The Iron Traitor (The Iron Fey) (31 page)

She was shorter than the others, more perky and cute than
graceful and beautiful. Her long, straight hair was inky-black, though she had
dyed a few strands around her face a brilliant sapphire. She wore sneakers and
dark jeans, tight enough to hug her slender legs, but not looking like she’d
painted them on. Warm brown eyes peered down at me as she stood with her hands
clasped behind her, shifting from foot to foot, as if it was impossible for her
to stay still.

“Sorry about the note,” she continued, as I shifted back to eye
her warily. “I told Regan not to do it—Miss Singer has eyes like a hawk. We
didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” She smiled, and it lit up the room. My heart
sank; I didn’t want it to light up the room. I didn’t want to notice anything
about this girl, especially the fact that she was extremely attractive. “I’m
Kenzie. Well,
Mackenzie
is my full name, but
everyone calls me Kenzie.
Don’t
call me Mac or I’ll
slug you.”

Behind her, the rest of the girls gaped and whispered to each
other, shooting us furtive glances. I suddenly felt like some kind of exhibit at
the zoo. Resentment simmered. I was just a curiosity to them; the dangerous new
kid to be stared at and gossiped about.

“And…you are…?” Kenzie prompted.

I looked away. “Not interested.”

“Okay. Wow.” She sounded surprised, but not angry, not yet.
“That’s…not what I was expecting.”

“Get used to it.” Inwardly, I cringed at the sound of my own
voice. I was being a dick; I was fully aware of that. I was also fully aware
that I was murdering any hope for acceptance in this place. You didn’t talk this
way to a cute, popular cheerleader without becoming a social pariah. She would
go back to her friends, and they would gossip, and more rumors would spread, and
I’d be shunned for the rest of the year.

Good,
I thought, trying to convince
myself.
That’s what I want. No one gets hurt this way.
Everyone can just leave me alone.

Except…the girl wasn’t leaving. From the corner of my eye, I
saw her lean back and cross her arms, still with that lopsided grin on her face.
“No need to be nasty,” she said, seeming unconcerned with my aggressiveness.
“I’m not asking for a date, tough guy, just your name.”

Why was she still talking to me? Wasn’t I making myself clear?
I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to answer her questions. The longer I spoke
to anyone, the greater the chance that
They
would
notice, and then the nightmare would begin again. “It’s Ethan,” I muttered,
still staring at the wall. I forced the next words out. “Now piss off.”

“Huh. Well, aren’t we hostile.” My words were not having the
effect I wanted. Instead of driving her off, she seemed almost…excited. What the
hell? I resisted the urge to glance at her, though I still felt that smile,
directed at me. “I was just trying to be nice, seeing as it’s your first day and
all. Are you like this with everyone you meet?”

“Miss St. James.” Our teacher’s voice cut across the room.
Kenzie turned, and I snuck a peek at her. “I need to speak with Mr. Chase,” Miss
Singer continued, smiling at Kenzie. “Go to your next class, please.”

Kenzie nodded. “Sure, Miss Singer.” Glancing back, she caught
me looking at her and grinned before I could look away. “See ya around, tough
guy.”

I watched her bounce back to her friends, who surrounded her,
giggling and whispering. Sneaking unsubtle glances back at me, they filed
through the door into the hall, leaving me alone with the teacher.

“Come here, Mr. Chase, if you would. I don’t want to shout at
you over the classroom.”

I pulled myself up and walked down the aisle to slouch into a
front-row desk. Miss Singer’s sharp black eyes watched me over her glasses
before she launched into a lecture about her no-tolerance policy for horseplay,
and how she understood my situation, and how I could make something of myself if
I just focused. As if that was all there was to it.

Thanks, but you might as well save your
breath
.
I’ve heard this all before. How
difficult it must be, moving to a new school, starting over. How bad my life
at home must be. Don’t act like you know what I’m going through. You don’t
know me. You don’t know anything about my life. No one does.

If I had any say in it, no one ever would.

* * *

I got through my next two classes the same way—by
ignoring everyone around me. When lunchtime rolled around, I watched the
students filing down the hall toward the cafeteria, then turned and went in the
opposite direction.

My fellow classmates were starting to get to me. I wanted to be
outside, away from the crowds and curious looks. I didn’t want to be trapped at
a table by myself, dreading that someone would come up and “talk.” No one would
do it to be friendly, I was fairly certain. By now, that girl and her friends
had probably spread the story of our first meeting through the whole school,
maybe embellishing a few things, like how I called her awful names but somehow
came on to her at the same time. Regardless, I didn’t want to deal with angry
boyfriends and indignant questions. I wanted to be left alone.

I turned a corner into another hall, intent on finding an
isolated part of the school where I could eat in peace, and stumbled across the
very thing I was trying to avoid.

A boy stood with his back to the lockers, thin shoulders
hunched, his expression sullen and trapped. Standing in front of him were two
larger boys, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, leering down at the kid they had
pinned against the wall. For a second, I thought the kid had whiskers. Then he
looked at me, quietly pleading, and through a mop of straw-colored hair, I
caught a flash of orange eyes and two furred ears poking up from his head.

I swore. Quietly, using a word Mom would tear my head off for.
These two idiots had no idea what they were doing. They couldn’t See what he
really was, of course. The “human” they had cornered was one of Them, one of the
fey, or at least part fey. The term
half-breed
shot
through my mind, and I clenched my fist around my lunch bag. Why? Why couldn’t I
ever be free of them? Why did they dog me every step of my life?

“Don’t lie to me, freak,” one of the jocks was saying, shoving
the boy’s shoulder back into the lockers. He had short, ruddy hair and was a
little smaller than his bull-necked companion but not by much. “Regan saw you
hanging around my car yesterday. You think it’s funny that I nearly ran off the
road? Huh?” He shoved him again, making a hollow clang against the lockers.
“That snake didn’t crawl in there by itself.”

“I didn’t do it!” the half-breed protested, flinching from the
blow. I caught the flash of pointed canines when he opened his mouth, but of
course, the two jocks couldn’t see that. “Brian, I swear, that wasn’t me.”

“Yeah? So, you calling Regan a liar, then?” the smaller one
asked, then turned to his friend. “I think the freak just called Regan a liar,
did you hear that, Tony?” Tony scowled and cracked his knuckles, and Brian
turned back to the half-breed. “That wasn’t very smart of you, loser. Why don’t
we pay a visit to the bathroom? You can get reacquainted with Mr. Toilet.”

Oh, great. I did not need this. I should turn around and walk
away.
He’s part faery
, my rational mind thought.
Get mixed up in this, and you’ll attract Their
attention for sure.

The half-breed cringed, looking miserable but resigned. Like he
was used to this kind of treatment.

I sighed. And proceeded to do something stupid.

“Well, I’m so glad this place has the same gorilla-faced morons
as my old school,” I said, not moving from where I stood. They whirled on me,
eyes widening, and I smirked. “What’s the matter, Daddy cut off your allowance
this month, so you have to beat it out of the losers and freaks? Does practice
not give you enough manhandling time?”

“Who the hell are you?” The smaller jock, Brian, took a
menacing step forward, getting in my face. I gazed back at him, still smirking.
“This your boyfriend, then?” He raised his voice. “You got a death wish,
fag?”

Now, of course, we were beginning to attract attention.
Students who had been averting their eyes and pretending not to see the trio
against the locker began to hover, as if sensing violence on the air. Murmurs of
“Fight” rippled through the crowd, gaining speed, until it felt as if the entire
school was watching this little drama play out in the middle of the hall. The
boy they’d been picking on, the half-breed, gave me a fearful, apologetic look
and scurried off, vanishing into the crowd.
You’re
welcome,
I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Well, I had
stepped into this pile of crap—I might as well go all out.

“New kid,” grunted Brian’s companion, stepping away from the
lockers, looming behind the other. “The one from Southside.”

“Oh, yeah.” Brian glanced at his friend, then back at me. His
lip curled in disdain. “You’re that kid who shanked his cellmate in juvie,” he
continued, raising his voice for the benefit of the crowd. “After setting fire
to the school and pulling a knife on a teacher.”

I raised an eyebrow.
Really? That’s a new
one.

Scandalized gasps and murmurs went through the student body,
gaining speed like wildfire. This would be all over school tomorrow. I wondered
how many more crimes I could add to my already lengthy imaginary list.

“You think you’re tough, fag?” Bolstered by the mob, Brian
stepped closer, crowding me, an evil smile on his face. “So you’re an arsonist
and a criminal, big deal. You think I’m scared of you?”

At least one more.

I straightened, going toe-to-toe with my opponent. “Arsonist,
huh?” I said, matching his sneer with my own. “And here I thought you were as
stupid as you look. Did you learn that big word in English today?”

His face contorted, and he swung at me. We were extremely
close, so it was a nasty right hook, coming straight at my jaw. I ducked beneath
it and shoved his arm as the fist went by, pushing him into the wall. Howls and
cheers rose around us as Brian spun furiously and swung at me a second time. I
twisted away, keeping my fists close to my cheeks, boxer style, to defend
myself.

“Enough!”

Teachers descended from nowhere, pulling us apart. Brian swore
and fought to get to me, trying to shove past the teacher, but I let myself be
pulled off to the side. The one who grabbed me kept a tight hold of my collar,
as if I might break free and throw a punch at him.

“Principal’s office, Kingston,” ordered the teacher, steering
Brian down the hall. “Get moving.” He glared back at me. “You, too, new kid. And
you better pray you don’t have a knife hidden somewhere on you, or you’ll be
suspended before you can blink.”

As they dragged me off to the principal’s office, I saw the
half-faery watching me from the crowd. His orange eyes, solemn and grim, never
left mine, until I was pulled around a corner and lost from view.

Copyright © 2013 by Julie Kagawa

ISBN-13: 9781460321010

THE IRON TRAITOR

Copyright © 2013 by Julie Kagawa

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