so I hope he won’t be out for long.

But no sooner do I think that when he walks into the room. He smiles upon seeing me but bumps into Stacey along the way:
wrong
move. Stacey makes Cassie seem like one of the shiny, happy people. She’s by far the cruelest of the mean girls and proceeds to call Jeff every horrible name imaginable. But he’s used to the abuse, too. Besides me and Cassie, Jeff is the newest student at this school and hasn’t been welcomed with open arms either. As much as I like Jeff, I realize he wouldn’t have been popular even if he’d lived here his whole life. He’s also a junior but barely looks big enough to be a freshman. The best way to describe him is awkward and I’m sure we make quite the odd pair when we walk down the hallways together. Cassie always tells me not to be seen with him—that I’m giving Jeff the wrong impression—but she doesn’t understand how a guy and a girl can just be friends.

When Jeff sits down next to me, the huge grin is still plastered to his face. I notice there’s a lot more talk in the room than usual and wonder what the excitement is all about.

“Why are
you
so happy?” I ask, noticing that he holds a piece of paper turned away from me.

“You know how you’ve been bummed about not having a sport to play?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I answer with trepidation. The mention of sports makes my stomach feel like wild butterflies are flapping away. I suppress my excitement to guard against disappointment.

“I found
this
hanging up on the bulletin board.”

Jeff flips over the flyer and slaps it down on my desk. It contains only two words in bold: LAX TRYOUTS.

“Lacrosse?” I ask.

“It’s really popular here,” Jeff explains. “They got rid of baseball—
America’s pastime
—just to keep lacrosse. I thought you and I could try out.”

My instinct is to laugh. I almost do until realizing Jeff’s being serious. He must be thinking the same thing I am.

“I realize I’m not exactly the athletic type but it can’t hurt to try,” he says.

“That’s not exactly true, I’m sure it
could
hurt…” I joke but Jeff doesn’t see the humor.

“I can take whatever the jocks can dish out. Maybe by trying out we’ll gain their respect,” he says.

I still don’t think he’s thought this out well enough. “Or maybe it could give them more reason to ridicule you.”

Jeff frowns. I feel bad for bursting his bubble. But he doesn’t stay down for long.

“At least I’m not the newest person here since you showed up. Word around school is that someone
else
is having their first day here today,” Jeff says. “I had to be the new guy for two and a half years and now there’re three new students in the same year. Things are starting to look up for me.”

I look around the rest of the classroom and understand why everyone’s more awake than usual. In such a small school,
anything
new is cause for excitement. I’m ashamed to admit that I’m excited as well; hopefully a new student will take some of the focus off me.

My history teacher is last to arrive just after the bell. He spills coffee on his plain white shirt and curses loud enough for everyone to hear. I don’t know why he’s so upset; his shirt is already dotted with coffee stains so what’s one more? When he reaches the lectern at the front of the room, he plops down his briefcase. He looks up at the classroom with annoyed surprise.

“You all made it to class together, isn’t that
wonderful
?” he says, letting out a deep sigh before opening his dusty old history book. “Can anyone tell me where we left off?” Not surprisingly, nobody volunteers. The teacher seems to flip to a random page. “Okay, the Louisiana Purchase, here we go.”

Plenty of conversations permeate the room but nobody gets rowdy enough for the teacher to quiet us down. He writes notes on the blackboard. I’m one of the few students who bothers to copy the lessons into my notebook. Only when the teacher threatens a pop quiz do others start to pay attention, too.

“Crouch down, I can’t see the blackboard,” Stacey hisses at me. I guess I don’t move quickly enough because she kicks the back of my chair. “Move it, Godzilla!”

I’m not in the mood for this today. I’m about to get out of my seat and teach these girls that messing with me could be detrimental to their pretty little faces. But someone else has a similar idea.

“Don’t talk to her like that, Barbie girl,” Jeff hisses at her.

‘Oooh’s echo throughout the classroom. I almost sense Stacey summoning her powers of evil from the devil as her face skews in rage.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to,
loser
?” she snaps.

The teacher looks amused by the confrontation but it’s now too loud for him to ignore.

“Godzilla and loser, huh?” he asks. “I think it’s about time you discuss your choice of words with the principal, Stacey.”

Stacey stands so quickly that her chair crashes to the floor. She doesn’t pick it up or pick up my books she
accidentally
knocks off my desk. She storms out of the room. Jeff scurries to pick them up but I get to them first.

“I got them,” I say, snapping more than I meant.

He turns a dark shade of red and sulks back to his seat. A part of me feels bad but not enough to apologize. I feel my face blushing and it’s not helped by his concern or my teacher’s.

“Are you okay, Miss Ammo?” my teacher asks.

All eyes turn on me. I nod and pray he’ll keep teaching already. I don’t know if I’m more embarrassed by Jeff sticking up for me or my teacher kicking Stacey out of class. I’m sure they’re both trying to be helpful but they’re only making things worse for me in the long run. The teacher continues writing notes on the blackboard while talking about early 19th Century American history. He yawns from boredom as much as the students.

Like usual, I take plenty of notes. I’m not the greatest student—science and math are a total bore—but I’ve always been drawn to history. There’s something about stories from the past that interests me more than other subjects. The teacher rambles his way to the famed Lewis & Clark expedition across the American wilderness but details obviously aren’t that important to him.

“The two explorers eventually enlisted the help of Pocahontas to guide them on their journey,” he tells the class. Nobody seems to notice his error.

I raise my hand before realizing it’s best to leave it alone. I quickly lower it but the teacher already saw me.

“Something you wanted to add, Nia?” he asks.

“No… well, it’s just something minor,” I stammer. “You said that
Pocahontas
acted as a guide for Lewis and Clark but I think you misspoke.”

The teacher sighs and looks down at his book, skimming through a few pages before nodding.

“It appears Miss Ammo is correct,” he says. “Great work, detective.”

The other students chuckle. I slouch in my seat, my olive skin tinted slightly red for the second time during class. Luckily the bell rings and I rush out of the room with Jeff just behind.

“It’s going to be another one of
those
days,” he says.

Neither of us knows how right he is. Stacey turns the corner at that moment, fresh out of the principal’s office. Dealing with only her would’ve been tough enough but she’s not alone. Walking beside her is Tank. His real name is… actually, I don’t even know his first name—I’m not sure anyone does. But his last name is Tankowski and the name fits him perfectly. He’s the ugliest of the jocks but also the biggest and meanest, probably why he and Stacey make such a perfect couple. Beneath his varsity jacket he wears a plain black T-shirt displaying three letters: LAX.