Flame (Fireborn) (13 page)

His whispered
confession gives me goosebumps. Did he mean listen? I hope not. I'd
take look over listen any day.

He sighs. "I
should go."

Lenora nods. I don't
trust myself to say another word. The two bodyguards follow him out.

In the silence, their
footsteps echo like rain on pavement. My eyes remain on Rhys's back
until he disappears through the doors.

I feel an unyielding
urge to follow.

My morning sucked. I'd
burnt the cake I'd baked in Home Economics. The teacher scolded me
for not paying attention because I was supposed to watch the timer.
I'd been thinking about a certain alien instead.

The lunchroom is
crowded by the time I arrive. I didn't pack food, so I wait in line
with a tray. The plan is to get lunch, then head over to my little
dining area a.k.a the corner couch at the hip and happening Morrison
High Library. The process usually happens like this: I get my food,
sit at a corner of some lonely and deserted table, sneak a few
suspicious glances here and there, waiting for the opportune moment
to sneak off, which tends to happen almost immediately upon sitting,
dump edible parts of lunch in the bag and casually leave as if I had
not done what I just did. The plan works every time. There's a plus
side to not getting noticed; no one sees you when you go.

I'm relieved to see
today that our pizza came in a triangular plastic container. I smile.
The universe is rooting for me. Maybe it's trying to make up for
giving me such a rotten morning. Grabbing an apple, and some
silverware I pay the cashier and leave the line, heading straight for
the furthest table.

I'm so intent on my
destination that I don't see the body until it's already bumped into
me, knocking the slice of pizza backwards.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!
I guess I wasn't watching where I was going. I- hi, Kenna!" I
look up after assuring that my pizza is okay.

Seeing who it is, I
smile. "Hi Lenora."

"I'm glad I bumped
into you," she beams. "Girls," Lenora waves to the
group of admirers behind her "this is Kenna Parker. Kenna, this
is Holly Jenns, Grace Spots, Madison Shine, Arianna Lee, and Bree
Rose Whitmore!" She grins excitedly. "Bree has
three
names!"

I'm not sure how to
respond to that last bit of fun fact. "Cool." I try to
sound enthusiastic. She notices the tray in my hands.

"Would you care to
sit with us?' she asks.

I hesitate, and she
pounces, sensing the refusal before I can.

"Come on, you have
to, Kenna! You were such a life saver helping me park this morning,"
she pleads.

I don't point out who
really saved whom earlier. Unbidden, I remember the feel Rhys's arms
around me, hard and encompassing, like wings. I want to brush the
invisible sensation away, but they linger like frost.

"It'll only be for
twenty minutes." Her eyes are luminous, and in spite of me, I
find myself wanting to give in. Almost in a trance, I nod.
I could
give it a try,
I think. Maybe it'd be different with someone not
from Earth. The cynic inside me thinks:
not.

"Where are you
planning to sit?" I inquire.

"Oh, our usual,"
Lenora answers happily.

My eyebrows shoot up.

She's only been here a
day and a half and she has a "usual" spot already? I have
to give the girl credit. She knows how to work this intricate social
hierarchy like nobody's business.

"Over there."
She points to a table right in the middle of the lunchroom. It's a
prime spot, guaranteed to receive attention. I don't mind though. It
doesn't matter where I sit, invisible is still invisible. I should be
used to that fact, but I'm not. What teenage girl likes to feel
unseen? Hidden? It makes me feel like less of a person. Imaginary.

Except when I'm around
Rhys.

Then I feel too much.
Soft. Confused. Giddy. Real.

I follow the girls like
a pet resigned to her fate with an overanxious owner. Grace and Holly
hurry to sit next to Lenora at the table, and if I didn't witness it,
I wouldn't have believed it. Oddly, I understand. I usually don't
like cheerful, overly excited girls like Lenora, mainly because it's
hard for me to relate to them. However, I'm strangely comfortable
around her. Her presence feels like warm soup during a cold Minnesota
winter, or a cozy bonfire on a cool summer night. It just felt
easy
to be with her. Simple. Effortless.

We huddle around her
like moths to a flame. Before she can say another word, Holly blurts,
"Mike has a crush on you."

"Half the school
does," Madison adds with a wistful sigh.

Lenora's looks
confused.

"What is a crush?"
she asks.

"It's when someone
has the hots for you," Grace answers.

Lenora's brows pinch
together in a frown.

"It's a good
thing. Trust me," Grace assures her. "It means he likes
you."

"Ah." Lenora
smiles in understanding. She flushes a little with embarrassment.

"Mike is our star
quarterback," Madison explains with wide eyes. "He's
probably going to the NFL in a couple years." The girls giggle.
Lenora shoots me a look. I shrug. Football is beyond me.

"What is
football?" she asks slowly, pronouncing it like a foreign word,
which for her it was. Silence. There's a moment of quiet as every
girl at the table reflects on what they know about the sport.

"A bunch of guys
running around trying to catch a ball," I finally suggest when
no one breaks the quiet. Grace and Holly turn to look at me, a little
startled by my presence. The brief introduction from minutes earlier
seems to have dissipated in their memory. The Forgetting, as I call
it in my head, didn't take long to kick in. I figured out the pattern
to the weirdness. If I don't talk, then the group feels like I'm not
there. The group misses me- literally. There were even moments before
where someone's eyes had flickered past and over me as if I had
melted into thin air.

"Yes, that about
sums it up," Bree agrees, pulling me back to the present,
smiling sweetly.

The corners of my mouth
turn politely back, but it's hard to look at her without remembering
our friendship in kindergarten. I know it's ridiculous to hold a
grudge about something that happened when you were five, but Bree
really hurt me. She always stayed sweet, but it was never the same. I
recalled her reluctance to play, her bouts of ignoring me without
meaning to, and forgetting important play dates. The strange thing
was it didn't seem as if she
wanted
to forget me. It just sort
of happened.

The same cycle happened
to every friend I attempted to have. They were all nice, but they all
shared something in common: they made me feel forgotten. Abandoned.

"You'll have to
show him to me," Lenora announces. That's the opening the girls
needed. Madison squeals, revealing she knows
exactly
where he
is. Stalker much? She insists they ditch lunch to find him. The rest
of the girls readily agree, and within moments a plan is devised to
stake out the gorgeous football star destined for NFL glory.

I don't say much
because it doesn't matter what I think. It only takes me five minutes
to note that Lenora isn't immune to whatever I have. Her eyes go
right through me to wave to some friends, and that's all the evidence
I need. Standing up, I plan to leave quietly and head to the library,
but my loud stomping alerts Lenora.

"Kenna? Hey! Where
you going?" she asks.

"I've got some
things I have to do at the library," I answer vaguely.

"No, stay,"
she stresses. "We have a plan! We're going to…" Her voice
becomes mute in my head as she explains what they're going to do. I'd
been there the whole time and heard every word of it, but I let her
continue.

"No, that's ok,"
I say when she's done. "Important things at the library can't
get done by themselves." I don't mention what the "important"
things are, and she doesn't ask.

Instead, she gives me a
perfect smile. Her eyes widen, and the purple spots in them seem to
grow more intense. "Stay."

I stare at her, feeling
a rippling sensation that I can't name.

Her pupils become
enlarged, drawing me deeper.

My mind is literally
swaying toward her, reaching out to take what it can. Strangely, I
do
feel an overwhelming urge to stay…

Clank!
A loud
crashing sound abruptly reverberates across the entire lunchroom, and
I start, breaking my gaze away from Lenora. There's a second of
frozen silence as everyone looks at each other, unsure of what just
happened.

"Fight!"
Someone suddenly shouts, breaking the tension.

Instantly, my eyes
search for the cause of the commotion. Students are standing, staring
at a spot across the room. Usually, I don't care about something as
stupid as a fight, but something propels my body forward. I take a
few steps toward a crowd slowly gathering.

"What the heck,"
Madison's squeaky voice comments from behind me. More students get up
to see the commotion. I tip toe, stretching my five foot four inch
frame as high as I can. Someone's in front of me though, and the top
of my head barely reaches his neck.

"Is that… is
that
Rhys
?" Bree suddenly asks, bewildered.

Lenora makes a soft
sound, and then she's rapidly walking, brushing past me. Feeling a
flare of uneasiness, I squeeze myself between bodies, rushing after
her. People hear her coming because they make an aisle for her to
pass by, still flashing looks of awe and curiosity. They aren't as
courteous to
me
though, and I have to jab and poke my way
through a few smelly bodies to catch up with her.

When we're near the
cafeteria entrance, Lenora halts. I almost bump into her, but she
uses her arm to catch me. There is a tray on the ground in front of
me, and food is splattered over the glossy floor, like it'd been
thrown down. Some guy is next to the mess, his shirt drenched with
liquid. Despite his fake tan, a blush of shame or anger- maybe both-
cover his face and neck. His mascara- laden eyes, are blinking
rapidly, trying to control tears slowly forming. My eyes search and
find Rhys standing less than two feet away. He's between him and
another student. Rhys's stance is forceful, yet his hands are
deceptively relaxed by his sides.

"This isn't your
business, alien freak."

I recognize Carver's
hard voice, and I can't help the rush of anger shooting through me as
I stare at his hawkish face. He and I have been in the same class
almost every year since kindergarten, and with each passing year his
bullying worsened. Carver's wide shoulders, efficiently used for
football the last four years, betray him, trembling slightly under
Rhys's steady gaze. I can't help the smirk of satisfaction curling my
lips. My eyes go back to Rhys, marveling at how secure he looks in
the face of Carver's anger.

"He isn't your
business, either," Rhys replies calmly back, referring to the
guy still on the ground. I finally remember his name is Seth.

"That twink is
spreading rumors and shit about me so it
is
my business."
Carver moves closer to Rhys. "Get out of the way." Rhys
looks at him for a moment longer, contemplating. I don't know what
he's thinking, but I hold my breath, watching what he's going to do.
To my utter disappointment, Rhys steps to the side. Carver rushes
past him.

Hands curling, he
mutters to Seth, trembling on the floor, "You trying to say I
kissed you, you shit face? Kiss
this
." He raises his fist
like he's going to hit him. Years of watching Carver bully other
people flash before my eyes. Unable to control myself, I break away
from Lenora's grasp and shoot forward. I never get to figure out what
I might've done because Carver is suddenly pulled back. Quick as
lightning, Rhys twists one of his arms behind him, arching his body
forward.

"Only a coward
hits someone when they're down," Rhys hisses. Roughly jerking
him up, Rhys turns away from us, his broad back hiding Carver's
struggling body. Using his foot, he kicks him, and Carver falls like
a domino to the ground.

Dr. Bingham's loud
footsteps alert me to his presence. He takes note of Carver and Seth
on the ground, and Rhys standing less than a foot away from them. His
lips thin in anger.

"What happened?"

No one answers.
Finally, Carvers speaks. Spitting as he stands, he says, "A
misunderstanding." It's clear Dr. Bingham doesn't believe him,
and his eyes rest on Rhys with suspicion.

"I think it's
sorted out now," Rhys answers in a low voice.

The two security men
from yesterday arrive next.

Dr. Bingham looks
between them. "I'll take these two down to the nurse. You can
take
him
," he instructs, his fingers gesturing lightly
toward Rhys. The pair nod, but don't motion Rhys over. It's clear
they can't make him do something he doesn't want to do. Maybe they
signed an agreement, or were told to handle the new aliens with care,
but either way no one makes a move.

Rhys watches someone
help Seth up.

Seth doesn't utter a
single word, but I see him glance at Rhys's from the corner of his
eye as he's standing. His eyes shine with curiosity, but they also
shine with something else. Confusion. Gratitude. Admiration.

I wonder if my eyes
shine that way right now, too.

Seth limps away.

When my gaze returns to
Rhys, I feel a mixture of many things I can't deny. The vivid
feelings swirl inside me like a typhoon, threatening to fill me with
something I'm too afraid to name.

"Rhys."
Lenora's voice is so soft I'm not sure if he hears it.

He walks over, looking
at her with an unreadable expression on his face. The group of
onlookers move, shifting to accommodate him. When he reaches us his
gaze travels to me.