Chapter 13
By breaking more than a few traffic laws, he got us to the school just in time. We sat down in homeroom as the final bell rang. As I sat quietly in my classes, my brain finally began to process what I had learned about Bran and about myself. Even harder to accept than the truth about him was my truth. It was like I had just learned I was a long lost princess; surreal, scary, and admittedly flattering. The flattering was what I was having the most trouble accepting but when Bran slipped his hand around mine as we walked the halls between classes, I knew I was willing to try.
At lunch, I had wanted to escape the school to grill him about our history in private but he insisted I eat. He was taking my mother's words far too seriously. He was beginning to act like Michael. I grabbed a turkey sandwich and a water and dropped it onto an open table with a blam and a glare. Mr. Immortal hadn't grabbed anything to eat so I was feeling particularly resentful.
"Do immortals need to eat?" I asked, considering how much I had witnessed him shovel back during our TV watching sessions together.
"Need?" He said. "Not to keep me alive no. If I don't eat, I just get really bad hunger pains but nothing really comes from it. My body is as Morrigan wishes it to be. Not much can change it or harm it. But after a few days, those hunger pains can get pretty bad even if they're not dangerous."
He might not need to worry about starvation but I had seen him eat and the least he could do would be to show some solidarity. I poked at my sandwich before relenting with a sigh, picking up, and taking a large bite.
It wasn't until I was looking back at him that I realized his lack of appetite today might have had nothing to do with his immortality. I recognized the look, like he was going to be sick. Could immortals get sick?
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He shot me his pained smirk. "Nothing," he said.
I would have interrogated him but Michael flopped into the seat across from me. I stayed quiet. I was not ready to tell him about Bran's unique story. I knew he wouldn't believe any of it.
"Where's your other half today?" I asked before taking a bite of my turkey sandwich.
Michael shrugged. "Library maybe." The indifference in his tone made me want to poke and prod him but it also gave me pause. Touchy subjects were best left to private venues.
"You guys going to Prom?" he asked.
I blinked. It wasn't like Michael to care about such things. "Haven't given it a thought," I said. The image of Bran in a suit made me smile to myself.
He rolled his eyes. "Aren't girls supposed to be all into this sort of thing?"
I sighed. "Aren't girls supposed to have a tittering entourage and spend every free moment shopping?" I shot back. "You never had a problem with my lack of girliness before."
He leaned back in his chair and looked around. The line at the counter was down to two people and the other tables were having their first few emigrants. "You going or not?" he asked.
I looked at Bran. He was smirking at the question but did not answer. His eyebrows inched higher as if he were waiting for me. If he wanted to play games, I could play games. "Well, no one's asked me," I said. "Maybe I'll have to see if Spencer is free."
Bran's eyebrow remained firmly raised though his smile disappeared. Michael snorted a laugh. Bran chose to rise to the challenge. He got up and pushed his seat aside. Oh god, what had I started? As he lowered to one knee, I nearly screamed. My face instantly tingled and went hot. I wanted to run from the cafeteria. No, not here. This was all my fault! I was such an idiot!
"Lucina Colomen, my dove," he said in grandiose tones. "Would you do me the honour of going to Prom with me?"
My throat was completely dry. Even if I had wanted to respond, I couldn't have. My silence was made all the more apparent by the fact that the lull in cafeteria conversation had almost completely evaporated.
"Don't leave him hanging!" Michael shouted.
I couldn't speak, so I nodded. Bran kissed my hand. I nearly died. Maybe I did, if only for a second. I was sure my heart, my lungs, and my brain had ceased functioning at all.
Bran pulled his chair next to me and flopped into it, stretching one arm around my shoulders in the process. "So, I guess we're going," he said to Michael.
The previous babble of conversation did not restart so much as launch into a new frequency. I would be the topic of gossip for months. I tried to sink back into my own neck. As usual, my efforts were pointless.
"Never bow to the rabble," Bran whispered in my ear. "You're above them."
Michael gave an exaggerated yawn. "Well, if you two are going, it might not be so bad."
Bran leaned forward and glared. "You cannot be our date," he scolded with a firm wag of his finger. "I've got some big plans and they do not involved a double date."
Michael raised an eyebrow as he slouched in his chair. "Big plans? That does sound interesting. Maybe I'll crash your little party." His own smile spread slowly across his lips.
Bran's eyes darkened. "And maybe I'll show you my more violent side," he warned. He sounded serious so I glared at him. He chuckled. He stretched an arm around me as he leaned back in his seat with a smile on his face. "Besides, I don't think Maria would be happy to have us around either."
Michael looked down at the table between us but didn't say anything.
I couldn't let it go this time. The palpable tension was too much to take. "You two are still together, right?"
He blinked and straightened in his seat. "Of course we are," he said. "We just haven't finalized our plans."
I leaned forward and kept my voice low. "You have asked her?"
He shook his head as if in disbelief at my question. "It's none of your business what I have or have not asked her. I'll worry about my business and you worry about yours." His scowl morphed into an evil grin. "Have a dress yet?"
"I was only asked just now or were you not here for that," I retorted with a raspberry.
I still had that stupid concert to worry about and now he wanted me to fret about fashion. He knew full well that clothing and I did not get along. I had no idea what I was doing and so anything more than the customary t-shirt and jeans usually ended up a mess. It was the whole reason I was teased in junior high and the first part of high school until I finally learned that it was just best to go in something simple and easy to ignore. The only consolation in the whole affair was that I would get to go with Bran.
"Well you better get shopping," Michael said as if he were an expert. "Maria already has hers. She told me there is nothing left to pick from if you wait too long."
"I'll keep it in mind," I muttered, with no intention of doing anything of the sort.
Bran squeezed my shoulders. "Don't fret too much," he said. He flashed Michael a mischievous smile. "Clothing just gets in the way anyway."
Michael groaned. "Ew. Bran. Ew. I do not need to know these things about you two."
I wagged my finger at him. "After weeks of watching you and Maria suck each other's faces in the hallways, you have zero right to talk."
He looked away. "Fine," he grunted. "Just warn me first."
"No," I shot back.
With a smirk, Bran took the challenge. He lifted my chin and kissed me. The talons threatened to burst from my chest and latch onto him. I sunk into his attentions. If we had been in private, this would have gone much further. While the crowd kept me in control, I also found I didn't care so much what they could see right now.
"Bran! Dude!" Michael shouted.
I pulled away to glare across the table at Michael. "What are you, six? You're free to leave."
He threw his hands up dramatically before crossing his arms in a huff. "And you're free to get a room," he grumbled.
"Not a bad idea," Bran teased.
After math that afternoon, Michael headed off to gym and Bran to his Latin class. I had chemistry, alone. I was sifting through the contents of my locker, looking for my books, when I heard Samantha only a few feet behind me.
"She shoul
d probably just wear a bag over her head and call it done," she said to someone else, most likely Amanda.
I had a feeling I knew who 'she' was. I tried to ignore Samantha as usual. She was petty and stupid.
Undeterred by my silence, she continued, "I mean, she manages to make even jeans look frumpy."
Amanda's giggling echoed down the hallway. I could feel my cheeks getting hot. Michael and Bran were probably already at their other classes. I was alone and Samantha apparently wanted to resurrect old habits. I swallowed and hesitated in my search as I considered what I should do. I would have to figure out something. She seemed intent on carrying on until I rose to the challenge.
"You'd think she'd have gotten the hint after Michael ditched her for Maria. Talk about a loser."
I told myself this wasn't so bad. She had called me worse. I could handle this. My jaw tensed. I wanted to scream.
"I was feeling sorry for Bran," she added.
The heat in my cheeks spread to the rest of my face.
"But now, maybe it's a good thing I never went out with him. I mean, who wants a guy who's into bestiality?" She followed this with donkey noises.
I did not recall slamming my locker shut. I also was not aware I had chosen to turn around but I had and was now standing directly in front of her. My hand was raised as if I, of all people, were going to slap her smug little grin right off it. Her smile faded and she shifted her eyes as if to confirm the witnesses in the hall.
Most had already headed for classes so it was just Amanda at her side and a few stragglers who were mostly out of earshot. The nearest was two lockers down from us. It was Emily Walters, who was pretending not to be aware of what was going on as she stuffed her things into her locker.
I said nothing and lowered my hand. I could not figure out why I would ever make any move more aggressive than pretending not to exist.
My hesitation seemed to have brought Samantha's nerve back. "Got a problem?" she demanded. Without waiting for an answer, she looked at Amanda and added, "Isn't it romantic? We have our own Beauty and the Beast story right in our school." She looked back at me. "I wonder what it's like for Bran to kiss the Beast."
A few of the stragglers snickered. There was no doubt now that I indeed had an audience for my embarrassment. They might have been stifled laughs but that made it all the worse because it meant they were laughing with Samantha and by the end of the day, I would be shocked if the whole school didn't know the nickname.
The heat of shame replaced the anger in my cheeks. I looked at Amanda and back at Samantha. The hatred on their faces was raw and imposing. Samantha's pursed lips and glare were a memory I had worked so hard to forget. This encounter would only get worse if I stayed. Even the stragglers were heading for their classes. I was completely alone against my bully. The deserted hallway was as welcoming as a rat trap. I turned and ran.
"Good idea," she yelled after me. "If we're lucky, a mob with torches and pitchforks will rid us of the beast!"
Without fully intending it, I arrived at my chemistry class. Sheer habit must have brought me there because all I really wanted was to run home and make another offering to the porcelain god. I had my backpack only because I had been wearing it. I had completely forgotten to get my chemistry books. I pulled out my math book and flipped to the back, at least I could take notes. I spent the rest of the class trying to distract myself with in-depth facts about covalent bonds.
I did not dare go by my locker to get my history books. I considered faking ill and going home. The thought of explaining to my mother what had happened stopped me. I couldn't bear to see the worry and the heartbreak. If I carried on through the day like nothing had happened, I would have nothing to tell her.
I walked to history, consoling myself with the fact that Michael would lend me his notes and I could share text books with Bran. Despite walking at double my normal speed, the trek felt long. The top of my mouth constricted as I fought to hold back my tears. Every face I passed was an enemy just waiting for the right time to taunt me with the new name. Realistically, most of them probably didn't even know it yet but I had no way of knowing who did or who would use it against me.
I wanted Bran or even Michael would do. I needed the security of them, but I was also dreading them too. I did not want to retell what had happened. It made it so much worse knowing I likely would have to.
Bran, I didn't want to worry him. I hadn't told him what it was like at school before he came and I didn't want him getting upset about something that was really old news. I had endured it all before. Why couldn't I just accept it and handle it? I swallowed hard, trying to physically swallow my hurt. It didn't work.
Bran was already sitting at his desk when I walked in. His eyes brightened until he saw my face. His brow furrowed and I saw the spark behind his eyes, the one that spoke of violence. I now understood why it was there and knew that unbridled violence was exactly what it promised. How did an immortal warrior deal with his problems?
"What happened?" he asked.
I shook my head as I slipped into my seat. He leaned across the aisle to whisper in my ear.
"Did someone do something to you?" His burr was strong and rough, carried upon a thin layer of a threat.
"It's fine," I muttered.
"No, it isn't," he countered. "Who?"
"Just drop it." I was being stubborn, I knew, but I just couldn't stand to relive it. I needed to pretend it was nothing. If I pretended hard enough, it would be. I was going to vomit.
Before Bran could press me further, Michael sauntered in and relaxed into the seat on the other side of him.
"Good," Bran said, turning to Michael, "Maybe you can get something out of her."
Michael raised a brow. He leaned forward to get a better look at me around Bran. His eyes darkened. "Samantha and Amanda?" he asked.
I couldn't bring myself to confirm it but my inability to answer was confirmation enough for him. He leaned back in his seat with a frustrated sigh. "That's the problem with two-headed monsters," he said, "They just won't die."
Bran looked at Michael, then me, then back at Michael. "Care to explain?" He asked, apparently making the wise decision to give up on me.
Michael leaned in close and whispered to him. I assumed he was giving a brief synopsis of my high school misery. The spark in Bran's eyes turned to flame as he listened. He gave a firm nod of understanding when Michael had apparently finished. He looked over at me and forced his crooked smile. He reached to squeeze my hand in his. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll handle it."
Just then, Mr. Pearson started the class, truncating any verbal response I might have given. I tried my best to indicate without words that I didn't want him to 'handle' anything when it came to Samantha. Couldn't he understand I just wanted it to go away? Either he couldn't understand how I felt or chose to ignore it, for he just patted my hand and flashed an even broader smile before turning to his notes. With a grunt, I flipped open the back of my math book again and tried to listen to the teacher.
It was pointless. I should have just gone home. I could not focus and would need Michael's notes anyway. If I had left, an immortal warrior wouldn't be considering revenge on an insipid teenager. I needed to stop him but I was too upset to see any solutions. My mind was stuck in its loop.
By the time class ended, I had written only the date and heading for the class. I did not bother packing up before turning on Bran. "You will do nothing about any of this," I said. "It isn't your problem."
He was unmoved. "Forgive me," he said, "But I take people abusing the love of my life as very much my business." He stressed life as if to remind me exactly what he felt was at stake.
But Samantha was just an idiot. She wasn't an invading hoard that needed to be cut down and modern law would have something to say about him attacking her. I might never see him again!
"I don't need you to rescue me," I muttered, slamming my notebook into my backpack.
He put his arm around my shoulders as we left
the room. "I'm not trying to rescue you," he countered. "Think of it as me trying to make myself feel better."
He might be an immortal warrior of a war goddess but did he have to solve everything with violence? Maybe he wasn't thinking of anything violent but even I had almost slapped her. Given how upset and protective he was acting, I couldn't see him doing anything less.
"Let me carry that for you," he said, reaching for my bag.
I let him take it. "Don't you need to drop things off at your locker?" I asked. We were almost at mine and he had not dodged away for the few minutes he always did at the end of the day to go to his.
"I can just leave my stuff in yours," he said with a shrug.
I looked up at him. "Are you really insisting on being my protector now?" I asked as if the idea were absurd. I wanted to feel less pathetic but I think we both understood how much I cherished that role of his, even when I just thought him a normal teenager.
He smiled down at me. "You're assuming this is a new thing for me," he said. "Why do I have my particular lifespan again?"
I did not respond. I felt a little guilty to be honest. Everything he had done and everything he had likely seen and endured all for me seemed like too much for anyone to be given by another.
Samantha was squatting in front of her locker, down the hall from mine. She pretended not to notice us.
"Leave it," I said with one last desperate attempt at reigning him in.
He chuckled. "I thought you knew me better than that." He gave me my bag and walked over to Samantha.
Her eyes widened and she froze as he towered over her. He bent down. His back was too me so I could not be sure but it looked like he had picked up something and handed it to her. With obscene volume, he said, "Hey, I think you dropped this."
Several people turned to look as she eyed what was in his hand. I couldn't see it from my angle but whatever it was, she seemed reluctant to take it. However, she also seemed too stunned to speak. Bran resorted to setting it on top of the stack of books she was holding. She stared at it and said nothing. Bran nodded and smiled at her before walking back to me. His crooked smirk was too intriguing to make me melt and the fact that he had seemed perfectly pleasant and not violent at all had me stunned. The people who had witnessed the exchange were now gossiping in hushed tones.
"What did you give her?" I asked as he leaned against the locker next to mine, looking quite pleased with himself.
He twisted his body just enough to give me a clear view. She was still blinking down at the enormous maxi pad that, even folded in its wrapper looked large enough to pass for a diaper. I could feel the colour draining from my face to pool in my neck before exploding back into my cheeks.
"Where did you get that?" I hissed.
He shrugged. "If you want me to replace it, I will, but do you really want me to?" He was keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard but he seemed otherwise unconcerned with stealing from my bag.
"I never used those ones anyway," I muttered as I opened my locker and began sifting through my belongings.
That much was true. I had kept it in my bag only for emergencies. It wasn't something I would have endured wearing unless absolutely necessary. I only had it because my mother had bought a discounted package and insisted they were just as good. She had bought tampons for herself.
Bran looked up at the ceiling as if it were somehow entertaining. "You won't be the subject of gossip for a few days," he said. "Not with diaper girl around."
He might be right but the only positive feeling I had about it was the relief that it wasn't worse. I didn't want to be like Samantha. I didn't want to bully back.
"And then what?" I asked as I stuffed the last of my books into my locker and shut the door. "She won't let this go."
He rested his arm across my shoulder again as we headed to the gym for one of our last rehearsals. "She better if she doesn't want trouble."
We walked by Samantha who had since stuffed the pad into her locker just to get it out of sight. Her cheeks were bright red and she fumbled one of her books as we passed. Is that what I looked like?
"Michael would say to ignore her because she's just a pathetic moron," I said.
I was surprised when Bran did not offer soft words of comfort or solidarity but instead chuckled. "Pretending someone doesn't exist just means you're wide open when they chuck a rock at your head."
I sighed. "I'm just happier ignoring these things. I guess I should be glad you didn't go all immortal warrior on her."
He snorted. "Why would I bother?" He looked down at me and then broke into a full bellied laugh. "Is that why you were so worried about me dealing with it? You thought I whip out my sword for even the tiniest slight? Not all battles have swords, dove." He gave my shoulders a squeeze. "Relax. I swear to you I'm tame. House trained even!"
I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. He laughed again. "Don't worry, dove. I won't do anything unless she tries to hurt you again."
I looked up at him. "And when she does?"
The fire was dancing. "Let's make it a surprise."
"You make it sound like cake."
He renewed his deep laugh. "Revenge cake. I like that."