Intrigue (13 page)

Delian just shook his head and shot him a death ray look. “You have never been truly tempted with a Guinevere.”

As I watched them volley back and forth, it occurred to me that I had always thought that I would choose an Arthur over a Lancelot. In books and movies (my favorite was The Mysts of Avalon), I always was drawn to Arthur’s character and honor whereas I always thought Lancelot was a shady, self-absorbed, charming hottie. But faced with a choice between the solemn yet honorable Delian and the charming Rafe, I would choose Rafe. Of course, I knew so little about Delian, it was hard to judge,
and
I already had a boyfriend outside the realm of Camelot. I finally piped up to end the awkward conversation. “As much as I
love
discussing the myths and legends of Camelot, I would rather get home to
my
Prince before he gets any more paranoid. Dr. A, can you give me a ride home?”

Dr. A looked sorta shocked, but he rolled with it and even took the box of handouts away from Delian as he said, “Excuse me, gentlemen, my lady is in need of a carriage ride home.”

We were approaching my house as Dr. A replied, “I am relieved to hear that my dear. I will see you on Wednesday. Calli, if you ever need my advice or help, don’t hesitate to call me.”

I thanked him for his support this evening on all fronts and headed into the house. As expected, both my parents and Thrace were waiting for me and noticed the Prius that brought me home. I told them that I caught a ride with Dr. A. Thrace seemed relieved, and my parents were just disappointed that they didn’t get to meet him.

Although my parents seemed excited about the project, my dad looked like something was bothering him. When my mom left the room to grab me a plate for dinner, he finally spoke, “Thrace, have you heard about any fighting clubs or other unusual things going on for kids your age?”

“Calli mentioned something about that to me, but I haven’t heard anything about it. No guys at our school have had issues that I have known.”

Dad nodded, “The police and the mayor are stumped. They have a taskforce, but there is literally nothing to go on. There is something that is not right about this whole situation. It seems like there is a drug angle as well. Most of the kids that have disappeared or that are having issues either have juvie records for either drugs or violence. I don’t want either of you taking any chances and going anywhere alone. Do you hear me?”

We both knew there was only one answer when dad got that tone. We both said in unison, “Yes, sir.”

Mom came in with some lasagna and garlic bread that Thrace and dad had not managed to consume. Apparently, dad didn’t want to worry mom because discussion of the fight club came to an end. Thrace got kicked out soon after my meal ended, but I walked him to the door and let him give me a kiss on the forehead good night. He actually told me that he was proud of me today and that he would support my fundraising in any way he could. I was touched. Volunteering isn’t usually high on Thrace’s list of
fun
activities, so this was really a stretch. I thanked him and kissed him on the forehead, but told him he wouldn’t get another balloon until he actually pitched in.

The rest of the week flew by in a whirlwind of school, meetings, presentations, and more plans. The PTA loved my idea and even set up a committee to help with the fundraising. We had weekly meeting on Wednesdays to coordinate all the fundraising between the PTA and volunteer student group. Our first fundraiser was well on its way. There were very few times in life that I have truly felt like I accomplished something huge. I thought this was going to be one of them. Meanwhile, my karate and running continued to be my outlet for all my stress. No matter how organized I tried to be, juggling so many activities would drive you crazy. Therefore, running from my problems and hitting things were great stress relief.

As Friday rolled around of Labor Day weekend, Thrace begged me to host a movie night at my house. My house and karate practice were the only places Thrace was allowed since his grounding, except for the dance. I agreed and cleared the guest list with my parents. I invited Key, her boyfriend Tre, Jazz, Justin, Spart, and Rafe over to my house on Friday for a Kung Fu marathon. The same guest list was approved for a Labor Day by the pool with parents in attendance. Rafe seemed grateful that Siena was not included as part of the invitation. I told him that Jazz was no longer with the basketball player and wanted another shot at him—that seemed to scare him. Although Thrace arrived first, he was little or no help with getting the food set up. He did present me with Step 4: A kiss on the cheek. I just smiled and shook my head in amusement.
He seemed eager for Step 4 to begin. He leaned down to kiss me and got as far as his lips touching my cheek before my parents walked in. They were leaving for dinner with Thrace’s parents and wanted to lay down the ground rules.

My dad stared down Thrace and said, “Thrace, if you pull another stunt like you did a couple weeks ago, you will have no access to this house or my daughter. Is that understood?”

Thrace gulped and quickly replied, “Absolutely. We don’t have anything like that planned, Sir.”

“Good, because your jail cell would seem like paradise compared to what I would have in store. Now, Calli, same rules as always—no booze, no drugs, no breaking anything, no burning the house down, no cops called because of loud yelling, music, or other noises, and no one except the approved guest list. Understood?”

I smiled as I replied, “Crystal clear. Go enjoy dinner. I got this covered.”

The Kung Fu marathon was a huge hit, although we didn’t get too far in the series because we had to stop the DVD to analyze and replicate Caine’s moves. If Kung Fu was not entertaining enough, we got to watch Jazz try to make her move on Rafe. He kept trying to avoid her but in the den crowded with kung fu crazy teens, he was destined to fail. Jazz was kinda like a bounty hunter. She always got her man—at least until he bored her. Although it was entertaining watching Rafe try to avoid her, I didn’t know how I felt about her pursuing Rafe. If he had reciprocated her interest, I might be feeling a tad bit jealous, which made me a complete eyas. Rafe dating Jazz would take care of Thrace’s jealousy issue and my crush issue. Thrace noticed my thoughtful expression and kissed my cheek as he said out loud to the whole room, “Who would you bet on in a fight between Caine versus Jackie Chan?” I laughed and immediately threw my vote to Caine as most of the rest the room voted hands down for Jackie Chan. The rest of the night was spent pairing up famous fighters against one another as well as classmates against each other and voting as we finished watching the first disc of the series. My parents got back at midnight, and my dad threw everyone out with a cheerful, “Don’t you kids have curfews and worried parents to get home to?” They took the hint but thanked my parents anyway for the pizza and snacks. As usual, my mother was gracious, and my father was grumbling.

Jazz tried to score a ride home with Rafe, but he said he was already late for his curfew. However, he apologetically arranged for Justin to drop Jazz off. I tried not to smirk. Key and Thrace tried not to laugh, and Jazz shot them both looks of retribution. Thrace hung back to help get the study back in order. My parents thanked Thrace and actually gave us a few minutes alone. Thrace quickly took advantage and planted soft kisses on both sides of my cheeks. The few minutes were up when my dad yelling down interrupted him. “I don’t hear you leaving fast enough Thrace! Aren’t you still grounded?”

Thrace’s head shot up and his forehead leaned against mine as he whispered, “I love your dad, but he is a
hater
sometimes!”

I laughed, walked him to the door, and replied, “He’s a father of a daughter dating a senior. He’s supposed to be a hater.”

Thrace smiled, kissed me on the forehead and agreed, “True dat,” before he ran home with a few more balloons.

Saturday rolled around, and I headed to DUA to work on my research and put together fundraising. When I parked in the lot, I noticed both Thrace and Key’s cars were already here. I was immediately curious as what would get Key and Thrace out of bed before 9am on a Saturday. I walked in to find most of the GAR completely deserted. I walked the halls, but finally settled down in one of the computer labs to start to list all the promotional materials we would need for the next two months fundraisers. I had most of my lists created when I heard a lot of noise coming from the stairway.
(Side note: I love making lists—it’s the only thing that keeps me slightly on track—If I could have written this whole history in list form, I would have done it!)
I went out in the hallway and saw about 15 people coming down the stairway, which included Thrace, Rafe, Key, and Jazz. I gave them a skeptical look as Rafe led the way forward.

He stopped in front of me, “Hey, Calli. Thrace, Jazz, and Key decided to help volunteer at DUA.”

“Funny how no one thought to mention it to me,” I remarked with a heavy-dose of doubt in my voice.

Jazz stepped around Rafe and looked me straight in the eye and in a challenging voice announced, “We are now volunteers at the DUA. We just got done with an orientation and prep meeting. You gonna call me a liar?”

I laughed at her best throw down diversion tactic. “Liar? Never. Telling me the whole story—Not so much.”

“Pot this is kettle, you’re black! I learned all my skills from you, Calli.”

Thrace now came forward to further divert me by saying, “Do I now get at least one balloon back? I showed up to volunteer and even went to an orientation meeting at 8:30 on a Saturday.”

I nodded my head and replied, “I suppose that earned you at least one. Did you guys bring your karate clothes with you or do you have to run home before class.”

Key finally spoke and asked, “What do you need, sweetie?”

I smiled. Out of all my friends Key has the biggest problem with creative truth telling or bravado. “I need to bounce some ideas off as many people as possible for the promotional materials. Let me print off the list so I can get some feedback.”

Rafe spoke up again and offered, “Why don’t you go to the board room, and I will try to locate Dr. A and Sadie.”

I went to print off my lists as the others followed me into the computer lab.

Thrace was impressed with the computer hardware as guys generally are. “Wow. This place is flush. I should be set when I want to work here.”

I quickly printed off several copies of my work and gave them a quick tour that was lacking from their “orientation” which I was still not buying. I pitched all my ideas on promotional materials to the group, and we brainstormed until we had to leave for karate class.

The long weekend flew by in rest and relaxation by the pools. My parents finally claimed me on Monday for some Edonides family time. We had a weird family hobby where we put together the most impossible puzzles. Luckily, since we do it in the den, we throw on ESPN or movies. At about dinner time, we finished a rather ordinary 1000 piece puzzle that turned out to be a J.W. Waterhouse painting of the Greek goddess Circe and called for pizza. I finally felt recharged and ready to handle my crazy schedule.

Chapter 11: Mystery Shot Bowling

It was a good thing I had a day to rest and recharge because I needed my whole reserve of patience, humility, and self-control to survive the week. From the get-go, my friends and boyfriend started their campaign of whispered conversations that halted when I came into view. Although I might be paranoid, I also think there were probably a few secret meetings. It was no coincidence that my friends had resorted to stealth mode just before my birthday week. They were now at the DUA as much if not more than I was. Dr. A had them each working on “other projects.” Meanwhile, our volunteer group and the PTA were going like gangbusters on the Sports and Spa Giveaway. It seemed like practically every parent in our whole school had some sports seats or spa gift cards that they were willing to donate.

We had set up a whole class competition for what the administration called a field day that was really a skip day for the entire class. The senior class traditionally tended to win these type of competitions, but this year’s senior class was a lot lazier than my junior class of over-achieving, competitive zealots. In my class of around 200, we had more than 20 students still with 4.0 trying to stay in the hunt for Valedictorian. I was still slightly bitter that the events that unfolded this week pretty much knocked me completely out of the running for that post—all because of bowling.

When it came to sports, I was a fairly decent athlete in
most
sports—just not good enough to make any varsity teams. However, our gym teacher, Mr. Brown, assigned two sports and
one activity
that I sucked in for three weeks in a row. The first was tennis. I have played volleyball and softball too long to make up for the fact that whenever a ball comes at me waist level, I wanted to hit it out of the park, and when the ball comes at me high, I wanted to spike it directly down. The next sport designed to torture me was golf. Mr. Brown was an avid golfer. I only grudgingly considered this a sport. At the professional level, it was a sport where you spend 30 seconds hitting a ball then you walk to it while someone else carries your equipment. According to Mr. Brown, I tended to swing too fast and keep my eye on the ball too little. The only reason that I
might
consider it a sport was that I was always sore after we played.

The last recreational activity that I do
not
consider a sport was bowling. Mr. Brown
loved
bowling. He played in two bowling leagues per week. He had an average over 230 and had bowled 4 perfect games in his lifetime. I thought it was his secret dream to be a professional bowler. He was also the most politically correct, Ned Flanders (
The Simpsons)
look-a-like that I had ever met. One week out of the year, our school transported us to a local bowling alley much to the insistence of Mr. Brown. We had to wear the nasty shoes that thousand of other strangers had worn (I always wear two pairs of socks) and bowl with a ball that has had countless strangers hands all over it (I always bring my anti-bacterial vanilla lotion—which may have caused
The Incident)
. Since I had very little hands, there were no bowling balls that were even remotely acceptable. Mr. Brown had once tried to show me a way to bowl without putting my hands in the ball, but it only ended up landing on my foot, which caused me to swear loudly and unfairly earn demerits. Mr. Brown, who probably never uttered a four-letter in his life, had brought two of his own custom-made balls in his special wheeled bowling bag. He also brought his own shoes, his own towel—with his name on it, and my personal favorite—his bowling glove. I mean, come on, how much ammunition could you give a teenager. For the most part, I tried to treat everyone how I would like to be treated, but sometimes the obvious wealth of material and the fact that I had to wear these disgusting bowling shoes took control of my better self for a couple minutes.