For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) (14 page)

    
“Jean and I were arguing about what vegetable to have.  She wants corn and I insist we have spinach.  Tell her it’s healthier, would you?”  I turn to her father, expecting him to give an automatic agreement like he’s been ensorcelled to do, but he gives me a strange look.

    
“Jean?” he repeats.  He looks to his daughter, but she’s too busy giving me a glare.

    
I said it again, didn’t I?
Why do I have this overwhelming desire to call her Jean?  I don’t mean to.  I’ll have the sentence formulated in my head with Jeanette, but Jean comes out.  It feels so natural.  Not even that, I feel like I possess that name, as if it’s my name for her – it means something other than her name.  But that doesn’t make sense.  Am I possessive toward her in general?  I felt like she was mine like people own the deer that graze in their back yards and now she’s mine because I’m responsible for keeping her and her heart safe?  I have always called her by a pen name, haven’t I?  Perhaps now I’m resorting to a new one more intimate than Lovely.

    
I cover my blunder.  “She needs lutein to help keep her eyes healthy; spinach will give her almost twenty times more than corn.  You don’t want her to get stronger spectacles, do you?”  My last sentence sounds like a challenge, like I’m targeting his ability to father Jeanette properly.   I’ve noticed this man takes parenting very seriously.  Roxel was never so strict with me and I came out fine.

    
“Spectacles?” Jeanette muses behind me.

    
Her father doesn’t seem to notice.  Instead, he straightens, blinks at me, then harrumphs to clear his throat.  “Spinach it is.”  Shoving his shirtsleeves up, he steps forward.  “Why don’t you kids finish your homework?  I’ll take it from here.”

    
I lift my hands from the paper wrapped fish.  I’d prefer to cook to make sure the food is prepared properly, but I have to lose ground on this one.  You can’t challenge a father on his parenting ability without letting him prove himself. 

    
Giving me a significant look, Jeanette mouths, “You are so dead.”

    
I shrug and smirk.  Her threats mean little.  What can Jeanette do to me that Roxel can’t do eight times worse?  As I follow her, she seems caught by an after though and spins around.

    
“Dad, we’re going
upstairs
.”  She says the last word like a threat – as if we’ll do all sorts of things he doesn’t approve of.  I can’t say I’m averse to the idea, but I can tell she’s only testing how well he accepts me.

    
Her plan backfires.  “Okay, kids, have fun.  Don’t forget your homework.”

    
Jeanette stares at her father, dumbfounded.  Poor thing, she’s got no chance.  She’ll find out soon enough that her father thinks we’re all family.  On paper, he adopted me after my parents – old family friends – died last year in a tragic car crash.  I’m living with them and transferring to Mary Magda because my inheritance money ran out and Mary Magda would be a free ride since he’s the principal. 

    
I came up with that on my own.  At the time, it seemed like a genius plan, but now that she’s giving me her icy glare, I’m not too sure.

    
I know all of this is oily and backhanded.  Even more so, because I find these little reveals of how deeply I’ve weaseled my way into Jeanette’s world amusing.  Part of me hates myself for it.  Part of me thinks it’s hilarious – especially when she freaks out.  But what can I do?  If I didn’t take these precautions, I’d be out of a fresh, healthy human heart.  And she
did
agree to this, after all.

    
Jabbing her finger at the stairs, Jeanette makes her way up.  I follow without taking my eyes off of her backside.  Despite the fact I’ve seen much of what’s underneath, her below the knee pleated skirt makes Jeanette’s body a mystery – especially when she sways her hips like that.  I wonder if she’s doing it on purpose.  It’s a cruel tease to a man so soon after doling out favors for three days straight. 

    
I resist the urge to reach out – to feel the smooth ridge of hip bone beneath her skin.  When she gets to the door, she places her hand on the knob and a desperate laugh escapes her, she slaps her hands to her face. 

    
I frown at her.  She’s giggling, close to crying into her hands.  I thought she was angry…“What?”

    
“Spectacles,” she giggles.  “I can’t believe you called my glasses spectacles.”

    
I feel myself blush.  Normally, I’m very good at picking up and understanding human traits.  I’ve watched humans often enough to know much more about them than other
Aos Si
.  And things I didn’t know – like lutein and cardio-exercise – I got from Morgan with the ability to understand what the human body was saying.  But I didn’t know spectacles went by another name…and that was indeed, stupid.

    
She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself, then looks back at me.  I meet her eyes, staring.  Her smile fades.

    
She turns away.  “I’m still mad at you.”  Though I can tell in her voice that this is another act, she’s trying to make a point.

    
She kicks open the door to her room and stomps in, rushing so fast, the breeze created blows more fallen petals onto the floor.  I leap forward to save them, not wanting any part of Roxel’s rose harmed, but Jeanette accidentally steps on one.  A pain hits my chest so hard, it’s like I’ve been impaled with scissors.  The wind rushes out of me and I collapse to my knees, wheezing.

    
Jeanette freezes, her toes cramping the petal against the carpet.  “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

    
I try to lift my head, but it feels like a concrete block is crushing my chest.  I struggle to control my hand, to move her foot. I can’t reach her.  A hideous choke escapes my throat.  I’m asphyxiated from inside.

    
“Tamrin?”  She comes down to one knee.  The petal grinds into the carpet. Inside me cracks, burns.  Her delicate hand lands on my shoulder.  I growl. Primal survival possesses my limbs. I take her down. She lands with a thud,
umph
.

    
For what feels like eternity, I’m paralyzed on top of her, breathing like a fish out of water, waiting for the pain to recede.  Gulp for air.  Cinnamon and cocoa scent.  Her heart is racing against the muscles in my chest, reminding mine to beat again.  I press my face into her silky, soft hair, willing the stars out of my tunneled vision.  When certain I’m alive and haven’t incurred any permanent bodily harm, I sit up and gently pull her leg out of the awkward position it bent when I pinned her. Careful to note any of her pain.  I couldn’t forgive myself if I hurt her, it’s bad enough I was so violent.  Too ashamed, I avoid her eyes and focus on the petal stuck to the ball of her foot.

    
Half of it is crushed and bruised to a deep burgundy.  Using a fingernail, I peel it off, making her foot twitch with tickles.  I cradle the petal to my chest, hoping to fill the part of me that now feels hollow and missing.  It’s no use.  Whatever was there is gone, and a strange feeling sits in my chest – like I’ve lost a piece of myself.

    
Jeanette sits up and her brow furrows.  “What's wrong?”  Dread hangs in her voice.  She knows something terrible has occurred.

    
I shake my head.  What just happened?  How could this petal do such harm to me?  Am I bound to the roses?  To the garden?  Would Roxel curse me so when one of her roses is harmed, the knight guarding it is also harmed?  Punished?  If this rose is destroyed, will I be destroyed?  The thought is horrifying.  Too horrifying to say to Jeanette.  But, I’ve seen worse from Roxel.  “Be careful of the petals,” I rasp.  It's all I can say, my voice weak and frightened.  What kind of Summer knight am I?

Jeanette

    
Tamrin shadows me as we walk from the parking lot to the school. I glance at my father still unable to understand how he’s suddenly accepting Tamrin’s presence in our lives.  Dad smiles at me and gives a little wave as he steps away and heads toward the entrance of the main office.  I find Amber, Celeste, and Emily sitting at the recycled plastic picnic tables under the dogwood trees.

    
Amber looks up.  She stares.  And not at me.  I have the urge to turn to see what she’s looking at, but I’m not that derpy.  Amber doesn’t respond to Emily talking to her so she also looks up to see what’s so intriguing.  Em’s in
neko-mimi
mode, her fake black cat ears poking up through her tousled blond hair.  Her eyes dart between me and Tamrin then she lets out a low whistle and says, “Hello, Mister
Bishonen
.”

    
Celeste, who has her back to us, turns, tossing midnight black hair over her shoulder.  Her eyes bug and I feel an awkward blush.  What the heck am I going to tell them? 
Yes, this ridiculously gorgeous guy is my new shadow, isn’t he adorable?  Please don’t pet him.  He’s prone to pulling sharp objects out of nowhere.
 
Oh, and he’s also the Green Man.
  Amber would love that.

    
Emily is out of her seat and pacing a circle around Tamrin.  His grey eyes follow her cautiously, but his face remains impassive.  Finally she stops, plants her fist on her hips, and cocks her head.  “What do you think, Nett?  Mori or Kazuya?”

    
I blink.  “Excuse me?”

    
She looks disappointed that I didn’t understand the question.  “Does he remind you of Mori from
Ouran High School Host Club
or Kazuya from
Gekka Ryouran Romance?
  Ooo, or maybe Hagi from
Blood+
.”

    
“Oh!  Um…”  I look at Tamrin, he looks at me.  A strand of jet black hair falls out of the ponytail tossed over his shoulder and brushes his tawny brow.  I resist the urge to tuck it back.  “Neither?” 

    
I can’t really think of a male anime character with long, black hair and sun kissed skin like his.  Although, the way he’s standing in the early spring sunlight studying me, I half expect him to flash a twinkling smile.

    
“Hmm,” Emily taps her finger against her chin, “Actually, I think he’s more of an Athos.  You know, from
Musketeer: Le Sang des Chevaliers
?  Pity.  I like the idea of a Host Club.  The Mary Magda Host Club. Has a nice ring to it.”  She turns to me.  “Don’t you agree?”

    
My mouth falls open.  I’m not admitting to have a thing for reverse harems.  Not in front of Tamrin…Not after all the railing I gave him about his “favors” for the ladies of his imaginary court.

    
My other friends are more cautious and civil.  Well, Amber is.  Celeste is staring at Tamrin like he’s smothered in chocolate and diamonds.  I imagine she wants to rip his perfectly tailored uniform off his body.  The way he stands, the way he personalizes the uniform with his leather messenger bag and archaic looking choker, and his intent stare make him look like a bad boy with money.  Totally her type.

    
Amber clears her throat, smoothes a hand over her Garnier #94 angle cut, and flashes her winner smile.  “Netti, aren’t you going to introduce us to your new boyfriend?”

    
“Boyfriend?”  The word comes out as a squeak.

    
“Well, sure,” she says, grin widening.  “I can understand why you’ve been so sidetracked lately.”

    
I clear my throat.  Crap, how did I get into this mess?  “Uh, this is Tamrin.”  I step away so he can introduce himself.  When his eyes continue to follow me and his mouth stays clamped shut, I have to continue talking.  “Tam, these are my friends Emily Brodie, Amber Kazinti, and Celeste DePalma.”

    
Tamrin nods to them, still doesn’t speak.

    
Celeste smirks and swings her leg around so she can stare more comfortably.  “Strong silent type, huh?”  There’s a strange flirtatious, smoldering to her tone.  Oh boy, here we go.

    
“So, Tamrin, where are you from?” Amber asks casually.  This is Amber’s forte.  She’s the friendliest, most outgoing one of us.  She’d accept a hippopotamus if we put it in a uniform and gave it a cute enough name.  I guess that’s why she and Celeste still get along so swimmingly.

    
“I live with Jean,” Tamrin informs.

    
Even without inflection in his voice, it’s enough to send ripples of pleasure through my stomach.  I hope it does the same thing to my friends. I don’t want to admit to feeling something different.

    
Amber’s grin falters.  “Wait, what?”

    
I open my mouth, trying to think of a simple explanation.

    
“Shacking up already?”  Celeste asks.  “Whoa, way to go, Netti.  I didn’t think you had it in you.”

    
I blush and half hide behind Emily, hoping she’ll save me.