Illusions (19 page)

“Okay,” Tamani responded, leaning forward to kiss her one more time. He smiled as their foreheads and the tips of their noses touched. “I don't want to go, but I will if you say so.”

Laurel smiled. “I say so,” she answered, yawning.

The next morning, Laurel couldn't remember how he'd left, or when. But he was gone, and a single wildflower lay beside her pillow.

LAUREL SAT IN HER CAR, STALLING, FEAR BUILDING
up in her stomach. It was almost worse than that first day of school, more than two years ago. Back then she had been paranoid about embarrassing herself in front of a bunch of complete strangers. Now she had to go in and face the fact that she had embarrassed herself in front of a bunch of people she knew.

Among them, David.

She didn't think she'd ever been afraid to see David. Feelings warred within her—part of her missed him and didn't want to admit it. Part of her was glad she'd broken up with him and shown him for once that she was serious. And yet another part of her wanted to run to him in tears and beg his forgiveness.

She locked her car, wondering if she could just linger in the parking lot and be late. But after ditching yesterday, she couldn't risk it. Her parents had agreed that, under the circumstances, Laurel's punishment belonged at home, not in the school system, so her mom had called in and excused her absences. But Laurel knew she would be expected to follow
all
the rules at school for a while.

With a sigh, Laurel forced herself to head for her locker.

As she approached the double doors at the front of the school, one swung open, revealing David. Laurel stopped in her tracks and stared. He looked so sad. It wasn't that he was frowning—in fact he had mustered a reasonably convincing smile. But his eyes were deep-blue pools of sorrow so intense, it took her breath away.

“Hi, Laurel,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The part of her that wanted to run to him and throw herself into his arms got a boost from that.

And then Tamani was there, holding the other door open. “Hi, Laurel,” he said, his smile brash, cocky.

Laurel's legs felt shaky. “Don't do this.” A strangled plea.

David turned on his heel and strode away without another word. But Tamani looked confused.

“I just didn't want him pestering—”

Laurel grabbed the front of Tamani's shirt and dragged him around the side of the building.

“Hey, if you wanted to sneak off with me you only had to ask,” Tamani said with a laugh. But his smile melted away when he saw Laurel's face. “What's the matter?” he asked earnestly.

“I'm not your girlfriend, Tam.”

“Well, obviously I can't kiss you in front of Yuki, but—”

“No. I care about you. And I don't regret what happened yesterday, but I don't know what it means. I'm still trying to figure things out. Breaking up with David doesn't make you my boyfriend by default.”

Tamani hesitated, then asked, “So I'm back to waiting again?”

“Kind of. Maybe. I don't know! But no matter what, I'm not a weapon. I will not let you use me to get back at him.”

“He did. All the time,” Tamani said hotly.

“Yes,” Laurel agreed, “and then he got dumped. Is that what you want?”

Tamani finally started to look cowed.

“I don't
want
a boyfriend right now, and if you want me to ever reconsider that, I expect you to behave.” She gave him the sternest glare she could and he looked away.

“So are you and David really over?” Tamani finally asked.

“I don't know,” Laurel said. It was the only answer she could give. “For now, yes. I need some time. Some time to just be myself. By myself. And it's for your sake too,” Laurel continued before Tamani could respond. “You don't just stop loving someone in one day. It's not that simple.”

“The best things in life rarely are.” Tamani sighed shakily as the warning bell sounded, startling Laurel.

“We should get to class. I really can't be late.”

Tamani nodded. His smile was tight, but he seemed to be okay. As okay as he was going to get, under the circumstances. Impulsively, Laurel threw her arms around him and pressed herself against his chest. He didn't try to kiss her, and she didn't offer, but it was enough just to feel his arms around her. To know that somehow, everything would work out.

With one last squeeze Laurel turned back toward the front entrance and nearly dropped her backpack when she saw Shar approaching them through the parking lot, dressed in jeans and a loose T-shirt, his hair pulled into a simple ponytail that hung at the nape of his neck.

“What's he doing here?”

“Oh,” Tamani said, as if only just remembering, “the vice principal wants to talk to me and my ‘uncle.' About, um, yesterday.” Tamani shrugged.

Laurel raised an eyebrow as Shar got closer, his steely eyes taking everything in. “Well, despite the fact that this is a sight I would love to see, I have to go.” And with that, she pivoted toward the front doors, breaking into a jog as she tried to beat the final bell.

“Mr. Collins,” Vice Principal Roster said, opening a file and placing it on his desk before sitting in his squeaking chair.

Hate him
, thought Tamani.

“Thank you for coming,” the vice principal said, looking up at Shar.

As Tamani had expected, Shar refused to sit at all. He just stood with his arms folded across his chest, looking down at the human with an unmistakable air of superiority. Tamani rarely saw him look any other way and contemplated briefly how often Shar must have looked at his companion, Ariana, that way, and what she'd done to break him of the habit. He had to cough to cover the chuckle that escaped his throat.

Shar's eyes darted between Tamani and the principal. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Tam was in a fight yesterday,” the vice principal said, looking sternly at Tamani.

Shar didn't even blink. “My understanding is that Tam was assaulted and defended himself.”

Mr. Roster stuttered. “Um, yes, well, but there was a great deal of pushing before that, provoking an outburst from—”

“So because this other boy lacked self-control, my”—he hesitated—“nephew is to be punished?”

“Both boys were fully involved in the exchange of blows, and both boys will be punished, per our policy,” Mr. Roster said, his voice firm now. “As this is Tam's first offense, of course we hope this incident won't be repeated—”

“It won't,” Shar said, raising an eyebrow at Tam. And indeed, Tamani had been taken to task about letting his temper get the better of him, particularly when it came to David, who with his knowledge of Avalon could make a lot of trouble for them if ever he felt so inclined. The tongue-lashing Tamani had gotten from his superior was far worse than anything this human administrator could hope to dole out.

“I'm happy to hear that. Now, Mr. Collins, I wanted to take this opportunity to discuss something else. You may not realize that your nephew is failing almost every class he is currently enrolled in. His attendance is abysmal, and he is, in general, disruptive to the classroom environment.”

Tamani knew that last part was a blatant lie. He was never a disruption. He never raised his hand to answer a question, either, but for the most part, he simply sat in his classes and listened for any sign that something had entered the school intent on harming Laurel. If you didn't take his grades and occasional disappearances into account, he was a model pupil.

“What does that mean?” Shar's voice was flat and Vice Principal Roster was clearly unnerved.

“Er, well, we typically suspend students for fighting, but with three F's, one D, and one B, we thought some alternative discipline might be in order. To encourage . . . improvement.”

Shar stared at Mr. Roster blankly for a moment and Tamani tried not to smirk. For all his training at the manor, Shar had never had reason to learn the intricacies of the human grading system. But he was unfazed.

“What can be done?” Tamani noticed for the first time just how anachronistic Shar sounded, especially compared to the teenagers Tamani conversed with every day. It really was a good thing their English was accented—a good accent seemed to cover all kinds of quirks in grammar.

“Well, if he wants to graduate with his classmates, he's got to pull his grades up.” The vice principal folded his hands on top of the desk in front of him. “I thought perhaps some tutoring?”

“Of course. If that's what it takes.” He clapped Tamani on the shoulder in a move that Tamani knew looked friendly to the untrained eye—but he'd have a bruise there later. “We want Tam to graduate, naturally.” The vice principal would hear earnestness in those words, but only because Shar had grown weary of this meeting; a light warmth in Tamani's chest told him Enticement was at work. Shar and Tamani had agreed there were too many anonymous witnesses to effectively erase the fight, so in order to maintain perfect cover, no memory potions would be administered and Tamani would accept whatever punishment the school assigned him—assuming it didn't compromise his mission. But Shar had also allowed that, as long as Yuki wasn't close enough to potentially sense it, Enticement could be used to ease the process.

It would be Shar's job rather than Tamani's, though. Shar was extremely talented and could work his Enticement without physical contact—something Tamani had always been jealous of.

“Naturally,” Vice Principal Roster said, smiling now. “Now, David Lawson—that's the boy Tam was fighting—is one of our finest students. We're giving both David and Tam three days in-school suspension and we thought perhaps David could spend those days tutoring your nephew. I think you'll agree this is very lenient, and will hopefully give the boys an opportunity to work through their differences.”

Tamani bit back a sigh. What a colossal waste of time.

“They will be supervised, of course,” the vice principal continued, as if Shar cared. “Now if I can have you sign some paperwork,” he said, sliding a piece of paper forward.

Tamani shot a look at Shar, but Shar either didn't see or chose to ignore it. “That's fine,” he said. He took the pen and managed an illegible scrawl across the signature line.

“Excellent,” Vice Principal Roster said, rising from his chair and shaking hands with Shar. “We want nothing more than for our students to succeed, and parents, or uncles in your case, are the biggest factor in that.”

“We will make sure things improve,” Shar said. “I'll take Tam out to the parking lot and chat for a while before I send him back into class.”

“Good, good,” the vice principal said proudly, surely assuming Tamani was about to receive further discipline. He opened the door and gestured to the hallway.

Tamani felt the human's eyes on them all the way down the hallway and out the front doors. They walked silently to Tamani's convertible, where Shar stopped and leaned against it, turning to face Tamani.

“Well, young man,” he said, his face serious, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

They stared at each other for a moment longer. Tamani broke first, a quick chuckle escaping his lips, and then both faeries burst out laughing.

SPEECH CLASS WAS PAINFUL.

Laurel could feel the tension in the room and knew there was no way anyone else missed it. Especially with the way everyone kept glancing at David and Tamani, who very carefully avoided even looking at each other. She'd overheard Tamani telling Yuki that he had to serve three days of in-school suspension with David, but she hadn't had a chance to talk to either of them about it. David had spent his lunch hour in the office with his mom and the vice principal, and Tamani had spent his lunch hour with Yuki. Chelsea was away at a cross-country meet, so Laurel had spent her lunch hour fretting. Alone.

“Okay,” Mr. Petersen said, finally starting the class about a minute after the bell rang. Longest minute of Laurel's life. “You've all had a chance to present your own speeches. But giving a speech sometimes has very little to do with the words you are actually saying. Today you will all be giving someone else's speech.”

He waited, as if expecting a reaction. What he got was silence.

“Each of you will be handed a personal ad; you will have sixty seconds to read it over, and thirty seconds to present it.”

Now the murmurs started.

“Your goal,” Mr. Petersen said above the buzz, “as a persuasive speaker, is to convince the members of this class that they should meet you. Over nonalcoholic drinks, of course,” he added, chuckling at his own lame joke. After another moment of silence, he cleared his throat and continued. “I spent a long time preparing these materials. I think I'll make it ten percent of your presentation grade this month,” he declared. “Don't take it lightly!” The class groaned and Mr. Petersen raised both hands in the air. “The assignments will be random. Just give it a chance! You might be surprised how fun this can be.”

No one seemed convinced.

Laurel spent the next fifteen minutes completely mortified on behalf of her classmates and dreading her turn at the front of the classroom. Mostly it was a lot of pretend puppy eyes and exaggerated poses as people read Mr. Petersen's hokey personals. Laurel wondered if adults really wrote things about themselves like
I'm a sweet Romeo without a Juliet
or
I'm sassy, sultry, and super-fun
, and how serious they could possibly be if they did.

“Tam Collins.”

Several of the girls sitting near Laurel began whispering excitedly. Clearly, they hadn't lost hope. Laurel wanted to sink into her chair and die.

Tamani took the small piece of paper from Mr. Petersen and stood at the front of the classroom, studying it for his sixty seconds.

“And begin . . . now,” Mr. Petersen said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Tamani looked up from his paper and, instead of starting to speak, he took a few seconds to lock eyes with several of the girls in the class.

“Single Scottish male,” he said, his voice low, his accent more pronounced, “seeks beautiful woman.”

Every human girl in the classroom sighed as one. Laurel wondered how many other liberties Tamani would take with the assigned speech.

“I'm looking for that special person, the one who can complete me. I need someone to share my life and my heart. More than just a fun time, I'm looking for commitment and . . . intimacy.” At that point, if anyone else had been speaking, there would have been whistles and catcalls. Coming from Tamani's lips, the phrase actually sounded inviting, sexy.

“I am a twentysomething who likes loud music, fine food, and”—he paused dramatically—“physical activity. I'm looking for someone creative, artistic”—his eyes flitted to Laurel's, for just a second—“musical, to share my love of beautiful things. Are you looking for something real in this world of illusions? Call me. Casual flings need not apply.
I
am looking for love.”

Without another word, Tamani crumpled his ad in his hand, shoved it in his pocket, and took his seat.

Every girl in the room burst into applause and a few shrill whistles.

Laurel cringed and dropped her head to her desk. There was no digging out of this hole.

After school, Laurel practically ran to her car. She knew she'd done poorly on her own personal ad speech, but seriously, who could expect anything else today?

She had managed to go the whole day without speaking to David, but she couldn't put it off forever. She had no idea what to say. That she still loved him, she just didn't know if she loved him like that? Or that she wasn't sure she could live the rest of her life without getting a chance to be with Tamani—really be with him—with a clear conscience, to see if it was as good as she dreamed? That she had made a snap decision, it had been a mistake, and she wanted him back? That she needed space—from both of them, maybe—to decide
what
she wanted?

It hadn't felt like a mistake, back at the land. But this morning, seeing David's face—it made her ache for him. She wanted to make everything better. Was that because she loved him as a friend, or because she wanted him back?

Did he want
her
back?

That was something she couldn't consider as she locked her car and walked into the very empty house where, she had been reminded by her mom that morning, she was to stay. Easy enough—she had plenty of homework to do. And she could work on figuring out what kind of faerie Yuki was. Laurel could hardly believe it had been two weeks since the troll attack. It felt like ages. Time was like that, though—racing forward when she wanted it to slow down, then crawling to a stop when she could least bear it.

But rather than heading straight for her room, Laurel flipped idly through a stack of mail on the counter. She was still frustrated by not finding out anything conclusive from the phosphorescent tests. Tamani's sap had glowed for just under forty minutes—a little longer than Laurel's. She had hoped to find a substantial difference between the kinds of fae, but apparently sap wasn't going to do it—at least not without samples from a lot more faeries. She wished she could just assume Yuki was a Spring based on probability, but assumptions were a luxury she couldn't afford.

Beneath a Publishers Clearing House postcard Laurel encountered a large envelope with her name on it. Her SAT scores! She'd all but forgotten about them; she'd taken the test so long ago. When she and David were together. When they'd studied every day to improve her scores. They had both planned on checking online, to get their scores early, but Laurel was clearly not the only one who had forgotten. She grabbed the letter opener from the mail rack and sliced open the top of the envelope, then stood clutching it in both hands for a long moment before she reached in and pulled out the small stack of papers.

When she finally managed to locate her scores, Laurel squealed.

Mid six-hundreds and a 580. A
huge
improvement. Laurel ran to the phone and dialed half of David's number before she realized what she was doing. This was never what she intended. No matter what happened, she at least wanted them to be friends. It wasn't until that very moment that she realized it simply might not be possible.

No.

She would never know if she didn't try. She finished dialing his number.

“Hello?”

“David?”

“Hello?”

It was David's voice mail. He thought it was clever to pretend he was really answering the phone. Laurel found it irritating, but she hadn't left him a voice mail in months.

“You know what? Just leave a message.”

Laurel hung up. He would see the missed call and who it was from. If he'd gotten his envelope today, he'd probably be able to guess why she was calling.

Laurel sank down onto a barstool, her scores held loosely in her hand, feeling deflated. Obviously, breaking up with David wasn't the answer to all of her problems. It was its own problem. And the longer she waited to solve it, the more likely it was that David would move on, making the decision for her.

David moving on. It was a horrifying thought.

She grabbed her scores and her backpack and started up the stairs. She had to cool things off with Tamani and decide what she really wanted. She had chosen David before, one hundred percent, and for a long time it had been wonderful. She wanted that feeling again, but first she had to figure out who she wanted it
with
. And maybe that was going to require no kissing for a while. No kissing anyone. She needed a clear head.

Laurel startled when someone rapped quietly on her door.

“Can I come in?”

Tamani.

Laurel shoved her scores under her backpack and went to her bedroom door, hesitating a moment before letting him in.

“Sorry for not waiting at the front door,” he said apologetically. “But with you being grounded I figure it's better if no one sees you let me in.”

“You've finally learned about my spying neighbors,” Laurel said, forcing a laugh.

Tamani studied his shoes for a moment. Then he looked up, smiled, and stepped forward, arms open.

Every resolve, every promise she had made to herself about taking time to clear her head, crumbled as she folded herself into his arms. She clung to him and even when he pulled back, ever so gently, she held him harder. One more second and she would let him go.

One more.

Or two more.

Finally she made her arms drop and forced herself not to look up at him. If she did, there would be nothing to stop her from kissing him, and once that happened, it would be over. She would want nothing but him for the rest of the afternoon.

“So,” Laurel said as she sat down on her desk chair—where he definitely couldn't sit beside her—“how was your chat with Roster?”

“Ridiculous. Pointless.” Tamani rolled his eyes. He sat on her bed and lounged on one elbow. She had to grip the arms of her chair to remain seated—every ounce of her wanted to join him. To snuggle against his chest with her head tucked under his chin, feeling the vibrations in his throat when he talked and—

Focus!

“What's your punishment?” Laurel asked, not wanting to admit she'd been eavesdropping on the school gossip and had a pretty good idea already.

“Three days in-school suspension.
David
”—he said David's name like it was a bad word—“is going to tutor me, to save my grades.”

“Are you serious?” Laurel asked, louder than she had intended. None of her sources had told her they would be working together. This was bad.

Tamani scoffed.

“Well.” Laurel was silent for a few seconds. “He actually
is
a really great tutor.” She knew it put Tamani on edge when she praised David, but how could she not? After years of homeschooling, it was David who'd taught her how to cope with the public school system.

“I don't doubt it. But the whole concept of grades is pretty insulting. I've never seen a more arbitrary, uninformative metric. The way humans measure their differences is—”

“Worse than the way you do it in Avalon?”

Tamani pursed his lips. “Well, anyway, it's just a good thing I'm not really a student. I'd have to do something drastic. I don't know what I'm going to do with David for three days.”

“Be nice to him,” Laurel said.

“We're going to be supervised, Laurel.”

“I mean it. No bragging, no taunting, nothing. Be nice.”

“No taunting, I promise.”

Laurel nodded approvingly, but she wasn't sure what else to say. Finally she decided to just change the subject. “So Shar's here now?”

Tamani shook his head. “Just for a few days. He has duties back at the land.”

“How does he get here? Does he have a car too?” The idea of the faeries all driving around in cars made Laurel laugh.

But Tamani looked a little chagrined. “Tamani de Rhoslyn, sentry,
Fear-gleidhidh
, and chauffeur, at your service.”

“When? I thought you watched me, like, all the time.”

“Less when I know you're at home. And in for the night. And don't forget,” he added with a grin, “I have a cell phone—Aaron can call me if anything goes wrong.” He leaned forward, his partially unbuttoned shirt affording her a splendid view. “And then I come rushing back to save you.”

Laurel quelled the giddy warmth that was spreading through her limbs. “That's good,” she said. Then, realizing that maybe—maybe—her chest wouldn't feel quite so tight if her ribs weren't bound with a sash, she untied the knot and let her limp petals go free. What was left of them. They'd been falling out all day. By tomorrow morning she could stop hiding entirely. That was going to be a relief.

She was momentarily frozen in place by the realization that this might be the last time she would ever have to hide it. If she were in Avalon, it wouldn't be necessary. College, on the other hand, meant at least four more years of binding down her blossom. Her SAT scores were still hidden underneath her backpack. They were high enough to get into a good college. They even gave her a reasonable shot at Berkeley. Last spring Laurel's below-average scores had pretty much made up her mind for her—especially since they'd been followed by a stellar summer at the Academy. But now? There was a whole new road she could take, if she wanted.

Options were beginning to feel more like a burden than a blessing.