Jennifer Scales and the Messenger of Light (32 page)

“She was reaching out to Evangelina,” Jennifer pointed out. “She was looking for a better way. You know, like heroes do.”

“And did she find it, Ms. Scales?” The question was clearly rhetorical. “While she was drifting away helplessly in a coma induced by her assailant, did your mother find this magical path to friendship and peace?”

Jennifer sighed. “I’m wasting my time here, aren’t I?”

“That depends on what you came for, doesn’t it? You say you want to be friends, but friendship can mean all sorts of different things. If you came to ask me to leave beasts alone, the answer is no—though I will make an exception for your father in deference to your mother, and an exception for you in deference to…” The mayor’s voice trailed off, and those unnerving eyes seemed to smile. “Well, let’s just say, in deference to what you may become someday.

“But if you came here for friendly advice—and I think you need it, Ms. Scales—then you may count this visit a success after all.”

She stepped forward again and put her hand gently on Jennifer’s shoulder. “Mohandas Gandhi once said, ‘Human nature will only find itself when it finally realizes that to be human, it has to cease to be beastly or brutal.’ ”

There was a pause for Jennifer to answer, but she did not.

“You have something beastly inside of you, Ms. Scales. One day, you will have to fight it—and defeat it—to attain your true human nature.”

Jennifer licked her lips thoughtfully. “I’ve heard that quote, Your Honor. In Search of the Supreme. My mother taught it to me, months ago.” She gently took the mayor’s hand off her body. “It’s a great saying, and I believe in it. But I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

On her way out of the council chamber, she remembered something and paused. “Your eyes can’t be as good as you say, can they? After all, you brought Mr. Slider to the trial, too. But he was innocent. You made a mistake.”

She felt the mayor’s stern stare bore through her platinum locks and send a chill down her spine. “I made no mistake, Ms. Scales. I still have business with Edmund Slider.”

She had walked nearly all the way to the hospital to catch up with her mother when she saw Skip coming the other way. He looked unsure of what to do as she crossed the street and approached him. A cold autumn wind suddenly blasted them both, her in the back and him in the face, and they both winced as brown leaves whipped past.

“Skip. You’re okay.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Just took a couple of stitches and a day or two of observation. My aunt can’t exactly drive me home, since it’s not a new moon until late tonight. But I could use the exercise.”

“You know what happened?”

“Susan filled me in.”

“Skip, I—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he interrupted grimly. “Or us. Telling me anything now…it’s just too late, Jennifer.”

She felt her heart slip down. “No more secrets, Skip. I promise. There’s nothing else to know about me.”

He scanned her up and down. “No, I guess not. Just that you’re the combination of my people’s sworn enemies—beaststalker and weredragon.”

Persisting through his efforts to avoid her grasp, she eventually caught his arm. “And is that so much different from last year, when I was only a weredragon and you saved my life?”

He wrenched his arm away. “That was before you lied to me.”

“You’re such a jerk!” She felt herself shift within, but suppressed the Ancient Furnace’s urge to change. “I said I was sorry! When you apologized for lying, I forgave you. But you won’t do the same for me. Why not?”

He could only stare at her from under his bangs. There was no hatred there, no anger—just a lost boy. Again, the thought occurred to her: Boys are so sad.

“Ugh. Listen, Skip. If you can’t handle me as a girlfriend, just say so! But stop with the lousy excuses, okay? All this dragon and spider crap is just a smokescreen for you being scared. Fine. Be scared. Ditch me if you have to. But be honest.”

He stared a little longer and then began to chuckle. She felt her face start to burn.

“Great. You’re laughing at me. Again.”

“I’m sorry. I think. No, I’m not sorry.” He began to laugh again, but it sounded kinder this time. “Jennifer, I’m not laughing to get you angry. I’m laughing because you’re absolutely right. I can’t handle you for a girlfriend.” He wiped his hands on his cheeks. “It’s too much—my mother, my father, my aunt, my half sister, and put you on top of all that—I can’t handle it. I just can’t. And if I’ve made it sound like it’s anyone’s fault but my own…okay, I’m sorry for that, too.”

Her mouth hung open for a moment before she remembered herself. “Um, okay. Apology accepted. Wow. I’ve never heard you talk like that before. To anyone.”

“Yeah, well, you’re pretty special.”

“Thanks. You are, too.”

They moved closer together, feeling the warmth of each other’s breath as tiny snowflakes began to fall. She pushed a stray stalk of chocolate hair away from his face, revealing a tear. She felt one of her own slide down to the corner of her mouth. “You’re sure you don’t want to be together? I’d miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. I just need time, Jennifer. There’s too much…too much happening right now. It’s not fair to you.”

“Okay.” She felt around her throat for the necklace he had given her, but he stopped her before she could take it off.

“No, Jennifer. Keep it. I need you…I need you to have that. Please.”

“Why?” She was touched, but couldn’t imagine why he would want her to have his mother’s old necklace anymore.

He leaned close and whispered a single word in her ear, and then he was gone. Fingering the Moon of Fallen Leaves just under the base of her throat, she watched him walk away into the thickening snow and tried hard to stop the tears. Her mother put so much faith in that word, and right now Jennifer struggled to feel the same way.

Hope.

She was still wiping away the tears when she entered the hospital. The first person she saw in the lobby was Bob Jarkmand, the largest sophomore in the history of Winoka High. He saw her and his huge features immediately turned very serious.

“Oh, crap,” she muttered. Come on, then. Make my day perfect, you freaking behemoth.

“Jennifer.” He was suddenly right there, his chest right in front of her runny nose. Ugh, what did he grow since Halloween, six inches?

“What?” she muttered at his letter jacket.

“You remember last year, when you punched me?”

“My goodness, was that you?” She tried an innocent tone, but then gave up and slouched again, resigned to her fate. “Yeah. I remember that.”

He was cracking his enormous knuckles; they made sounds like small cannons. His face was getting red, and his jacket smelled like raging sweat. “And the way you threatened all of us at the Halloween dance?”

“Well, threatened is a strong word…” Jennifer braced herself for the assault. At least we’re already in a hospital.

“Yeah, well. Um. That was really hot. I mean, I think you’re really hot.”

“Huh?” Jennifer tried to translate the words. Hot?

Then she looked up into his face and saw Bob was sweating. In addition, he kept cracking his knuckles nervously, even though they couldn’t possibly make any more sounds. His thick lips struggled around the next words. “Do, um, do you wanna go out for burgers later tonight? Maybe see a, er, movie?”

“Oh…” She examined his face for signs of jocularity, then spun around to check the room for giggling football buddies. There were none of either. She looked desperately for help from the only other person in the room—a nurse throwing a tan cardigan over her pink scrubs—but the woman was plainly hurrying off shift, possibly under the impression that this personal hell of Jennifer’s would soon spread and then freeze over. “Geez, Bob, I…”

“I know you probably like that guy Skip.” The word “Skip” came out like a command. “I mean, I’ve been passing you notes in Mr. Slider’s geea—gom—geometry class, but you don’t answer them, and you hang around with Wilson a lot…”

“Oh!” So Bob was the note writer? But why didn’t he sign his name? Jennifer carefully examined the boy’s Neanderthal jaw that had worked so hard around the word “geometry.” Perhaps a cursive signature was asking too much.

“…but I was just talking to Eddie upstairs, ‘cause he knows you, and he said he figured you and Skip might be having problems, so maybe I should ask you out. So I’m askin’.”

“Yes, you certainly are.” Eddie! She stifled a chuckle of admiration as she thought of the fun he must have had siccing Bob on her, in revenge for his humiliation in the parking lot. Kid fights better from a hospital bed than on his own two feet.

“So, um…you wanna?”

This broke her train of thought. “Do I wanna…oh! Go out! Um…”

It occurred to her that this boy was a young beaststalker—one who knew she was a dragon, and who admired her anyway. She was the Ancient Furnace, Ambassador to the Beaststalkers, pledged to bring together her two peoples. He was reaching out to her. Could she accept the offer? For world peace?

And he was a football player. Football players were cute, weren’t they? They were in all the magazines she read. If she looked at him—really looked at him, mind you—she could see the softness of those blue eyes instead of their dullness, and the firmness of his jaw instead of the warped shape. Couldn’t she?

Ugh. “No, I can’t. Bob, I’m sorry. I gotta go with my gut here—it wouldn’t work out between us. You’re too…you’re too…” She searched for the right word, scanning the enormous spread of letter jacket. “You’re just too much for me.”

Rejected, his eyes narrowed, entertaining a specter of the hostility she had seen at the Halloween dance. “Too much, huh? Yeah, I guess you can’t handle me, after all.”

“That’s it exactly,” she agreed as she patted his chest and deftly maneuvered around him, aiming for the stairs.

World peace could wait for a more appealing guy.

She passed Wendy Blacktooth’s room on the second floor. The door was slightly open, and she could make out the woman’s shape in bed. A few feet away, the doctors had thoughtfully placed Eddie’s bed. The boy looked bruised from Skip’s beating, but he was sitting up and smiling at his mother, who was smiling back at him.

He looked up first and caught her eye. His grin faltered for a moment, but returned when Jennifer waved and winked.

Hey there
, he mouthed.

Jennifer stiffened a bit as Wendy Blacktooth followed her son’s gaze. The woman’s smile disappeared—but there was no frown, no look of cold hatred. In fact, was that a nod of greeting?

Heaven help her, it was. Smile frozen in place, she wiggled her fingers at Wendy Blacktooth in response, terrified to do much more.

“What are you doing here?!”

She jumped at the horribly familiar voice behind her, and lost the smile immediately.

“Nothing, Mr. Blacktooth,” she hissed, starting down the corridor without bothering to look at him. A corner of her mouth twitched up as she felt his glare on the back of her head. “Shame about your sword.”

All she heard in response was a door slam.

She turned a corner and ran into Edmund Slider’s wheelchair.

An impolite word escaped her as she held her shin. Then she added, slightly more politely, “And who are you visiting today, Mr. Slider?”

“No one,” her geometry teacher replied with ironic amusement, rearranging the blond strands of his hair. “I simply enjoy rolling around the hallways, ramming my students’ shins when I get the opportunity. Makes the chair work better or so my doctors say.”

“Very funny. So you’re here by yourself? Are you okay?”

Two different emotions passed over his face so quickly, Jennifer wasn’t certain of them both: frustration and gratitude were her best guesses. “I’m fine, Ms. Scales. Thanks for asking. I have physical therapy sessions here; sometimes I need a full weekend, as is the case this time. I checked in a couple of days ago, after…well, after seeing you at the mall. Before running into you just now, I was rolling around for some exercise. My room is right here.” He motioned to a door, just slightly ajar, next to Jennifer. The lights were off inside.

“Oh. Um, Mr. Slider, about that night at the mall…”

“No need to apologize, Ms. Scales. You and Skip had my safety in mind, as well as that of the others. It was…most kind.” He said this last with a mysterious smile. “Perhaps I can return the favor in the future.”

“Do you, um, need help getting back? I mean, into bed? I could—”

“Thank you, Ms. Scales, but I have help.” He rolled over to the door and opened it quickly enough that Jennifer could spot a large, bulbous shape scuttling out of the light and into a dark corner.

“Edmund, you’re back already! Was your exercise rewarding?” The voice from within was unmistakable. Jennifer didn’t need to see the source to recall the maniacally wide smile and spindly frame of Tavia Saltin.

Mr. Slider nodded to the unseen woman with a small sigh. “Yes, dear. I’m back.” From the doorway, he turned to Jennifer with a dry smile. “Since I am sure rumors will now swirl around the hallways of Winoka High within minutes of your return to school, let me inform them appropriately: Yes, I am dating your boyfriend’s aunt.”

Any impulse to correct Mr. Slider’s outdated view of her relationship with Skip was overwhelmed by a wave of embarrassment. “Oh, sir, that’s really none of my—”

“I find her,” he continued, oblivious to Jennifer’s intense desire to hear no more, “exhilarating.”

My ears! I think they’re bleeding! “Listen, Mr. Slider. I, um, okay. Here it is. I really need to change the subject. Besides, you should know I was talking to Mayor Seabright earlier, and—”

“Yes, I know. She has her eyes on me.” Mr. Slider suddenly adopted a much more ominous expression than Jennifer had ever seen grace his sallow features. “Her creepy, all-seeing, totalitarian eyes.”

The hairs on the back of Jennifer’s neck wouldn’t stay down. “Mr. Slider?”

“The woman plagues me,” he spat out. “And someday, she will regret it.”

And with a quick whrrr, his wheelchair went through the doorway and into the darkness beyond.