Storykiller (13 page)

Standing next to Tessa’s locker were Brand and Micah, who surely deserved to win prizes in the ‘never giving up’ category if nothing else. Tessa almost went the other direction, but she needed to get in that locker, as much to hide the massive tome in her hands as to get the book she should have taken home for first period, but hadn’t.

She still had to get rid of them though. Things were even worse than yesterday if that was possible. She could now add prime murder suspect to her list of massive problems. Man, she had to be the worst Scion in the history of Scions. She was just absolutely unwilling to get two of the only people she’d ever liked killed because she was crappy at being some kind of destiny-superhero-chosen-one-type-person, even if that meant her only “friend” was the goddamn Snow Queen.

But this “infection” Snow had mentioned was a new wrinkle. Tessa had no idea if it was better to tell them now or not, but she was leaning toward not. At least until she had more information. So, for now, Tessa hooded her eyes into a practiced look of boredom and cruised up onto her locker as if she had not a care in the world. Naturally, Brand dived in first.

“Tessa, c’mon. You have to talk to us. Are you alright? Has anything else…
insane
happened?” The words came out so fast they started to merge before he finished one question and started another.

“Brand,” Micah said calmly, putting a hand on his arm and locking eyes with him briefly. “Stop.”

Tessa yanked the locker open and jammed the
Fairy Tales
book inside, exchanging it for her book and a spiral notebook which had exactly zero pages of completed homework inside.

“Tessa,” Micah began. Tessa raised up a hand but Micah rolled right over her. “No. Yesterday
you
talked. Today you listen. We’re not your pets and you need to stop treating us like we are. You may be a superhero, but that doesn’t make you better than us and you need to stop acting like you are. Our lives are clearly in jeopardy because we know you. Now, we’re reasonably okay with that because we like you when you’re not being a raging hell-bitch, but you can’t keep trying to shut us out. It’s obviously dangerous for us no matter what at this point, since, you know, we were kidnapped and almost killed just for meeting you. So you need to just accept it. We’re in this, if only because the best way to keep from getting dead is to arm ourselves with as much knowledge as possible. You have until lunch to get over this whole idea of stonewalling us into going away, okay?” And with that, shy
Micah Chen turned on her heel and walked away, her hands jammed into the front of yet another faded hoodie. Tessa stared after her, shocked and more than a little impressed. Brand did the same.

A moment later, he snapped out of it, looked at Tessa, and added, “Yeah. What she said!” But as he walked away, he turned a corner and a giant grin broke across his face. “We’ll see you at lunch!”

Tessa smiled. They’d made it impossible to get rid of them.

She couldn’t believe how thankful she felt for it.

She hoped it didn’t get them killed.

In class Tessa saw Nash walk by in the hallway and he threw up a little wave that caused her stomach to flip-flop. Life had become very strange, very suddenly. She wished there was a way to keep parts of it—some actual friends, flirting with boys, knowing a person with a perfectly restored 1969 silver Jaguar—and ditch the rest. All the destiny, horror, murder, guilt, and fear.
Not to mention the feeling in all of it that she was now, and for the rest of her life, short though it may turn out to be, an outcast that would never again fit in.

Tessa had felt like an outcast for about as long as she could remember. She had embraced it at some point, learned to use it to her advantage. Because once you already feel like you can’t fit in then it feels better if you try to own it, if you try to pretend it’s your decision. The way she chose to look was a nice comfortable cover to trick people into thinking that she didn’t fit in on purpose. That she’d made the decision herself. And most of the time, she felt okay about it, and at some point, the pretend became true. But now. Now that she knew there was no way to go back, that no matter what she did, she would never be able to belong or fit in, that she was a true outcast, forever, well, an ocean of fear and sadness had settled on her and she didn’t know if it would ever go away, worse, she feared it might swallow her whole.

Micah watched Greyson utterly destroy a violin solo, effortlessly moving from dark to delicate and then back again. A year ago, Micah would have seethed with jealousy from her second chair, but ever since she’d fallen in love with the drums, she didn’t care whose chair was in front of hers when it came to violin. Her lack of caring bothered her teacher immensely, almost as much as it bothered her parents, but Micah was beyond caring about either. Keeping her love of the drums a secret from her teacher had been difficult; it had been surprisingly less difficult to keep it from her absentee parents. She was still a great violinist which kept them off her back in general, though the looks from both as she fell from first chair to second could have been printed in the dictionary under “disappointment.”

Micah had known without asking that “badass drummer” didn’t fit into the whole “Asian Musical Prodigy” thing her parents were so fond of, so drums had become her own little happy but very secret rebellion. She had hated the Asian cliché aspect of the musical prodigy thing anyway. In fact, she liked to pretend to Brand that her hatred of the cliché was why she didn’t get better grades.
“Gotta break stereotypes, Brand.”
She liked to say when her report cards came back filled with B’s and C’s. But if the cliché was part of what made her so good at playing the drums then she was grateful for it, even if she’d never admit it out loud. Her secret rebellion meant she kept her drums at Brand’s house and she wore even bigger clothes than usual—almost exclusively hoodies and cargos—so she could keep her sticks with her at all times. Was a secret rebellion even a rebellion? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t care.

She’d found the drums and that was all that mattered.

Watching Greyson be brilliant on the violin did nothing but inspire her with respect. It also made her think how much she’d like to be in a band with him. Her raw powerful drumming paired with his sweetly smooth violin. She could totally hear it. I
t sounded like bliss.

The bell rang, shattering the moment. Greyson stopped and smiled, lowering his instrument and bow. Their teacher beamed and then clapped, as did a few others before putting their instruments away. Greyson looked at Micah, pleased with himself, but hoping for her approval.

“Amazing, Grey,” she said, smiling and truly happy for him. The way he looked at the violin was how she looked at the drums and that made her feel united with him even as they were pitted against one another.

“Thanks, Micah,” he said. “I’m really happy with it.”

“You should be,” Micah said nodding. “You’ve really mastered that piece.”

Grey ducked his head shyly and gathered his things together. “You going to lunch?”

“Yeah, meeting Brand, you wanna come with?”

“Maybe for a minute.”

In the cafeteria, they stood in line and Greyson feigned interest in the macaroni and cheese rather than in Ian Powell, a few students ahead of them in line. Micah bumped him with her elbow.

“Obvious,” Micah said, covering it with a cough that was also a laugh, staring at Greyson over her glasses.

“What?” he asked innocently and then rolled his eyes. “Fine. I have a crush.”

“No kidding,” Micah said, paying for her lunch and looking for Brand. She spotted him in the courtyard as Brand gestured from a reasonably quiet table where he sat with a sulking Tessa. Micah nudged Grey, and they weaved their way over.

Tessa looked up, her face stormy and confused, but when she saw Micah wasn’t alone she pushed it away and smiled a smile anyone would have believed genuine. The boy with Micah smiled back, all charm.

“Hey,” he said, nodding and putting down his tray.

“Hey,” Tessa echoed. Micah nodded at Grey and then nodded at Tessa as she sat down.

“Tessa, Greyson. Greyson, Tessa.”

“Hey,” they said in unison again and then smiled. Tessa reached across the table to shake his hand. He joined her and then Brand piped in and reached out a fist, which Greyson bumped.

“Long time no see, man. Where you been?”

“Oh, um, traveling a bit, I guess,” Grey said, shrugging, and then he cast an expectant look at Micah. “So, you think I got a shot?” Tessa and Brand exchanged puzzled glances. Micah put down her fork.

“What’s all this?” Brand asked, gesturing between the two of them, half a sandwich crammed in his mouth.

“Grey has a thing for Ian Powell
,” Micah said as she fluttered her eyes dramatically. Grey smacked her on the arm.

“Don’t make fun.”

“Oh, we will indeed make fun,” Brand said, inhaling the other half of his sandwich.

“Ian?” Tessa asked. Micah scanned the windows into the cafeteria. She saw him at a table with a few friends and pointed him out to Tessa.

“There. Shaved head, dark eyes, flawless skin, blue t-shirt, lean build,
exceptional
hands,” Micah recited. Tessa followed her gaze, and Brand cut Micah a look and threw a chip at her.

“Exceptional hands? Are you sure
you’re
not crushing on him?”

Micah sniffed with a superior air. “I say it with the eyes of a musician, not the eyes of a lusty teenage girl.”

Grey laughed, everyone laughed.

“So go over,” Tessa urged. Grey spun on her, rather horrified.

“Oh. Oh no. No way.”

“Why not?” Brand asked licking his salty fingers.

“He doesn’t even know I exist.”

“And he won’t if you keep this up,” Micah said.

“I’m planning my move,” Grey said, not entirely convincingly.

“Dude. You have
no
moves,” Brand said more convincingly.

“I do so have moves. They’re just old, and slow, and…totally untested,” he said, generating a chuckle from the table. Tessa watched Ian move across the lunchroom. Micah was right, he had beautiful hands.

“You’d best hurry. Handsome like that doesn’t stay single long,” she said and took a sip of bottled water. Just as she did so, Nash walked by the table, casually bumping fists with Grey wordlessly and then smiling at Tessa.

“Hey, Tessa,” he said, without stopping. Tessa’s face flushed and then bulged as she choked on her mouthful of water. She turned just in time to
almost
avoid hitting Grey in the face with the spray she coughed up. Brand burst into laughter. Grey patted himself dry with a napkin while Micah chuckled, watching Nash walk away
. Tessa buried her head in her hands.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to Grey, still hiding her face.

Grey laughed good-naturedly, wiping some water off his cheek. “The sound of Nash saying one’s name is more than enough reason to lose control of bodily functions.”

“Gross,” Brand said.

Grey nodded, “Yeah, that sentence went wrong.”

“How do you know Nash?” Micah breathed at Tessa, more than a little awe in her tone.

“I don’t. I mean, he’s in my Trig class and American History,” Tessa fumbled, still avoiding their eyes. Micah let out a long low whistle and Grey nodded appreciatively.

“Lucky, lucky girl,” Micah said.

“He not only knows her name but is using it all casual-like. Takes most of us lesser beings ages to get a casual hello like that from Nash. And I should know. I row crew with him and it took me a month to get a casual name drop,” Grey said while
Tessa turned a shade of red just shy of her bright hair.

“You guys are making a big deal out of nothing,” she said, waving them off. A bell rang somewhere in the distance, and Grey sprang up, pulling his mostly untouched tray of food with him.

“Damn. I’ve got to get across the quad,” he said, already heading away from the table. “Later.” Everyone offered half waves, and Tessa started to get up too.