The Veritas Conflict (32 page)

Caliel watched across the room as Katoth circled Sherry, his eyes narrow, hungry.

Stefan’s smile was gentle as he applied a small bandage. “That better, clumsy-head?”

“I didn’t mean to be such a baby. Why do paper cuts hurt so much, anyway?” Sherry rubbed her bandaged finger, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Listen, I’ve got a lot of work to do this afternoon. I should get going.”

“I wish you’d stay, but I understand.” Stefan bent down and retrieved the file folder and it’s spilled contents. “At least take this with you. You’ve earned it!”

“Actually, I was thinking I’d better avoid it like the plague lest it bite me again!”

Stefan’s smile wavered for just an instant before he chuckled and started to extend the file again.

Sherry grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on. She picked up her textbooks in one hand, her backpack in the other. Rising on tiptoe, she gave Stefan a quick kiss. “Thanks for the offer, Stef, but I’m serious. I really can’t. It just doesn’t feel right.”

Caliel let out an explosive cry as he soared free of the melee. Sherry was half running down the hall. He hovered over her, watching her back, ensuring that they would not come after her. He winced at the catch in his side but didn’t pause. There would be time for healing later.

He caught a hurried image of Katoth’s silent fury inside Stefan’s dorm room. Caliel took a deep breath. Every instinct screamed at him. This fight was nowhere near over.

THIRTY

C
LAIRE LOOKED UP IN SURPRISE
as Sherry banged into the room, dumped her backpack and several books on her desk, and turned on her computer.

“Sherry …”

“Look, I don’t need any of your garbage, all right? I didn’t copy the old test.”

Claire crossed the room and gave her roommate a hug, feeling the distance between them in the tension of Sherry’s body. “Sherry, all I wanted to say was I’m sorry. I’m sorry I snapped at you—”

“You snapped at
Stefan.
” Sherry turned back to her desk, slinging her jacket down on the pile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. I just got really angry when I saw him making fun of me behind my back … with you.”

After a moment, Sherry turned. She didn’t quite meet Claire’s eyes. “I’m sorry about that. Stefan just isn’t into religious stuff or religious people. I should have stood up for you, but I was pretty ticked at the time.”

“I noticed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m over it.” She looked directly at Claire, a ghost of a grin playing on her face. “So I won’t tell you what he called you after we left the building.”

Claire lifted her head. “Well, then, I won’t tell you how that makes me feel.”

The uncomfortable look returned to Sherry’s face, and she began yanking books out of her backpack. “I don’t have time to play psychiatrist to your insecurities, Claire.”

Claire quivered, heat rising in her neck and face. She opened her mouth to respond.

Peace, child
.

Her mouth closed with a snap. She turned and walked back to her desk. Sitting down, she stared at the textbook page she had interrupted. After a moment she turned the page, unable to recall what she had just read.

Silence stretched the room, broken only by the small sounds of Sherry putting her things away.

After a time, Claire heard Sherry stop, then sigh. The sound of her light steps approached, and Claire felt a gentle cuff on her shoulder.

“Sorry. That was mean. You’ve told me about your childhood issues, and I totally
took advantage of that to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Claire’s breath let out slowly. “Thanks.” A smile crossed her face. “And I’m glad you didn’t copy the old test.”

“So am I.” Sherry turned back to her desk and computer. “I’d better get studying.”

“Going to try to beat accounting into submission?”

“No, I need to ease into that. I’ll start with our history reading. I haven’t done it in two classes, and it’s getting away from me.”

Two hours later, there was a tap on the door to their room.

“Come in.” Claire barely glanced up.

Mercedes poked her head in. “Claire, there’s someone at the door for you.”

“Oh? Thanks.” In her socks and sweats, Claire shuffled out to the suites common area. Brad stood there, looking around curiously.

“Brad? Hey. How’d you know where I live?”

He put on a serious face, rubbing his hands together. “Ve have vays.…” Claire rolled her eyes, and he grinned. “No, seriously, I was over here helping Teresa study for her statistics midterm. We were going to knock off for dinner and wondered if you wanted a study break.”

“Helping Teresa with stats, huh?” She shivered in mock disgust. “Yuck. Better you than me for
that
subject, dude.”

“What, you don’t like integrals? Derivatives?”

“I hate that kind of stuff.”

“Well then, you’ll love stats. Derivatives is calculus.”

She grabbed a small pillow off the couch and held it up threateningly, trying not to laugh. “You have the same kind of humor as my cousin from New Orleans, and
he
drives me crazy.”

“You have a cousin in
Nawlins?
So do I.” He raised his eyebrows. “How do you pronounce the capital of Louisiana, again?”

She shrugged. “New Orleans. Why?”

Brad shrugged back. “Because I pronounce it
Baton Rouge.
”

The pillow flew. He held his hands over his head. “Get
out!
” She pointed at the door, laughing hard. “You are
not
allowed in this room. Git!”

He minced out the door, at the last minute popping his head back in, talking quickly. “If you want to come to dinner.”

She picked up another couch pillow and tried to level her best glare at him. His eyes widened in mock surprise, and his voice quickened.

“… Teresa and I are leavinginfiveminutes. Bye.”

He disappeared right before the pillow struck the doorjamb.

Claire giggled as she hustled back into her room to change.

“What was
that
all about?” Sherry was turned in her chair, facing the doorway.

“That was just Brad.” She went to her closet and pulled out a pair of khakis. “Goof-ball.”

“He likes you.”

“What?”

“He likes you. It’s obvious.”

Claire put her hands on her hips. “You weren’t even out there. How can you say that?”

“Honey, I don’t need to
see
it to know these things. He likes you. And you like him. Don’t you?”

Claire pulled on her khakis, wrinkling her nose. She couldn’t keep a small smile from playing on her lips.

Sherry crowed. “I knew it!” She rubbed her hands together. “Oh, this is good. Okay. What’s next?”

“Dinner
is next. And don’t get any ideas. There’ll be a group.”

“A group … yesss …” She tapped her fingers on the desk, ruminating. “Actually, just lovely Teresa, from what I heard. Now what can we do about that?”

“Sherry.” Claire was trying not to laugh.

“How about a Tonya Harding/Nancy Kerrigan sort of thing?”

“Sherry.” She shook her head, giggling.

“You know, a well-placed two-by-four to the knee now and then will do wonders for the competition.”

“Sherry!” Claire stomped her foot, trying hard to frown. “That’s enough now, c’mon. Teresa’s a sister in Christ, after all.”

Sherry heaved a big sigh, shaking her head. “Yes. Yes, there is that.” She brightened and looked up. “I’ve got it! How about we drug her in the middle of the night and ship her off to a nunnery.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m outta here.” Claire shrugged into her coat. “Why don’t you join us for dinner? Someone said they have that cheesecake you like so much. Cheesecake has
got
to be some sort of brain food.”

“Nah. Thanks, though. I’m not even caught up on history. I’ve got to get to that accounting stuff soon or I’m doomed.”

“Well, I won’t try to tempt you then. But I’ll bring you back some.”

“Thanks.” Sherry turned back to her desk.

As she left the room, Claire called back over her shoulder. “And don’t check your e-mail! You’ll be on all night if you do that.”

Sherry jerked her hand from the computer mouse. “Okay!”

The clatter of trays and plates surrounded the students as they sat at one end of a long table. The others had made quick work of their dessert, but Teresa’s cheesecake was hardly touched.

“I just thought that was how every family lived, you know?” Teresa shook her head. “I would barely make friends, and we would move. But my dad had to go wherever the jobs were. He spoke English pretty well, but since he didn’t have much of an education, the jobs weren’t exactly chasing him.”

“I had no idea you had such a hard childhood,” Claire said. “I mean, no offense, but you seem so … 
polished
. I would’ve thought you came from a long line of Ivy League grads—or at least college grads! I would never have guessed that your background was so different from most people here. I
knew
I liked you!” A grin broke out on her face as Teresa laughed.

“When did your dad come over from South America?” Brad asked.

“I think he was twenty. He had met my mom when she was on a summer missions trip there. They wrote letters every week, and the next year he got a visa to visit her in the States. He never left. No matter where we move to, the first thing he puts up on the wall is a copy of his citizenship oath.”

“It sounds like your dad is a very special person,” Claire said.

“Yes, he is. He’s a gentle man who loves the Lord with all his heart. Dad has worked so hard all his life to put a roof over our heads. And he has never,
never
complained.” Her lip quivered slightly. “He taught us to be grateful for everything we had, even when all we had was each other.”

“How many brothers and sisters did you say you have?” Brad asked.

“There are three of us.” She smiled slightly. “When we landed in Chicago, Dad knocked on the door of every private school he could find to try to get us the education he never had. We were in the inner city, but there was this really good Catholic school nearby where we could work to help pay the tuition. We all wanted to do so well, to make our dad proud. Believe it or not, my older sister is at Yale, and my younger brother was just accepted here also. Partial scholarships for all of us.”

Brad and Claire both exclaimed aloud.

“Three kids from inner-city Chicago, first-generation Americans, going to Ivy League schools?” Claire said.

Brad leaned forward. “What about your mom? What’s she doing?”

Teresa grew still. She didn’t speak for a moment.

“That’s okay, you don’t need to get into it if—”

“No, it’s okay. I’d kinda like someone here to know, actually.” She paused and
looked at Brad and Claire. “It’s sort of hard to explain, but … well, about seven years ago my mom started working part time, and my dad—after working two or three jobs at a time—finally got a fairly stable job. We were so glad that he could finally stop killing himself. And we even built up a little bit of savings. See, we had moved to Chicago because Mom got a job at a bank that would pay for health insurance. We’d never had health insurance before, and—”

“You’d never had health insurance? Ever?” Brad said.

“Nope.”

“What’d you do if you got sick?”

“We just had to make do. Dad actually had a chronic heart problem, but—before we got the insurance—couldn’t even afford the cheap community clinic nearby. Once he had this terrible chest pain, and Mom insisted on driving him to the emergency room. He got there just in time. About five minutes later he had a heart attack. We were all crying. I was only ten and so scared. But God was watching over us big time. There must’ve been angels clearing a path through the traffic or something, because normally it would take us twenty minutes to get to the hospital; that day it only took ten. Thank God.” She shivered.

“So anyway, the reason we’d moved to Chicago was because Mom’s bank job would pay for health insurance—which we needed, obviously. And then Dad got us into that Catholic school. And with the two jobs we finally saved a little money. Everything was going so well for a while.