Fire Maiden (6 page)

“P
op quiz, pupils!” Mr. Silva was flapping around in his white lab coat when Darby and Ann came into class.

The bell still echoed inside the classroom, but Mr. Silva was wasting no time.

Darby stared at the blank board. How could Mr. Silva do this to her? And then his words registered.

“Pop quiz?” Darby's whisper joined a student chorus of horror.

“The delayed start gave you two extra hours to study. Or sleep.” Mr. Silva pointed his index finger and swept it from one side of the classroom all the way to the other. “Judging by the fifty percent of you who didn't turn in your online homework, and my
nearly empty in-basket, I'd say it was the latter.”

“It's not bad enough we nearly died in an earthquake?” Ann moaned.

“Miss Potter, feel free to elaborate on your near-death experience in the essay portion of the quiz,” Mr. Silva said. He paused a minute, looking from Ann to Darby and back to Ann, before handing her a stack of papers to pass back. “I must say I'm surprised at your lack of concern for your team project.”

When the science teacher strode to the next row, the girls faced each other.

Certain she'd turned gray with guilt, Darby blurted, “I can explain—”

Ann said, “Here's the thing—”

Darby felt dizzy with blame, but Mr. Silva interrupted before she could finish her confession.

“No talking during the quiz,” he commanded.

Ann didn't say another word. Just the same, while Darby worked on her quiz, she felt Ann's lingering glare.

The quiz on volcanoes included two extra-credit questions about the epicenter and Richter scale measurement of this morning's earthquake. If the radio report and Megan's friend Elane had been right, Darby was, too. And she could use those extra-credit points.

Once she finished, Darby turned her quiz facedown, but she didn't look at Ann. Instead, she used her fingertip to draw an invisible, endless spiral on her desktop.

“All is not lost,” Mr. Silva said as he collected the quiz papers. “Given this morning's extraordinary circumstances, those students who handed in their work on time will receive bonus points—”

“Oh yeah!” someone cheered.

“—and the rest of you will still be eligible for full credit if—listen, please! Don't celebrate yet, because this next part is crucial. You will only be eligible for full credit if you turn in A-quality work.”

Darby sprawled back in her desk and looked toward the ceiling with thanks. She couldn't help noticing Ann had slumped forward at the same time.

“Working toward that end, we'll spend the rest of the class period discussing questions that might come up on your projects during spring break.”

As Mr. Silva spoke, Darby tried to make her brain a thirsty sponge. She understood about searching out parallels between stories and science. She got the part about observation and field notes, too, but Megan had told her that the Two Sisters never did more than breathe out a few wisps of steam.

“Mr. Silva?” Darby edged her hand up, barely even with her head. “What if our project is something we can't observe?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something. That's why it's a vacation assignment. So you'll have plenty of time.”

Darby heard a few students grumble about Mr. Silva's misunderstanding of the word
vacation
, but most already looked thoughtful.

“Now take five minutes to sit quietly and make some notes. Then I'll call on a few of you, at random, to see if you're on the right track.”

Darby whipped out a pen and paper. For a few seconds she stared at the light blue lines on the paper, waiting for something to materialize.

She heard students whispering to each other about Kane and Kanaloa, but she didn't know either of those names. Someone mentioned Maui the trickster, and a guy in the row next to her mentioned Mano. She thought that had something to do with sharks. She wrote down
menehune
, because she knew who they were, but she didn't know if they could be linked with volcanoes.

“Oh! Pele!” Darby didn't know excitement had made her blurt the words aloud until Ann smiled and other students giggled.

“Very good, Miss Carter,” her teacher said. “Pele would tie in nicely with your project on volcanoes.”

Darby was looking down, blushing even though she was right, when she heard a mocking snort from the back of the room.

“Shouldn't go mocking Pele, you know. She's one bad lady when she's mad.”

Darby recognized the voice, and she'd already turned to see the guy in the gray hooded sweatshirt when Mr. Silva said, “Tyson, I'm sure Miss Carter means to do no such thing….”

“I don't,” Darby insisted, but just as he had ear
lier, the guy sneered as if she was lying.

“Since, unless I'm mistaken, she lives in Pele's backyard,” Mr. Silva finished.

Darby gave a quick nod, looked down to avoid a few curious looks, and scribbled down the names Pele and Pigman and the word
fern
, and hoped she'd said enough that Mr. Silva wouldn't call on her.

She had. Even better, the bell rang, and she could finally explain things to Ann.

“I'm so sorry—” Darby began.

“I'm sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep, but—”

“What?” Darby and Ann blurted the word together.

The corridor was filled with students and noise, but Darby felt her thoughts click into place as if she were surrounded by silence.

“You mean, you didn't do the experiment?” Darby asked.

“And you didn't do the interview?” Ann gasped.

“I thought we were such good students,” Darby said, giving Ann a gentle elbow in her ribs.

“What a couple of slackers,” Ann said, and then they were both laughing and making excuses.

“It was because Navigator was acting so weird, and then Jonah—”

“I know,” Ann said. “And I was just going to sleep for a couple of hours and the next thing I knew I was getting tossed around like a frog in a blender….”

“Yuck!” Darby shoved Ann down the hall and
she was about to dart off toward the gym and P.E., one of only two classes she didn't share with Ann, when something really unpleasant crossed her mind. “Hey, what's up with that kid Tyson?”

“Ty's not so bad, but…” Ann's red hair bounced as she shook her head.

“But what?” Darby asked.

“He's a little bit of a bully. He thought he might scare you with that crack about Pele.”

“He called me a haole, too,” Darby pointed out.

“That's not always bad,” Ann said. “It depends on how he said it. I remember at my first rodeo here, I heard someone say, ‘That haole girl barrel racer? She's pretty good.' And they were talking about me. Sometimes it's just descriptive.”

“Tyson didn't say it in a good way, that's for sure. Besides, I'm not—” Darby broke off, shrugging. She wasn't comfortable talking about race. In Pacific Pinnacles, kids pretended to ignore ethnicity unless they were filling out some kind of form, or were racist.

“Probably you're a
hapa
-haole,” Ann said in a consoling voice.

Half white, Darby defined the words for herself. That wasn't right, either. And Tyson's tone hadn't been descriptive, but sarcastic.

“See you in Algebra,” Darby said with a wave.

Ann waved back and walked with a slight limp from her still-healing soccer injury in the direction of the office. Darby had veered toward the gym and was
mulling over what Ann had said when Duckie appeared again, right in front of her.

With her feet slightly apart and hands out level with her shoulders, Darby's cousin blocked most of the hallway. She stood so close, Darby almost walked right into her. Now, looking up to see her cousin's face, Darby had a pretty good idea of how Jack felt when he got to the top of the beanstalk and encountered a giant.

“Hey!” Duckie said.

Darby glanced over her shoulder. Duckie rarely sounded so friendly except to other swimmers and rich kids. But as long as she was here, Darby couldn't resist asking, “Are you all okay, over at Sugar Sands Cove? Did any of the guests get hurt? What about the horses?” Darby's mental picture of Stormbird, the cute foal she'd helped rescue, wiped out most of her worry over the luxurious resort run by her aunt Babe.

“Things were kind of crazy, but we've got plenty of help.”

“What about Stormbird?” Darby asked, even though Duckie gave an impatient roll of her eyes.

“He stayed with all those white horses.”

Safety was with the herd, Darby thought. As she thought of Hoku standing up for Tango, Luna looking up at Jonah but not going to him, and Lady Wong calling Hoku back to the horses, she knew it was true.

Suddenly jittery to get back to the ranch and check on Hoku, Darby jumped when Duckie interrupted her thoughts.

“I'm going to give you some advice.”

“Okay,” Darby said carefully, though Duckie clearly wasn't waiting for permission.

“I saw Ty giving you some trouble.”

“No big deal,” Darby said, though she enjoyed a brief fantasy in which her cousin pinched Tyson's hood between two fingers and lifted him off the ground so that his legs pedaled in midair.

“It's because he doesn't know who you are,” Duckie said.

“What do you mean?” Darby asked. “Of course he does. Mr. Silva calls me by name all the time.”

Her cousin winced as if her stomach hurt. Then, in a tone indicating Darby wasn't very smart, she enunciated, “You need to find a group. You've been here two weeks, and what are you?”

“What am I?”

“Like jock, nerd, surfer, drama llama, you know.” Duckie snapped her fingers right under Darby's nose. “Your clique.”

Clique?

Darby could tell Duckie thought she was doing her a huge favor, so she tried to sound nice as she explained, “I usually just have one or two friends. Like Ann and Megan….”

Should she add “and you”? Darby had no idea.
As she fumbled for what to say next, Duckie made a sound of frustration.

“You don't get it. They're in groups.” Frowning in concentration, Duckie bent her neck to one side until it made a cracking sound. Apparently satisfied, she went on. “They're both jocks. Ann's part of that artsy crowd, too.”

Darby thought a minute. If Megan had been offering her these recommendations, she might have given them serious consideration. But it felt weird getting advice from Duckie.

Still, since Duckie was pretty much a bully herself, she might know how Tyson thought. And Duckie hadn't been at Lehua High long, either. Her advice could be sincere.

“Is there a horse group?” Darby ventured.

“Are you crazy?” Duckie demanded.

Darby guessed that meant no.

“You passed up being a jock,” Duckie said, “and don't think I don't appreciate it!” Duckie gave Darby an openhanded pat on the shoulder for not joining the swim team, because they both excelled in water sports, but Darby excelled just a little bit more. “I guess you could be a nerd,” Duckie said as she studied Darby. “You're not even a freshman, so you can't be on the newspaper or yearbook.”

“Thanks,” Darby said. “I really appreciate—”

Duckie loomed over her cousin as she added, “You don't want to end up hanging out with those
losers that smoke behind the bleachers. The Outsiders, they call themselves,” Duckie said in a mocking tone.

How could outsiders have a group? Darby took a breath to tell Duckie that didn't make sense, but she was pretty sure her cousin didn't want to hear logic, especially while she was trying to be nice.

Besides, Duckie had stopped just short of the locker room door to tense her arm and feel one of her own muscles. On a horse, that muscle would be her withers. Darby didn't know what it was called on a human, but Duckie squeezed it with grave satisfaction.

Considering Duckie and horses in the same thought led Darby to wonder if Duckie was saying safety was with the herd.

“What?” Duckie asked, when she finally felt Darby watching.

“It's just…,” Darby began. She looked into her cousin's broad, rosy face and felt torn. She was grateful for Duckie's advice. But she didn't believe it. At least not for humans. “I kind of think all the groups are connected.”

Even though her cousin made a sound sort of like a bull, Darby would have explained, if Duckie hadn't propelled her into the locker room with a push between her shoulder blades.

“I don't know why I waste my time on you,” Duckie muttered.

 

By the time P.E. ended and Darby slipped into her desk in Algebra, she couldn't contain her eagerness to see Hoku.

“Are you dying to see your horses?” she asked Ann.

“Absolutely,” Ann said. “I really need to work with Sugarfoot.”

“When do I get to meet him?” Darby pretended to whine.

“Not until our camping trip,” Ann said, but then she asked, “Jonah's still cool with it, isn't he?”

“I think so. It's for a school assignment.”

“I just thought he might worry that the volcanoes would get restless,” Ann explained.

“He didn't say anything.”

Ann rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, he might have had a few other things on his mind,” Darby admitted, but Jonah had been nice this morning, since the earthquake. Almost as if he'd never said
Granddaughter, I wash my hands of you.

And yet, he hadn't apologized, either.

“Coach Roffmore sure is late,” Darby said, glancing at the clock.

Ann shrugged, then asked, “Do you still want to take Hoku? From what you've told me, she's pretty green, and it's probably just a story, but some people say there are wild horses up there.”

“Yeah,” Darby said. “But if there's another earthquake, she's got to be with me.”