The Mark of Fallen Flame (Weapon of Fire and Ash) Page 4

  She looked out the window again as they pulled onto their street. Everything seemed quiet. Too quiet. Like everyone was afraid to go outside for fear of being blown to pieces.

  They carried in every single shopping bag, along with the warm tacos, in one trip but the thick tension in the air kept Emma from cracking a joke about it. After they got everything put away and sat down to eat their moderately squished lunch, they both visibly relaxed.

  As the evening went on, her mother smiled at a sarcastic remark Emma made, and they were both almost able to forget about the weird events of the day. They ate junk food for dinner while watching The Phantom of the Opera. They argued about whether Christine should have chosen the Phantom like they always did, which usually resulted in her mother tossing popcorn at her and telling her she was naive.

  Exhaustion made Emma’s eyelids heavy during the final scene, but she was determined to stay awake. Her mother glanced down at her phone as the end credits appeared, accompanied by the melancholy tune that Emma hated. Peering over at the screen that read eight minutes after nine, Emma readied herself for her mother’s speech about getting plenty of sleep for the first day of school.

  Instead, her mother stood, offering her hand to pull Emma to her feet, then wrapped her in an uncharacteristically long hug. The tension of the past two days melted in her embrace. Tears pricked behind Emma’s eyelids. A hug from her mother was exactly what she needed. She wanted to confess what had really happened to Adrianna. To both of them. But sense held her back. Whether it was because she didn’t want to sound crazy or because even she didn’t fully understand what had happened, she didn’t know. And Emma didn’t allow herself to explore her reasons.

  When they broke apart, Emma turned the TV off and her mother started up the stairs, Emma following closely behind. They parted on the landing to go to their rooms. Her mother shouted a promise over her shoulder to get Emma a coffee in the morning before taking her to school. Emma smiled despite the anxiety that rose unbidden through her.

  Inside her room, she set herself to rechecking that her bookbag was ready for tomorrow. She double-checked her books, notebooks, binders, folders, and writing utensils, and had everything in order. Almost everything. Her class schedule was nowhere to be found. She rifled through all her supplies and checked by her bed, but she couldn’t find it anywhere. Not that she needed it. She’d had her schedule memorized two hours after she had received it in the mail.

  A yawn escaped her, drawing her attention back to her nightstand. Ten o’clock. She unlocked her door, rushing to brush her teeth. Paranoia caused her to practically sprint through the dark hall back into her room. She locked her door then sent a text message to Adrianna telling her where to meet her in the morning. Then she climbed into bed, scooting herself under the thick duvet.

  She drifted off to sleep, pushing all thoughts of golden-eyed men far from her mind.

  5

  Emma

  Emma was up before her alarm, showered and dressed in the outfit she had picked out the day before. Her hair was kept in its natural wavy state, tamed with the help of anti-frizzing oil. She went the extra mile with her makeup, applying liquid liner and light shimmering eyeshadow.

  She stared at her reflection for several minutes, tilting her head at different angles. Her eyes were bright with excitement, but they didn’t glow. The sliver of normalcy helped to unknot the twisted mess inside her stomach.

  A knock startled her from her jumbled thoughts. Her spine straightened as she smoothed her hands over her shirt. Opening the door, she stalked out of the bathroom, avoiding her mother’s amused gaze.

  “I’ll be ready to leave in ten minutes,” she heard her mother call before Emma closed her bedroom door. She decided to check for her class schedule again, rationalizing that in her nervousness she wanted to be sure she had every detail memorized. Not because she thought her missing class schedule was odd, she told herself.

  She searched through everything, scouring her room in case it had fallen somewhere, but to no avail. Several minutes later, her mother called up to her from the main floor. With a frustrated huff, she slung her backpack strap over her shoulder and headed downstairs.

  “Have you seen my class schedule?” Emma asked once they were in the car, shivering from the cold morning air that blasted through the vents.

  “No, sorry, honey.” She glanced sidelong at Emma. “You can get a new one printed at the main office if you’re worried.”

  “Yeah.” The pesky thing would probably turn up sometime next week once she was settled in all her classes.

  “So, what’s your first class?” her mother asked. Emma knew her mother’s interest was partly meant to fuel her excitement. It worked.

  “Organic Chemistry,” she sighed as if those two words were a romantic date and not a high school class. Senior year meant she got first pick of classes and teachers. She had meticulously studied the options, weighing the value of each one based on what her college schedule was going to look like next year. She wasn’t entirely set on a particular major yet, but she knew it was going to be science-oriented. She went back and forth between marine biology and hydrology despite her mother’s more than suggestive hints that she would make an excellent surgeon.

  Stuffy hospitals weren’t Emma’s idea of an exciting and fulfilling career. Whatever she chose, she wanted to be physically out in the field, touching and observing things for herself. She loved all living things, especially those that resided in the dark, watery depths.

  Her fascination with the collectible children’s books on creatures and plants of the deep kept her awake late at night when she was little. Beneath the covers, she read about every scaly and finned creature by flashlight. When she would gush random facts that she had learned the next morning, the expression her mother wore was conflicted. Once Emma got a bit older, she realized it was because her mother hadn’t wanted to dampen her enthusiasm by putting an end to her late-night reading sessions.

  “What’s your next class?” her mother asked, the corners of her lips twitching.

  “Calculus.” Emma’s voice went flat. She didn’t hate math; math was required in chemistry, but without the scientific application, the subject was as dry as a desert in her mind.

  “You’ll do wonderfully,” her mother assured her as the car pulled into the coffee shack’s drive-thru.

  Emma didn’t respond, her mind had already switched gears.

  “Large, triple-shot, Irish cream latte,” she said after a quick glance at the board.

  Her mother snorted. “When you’re old enough I’ll get you a real Irish cream latte and see if you still like it.”

  Emma suppressed a smile. She didn’t dare tell her mother she had already tried alcohol once in the sixth grade when a girl she had befriended had snuck a small bottle of liquor in her backpack. They both had taken one swig before spraying it into the bushes with revolted gags.

  Her mother passed her the steaming hot cup. The heat thawed her fingers as she sipped with a contented sigh. Her mother followed suit. Emma smiled against the plastic lid. This was what happy memories were made of. It was a tradition for the two of them to get drive-thru coffees on the first day of school.

  The remainder of the short drive to the high school was filled with more chatter about Emma’s classes.

  “So, I’ll try to be here to pick you up at three, but I’ll send a text if I can’t get away,” her mother said as Emma swung the door open and hopped down from the SUV.

  She shouldered her backpack and nodded.

  “I love you,” her mother added softly, her eyes misty.

  “I love you too, Mom.”

  With that, Emma shut the door and turned to face the familiar brick building with a deep breath in through her nose. She smiled as a surge of nervous excitement washed through her.

  They had moved to Seattle at the end of the previous school year. Adr
ianna had spotted Emma sitting at a lunch table by herself, trying to hide from the stares that came with being “the new kid” by burying her nose in a book. She had dropped into the seat across from Emma, staring at the cover of the book she was reading until Emma’s emerald green eyes peered over the top.

  “I just didn’t want you to have to eat alone,” Adrianna had explained, but her tone held no remorse. Emma said nothing as she closed the book. They introduced themselves, Adrianna extending a rich, mocha-colored hand. Emma had laughed.

  “Is that a Washington thing?”

  “No, that’s a my-dad-is-a-lawyer thing,” she replied with a wink.

  Emma laughed again.

  “What were you reading?”

  “It’s a sci-fi romance,” Emma said.

  Adrianna wrinkled her dainty nose. “I don’t do sci-fi.”

  Emma shrugged, still smiling. “It’s not for everyone, but the spaceships are actually fashion runways.” Adrianna’s eyes lit up. “You’re welcome to borrow it when I’m done.”

  It was the start of a wonderful friendship, but like all the friends she’d had in her life, she knew to not get too attached. Every so often, with little-to-no warning, her mother would announce they were moving. Even when they’d stayed in the same city for two whole years, they had switched houses three times. Like her mother, Emma had learned to live with half her belongings packed in cardboard boxes stashed in her closet, because they lived life with one foot out the door.

  “Dang girl, you look smokin’!” The sound of Adrianna’s voice snapped Emma out of her reverie. Adrianna propelled herself toward Emma on her crutches. Emma closed the distance, carefully wrapping her arms around her friend.

  Emma lifted a single brow at Adrianna’s outfit. Her daringly short black skirt was paired with a bright pink peplum top that matched her cast. Emma’s eyes lingered on it then shifted to the bandage on her arm. Her chest tightened painfully before she forced a smile.

  “That skirt is way too short for dress code,” Emma said.

  Adrianna waved a hand at the crutches. “I’m disabled. They can’t send me home for wearing the only thing I could get over my cast.”

  Emma snorted. “And I’d have thought you would have ditched the crutches.”

  “No way! Maybe this way some hot guy will offer to carry my books.” Adrianna’s eyebrows waggled suggestively.

  “How romantic,” Emma replied. Her lips were pressed tightly together to keep from laughing, as Adrianna struggled to weave through the sea of teenagers who were utterly oblivious to them.

  “C’mon people, move it, cripple coming through!” Adrianna bellowed. After a few more shouts and waving her crutches in people’s faces, the masses parted, giving a clear path to the glass double doors. The hundred or so pairs of eyes that swept over them, some with irritation, others with amusement, had Emma’s face hot with embarrassment by the time they got inside.

  “Was that necessary?” Emma asked.

  Adrianna shrugged. “Got them to move, didn’t it?”

  Emma didn’t answer. She helped Adrianna open her locker, shoving the books for her later classes inside before they stopped at her own.

  “So, I’ll see you in third period?” Adrianna asked, eyeing a group of guys, laughing as they passed by. A basketball was being flung from person to person. One of the guys who noticed her blatant stare, gave her a wink before disappearing behind the corner.

  “Looks like Sean might be willing to carry your books,” Emma teased, nudging her gently. Adrianna gave a dreamy smile in return.

  “Right, well I’ll see you in history.” Adrianna waved, setting off for the elevator. Emma trudged up the stairs, wishing she had her class schedule to confirm the room number. Her fingers twitched, and she wound the strap from her backpack around her fingers to steady them.

  Organic chemistry was in the science wing at the far end of the school. The walking space had become limited now that all the students were bustling around to their first classes. Now that she was a senior, she had figured out how to avoid getting jostled by the guys who, it seemed, had shot up at least six inches over the summer break.

  “Completely unfair,” Emma grumbled under her breath, narrowly dodging a particularly heavy-set boy who was staring down at his phone.

  Etched on the glass panel above the door at the end of the hall read 32B. A tang of sulfur lingered in the hallway but dissipated as soon as she stepped into the room. The classroom was smaller than most, and the long black table-tops were bare of the usual equipment. The front row was taken, much to Emma’s disappointment. She found a seat in the second row, dropping her backpack onto the newly repainted surface. All of the previous years of students carving their names or their current crush’s initials were still vaguely visible, as if the effort was half-hearted, given that the tables would be marked again by the end of the year.

  She unzipped her bag and began pulling supplies out when a tingle danced from her fingertips, up her arms.

  Her head whipped up just in time to lock onto a pair of stunning espresso-brown eyes. For a moment she forgot to breathe. Her blood pumped so loudly in her ears that she could hardly hear the gasps and whispers from everyone else in the room. The boy was gorgeous in a dangerous way.

  He stared back at her as he sauntered in. His chestnut-colored hair styled in a fade, looked artfully windswept. His Metallica t-shirt clung to his toned frame, and peeking beneath his sleeve, snaking around a firm bicep, was a tattoo, though she couldn’t make out what it was of.

  His mesmerizing gaze remained entangled with hers as he passed her. The space between them was charged with electricity, and goosebumps broke out of her skin.

  The girls in the front row all craned around to stare at him, and she felt the desire to do the same. He chose a seat in the back row, diagonal from her. In her peripheral vision, two golden brown eyes were fixed on her. Yet something deep within her chest could sense his attention without seeing it.

  Her body was both hot and cold, invisible threads pushing and pulling at her. She wanted nothing more than to climb over the table that separated them, and equally to run out the door, down to the registrar’s office and have her classes reassigned. Better still, to beg her mother to move anywhere else as long as it was far away.

  She shook her head, trying to clear it as a few more students filed in and took their seats. A boy by the name of Jared settled into the seat next to her. She groaned internally.

  His boyish, pimple-covered face turned to smile at her. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his skin-flecked nose, practically cramming the frame into his eye sockets. The indentations of the nose rests were proof that it was a nervous habit. The pungent scent of body odor turned her stomach.

  “Looks like we’re both taking Ms. Fararr’s class again this year,” Jared said breathlessly, leaning toward her.

  “Sure does appear to be that way, Jared,” Emma replied, trying to keep as much space between them as possible.

  A low chuckle came from behind them. Heat bloomed in Emma’s cheeks as she swiveled in her chair. Cruel amusement lit the boy’s features.

  “What?” Emma snapped.

  He shrugged, his eyes boring into her. Her heart kicked up into a frenzy. She glared, hoping to make him uncomfortable, but his grin only grew. When at last she thought her face might burst into flames, she spun back around.

  The bell sounded just as a tall, gray-streaked woman with bird-like features walked in. Her gaze was as sharp as a hawk’s as she assessed those seated before her. Emma noticed, with no small amount of annoyance, that her eyes lingered on where the new guy sat in the back. The severe woman’s back straightened as she set her briefcase down, flicked the latches open and began removing stacks of papers. The room was silent, awaiting instruction.

  “This is Organic Chemistry. I am Ms. Farrars. If this is not where you are supp
osed to be, I suggest you leave.” An awkward silence stretched on for what felt like ages. When no one moved, her eyes flicked up, looking past Emma and then back down as she closed her case and set it under her desk.

  Emma glanced out of the corner of her eye to see the new guy’s intense stare still trained on her. If he had noticed the teacher’s attention, he didn’t let on. The heat returned to her cheeks. She drew in a quiet breath and tried to focus on what the teacher was now writing on the chalkboard.

  The words reached her ears, but she didn’t hear a single one. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to keep up with the lecture. Why did he have to look at her as if assessing an opponent? What was it about him that seemed to pull at her, as if she were magnetized to him while simultaneously pushing away?

  When the bell rang, she started. She hastily grabbed her materials, stuffing them into her bag before she headed for the door. Unable to resist, she risked a glance over her shoulder. The boy lounged in his seat. The girl who sat beside him chattered away, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes swept up to meet Emma’s as if sensing her gaze.

  She pushed her way into the crowded corridor before he had risen from his seat. It looked almost as if he had wanted to give her a head start. Like he knew he made her uncomfortable and hoped to put her at ease.

  It did just the opposite.

  As Emma checked over her shoulder again for him, she collided with something—or rather, someone. They tumbled to the floor, books, and papers scattering around them.

  “I’m so sorry,” Emma gasped as she untangled herself from a pale, frightened-looking girl. Emma offered a hand to help the girl to her feet, which she accepted with pink-splotched cheeks.

  “It’s okay,” the small girl replied. Her frizzy blond hair stood out of her ponytail in lumped tufts. They made quick grabs to pull their belongings away from the flow of traffic. Emma handed a paper she didn’t recognize to the girl, who smiled her thanks.