Rebel Belle (17 page)

Mom looked toward The Aunts and, finding them, saw me. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Harper?” she said, walking toward the table. Compared to the aunts in their party-colored sweaters, Mom looked a little wan in her silky cream blouse and tan slacks. Her hair, a few shades lighter than mine, was mussed from the wind.

“Mom!” I said, trying my best not to sound guilty. “Hillary, you didn’t tell us Harper would be here, too,” Aunt May said. Mom shook her head. “I . . . didn’t know she would be. You did say you were going out with Bee today, didn’t you, Harper?”
It wasn’t really a question; Mom knew exactly what I’d said. Still, I wondered why she looked so befuddled. I mean, she’d caught me having lunch in Miss Annemarie’s Tea Room with Saylor and David. It wasn’t like she’d found me smoking crack in an alley.
“Plans fell through,” I told her, wrinkling my nose like “What can you do?” “But then I ran into Miss Saylor, and she asked me out to lunch with her and David.”
Next to me, David lifted his hand in greeting, and Saylor picked up her tea cup, taking a swallow. Only seconds ago, she’d been rattled and freaked out. Now she looked like she always did: cool, collected, Queen of Pine Grove.
“It was so sweet of Harper to join us,” she said. “Boys never really appreciate this place.”
No one under seventy-five really appreciated Miss Annemarie’s, but Mom nodded. Still, that crease between her brows didn’t ease.
“Why don’t we pull a table over?” Aunt Jewel asked, tugging at the hem of her purple sweater. “I’m sure Annemarie won’t mind, and then we can all have lunch together.”
“No!” I said, way more sharply than I should have. The crease between Mom’s brows deepened, and even Aunt Jewel seemed surprised.
“We’re about to finish up here,” Saylor covered smoothly. I saw The Aunts and Mom drop their gazes to our nearly full plates. “And Harper, didn’t you say you were meeting Miss Franklin after lunch?”
“I did,” I said, nodding. “So . . . I wouldn’t want Miss Annemarie to go to the trouble of bringing a table when we’re about to leave.”
Mom was intent as she watched me. It reminded me of when I was little and she was checking me to see if I was sick. I half expected her to lay a hand on my forehead. “All righty then,” said Aunt Jewel, clapping her hands together. “Y’all finish your lunch, and we’ll go grab a table. Your Aunt May is absolutely perishing for Annemarie’s crab bisque, else we’d be eating at Golden Corral like we usually do on Saturdays.”
Cursing Aunt May’s sudden highbrow craving, I got up and gave each of them a quick hug. “I’ll stop by later this week,” I promised, breathing in The Aunts’ familiar scent of Youth Dew, hairspray, and smoke.
When I got to Mom, she hugged me back, but concern was still stamped all over her face. “Harper, are you sure you’re—” She gasped then, grabbing my hand and lifting it to her face. “What on earth happened to you?”
Gently as I could, I took my hand back, fighting the urge to hide it behind my back. “I broke a glass this morning. Stupid. But it’s fine! The bandage makes it look worse than it is.”
I think Mom would have asked more questions if Aunt Jewel hadn’t leaned over and taken my hand, inspecting it over her glasses. “Did you put peroxide on it?”
The Aunts would pour peroxide over a severed leg; it was their cure-all.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sniffing, Aunt Jewel gave me my hand back. “Well, then you’ll be right as rain. Now come on, let’s get a table before May dies of soup deprivation.”
They steered Mom toward a table in the corner, and I sat back down, taking a deep breath. Once I was sure my family was out of earshot, I leaned into Saylor. “That’s why we have to do things my way. I have a family here. Friends. A life. I have to keep those things. I have to make it through this as—as normally and inconspicuously as possible.”
Saylor raised one perfectly groomed brow at me. “And how exactly do you plan to ‘inconspicuously’ stop this Blythe from doing a spell on David at Cotillion?’”
“I’ll . . . figure it out,” I said, shooting a glance at my mom and The Aunts. Aunts May and Martha were arguing over the tea list, and Aunt Jewel was regaling Mom with a story that apparently required a bunch of hand gestures. Watching them, a wave of affection washed over me. “There has to be a way to keep me not killed, keep David un-bespelled, and still live my own life.”
If Saylor Stark were the type of woman who chewed her lip, I think she would have at that moment. As it was, she tapped her teaspoon against her saucer. “I’ll put up more wards around the town, wards geared specifically toward you. Of course, that won’t do you any good the night of Cotillion, if David’s vision is anything to go by. And you have to train with me. At my house, every day.”
“Train how?” I asked, thinking again of Blythe and the letter opener. What training would’ve prepared me for
that?
“Do you know how to fight? I mean, no offense, Miss Saylor, but you
aren’t
a Paladin. And you don’t exactly seem like the . . . fighting type.”
Saylor leaned back in her seat, raising one silver eyebrow. “You’re right, I’m not a Paladin. But I worked next to one for nearly thirty years, and I was there with Christopher when he trained under the Ephors. Now, if that isn’t good enough for you, you’re welcome to go to the judo classes at the community center.”
Chastened, I poured another cup of tea. “I’m sorry. I’d . . . I’d love to train with you, Miss Saylor. but every day—”
“We only have three weeks,” Saylor interrupted, sitting up straight. “And that is not nearly enough time to get you ready for something like this.”
“Trust me,” David said. “If anyone can handle pressure, it’s Pres.”
I appreciated his vote of confidence, but Saylor was right— three weeks was nothing.
On the other hand, three weeks was
nothing
. I could do this. I could find some way to balance my regular life with my Paladin responsibilities. Maybe all those other Paladins gave up their lives to protect Oracles, but they probably weren’t as good at organizing and multitasking as I was.
“I can do that,” I told Saylor, and as I said it, I realized that I could. I just had to be careful with scheduling and do, as Bee would say, a leeeeeettle bit of lying. And, I resolved, it was also time to start telling a leeeeeeettle bit of the truth to someone. “But I’m going to do it my way.”
Saylor’s brows drew together. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’re in trouble,” David said, but when he looked at me, he was grinning.

On Monday, I put my plan into action. Bee, Ryan, Brandon, and I were having lunch in the courtyard underneath one of the big oak trees. Ryan leaned against the trunk, long legs stretched out in front of him. Brandon had Bee in his lap, and if Headmaster Dunn saw that, they’d both end up with detention, but I refrained from mentioning it. Next to me, Ryan nudged my hip with his.

“Harper?”
“Hmm?”
Smiling, Ryan balled up the rest of his sandwich, tossing it at

the nearest trashcan. It bounced off, of course, and I made a note to remind him to pick it up later. “You are a million miles away,” he said, snaking an arm around my waist and pulling me closer.

“It’s nothing. Thinking,” I said, ducking my head and laying it on his shoulder. I was usually against PDA of any kind, but after neglecting Ryan all weekend, I felt like I owed him a little extra demonstration. He must’ve appreciated that, because he pressed a kiss to my temple.

“You’re always thinking,” he said, more affectionately than accusatory. “And I’m always wondering what about.”
I lifted my head. “We’ve known each other for eight years, been dating for two, and you don’t know what I’m thinking?” I was teasing, but Ryan, still smiling, shook his head.
“Never,” he said. “No idea what goes on in that giant brain of yours.”
I wasn’t sure why the words stung, but they did. He was still grinning guilelessly, his hazel eyes bright, his auburn hair tumbling over his forehead, and he was still so handsome it made my chest tight.
So he didn’t know what I was thinking. Ever, apparently. Big deal.
I snuggled in closer, and said, “I have a lot going on right now.”
From Brandon’s lap, Bee giggled. “You always have a lot going on, Harper. It’s, like, your thing. When you die in a hundred years, they’ll probably write on your gravestone, ‘Here Lies Harper Price—Damn It, She Still Had Stuff to Do!’”
Ryan and Brandon laughed, but I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me. A hundred years or three weeks? And damn it, I
did
still have stuff to do. Starting now.
“Hey, guys?” I said to Brandon and Ryan. “Could I talk to Bee alone for a sec?”
“Sure,” Ryan said automatically rising to his feet.
“Are you going to talk about your periods or something?” Brandon said, frowning.
“You’re disgusting!” Bee shrieked, slugging him in the shoulder.
Even Ryan frowned with distaste. “Dude, really?”
Brandon grabbed Bee by the waist, lifting her with him as he stood up, pressing a smacking kiss to the side of her neck. Once she was on her feet, Bee’s cheeks were red, her blond hair a fuzzy halo around her head. “Go,” she told Brandon, playfully shoving at him.
The boys loped off, and Bee and I watched them go. Shaking her head, Bee sighed, “I don’t know why I put up with him.”
Me neither
, I thought. But I needed Bee on my side for what I was going to say next, and ragging on her boyfriend was not going to accomplish that.
Once the boys were out of sight, Bee turned to me, sympathy in her big brown eyes. “Look, you and Ryan are perfect together,” she said. “Don’t worry about that.”
I blinked at her. “What?”
Tucking her hair behind her ears, Bee tilted her head. “Isn’t that what you wanted to talk about? Ryan saying he never knows what you’re thinking? I know how you can obsess over stuff like that, but it doesn’t mean anything. Brandon probably doesn’t even know I
have
thoughts.”
Impulsively, I reached out and wrapped my arms around Bee, squeezing her tight. “That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, but your best friend skills are seriously off the charts.”
Laughing, Bee hugged me back. “I try.”
We pulled apart, but I held on to her elbows, keeping her at arm’s length. “Ryan and I are fine, promise,” I told her. “But I actually needed to tell you . . . kind of a secret.”
Bee chewed on her lower lip. “I thought we didn’t have secrets from each other. Wasn’t that what the pinkie swear was about?”
I linked my pinkie with hers again. “It was, and it is. That’s why I’m telling you this now. But, I’m warning you, it’s  .  .  . weird.”
Bee’s pinkie tightened around mine. “I can handle weird, Harper.”
Seriously hoping that was true, I tugged her to sit down next to me under the oak. “It’s about Saylor Stark . . .”

A few hours later, once school was out, Bee and I stood on the Starks’ front porch. She stared up at the house, her eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. “You’re totally serious about this?”

Ringing the doorbell, I nodded. “One hundred percent.” We could hear the bell echoing throughout the house, and as it did, Bee straightened her skirt self-consciously. “But . . . Saylor Stark? Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I replied. The door swung open, and David stood there, dressed in a yellow sweater and his green corduroy pants. He looked like he should be on PBS, talking to a puppet about the alphabet. Still, I had to admit, yellow was a good color on him. It brought out the gold in his hair, and—
I stopped myself.
The gold in his hair?
Since when did I care about David Stark’s hair except to note when it was trying to escape from his skull? These past few days were clearly messing with my head.
“Hey, Pres,” David said, and then his gaze swung to my right. “And . . . Bee. You’re here. With Harper. At our house.”
His brows practically disappeared as he turned back to me. “You . . . brought Bee to—”
“Training, yeah,” I said quickly. While David stared at me like I’d grown a second head, I breezed past him, pulling Bee after me. “I couldn’t keep everything a secret from
everyone
forever, so I let Bee in on what’s been going on.”
Now David’s jaw was hanging open slightly. “You told her—”
“That Saylor is training me and you in martial arts, yes.” I moved into the foyer, heading toward the back of the house.
“Martial  .  .  . arts,” David repeated slowly, closing the door behind him.
It was stupid. Ludicrous, even, the idea that Saylor Stark was some kind of secret kung fu master, teaching me and David the ancient art of hand-to-hand combat, but I had to tell Bee
something
. It would give me an excuse to be around the Starks,
and
it would get Bee on my side. When I’d told her, I hadn’t had to fake my blush or the embarrassment that colored every word.
“That’s . . . super bizarre,” Bee said once I’d finished.
“Now you see why I’ve been so secretive about it. I mean, learning to kick people in the head and stuff? It’s not exactly how people see me.”
Bee had pulled a long strand of hair over her lips and mouthed it thoughtfully. “I get that, Harper, but this just . . .” She shook her head, blond hair moving over her shoulders. “It seems so not you.”
“I know it does, but I wanted something that was different. Something for me. Leigh-Anne was a cheerleader, and Homecoming Queen and did Cotillion, and this just felt . . . mine.”
The words spilled from my lips almost too easily, and surprised, I realized that’s because they were . . . kind of true. I was enjoying this. All right, maybe enjoying was a strong word, but as soon as I’d committed myself to helping David, to fully being a Paladin, a kind of rightness had set in.
And maybe that’s what Bee saw on my face, because she made a clucking noise and reached out to briefly squeeze my hand. “You could use something that’s all yours. Although I have to admit, this is not exactly what I would’ve expected. But I guess it’s a good thing to learn? And it
will
look stellar on your college apps.”
After that, it had been no problem convincing Bee to help me keep this a secret from Ryan. She totally got why I’d be embarrassed if he found out, and she’d sworn to carry my secret to her grave.
What I hadn’t expected was for her to ask to tag along. All I’d wanted was to give her something slightly close to the truth so there would be at least one person kind of in on what was going on. But no excuse had rushed to my lips, and so now here I was, reporting for my first day of Paladin training with Bee Franklin at my side.
David was clearly biting his cheek, and his eyes were bright. “Right, yeah, my . . . my aunt teaches martial arts. To me and Harper. Which is why we’ve been hanging out a little more.”
Bee gave a delicate snort. “Seems like a dangerous thing, teaching the two of you how to kick ass. What if you end up murdering each other?”
David and I exchanged a glance. “Risk we’re willing to take,” he said at last. “Let me go get Aunt Saylor. She’s gonna need to, uh, be prepared for this.”
David went into the kitchen, and Bee glanced around. “Miss  Saylor’s house looks exactly like I imagined.” I remembered thinking the same thing when I’d been here last week. It seemed like an entire millennium had passed between that day and this one, so it was hard to believe it had been less than a month.
Saylor bustled out of the kitchen, hands clasped in front of her, all smiles, all business. “Miss Franklin! What a surprise.” That last bit was directed at me, but I gave her a little shrug.
My way.
“So Harper has told you about our little secret,” she continued, waving us toward the French doors leading to the balcony.
“She did,” Bee said, her eyes taking in every nook and cranny of the house. “And to be honest, I think it’s great, Miss Saylor. A young lady today should be able to protect herself.”
Behind Saylor’s back, I stuck my tongue out at Bee and mouthed,
Suck up.
She gave a shameless grin and followed us out into the backyard.
I don’t know what I’d expected. Some yoga mats. Maybe a punching bag. And Saylor did have those things. But she also had three dummies set up on stands. Against one of them, there was a sword at least as long as my leg, and Bee stared at it, mouth agape.
“Oh, wow. Y’all are . . . hardcore.”
“Yes, yes,” Saylor said, bustling over to the sword and picking it up. “This is for . . . inspiration. We obviously don’t want to involve weapons. At least not yet.”
“Yet?” Bee asked, but Saylor was already heading back into the house with the sword. “Now,” she said when she came back. “One of the things Harper has been learning is how to stay on her guard so attackers can’t surprise her.”
“Right,” Bee said, nodding like that was a totally normal thing for Saylor to be teaching me.
And I have to hand it to my best friend. For the next hour, she watched Saylor Stark throw various things—knives, pots, and more ceramic lambs than any one woman should own—at me from various directions while I was blindfolded, and at no point did she run screaming from the house, calling us all crazy people. She sat in the grass, legs folded, serenely watching the President of the Pine Grove Betterment Society lob a knife at the Homecoming Queen.
“Good job, Harper!” she called out when I batted the knife away, striking the hilt with the side of my hand. “Way to hustle!”
It was the exact same thing she shouted at Brandon when he practiced basketball, and for some reason, it made me smile. Same when, after I spun away from a particularly heavy china cat tossed at my midsection, Bee launched into one of our cheers, complete with shaking her fists like there were pom-poms in them.
After I’d deflected enough things, Saylor finally called it quits. We were both sweating and breathing hard, Saylor from throwing, me from the tension of spending an hour trying not to get whacked.
“Good job, Harper,” Saylor told me, untying the blindfold. “And you, Miss Franklin. You were very . . . supportive.”
Bee stood up, dusting off the back of her pants. “Thank you, Miss Saylor.” Then she nodded her head at the sun porch. “I thought you were training David, too. Why didn’t he get stuff thrown at his head?”
David, who was leaning on the French doors, arms folded over his chest, said, “I’ve already passed this stage. Have my dodging-stuff badge. Belt. Whatever.”
I shot him a look, and his chin trembled with the effort of not laughing.
But Bee accepted that. “Okay. Well, that was . . . interesting. Thanks so much for letting me watch, Miss Saylor.”
“Any time, honey,” Saylor cooed, even as she gave me a glare that plainly said,
Never again
.
“Are y’all done now?” Bee said.
“I have a few more things to go over with Harper, but it’s more theory than training.” Right. Saylor had wanted to show me the spell Blythe was planning on doing.
“In that case, I’ll go ahead and skedaddle,” Bee said.
“I’ll walk you out,” I told her as I wiped the sweat from my face with an embroidered towel that smelled like lavender.
Once we’d gotten to the driveway, Bee turned to me. “Right, so that’s kind of nuts,” she said.
I grimaced. “I know.”
“But,” she added, screwing up her face. “It’s also kind of awesome. You looked so fierce, all—” She lifted her hands, doing a few chops and slices that I guess were an imitation of me deflecting stuff.”
“Shut up,” I said, laughing as I batted her hands down.
“Seriously, I get why you’re keeping this secret, but . . . I don’t know, I’m proud of you. Homecoming Queen, debutante, President of All the Things,
and
a secret ninja. Best best friend ever.”
“Harper!” Saylor called from the porch. “Are you coming?”
Sighing, I gave Bee a quick hug. “No rest for the ninja,” I said. “And thanks, Bee. For not thinking this was
too
weird.”
Her cheeks flushed a little, and she glanced down. “To be honest, Harper? I didn’t believe you. That’s why I wanted to come today, to, like—”
“Call my bluff?”
Nodding, Bee pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head. “Which makes me the
worst
best friend ever.”
“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I’ve been out of it lately; I understand.”
“Harper!” Saylor called again, her voice a little sharper this time.
“Go,” she said, giving me a friendly shove. “Get your ninja on.”
I reached out to link my pinkie with hers. She squeezed it  back. Smiling sheepishly, Bee ducked her head, blond hair swinging over her collarbone. “I forgive you for being a bizarre combination of totally perfect and totally weird.”
I laughed at that, and as Bee drove off, my heart felt lighter in my chest.