Crossroads (Crossroads Academy #1) (18 page)

I know it’s only been a matter of seconds,
but it feels like an eternity has passed. I can’t even think about
what would have happened if I hadn’t been able to get to him in
time.

Damian and I stand there staring at one
another gravely, both in shock. His mother sidles past me and
throws her arms around the boy. She’s dropped her packages several
feet short of where we stand. She probably threw them when she saw
her child in danger.

“Oh, thank goodness! Are you okay?” she
wails. “Don’t you ever do that again!” The boy doesn’t have to say
anything. He knows how lucky he is to have avoided a disastrous
outcome and the wrath of his mother. Tears well up in his eyes, and
she hugs him again. Poor kid. She’s holding him so tight I doubt he
can catch a breath. A new wave of sadness washes over me as I watch
them. When I turn to leave, Damian’s mother grabs my hand.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she
gushes. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how you did it, but
thank you! You saved my son’s life.”

“It was nothing really,” I tell her modestly,
pulling my hand free of her grasp and shoving it in my pocket. “I’m
just glad he’s okay.”

A crowd has started to gather. Everyone’s
Christmas shopping is put on momentary hold to see what all the
fuss is about. People start patting me on the arm, telling me what
a wonderful thing I’ve done, how I saved the boy’s life. I need to
get out of here. Where the hell is Shaye?

I politely excuse my way through the crowd.
Just as I reach for the door of the bookstore it bursts open, and
Shaye and I are reunited to the clanging of the bells. I grab her
arm and abruptly steer her in the other direction, away from the
commotion on the corner.

“Where are we going? What’s the rush?” She’s
confused but doesn’t resist. Shaye doesn’t seem to mind being
dragged along, as she’s mistaken my anxious retreat for shopping
enthusiasm. “I found a gift for Keegan by the way. A journal. It’s
perfect!”

I’m certain the incident on the corner will
be quickly forgotten. I’m certain that no one was watching me
before I grabbed the boy. All eyes were on him, just as mine were.
Still, I don’t want to stick around and answer questions. I’m no
hero, that’s for sure. Saving that boy’s life is only one checkmark
on a very lopsided balance sheet.

I slow my pace as we turn the corner. Shaye
continues to babble on about the journal and pulls it from her
shopping bag so that I, too, can admire the wonderful gift. I have
to admit it’s nice. It’s got a soft leather cover and a heavy strap
which wraps around the book to bind it closed. It’s a far cry from
the modern crap sold at most stores. The journal is reminiscent of
the sort that would have been used by our ancestors.

“And look!” She opens the cover so that I can
inspect the interior. “There’s a spot inside the front cover where
I can write a personal inscription. I just have to make sure I
don’t screw it up.” She laughs musically, and I feel the tension
begin to slide out of my body.

“It’s nice,” I tell her. “Keegan is going to
love it.” I’m pretty sure he’d love anything Shaye gave him, but
this really is a thoughtful and special gift.

“What about you? Did you figure out what to
get for Aldo and Lissette yet?”

“Actually, I did.” We stop in front of the
jewelry store. I’m relieved to see that the item I want is still
displayed in the window. We’d passed it earlier when we parked the
car. I hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but after the
incident with the boy I’m now sure it’s the right gift. “That’s
it,” I tell her pointing.

“The picture frame? That is such a good idea.
I wish I’d thought of that!” she says enviously. “Oh, well. It
would be too risky for Keegan to keep a photo of us on display
anyway.”

I squeeze her hand sympathetically. It has to
be hard keeping the relationship a secret. But if anyone found out
about it, Keegan would be banished from the school immediately. In
light of being separated, secrecy seems the better option.

“Come on,” she says brightly, tugging me
toward the entrance. “Better get it before someone else comes along
and snatches it up.”

This is what I love about Shaye. Nothing
keeps her down. She may envy my taste in gifts, but I envy her
character.

“Welcome! What can I do for you little ladies
today?” asks the salesman as we enter the store. I dislike him
immediately. He has a patronizing air about him and is wearing an
ugly brown suit the color of mud. It matches his personality
perfectly.

I’ve always hated places like this where the
salespeople judge you immediately based on appearance. I
contemplate leaving, but know I can’t go without the frame. I have
to have it no matter what the cost.

“We’d like to see the frame in the window,” I
tell him boldly. “The silver one.”

“Well, that’s a pretty expensive item,” he
says condescendingly. “We have some smaller frames on the wall over
there that might be more to your liking.” He doesn’t want to waste
his time showing me things I can’t afford to buy. I get that, but
I’m not here to waste my time either.

“I’m sure those are nice too, but I want the
one in the window.” I’m firm, but polite. Shaye rolls her eyes, as
the salesman turns to fetch the object of my desire. I mouth the
word asshole and she giggles.

“Here you are then,” he says in a bored voice
as he hands me the frame.

It’s heavier than I’d imagined, but I’m
pleased by this discovery. I run my fingers over the frame tracing
the ornate pattern etched on its face. I try to visualize what
picture I’ll put in it; definitely one from my digital photo album.
My old life. I was so much happier then, more fulfilled. I know
that Aldo went to great personal risk to save the images and that
he will be pleased to have one for himself.

“I’ll take it.”

“That will be two hundred and ninety seven
dollars plus tax,” he tells me snidely. He still thinks I can’t
afford the purchase. “How will you be paying today?”

“Cash,” I tell him sweetly, laying it on
thick. “Oh, and can you be a doll and wrap it up for me too?”

The smoke curls all around me wrapping my body tightly in its
grip. The smell permeates my clothes, my hair, my skin. It invades
my nostrils and constricts my lungs. I know it can’t hurt me, but I
find my body convulsing anyway. I’m unable to control my reaction
to the suffocating substance.

Oh, God. I have to get out of here. I can’t
take the smell of burning flesh today. I know there’s nothing I can
do to save them. There never is. Why would this time be
different?

I stumble backward retreating from the
building. “It’s just a dream,” I pant, bending over and pressing
the palms of my hands to my thighs. “Just wake up!” I command
myself desperately.

I jerk awake with a splash. The sudden
movement sends soapy water sloshing over the side of the tub and
onto the tiled floor below. I’m greeted by the sweet scent of
cherry blossom bubble bath. The calming aroma is a welcome change
from the assault of ash and soot in my dreams.

I must’ve fallen asleep in the bath. I
vaguely remember running the hot water and slipping into the tub to
wash away the events of the day. I guess I didn’t realize how tired
I was. “Good thing vampires can’t drown,” I remind myself
sarcastically.

I lean forward and reach for the faucet
intending to add a burst of hot water to refresh the lukewarm bath.
As I turn the knob, blood shoots from the faucet pouring into the
tub and tainting the water. I stare at it perplexed, my brain
trying to comprehend the impossible.

Before I can shut it off, I’m swimming in a
sea of red. The water is churning around me, tossing my body back
and forth with the tide of blood. The coppery smell is
overpowering. I reach desperately for the side of the tub hoping to
pull myself to safety, but it’s too slippery, and I can’t hold on.
I’m jerked back into the angry bath which is growing impossibly
deep.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.
It has to be another dream; a trick of the mind. I slip below the
surface and kick hard, willing my head to stay above the water
line. The bottom of the tub is gone. I’m being swallowed up by a
sea of blood.

I refuse to accept defeat. I kick harder,
reaching again for the side of the tub, for a second chance, for
redemption. But all I see is Damian, the boy from town. His
cherub-like face smiles down at me from above. He can’t help me. No
one can.

I wake up screaming. In Sociology. Professor
Lynch and my classmates are staring at me. Their faces show a range
of emotions from surprise to amusement. A few of them are actually
snickering. I don’t have to look to know that Jade, Lexie, and
Blaine are among the entertained. Why did it have to be this class
of all places?

“Sorry,” I say trying to act as though this
behavior is perfectly normal.

“Are you alright, Miss Lescinka?” Lynch asks
looking disturbed. I suspect that, in all his years of teaching,
this is a first.

“Ever get the feeling that you’ll just scream
if you have to sit here and listen to this dribble for another
minute?” I ask seriously. I know I’m going to be punished, but I’d
rather have my classmates gossiping about my flippant attitude and
humiliation of Lynch than wondering what caused the bloodcurdling
scream in the first place.

Lynch crosses the room in a heartbeat and
stops inches from my desk. He stares at me coldly, hands clenched
at his sides. “Well then, don’t let us keep you another minute,” he
returns rigidly, his words reverberating with anger. I’ve probably
hurt his feelings. For this I’m sorry. I actually like Professor
Lynch. He’s a good teacher. “Perhaps you should go see Headmaster
Pratt? Now.”

I accept my punishment without protest and
gather my books. As I pass by his desk, Nik whispers words of
encouragement. “Good luck.”

I’ll need it, I think. I’ve never spoken to
Headmaster Pratt personally, but I’ve seen him around campus and at
assemblies where he’s addressed the student body. He’s a severe
looking man with slick black hair and a bony face. I’ve never seen
him smile. What made him choose education as his profession, I’ll
never know. I suspect it has something to do with his enjoyment of
power. He runs the school like a tyrant.

When I arrive at the office, they’re
expecting me. Lynch must’ve sent them a message electronically.
“You can go right in,” Pratt’s secretary tells me indifferently,
sneaking a cautious glace at the closed office door behind her.

I knock to announce my arrival and enter. The
office is nothing like Anya’s. It’s much colder and darker. There’s
nothing in this pretentious workplace to suggest Pratt wants his
visitors to feel warm or welcome in his presence. There are no
signs of personalization to hint at Pratt’s interests outside of
Crossroads nor are there any photos of family or friends. Assuming
he has any.

“Come in, Katia. Sit.” He doesn’t mince
words. “Frankly, I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner.”

I say nothing. He doesn’t expect me to. It
seems he’s been preparing for this meeting since the day I arrived
at Crossroads. He has his speech all worked out.

“I’ve seen your type before.” He doesn’t even
look at me as he speaks. He’s too busy studying his perfectly
manicured hands. “You think that just because your Uncle resides on
the Consiliul de Batrani that you can behave in whatever manner
suits you? I won’t tolerate it. Not in my school. As long as you’re
here, you will follow my rules and show me respect.”

Respect him? What planet is he on? The
incident in Lynch’s classroom had nothing to do with disrespecting
him. What a delusional narcissist!

“I’ve been running this school for a long
time,” he continues. “Crossroads Academy has a reputation for being
elite, for being polished. We produce the best and the brightest
students. Ours is a reputation that is based on years of
discipline. I will not abide anyone or anything which stands to
tarnish what I’ve worked so hard to build. Disrespect will not be
tolerated. In fact, it will be punished swiftly.”

“I’ll apologize to Professor Lynch
immediately and will not give him any further trouble.” That much
is true. I am sorry for disrupting Lynch’s class, and I will do my
best to earn back his respect. I will not, however, apologize to
Pratt for his perceived disrespect. Eff that!

“You will also pick up a work detail,” Pratt
says smiling calculatingly. “See my assistant on your way out, and
she will give you the details.”

I’m dismissed with a wave of the hand. I stop
at the secretary’s desk to receive my work detail.

“You’ll be working in the stables every
weekend for the next month.” She looks sympathetic. She probably
thinks this is the worst assignment Pratt can think up. “The stable
hand, Keegan O’Malley, will expect you from seven to noon on both
Saturday and Sunday,” she says handing me a slip of paper with the
details of my punishment. “Your off campus privileges will also be
revoked while you are on work detail and you won’t be able to go on
the ski trip to Killington.”

I’m not particularly thrilled by this last
bit of information. Being limited to the campus for a month sucks,
but working with Keegan should be a breeze. I’m not afraid of hard
work, and I know he’ll be fair.

**********

“I heard you got into trouble with Professor
Lynch.”

“Good news travels fast,” I quip. Anya
doesn’t look angry at least. That’s a plus.

“This isn’t funny Katia. Disrespecting your
Professor in front of the entire class? You could’ve gotten in a
lot of trouble. What were you thinking?” she asks, leaning back in
her chair and sighing loudly. It’s a very un-Anya like gesture.

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” I tell her,
idly rubbing a smudge off the cuff on my right wrist. “I was
dreaming. I fell asleep in class.”