House of Korba: The Ghost Bird Series: #7 (The Academy) (16 page)

“You should come with us,” Mr. Blackbourne said.

I turned my head in unison with Kota, Victor and Luke, looking at Mr. Blackbourne and waiting. Was there something else we needed to do for the Academy that Kota had forgotten?

Kota scratched absently at his arm, looking at a loss. “I’ve already got a suit I could wear to homecoming. I wasn’t even sure if I’d wear it. I thought I might team up with...”

“Everyone on our team will be regular guests,” Mr. Blackbourne said firmly. “We’ll all be in attendance.”

This news seemed to make everyone check in with each other. For some reason, when they’d mentioned the Academy would be in attendance, I’d assumed even I would have some minor part to participate in. My heart raced at the thought of a dance with the boys with the Academy watching.

“What about you?” Kota asked. “You said
‘we’
.

Mr. Blackbourne’s steel eyes fixed on him. “I’ll be close by, but I’ll stay off the grounds.”

“You can’t do that by yourself,” Kota said. “Someone has to go with you.”

“I may use another team,” he said. “If you’re all at the party, and I’m alone somewhere else, we’ll be following Mr. Hendricks’ plan, but won’t be going in blind. If any of you are missing, it’ll be suspicious that we’ve set our own trap, and the last thing we need is more of our team targeted. We’ll be taking care of two issues in one night. Besides, I’ll need you here with Miss Sorenson.” He made a motion to the cars. “But we all need the proper wardrobe. This isn’t just a formal affair, but a homecoming with a Halloween theme. We’ll be in costume. We’ll all be outfitted appropriately.”

I hadn’t thought about the homecoming dance being on Halloween, and that it might require a costume.

I’d never participated in Halloween. Not once. At school growing up, when we were asked to dress up for school, I taped kitty ears to a black hair band and drew black whiskers on my face and dressed up in as much black as I had available. It was just to blend in and I had to get rid of all the evidence before I went home. But my parents didn’t allow Marie or I to go trick or treating. Our house was isolated from our neighbors, and stayed dark on Halloween.

Kota nodded slightly, his face tight. I sensed he wanted to suggest another option but didn’t want to go against Mr. Blackbourne’s wishes. Did he not like the idea of a school dance? Was it the possible danger?

“I ride in whatever car Sang’s riding in,” Luke said with a grin.

Mr. Blackbourne looked at Luke and then at Kota. “Will you take Mr. Taylor and Miss Sorenson downtown? Mr. Coleman wanted to work with a particular seamstress. I’ll text you the address.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Kota said.

Victor waved to me shortly. I waved back. Mr. Blackbourne had already turned toward his car. It was an odd parting. I’d be seeing them again soon, but after spending the afternoon together in such a nice place, it was like breaking the spell.

Kota drove and I sat in the front seat next to him. I secured my cup with the flower in the cup holder. Luke slumped in the back, staring out the window.

I stared out the window, too. The route Kota took was similar to how they got to Victor’s house, but then followed streets further into downtown, and into places I’d never been before.

Downtown Charleston on a Sunday early afternoon wasn’t particularly crowded. People meandered down the street, and cars moved slowly. I leaned forward, my face nearly pressed to the window, as I tried to glimpse up at buildings, check the signs and peek at the shops.

Luke nudged my arm, drawing my attention. “Look on this side,” he said, pointing toward Kota’s window.

I was trying, although avoiding touching Kota while he was driving.

Kota smirked and took his right hand off the wheel, resting his hand on the headrest of my seat. “Just like the first time I took you to the mall,” he said, with a laugh in his voice. “With your nose pressed to the window.”

My cheeks heated, but Luke started pointing. “See those buildings?”

I leaned against Kota to look. Kota stopped at a red light and leaned out of the way.

A street split and along the middle of it was an open air building. The start of it had outdoor vendors sitting outside with tables covered with baskets. People strolled along the sidewalks on either side, and then right through the center of the brick building. Some walked through the road, slowing down traffic.

“I like this place,” Luke said. “There’s some great candy shops along this way.”

I was going to reply when the light changed. Kota moved to take the wheel again. I sat back.

Once he was driving straight again, slowly making his way through the street, Kota moved his hand until his palm was covering my knee.

My heart fluttered, warmed by his touch. I looked back at Luke. Did he see?

He was staring right at Kota’s hand. My heart leapt into my throat. The others had always held my hand, or even had me in their laps in front of each other. I let it happen because I assumed it was okay. In that stretch of time it took for Luke to look up and meet my eyes, my heart tightened in my chest, ready to shatter if he looked disappointed or unhappy.

Instead, his eyes glowed, and he smiled in a strange way. I was confused, holding my breath. I was sure he’d change to a frown.

He never did. He winked at me.

It was almost as bad as him being upset with it. It was like he was telling me it was okay. Was it really?

“We should park and walk,” Luke said. “It’s not too cold out yet.”

“Looking for a spot,” Kota said. He kept his palm on my knee, until he had to turn. Once the turn was complete, his hand came back, reaching just above the knee this time, like he was more comfortable with touching me. “We’ll still be waiting for the others.”

I was quiet the whole time it took him to park along the street. I stared out the window. My focus was on his hand on my thigh, but I tried to notice the new surroundings. Kota’s touch felt reassuring. Maybe it had rattled him earlier when the boys were teasing me and he was trying to show me some quiet encouragement.

I followed the guys to the steps of a ritzy shopping center with brass doorknobs and freshly painted carved wood framing the archway. We stood together at the front of a doorway, waiting on the others to arrive.

I was staring off at people walking by, occasionally trying to peek into a window of the shops, but the glass was tinted. There were other stores further up and down the street, and across the street was the start of the outdoor market, with only a few people walking around. It was the weekend, but later in the day, and I suspected on a late Sunday afternoon, people were winding down to close early.

There was a poke at my arm, and I instinctively turned, thinking it was one of the boys.

A little face with big brown eyes looked up at me. He spoke quickly, “Ma’am, would you like to buy a grass rose? I made it. Ma’am, would you? Ma’am? Only three dollars.” He held up a rose made from what looked like thick grass leaves.

My mouth unhinged and I stared at him like he’d been talking in Greek. He had to be only seven or eight, with a small frame, but his face was so serious. He never stopped speaking, either. He pushed the grass rose at me, like trying to push it into my palm. When I took a step back, he stepped forward, thrusting his hand out and the rose toward me.

“I don’t...” I started to say.

He continued, “Come on, lady, it’s three dollars. I made this rose myself. You’ll love this. Just—”

There was movement and Luke was right behind me, his hand on my waist, his other hand he kept behind his back. “Don’t have any cash, kid,” he said. “Sorry.” He tugged me toward the shop. Kota had moved ahead, opening the door.

“Sir!” The boy cried as he followed us, holding out the rose. “She was about to buy it.”

“Get your little friends off the steps before the security guys get here,” Luke said. He didn’t let go of me, pushing me toward the doors until I was inside. The moment he stepped in behind me, Kota closed the door.

My heart was pounding in my chest. The way Kota and Luke had moved so quickly, if I didn’t know them any better, I would have thought them completely rude and abrupt to someone so young. “The kid...”

“He was pretty trained,” Kota said, coming up beside me. He nudged at the corner of his glasses. We were only standing just inside the door so I could see when the kid turned toward the steps, checking up and down the street. As far as I could tell, he was alone.

“Hustlers,” Luke said, then chuffed. “And his buddies were waiting.”

“What?” I asked. I scanned outside again, but I didn’t see anyone else. “Who?”

Luke turned, his brown eyes lighting up, much more amused now than a moment ago. “They target tourists. You pull your wallet out to pay him for the rose, and they figure out where your wallet is. Or maybe they accidentally bump into you while you’re paying and grab the wallet.”

“He’s not just selling things?” I asked. “I mean he’s pretty young to be on the street and...”

“His parents are nearby I bet,” he said. “He’s not alone. But did you see his bag?”

I hadn’t noticed, but when I checked back, the boy had a plastic grocery bag, it was almost empty except a small shape of what looked like more grass and one half made rose inside. “The stuff he was making them out of?”

“He only has one made,” he said. He scanned the street, searching the people. He slipped his arm around my neck and then pointed out, angling me to see off to the side. “See the mom over there?”

I checked. Over at the outdoor market, on the far edge of the entry way was two parallel tables set up with baskets all over. Luke was pointing to one of the women making baskets. While her partner at the opposite side of the table had her back to us, the one Luke pointed to kept looking up as her hands were busy making one of those grass baskets. Her focus settled on the kid, then to people in the street, then back down to her work, in that pattern, over and over.

“She probably made it,” Luke said. “But he’s only got one, so he’s not really trying to sell them, or he’d be there with dozens. He’s got just enough so it looks like he’s making them.”

“But how do you know they’re stealing?” I asked.

He checked, and then turned me by my shoulders to look the opposite way. He pointed out. “Right there,” he said. He was pointing to two kids: one maybe fifteen, and a girl who looked to be twelve. They looked related with similar facial features. They were standing on the sidewalk next to one of the trash bins, watching.

“They’ll steal?”

“They’ve got a lookout and someone to bump into the right person,” Kota said. “When you pull out a wallet or open up your purse, the flower kid is showing the other kids where the money is. He’ll either take it while you’re trying to buy the flower, or follow and wait for you to make a mistake, maybe put your wallet down somewhere when buying something else or when you leave your purse on a counter. Depends on the target and the opportunity. If your wallet has a lot of cash, you’re more of a target.”

“Should we do something?” I asked.

“Security will be around,” Kota said. “There’s a few policemen that walk through here, watching for them. They aren’t going to let kids hustle people entering the shops, even if they were just selling flowers.”

“But...” I wasn’t sure how to put it. Maybe it was the fact that the kid was so young, and his siblings were there. Shouldn’t they be at home studying? Or playing?

And what about Luke and Kota? They were Academy guys. Couldn’t they talk to them and get them to stop?

“No good,” Luke said, squeezing me a little around the shoulders before he turned me away from the doors and further into the indoor shopping center. “I know the feeling. But it’s no use. Tomorrow, it’ll be a different kid, a different adult. Or the kids will be in school. It doesn’t happen a lot, and maybe some days they really are selling flowers, but right now they aren’t. But if we tried to talk to them, the parents get all into your face about harassing their kids and try to call the cops like
you
were the one doing something wrong. They’re very protective.”

“So you’ve tried to talk to them?”

“Maybe not these people in particular,” Kota said. “It’s something the Academy might send a younger team out to do. The parents are less likely to harass another kid.”

Younger kids dealt with this? I kept forgetting that Kota and the others had joined when they were very young: around ten or so. For some reason, even if they’d been pulled out of school, I still imagined they went somewhere, studied like regular students. But if they were with the Academy, they probably had special jobs to do, too. “Why not just sell the flowers?” I asked. “Why steal?”

“We’re out of tourist season,” Kota said. “So there’s not a lot of opportunities to sell, and locals don’t want them. Some families don’t save for the off-season. They spend it all. Mostly bad money management and lack of knowing what else to do. You get in a rut, and you revert back to something you know. That mom probably used to do something similar.”

“And a lot of them are just bad,” Luke said, his lips dipping a bit into a frown.

“Isn’t there anything we could do?” I asked. It struck me as odd that he was so quick to dismiss and not want to help, especially when it was a young kid.

“Some people can’t be helped,” Kota said quietly. He reached out to brush a palm across the small of my back. It was a quiet motion, urging me further into the shopping section, but also a reaffirming touch. Coupled with Luke’s arm around my neck, it felt amazing to be protected on each side. “And we can only do so much. Family first. After that, we can only help people that want it. That’s the trick, though. They have to be willing. We can’t stretch ourselves so thin to fight for people who won’t even use the opportunities we give them.”

I pressed my lips together. They’d all told me before they do what they could. I knew I should trust them on their judgment, but my thoughts kept turning to the kid with those big eyes and such a strong personality. Was he really beyond hope?

I supposed the most intriguing part about the whole thing was the fact that they were usually so helpful and concerned and did their best, and here was one instance where they drew a line and said
don’t
.
Don’t
and
can’t
weren’t words I often heard from them. They saw that invisible line somewhere and they both knew exactly where it was.