Hotblood (21 page)

I sat at a table in the back and watched the other students come in and act like they knew what they were doing. Sewing machines buzzed, and people talked and laughed. I stared stupidly at my own machine and wondered what all the buttons did. The bell rang, but the door was left open while Mrs. Lemon walked around, nearly floated the way she moved, weaving in between the students, her gauzy dress billowing around her. Watching her was kind of fascinating. She never seemed to hold still.

“
Feel the music, the rhythm of your machine, that’s the lifeblood of your work.” Her facial expression was ecstatic as she crooned. “The thread is the soul, holding the pieces together, creating the beauty, the function, the perfection, that a well made garment can be. Do you hear me?” A mumbling went up from the class, a sound Mrs. Lemon must have taken for agreement, because she nodded, slowly walking back to her desk where she proceeded to call roll.

It took me a moment to realize what was strange about the way she did that. As she called, she didn’t wait for anyone to answer before going on to the next person. She couldn’t have heard half the responses she got, but that didn’t seem to bother her or any of the students. After calling roll, she started doing something on her desk while the rest of the students started pulling out projects and got to work, or sat around talking, or read, or seemed to do whatever they felt like. One guy put his head on his bag and started snoring. I stared around me and caught the eye of a skinny red haired guy with his hair past his shoulders. He grinned at me then sauntered over to perch on the edge of my table.

“
Hey there.” His smile should have been infectious, but I didn’t let my scowl budge.

“
Hi,” I said reluctantly when he showed no signs of going away.

He grinned like I’d said something clever. “Good, good. So, you’re into sewing, huh? That’s unexpected.”

“
Sorry. What did you expect?” I sighed at how snappish my voice was. I didn’t mean to be a jerk, but I still felt bruised on the inside from hearing that Lewis was not interested in me.

“
This is Sanders, zombie town. Being unexpected is the best thing you can be. I’m Smoke, by the way.”

“
Smoke? What kind of a name is that?” I asked ignoring the zombie comment.

“
It’s better than Bob.” He made a face. “The most unoriginal name in the world, spelled the same forwards as back. I’m going to change it legally when I’m eighteen.”

I smiled at him and almost relaxed. He had absolutely zero social grace and apparently didn’t scare easily. “Is the teacher going to teach?”

“
Mrs. Lemon? Naw, she’s a process teacher. She believes that whatever time you spend staring at your machine in perplexed silence will serve to deepen your artistic pain.”

“
Oh.” This sounded along the lines of the discomfort I’d already experienced at Mr. Landon’s hands. Apparently all teachers lived to torture students. It was odd I’d never noticed before.

“
Yeah, I’m not really into that. Do you want me to show you how to work your machine?” Smoke asked and I nodded. He proceeded to show me what did what. I leaned forward and the thing took off, making Smoke jump. I sat back startled and it stopped.

“
Did I get the possessed machine?” I asked bewildered.

“
What? Oh, no, you stepped on the pedal,” he said assuredly. “At least I assume you didn’t get the possessed one. Ash usually gets assigned that one.”

“
Ash? Pedal?” I looked on the floor and sure enough there was a pedal. “Oh, so that makes it go?”

“
You’ve got it. You’re going to catch on in no time.” I found myself smiling back at him. He had an easy way of talking and didn’t look at me like I was a freak. I got the idea he didn’t see me because he was so deeply stuck in his own head. I liked that. “Oh, you should meet Ash. Hey,” he turned and gestured to someone who came over, studying his shoes the whole way. “Ash, this is Dari. You can say hi, you know.”

“
Hi.” His voice was shocking, coming from someone so obviously awkward and shy. The voice made me want to get closer to him, to hear whatever else he might want to say about anything at all. I blinked and gave him a second look. He was slouched, but maybe if he stood up he wouldn’t seem so short.

“
Hi Ash. I’m Dariana.” I put out my hand, and he looked up at me, surprised, before he quickly shook my hand and dropped it, heading back to his desk. His hand felt cool against my skin.

“
Hey, you shook his hand, good job!” Smoke praised enthusiastically.

“
What?” I stared at Smoke, and he got a puzzled look on his face.

“
Sorry, I mean, you don’t touch people, right? I thought it was a phobia that you had or something.”

I bit my lip as I tried to think what would make sense to him when the whole thing bewildered myself. “No, I think I just don’t like touching some people.”

“
Oh. Are you sensitive? Ash is the same way. He’s really particular about who he hangs out with. He likes you though, so you must be okay.”

I stared at him. The sincere look on his face made me smile. “Well, that’s a relief.” I looked across the room at Ash. If that was him liking people, he had even worse social skills than Smoke, or me.

“
Is there anyone in particular you’re against touching?” Smoke asked curiously.

I wasn’t sure I liked where this conversation was going. “I ran into Harris and I really didn’t like that.”

“
Who? Oh, the football player.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Well, he’s not very interesting. He’s not even a very good player.”

“
Do you go to football games?”

Smoke shrugged. “I used to be in band and we had to go. This year I’m out. I put in my time to justify the expense of the tuba, but my mom still nags me about it. What does she expect, that I’m going to stay the same forever? I was obsessed with the tuba for four years. I’ve moved on.”

I nodded feeling the pain in his soulful look. “Yeah. Well, like me. I’m done with science. I’m trying all sorts of art classes this year. People change.”

“
You know what I’m talking about!” He beamed at me delighted, and I gave him a half-smile. He must be treated like he was crazy here with all the people in zombie town. He stuck out almost as much as I did.

“
I’ll see ya.” He left me with a grin I couldn’t help returning. He wasn’t even bad looking. He was tall, though a bit on the skinny side, but he actually talked to me and maybe hadn’t already dismissed me as just friends.

By the time the bell rang, I had figured out how to sew in a nearly straight line and was feeling proud of myself. I grabbed my bag and went out into the hall where I could look over the balcony at the people walking below.

“
Hey, Dari!” I looked back and saw Smoke coming towards me. I waited for him, noticing the looks everyone gave him. “So are you going to the festival on Friday?”

“
What?” I hadn’t even thought about the annual beginning of school festival.

“
You know, booths and games. It’s the only gig in town Snowy doesn’t have her claws into. The rides can be fun. Do you want to go?”

“
Go with you?” I couldn’t go on a date with him. He seemed nice and a few minutes ago I’d been glad that he hadn’t dismissed me completely, but the truth was, I was not in the position for any kind of alone boy-girl experiences.

“
Sure, we’d have a great time.” He nodded his head to include Ash, who gave me a small smile before he returned to studying his shoes.

“
Oh. Like a group of people who go somewhere?” That sounded healthy and normal. I found myself nodding. “Why not?”

“
I can pick you up…”

“
No.” That sounded like a date. “I’ll just meet you there. We’ll talk okay?” I waved and left, wondering why people were gaping at me. I forced myself to keep smiling as I hurried down the stairs and through the long hall to the study lab at the bottom of the tower. It was a cool room, two sides had a lot of light. There was a central staircase that went up to the next floor and above that, a trapdoor that was kept locked that led to the storage on the third floor. I passed the rows of computers nervously as I went to the side where a nice looking man smiled when he saw me. When he checked out my schedule, he told me to go upstairs to the second floor where the books and the study tables were.

I thanked him and went up the stairs, feeling better when the computers were out of sight. It was quiet, but the tables seemed occupied with seniors who were studying, sleeping, or whispering. I finally found one by a window with a pile of books on one half of it. I sat down in the chair with the clear surface and started going through my bag. It was amazing how much stuff I already had on the first day of school. I looked up from my mess toward the occupant on the other side of the table and met Lewis’ quizzical glance, the thumb with a scar holding his place in an old red book.

“
Jane Eyre.” I read the title and blinked at him. How was it possible that I hadn’t smelled him until after I’d seen him? I smelled him now. He smelled like pine shavings and cut grass, and the spice cake that Ethel made for my last day. “I didn’t know that was on the reading list.” Okay. That had sounded almost normal.

He gave me a smile that made my heart rate increase. I took a deep breath and that was a mistake. He smelled too good with his woodsy aftershave and his skin, like sun shining on dirt. I wasn’t sure why I would find that attractive but there you go. Combined with those warm eyes and that sensitive mouth that could turn an ordinary smile into an intimate message, he was irresistible. Of course, I would find him even more attractive after I found out he had no interest in me.

“
Can you keep a secret?” he asked with a lowered voice and a half smile that made me lean forward.

I blinked at him and sat back. Getting closer to him was not a good idea. “Probably not,” I said opening a random book then staring at the page.

He laughed and covered his mouth, trying to look guilty when students frowned at him, then stared at me instead. I forgot about the stares because the laugh was still kind of echoing inside of me. “I’m a closet Jane Eyre reader,” he whispered as he leaned forward with his head cocked to the side. I noticed then that his hair was shorter than the first time I’d seen it, cut nearly as close to his head as Osmond’s. I reached up without thinking to touch a strand but he pulled back at the last second and my fingers touched nothing. I found myself breathing hard, my eyes on the desk while I tried to remember what it was that he’d just said. Jane Eyre. Was that supposed to mean something to me? I’d never read it. “Manly men have a difficult time reading Jane Eyre with a straight face,” he explained in a normal voice, like girls tried to touch his hair all the time. I was so embarrassed I could have died.

“
You’re not a manly man because you read a book?” I glanced up at him; I couldn’t help it. His eyes and that slow smile had me completely bewildered.

He nodded and leaned back. “That’s right. So, in order to keep my image intact, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t spread it around.”

I felt a rush of anger. I don’t know why. He hadn’t done anything but tell Osmond that he liked me platonically. I should be grateful that he liked me at all. “I don’t know how I can keep a secret of that magnitude to myself. Imagine the females who will be crushed as their paragon of strength crumbles.” My voice was too loud, but I didn’t care, not about the people looking at me, not about anything at all.

“
I wish there was some way to buy your silence.” He said it so sadly, his eyes so vulnerable and innocent I found my mouth opening and closing, the anger miraculously extinguished.

“
I was only kidding,” I stuttered and could feel the heat in my cheeks. I wished I had the anger back; it made me feel less like a helpless frog all prepped for dissection.

He looked at me with his eyebrows raised, his expression deadly serious. “Of course, so was I.” I nodded feeling like an idiot when he put his hand over mine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to confuse you.” My hand burned until he finally moved it away and I could breathe again.

The rest of study hall passed in a blur that I spent staring at a book in front of me, but instead of reading anything in my book I heard Lewis’ breathing, smelled him, while the warmth of his hand still lingered on mine. When the bell rang he handed me my bag. I gave him as much of a smile as I could manage before I took the bag and bolted to Mr. Landon’s class. Art kept me occupied, forced me to focus on what was at the end of my arm instead of wondering how I was supposed to be platonic with someone I found so very fascinating. He messed with me. I was furious and fascinated, and he wasn’t.

After the final bell rang, I took my time washing off the paint before I got my stuff together. I walked down the steps slowly, taking my time. I didn’t want to go home to the big empty house with my head crammed with thoughts of Lewis. By the time I got to the main floor it was mostly empty. It was really great that he didn’t like me. If I acted this out of control when he was being friendly, what would I be like if he actually flirted with me? My mind wasn’t with my body as I went to my locker and looked through my books, trying to decide which ones I had to take home with me. I remembered that I was supposed to do a ‘what I did for summer’ essay in my English class. Mrs. Briggs was truly evil. I shut my locker then stopped before I bumped into someone’s chest. I looked up slowly, at the creepy guy’s smile—Harris. Oh, great. Today hadn’t been enough fun.