Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series) (38 page)

           
"Charisse," I said seriously, "you're my best friend.
 
I just wanted you to know that."

           
"Katie, don't talk that way." Charisse said sharply.

           
"What way?"

           
"Like you're saying goodbye."

           
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

           
I tried to make my voice sound light.
 
"I
am
saying goodbye.
 
I'm leaving tonight."

           
"That's not what I meant.
 
Promise me you'll come back here.
 
Promise me I'll see you again."

           
"Charisse, of course—"

           
"Promise me.
 
And don't say you'll try."

           
"I promise," I said.

           
The warning bell rang, and Charisse sighed.

           
"Sorry I'm acting so crazy," she said.
 
"It's just—I have a bad feeling about this trip of yours." She stood up, then shook her head.
 
"But it's probably nothing.
 
You know what—just forget what I said.
 
I'm sure you'll be fine.
 
I hope you have a good time."

           
She gave me a wan smile.
 
"I guess we'd better get to homeroom."

           
As Charisse and I went our separate ways, I wondered if I would be able to keep my promise to her.

           
In second-period English, Branden came up to me and wrapped me up in an all-encompassing hug.

           
"I heard you're going back to the crazy town where the crazy dude tried to kill you," he said from somewhere over my head.

           
He stepped back and pressed a compact red object into my hand.

           
"It's a Swiss Army knife," he said as I looked down at it.
 
"Take it with you.
 
If you run into another crazy dude, just give him a good stabbing.
 
You can't take it in your carry-on, but you can take it in your checked luggage."

           
"Thanks, Branden."

           
"Remember, a good stabbing."

           
"I'll remember."

           
Charisse walked over and wrapped both her arms around Branden.
 
"He insisted on giving that to you as soon as I told him about your trip."

           
"It's very thoughtful," I said.
 
"With any luck, I won't need to use it."

           
"Does Simon know you're going yet?" Charisse asked.

           
"No," I said.

           
"No?
 
Katie, I would have thought that Simon would be the first person you'd tell."

           
"Why?
 
I told you first, Charisse.
 
Like I said, you're my best friend."

           
"You're my best friend, too, but I would have told Branden first."

           
"Charisse, Simon and I aren't dating."

           
"Yes, Katie, but Simon—"

           
She stopped.

           
I sighed inwardly.
 
I knew all about how Simon felt.
 
He meant a lot to me, but I just couldn't feel for him what he felt for me.

           
I was saved from further conversation by the entrance of Mrs. Swinburne.

           
But later in the day, as I was walking into the cafeteria, Simon drew me aside.

           
"Do you mind if we have lunch alone—just the two of us?" he asked.
 
"I already talked to Charisse and Branden about it.
 
They don't mind."

           
"Uh, sure," I said.
 
"Does this mean that they told you?"

           
Simon blinked at me.
 
"Told me what?"

           
"I guess that's a no."

           
Simon smiled.
 
"So, you have something to tell me then?
 
Well, I have something to tell you.
 
This should be fun."

           
I wasn't so sure about that.

           
The two of us went through the line together, and then we sat down at one of the smaller round tables.

           
As I bit into my pizza, Simon looked at me eagerly.

           
"Do you mind if I go first?"

           
"Sure.
 
Go ahead," I replied.

           
"Okay.
 
So, Christmas Eve.
 
I'm sure you and your grandmother have your own traditions and everything, but my family and I would be delighted if the two of you would join us at our house for dinner.
 
James is having Eva over—do you remember how he got to meet her at Bryony's party?
 
Well, he invited her over, and she said she could go.
 
And I would just really love it if you could be there, too.
 
What do you say?"

           
"I—oh—"

           
I stopped.
 
I felt a familiar sinking sensation.
 
It was a feeling that came to me more and more often when I was talking to Simon these days.
 
Why did our friendship have to be complicated?

           
"Simon, this kind of leads into what I have to tell you."

           
"What is it?"

           
"GM and I aren't going to be here for Christmas Eve."

           
"Where are you going to be?"

           
"We're going to Russia."

           
Simon looked stricken.
 
"What?"

           
"We're leaving tonight."

           
"You're—"

           
Simon stopped and took a deep breath.

           
"You're leaving tonight for Russia, and you never said a word about it until now?
 
Did you just find out today?"

           
"No," I said simply.

           
There wasn't really anything else I could say.
 
I couldn't begin to explain to Simon what was going on.
 
I had tried to tell him before about the strange turn my life had taken.

           
He hadn't believed me.

           
I glanced at him now.
 
His jaw was working in a familiar angry way.

           
"I'm sorry, Simon.
 
I'm sorry I can't have dinner with you and your family.
 
I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner that I was going to be leaving for Russia."

           
"Where in Russia are you going?" he asked in a low voice.

           
"We're going to Moscow first, and then to Krov."

           
"Is Krov where you were—"

           
He broke off and looked away.

           
"Yes.
 
That's where I was kidnapped by the guy who was pretending to be a substitute teacher here."

           
"Why is your grandmother allowing this?"

           
"GM wants to go—she's the one who first suggested it.
 
She's really excited about it."

           
"Katie, it can't possibly be safe."

           
I felt myself bristling, despite the fact that I understood the dangers of the trip far better than Simon did.

           
"Why shouldn't it be safe?" I asked.
 
"Timofei Mstislav is dead—buried in his family's crypt.
 
And Krov isn't entirely peopled with criminals."

           
Simon brushed a hand over his hair.
 
"I know that.
 
That's not what I meant.
 
It's just—I would think there would be some bad memories associated with the place—for both of you."

           
I paused.
 
I had known Simon for as long as I had known Charisse, and my affection for him ran deep.
 
I was struck once again by the terrible feeling that this might be the last time I would ever see one of my closest friends.
 
This time I could feel tears stinging my eyes.

           
"There are bad memories," I said quietly.
 
"And I'm not as excited about going on this trip as I once was.
 
But it means a lot to GM.
 
Simon, let's say goodbye on good terms."

           
"Goodbye?"
 
Simon reacted with horror, much as Charisse had done.
 
"You're saying goodbye?
 
You're talking like you're not coming back."

           
I backtracked quickly.
 
"I just mean goodbye for now.
 
I want us both to be happy when we go on winter break.
 
We are friends, right?"

           
"Katie, we're more than friends.
 
I wish you could see that."

           
An uncomfortable pause ensued, and I turned back to my pizza.

           
"Of course we're friends," Simon said dully after a moment.
 
"If that's what you want.
 
I thought since I hadn't seen what's-his-name around lately that maybe you had changed your mind."

           
Simon looked so forlorn that I had a sudden urge to hug him.
 
I pushed the urge away and tried to think of something soothing to say.

           
Nothing came to me.

           
Mercifully, our conversation soon turned to small talk—incidentals about my trip and about his plans with his family.
 
At the end of lunch, Simon smiled at me and wished me a good trip, but I could see that he was miserable.

           
As he walked away with his backpack slung over one shoulder, I could see him hunch his shoulders and bow his head, shoving his free hand into his jeans' pocket.

           
Simon's feelings for me were obviously very strong.
 
He was good and smart and dependable—he would risk a lot for me.
 
And he would never disappear without saying a word.

           
He would never abandon me.

           
For just a moment, I wished that I could be in love with Simon.

Chapter 14.

When the final bell of the day rang, I couldn't help but feel relieved.

           
I rushed to my locker, and then hurried through the halls.
 
I knew that if I lingered, there was a chance I might run into Charisse or Simon, and I couldn't say goodbye to them again—it would be too hard.

           
As I moved quickly toward the exit, however, I happened to find myself walking alongside Bryony.

           
I was glad that I would get a chance to say goodbye to her too.

           
I wondered then why I was feeling so fatalistic.
 
I had a definite feeling that this could be the last time I would ever speak to Bryony.
 
But there was no real reason why I should feel that way.
 
The trip would be difficult, but I could get through it, couldn't I?

           
"Hey, Katie," Bryony said.

           
"Hi," I said.

           
"I hope you have a good winter break," Bryony said.

           
"Thanks, you too."

           
"Are you going away for Christmas?" she asked.
 
"Or are you staying here?"

           
"I'm going away.
 
Actually, my grandmother and I are going to Russia.
 
How about you?"