Arena (29 page)
“I’m not running, Cal.” From his expression, she knew he wouldn’t be persuaded otherwise. And as it turned out, running would only have made things worse.
Morgan confronted Pierce as they stepped off the dance floor. “You lied to us!” he said, his voice low with outrage. “All that garbage about Elhanu was just a cover for your own cowardice.”
“It wasn’t a lie, Morg.”
Morgan jerked a thumb at Rowena, standing just behind him. “She told me how you froze up and couldn’t fire your weapon. How your friends never knew if you were going to cut and run, or curl up and mew like a baby. No wonder you hid all the records.”
“Hid the records? What’re you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Anyone can find them if he knows how to get around the blocks.”
“There are records of the Outlands?”
“There are records of everything. All in living color.”
Pierce had gone pale, but he met Morgan’s gaze unflinchingly.
Callie scowled at Rowena. “Why did you open this up again?”
Rowena lifted her chin. “People have a right to know what kind of coward they’re trusting their lives to.”
“He’s not a coward.”
“Callie.” Pierce laid a hand on her arm, then said to Morgan, “I’m not proud of what I did. I can’t even promise I won’t do it again. But that’s not why we’re not leaving.”
“What kind of a fool do you take me for?”
Around them, the others had stopped dancing, and now the band fell silent. Familiar faces stared wide-eyed—Wendell, Gerry, Tuck, Ian, Brody, Meg. Callie wanted to scream at them to mind their own business and keep on with what they were doing.
“You’re not the only one who can read the manual around here, you know,” Morgan said. “Or the only one who knows how to access the link to Elhanu.”
“But I am the only one who wears the circles and bars.”
“That doesn’t guarantee you’re infallible. Calvin Leyton wore them, too.”
“And left too early.”
“And Jason Puala, fearful of sharing his fate, left too late—and shared it anyway.” Morgan leaned toward him, rigid with intensity. “We need to go
now
, Pierce. The signs are everywhere, if you’d just open your eyes and look.”
“Then go.”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Without you?”
“If you believe I’m deliberately refusing the directive to leave,” Pierce said, “why would you trust me to find the exit portal?”
“Those are two different matters.”
“No, they’re not.” Pierce moved for the door.
Morgan stopped him. “It’s true, isn’t it? You like it here, lording it over the rest of us, and you have no intention of leaving.”
Pierce was white as death now, but his voice remained calm. “I’ll leave when Elhanu tells me to. That is my only intention.”
Callie caught up with him outside the tent. He wore his stone face like a shield and said nothing as they walked back to the compound. It was a relief to leave the light and noise and stifling warmth for the chilly, quiet darkness of the front square, a relief to escape the crowd’s curious glances. How many of them would be reviling Pierce by morning?
They followed the path that wound around the obstacle course, deserted now in the starlight, and stopped when they reached the pool at the base of the climbing cliff. Here the camp’s music was a distant wheedle, overlaid by the water trickling down the rock face and the breeze hissing in the trees. Pierce leaned against the railing and gazed at the silver pond shimmering against the dark masses of foliage and the cliff’s pale bulk. The air carried the scents of moisture and verdant growth.
After a time he sighed. “I’m not going to be very good company anymore. Do you mind if we call it a night?”
“Of course not.”
He made no move to leave, however, and neither did she.
At length he said, “I guess it’s better this happened now rather than on the road. At least no one will be surprised. If there’s anyone around for it to matter.”
“There’ll be plenty of people around,” Callie said softly.
He stepped back and braced both hands on the rail. “This is probably what Elhanu’s been waiting for. It sure gives everyone a choice. And choosing
is
what the Arena’s about, isn’t it?”
He studied his boots a minute, then looked up at the trees again. “Gives me one, too: Will I go with what I believe and lose the group, or will I rationalize my way around to doing what Morgan wants?” He snorted and straightened. “Maybe I’ve been rationalizing all along. Maybe I
am
just using the manual to justify my own cowardice.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Pierce laughed bitterly. “You of all people? You’ve seen me in action. I’d be dead if not for you.”
“And I’d be dead if not for you. So would a lot of other people.”
“Things are different now. I’m supposed to be the leader. What if I lose it again out there, with everyone depending on me?”
She watched the treetops’ scalloped edges sway in the breeze and said softly, “Isn’t it Elhanu we’re supposed to depend on? Besides, you’re not the same man. And you have the link now.”
For a long moment Pierce stared at the pond. Then sighing, he said, “You’re right. I’m being an idiot.” He turned and stiffened with surprise. “You’re shivering! Why didn’t you say something?”
Callie insisted she was fine, but he took her back to the dorm anyway, walking her to her door on the third floor.
“Thanks for going with me tonight,” he said.
“Hey, it was fun. Even if you did make me dance.”
He grinned. “
Especially
because I made you dance.”
They stood looking at each other, and his grin faded. His eyes were very blue and solemn beneath the thick lashes. Her heart began to gallop as once more she became aware of how close he was, his face inches from her own, his familiar, pleasantly musky scent making her lightheaded.
He’s going to kiss me
.
A wild fear rose up in her. Abruptly, she stepped back and immediately saw the hurt flash across his face. It felt as if a knife had twisted in her chest. She wanted to apologize, to explain—except she had no explanation, and he was scaring her. No, she was scaring herself. This was too much like what happened with Garth.
“Well, thanks for everything,” she mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. She touched the lock pad and her door slid open. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
The door slid shut between them.
They were showing videos of Pierce’s failings next morning in the rec hall, and the cafeteria buzzed with reaction. Morgan announced he would set out tomorrow, and that all were welcome to come. “But you’d better be ready to
travel!
” he concluded with a laugh.
Everyone cheered.
Sickened by the enthusiasm with which Pierce was being ridiculed, Callie lost her appetite halfway through the breakfast line. No one showed his being tortured, or any of his moments of heroism, just his failures. Worst of all was seeing Meg at Brody’s side, spouting abuse with the rest of them.
Callie approached her privately afterward, and they went round and round until Meg suggested Callie’s feelings were blinding her. Callie erupted like a land mine, hotly denying the charge and saying something about the pot calling the kettle black. The conversation degenerated from there.
Later when her anger had cooled to stomach-twisting regret, she acknowledged Meg’s accusation had hit a sore spot. Last night she’d tossed for hours, tormented by memories of that almost kiss in the hallway, and the look on Pierce’s face when she’d stepped away. Sleep, when it came, was filled with dreams of being trapped in various vehicles racing toward destruction. She’d awakened depressed and irritable. Things had only gotten worse as the day progressed.
Callie knew that with her ill-considered words she had destroyed all hope of changing Meg’s mind. She stewed about it for a time, then went to lunch early, hoping to avoid the crowd. Pierce had evidently had the same plan, for he sat alone at a window table in the deserted cafeteria. Her first inclination was to pretend she didn’t see him—she had no idea what to say to him and wasn’t even sure she wanted to try. But when she reached the end of the food line, she knew she couldn’t abandon him, not with everything else that was going on.
Maybe if I treat him as if nothing happened
, she thought as she sidled between the tables,
it’ll blow over and we can go back to normal
.
He wore a red flannel shirt, jeans, and hiking boots, and his face was flushed from a morning hike. When she stopped beside his table, he glanced up and wariness leaped into his expression.
“Want some company?” she asked.
He shrugged, his stony mask dropping into place.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said, setting her tray on the table. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You needn’t apologize.” He scraped up the last of his eggs. “I’m the one who overstepped.”
She slid into the chair across from him. “I’ve hurt your feelings.”
“Sometimes the truth hurts.”
I shouldn’t have come. This is only making things worse
. But stalking away didn’t seem like much of an answer either. She broke off a piece of tortilla, scooped up scrambled eggs and salsa, and focused on eating, stealing glimpses of him as she did. He finished his blueberry muffin and leaned back in the chair, gazing out the window as he sipped his coffee. Sunlight streamed onto him, casting long, dramatic shadows off to his side.
A handful of newcomers entered, ostensibly ignoring them, though Callie noticed their furtive glances and quiet comments.
“So,” she said finally, scooping up more egg. “Where’d you go this morning?”
“Window Rock.” A stiff climb that offered breathtaking views, she knew Window Rock to be one of his favorites.
He did not elaborate, however, so she tried again. “Morgan’s leaving tomorrow.”
“You going with him?”
“Of course not!”
Finally he met her gaze, his eyes joltingly blue. She thought he would say something, but he only set the cup on his tray and stood. “I better get to work.”
“It’s your day off. You’re supposed to rest.”
“I like studying.”
She watched him weave between the tables and exit through the glass door, then sat sipping her coffee, feeling grumpier than ever. She needed very much to talk—about Meg, the Morgan crisis, her own confused feelings. Yesterday she would’ve confided in Pierce. Maybe not about her confused feelings for him, but all the rest. Now that was impossible, and the loss of their comfortable relationship made her want to cry.
More people filtered in, and the noise of conversation rose. Callie had sat there half an hour when Evvi Albion dropped into the seat across from her, licking a strawberry ice cream cone. “Mind if I join you?” she asked.
Would it matter if I did?
“Can you believe those videos? What a pack of lies.” Ice cream dripped down the back of her hand onto the table. “It’s obvious the Tohvani made them up. Pierce would never act like that. He’s not that kind of man.” She licked the cone, then picked up a napkin to smear the spots around. “I’ll bet word comes to leave the day after Morgan goes. And it’ll be good riddance, too.”
She crumpled the soiled napkin into a ball and left it beside the smear as she pulled another from the dispenser and licked her cone again. More drips splattered the brown Formica, but she didn’t notice. “Um, Callie, there’s something I’ve got to ask you—” She licked her cone. “Do you and Pierce, well, like, are you really lovers?” Unheedingly she laid her arm in the ice cream drips.
“We’re friends.”
Evvi fixed her with round owl eyes. “You’re sure.”
“Of course.” Callie fingered her coffee cup. “Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” Finally noticing the ice cream on her sleeve, Evvi daubed at it with the clean napkin while the cone dripped elsewhere.
“You’re interested in him yourself!” Callie cried, feigning surprise.
The other girl flushed. “Well, if you’re really just friends . . . yeah. I mean . . .” She daubed at her sleeve again. “You’re sure, now. Because I wouldn’t want to . . . you know.”
“We’re strictly business,” Callie assured her. “If you want to pursue him, be my guest.”
Evvi’s eyes went wider than ever. “Really?”
“Really.”
Crumpling the second napkin, she grinned broadly. “Oh, wow. Thanks, Callie!”
Callie watched Evvi maneuver between the tables, feeling smug.
That should take care of the rumors of romance. Maybe make Pierce feel
better, too
.
A burst of laughter drew her attention to a group shoving two tables together nearby, and she decided to leave. Fifteen minutes later she was climbing the trail behind the compound, laden with sketchbooks, watercolor blocks, and paints. One of the many wonderful things about Rim-light was how it provided for its residents. Once she’d discovered the art supplies in her office, she’d begun sketching everything in sight. Whether it was the exceptional clarity of light or the novelty of snow and mountains or the simple freedom of making art for the sake of making it, something had broken loose. This work would be left behind when they departed. It didn’t have to win an award, impress a gallery manager, or even bring a sale. It only had to please her, and that not too much. She hadn’t had such fun since she was a child, and that had brought a corresponding looseness to her work—and lately, an unexpected authority.
Even more unexpected was how it had been received. Pierce had hung one of her sketches in his office—matting and framing supplies had appeared along with the paper and paints. He’d suggested she hang some pieces in the auditorium’s lobby. Others saw them and wanted works for their own rooms, and before she knew it, she was feeling like a real artist.
Today she set up on a familiar windswept knoll and began a large painting of the massive rock thrusting out of the slope above her. She’d often painted this rock, drawn by its creamy contrast against the blue sky, its angularity against the surrounding plumes of grass. As always of late, she let herself go, using a big brush and lots of paint and water.
When she was done, she set it aside to dry and picked up her sketchbook, flipping through the used pages to the back, where she began a new drawing. The image had nagged her since lunch—a figure lounging in a chair under strong light, the cast shadows streaming on a dramatic diagonal. She paid particular attention to the features—features she had studied and drawn so often, they took form effortlessly.
