13 to Life (27 page)

“Some cultures say November first’s a magical day. A day the dead come to visit,” he said thoughtfully.

I had to keep moving forward—the office just in sight, Pietr nearly on my heels—but my feet almost tangled beneath me at the thought of what some believed might greet me on my birthday. A reunion with the dead?
That
I most certainly wasn’t ready for.

At least Pietr didn’t have to worry about
that
.

My father was leaning against the office counter, looking stern. Beside him was Alexi, looking equally grave.

As we entered, VP Perlson emerged from his office. “Officer Kent.”

“Vice Principal.” Kent turned to look at Dad and Alexi. “A drug-sniffing dog”—he looked at me and noted my crossed arms and jutting jaw—“
charged
Jessica and then came after Pietr. As a result, we had to search them and their belongings.”

“Wait,” Dad said. “Do the dogs usually
charge
people?”

“It was a highly unusual situation,” Kent admitted. “Anyway, there was nothing on them or in their possessions, so they’re free to go.”

Dad reached out and hugged me. My feet came off the ground in his exuberance. “I couldn’t believe it when they called,” he said. He set me down and turned his attention to Officer Kent. “Was the dog doing a scheduled search?”

“No, the K-9 unit was part of an antidrug assembly and demonstration.”

“Sounds like a scared straight method if I ever heard one.” Dad patted the top of my head. He looked at Alexi and Pietr. Addressing Alexi, he said, “You don’t seem real concerned about all this.”

Alexi shrugged. “My entire family has strange run-ins with dogs,” he said. “Some dogs like us, some dogs don’t.” He turned to Kent. “So do they return to class now?”

Perlson answered. “I think that could be potentially disruptive to the student body. Most of them saw the dog’s reaction. It’s probably best to take them home today and have them attend school normally tomorrow. It should give things time to settle down again.”

We all nodded. I’d gladly do whatever it took for things to settle down.

Walking out to the parking lot, I said to Pietr, “So, you may not be celebrating your birthday, but how about going with all of us the Friday night of the fair? Then for your birthday on Saturday it’ll be like you already celebrated.” I smiled, doing my best to be inviting and finding I didn’t
need
to try anymore.

The time spent together went a great distance to lightening my mood and again changing my attitude about Pietr. Yeah. The time and the fact he’d probably saved my life from an insane dog. “So, will you come to the fair?”

“Okay.”

And I felt better. About most everything.

I slumped into the car, thinking about Pietr’s note in my pocket. There was no way I could ask Dad to let me hang out with Pietr tonight, not after all the weirdness that had just gone down. And the thought of asking Dad to let me stay over—it was laughable, really. I resigned myself to the fact I’d have to sneak out. What was one more lie among many?

I rubbed my eyes, hoping this wasn’t going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Dad said very little on the way home, but it didn’t surprise
me. Dad seldom chatted, and frankly, what would you say to an innocent kid who had nearly been mauled by a drug dog?

We made it through dinner and homework, but when Dad suggested we watch television, I started getting antsy.

Annabelle Lee studied me carefully. She knew something was up, and she wanted me to know it, too. Sitting on the couch, she yawned and stretched, putting her book down. “I’m exhausted,” she said suddenly. “I think sleep sounds good.”

I responded with a well-timed, “For once, I agree with you. Today’s been exhausting.” I gave Dad a quick peck on the cheek.

He looked at both of us and glanced at the clock. “I guess it’s not a bad time to turn in. Early, but I’m pulling a double tomorrow. Don’t wake me for breakfast.”

We nodded, and flipped off the lights before climbing the stairs and heading to our respective bedrooms.

In my hip pocket I felt my cell phone vibrate. I snapped it open. A text from Pietr.

2nite

I replied:
ASAP

I turned off my lights and sat, waiting in the darkness. I heard my father leave the bathroom, walk down the hall and into his room. His door clicked shut.

BCNU,
I typed.
BFN.

Quiet as a cat, I crept down our stairs and out the door. I raced across the open space between the house and the barn, sure that if there was any place I’d be seen, it was there. Inside the barn I paused to suck in the sweet smell of hay and musk of horses. My heartbeat slowed as I readied my ride.

“Come on, sweetie,” I soothed, slipping the bit into Rio’s mouth. “Just a late-night ride.” I put the saddle blanket over her back, tugging it to the edge of her withers. She snorted and shook her mane. “Hey,” I said, “one more request. If you need to take a dump, please do it now. I really don’t have time to clean up once we start out, and leaving a big clump of horse poo on the sidewalk will sort of let everybody know we were around.”

Rio snorted again.

“Ooo-kay,” I said. “If you really don’t have to . . .” I hefted the saddle onto her back and cinched the girth. I tugged at the saddle, adjusting the girth strap again. I led her out of the barn, into the crisp night air. She twitched but stood steady as I
slipped a foot into one stirrup and hoisted myself up. “Here we go. G’yup,” I said, giving the reins a little flick.

We moved out at a trot, two dark figures joined in one secret purpose, ghosting along the edge of the trees where shadow and moonlight warred.

We made good time. The streets and sidewalks were empty, most houses lit with only the blue glow of television as people wound down the night. I sometimes caught whispers of what must have been conversation or television shows and commercials. The only other noise was the steady clopping of Rio’s hooves on asphalt and concrete as we made our way across the corner of town. We crossed the bridge spanning the Wanido River, and the steady clatter of Rio’s hooves was muffled by the lapping of waves against the old bridge’s concrete feet. Down the old block we went, marveling at the dimly lit Victorian and Cape Cod houses, and most important—Pietr’s home with its warm, inviting glow.

Catherine was seated on the porch stairs. Rio walked right to her and blew in her face, throwing Catherine’s dark hair back in a gust. Catherine laughed at her antics, and I wasn’t sure who she spoke her next words to as she got to her feet. “Thank goodness you’re here.” She rubbed Rio’s nose. “If he would only talk to me.” She shook her head, looking at me. “But he won’t. So I hope you are what he needs right now.”

I dismounted and looped the reins around the porch banister. “He’s not doing real well, then?”

“You can imagine,” she suggested, suddenly serious.

“Yeah.”

“What will she need?” Catherine asked, stroking Rio.

“Oh.” I removed her saddle and saddle blanket. “Some water—if you have a bucket to spare.”

“Sure,” Catherine smiled.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?”

“Not yet, but they will,” she said, her tone ominous.

“Is it a problem?”

“We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” But she winked. As if that would make any of this easier.

Chewing my lower lip, I entered the house, leaving Catherine outside.

Pietr was waiting just beyond the foyer, sitting on the bottom step of their large staircase. His furrowed brow relaxed when he saw me walk in and close the door.

“How are you?” I asked.

He tried a smile. “Fine.” It was the closest he’d come to lying to me. He stood, taking my hand to lead me up the stairs.

“Where are we going?” I asked, the words breathy—and not because of the anticipated climb, either, although the house was immense. It seemed almost bigger inside than out.

Pietr looked over his shoulder at me. “To my room. Where’d you think?”

My heart crawled toward my throat. Wasn’t this exactly what my father had always warned me about? Going to a guy’s
room
? What
was
I thinking? I tugged my hand out of Pietr’s. “I don’t think—”

He raised an eyebrow at me and I realized all signs of the ATV accident were gone.
Man,
he was like frikkin’ Wolverine from my dad’s comic book collection.

“What do you think’s going to happen in my room?” he asked, sorrow replaced by obvious intrigue.

I stuttered—my brain on hold.

Catherine rushed up the steps, jabbing me with an elbow. “I gave her water, and don’t worry, nothing interesting could
ever
happen in Pietr’s room,” she assured. “It’s the most utterly cerebral place in the house.” She squeezed past us then, footsteps fading above us. I heard a door open and close.

Pietr frowned.

“Lead on,” I commanded.

At the top of the steps were four doors. One, open, was obviously a bathroom. I heard music coming from the one on the far right, a light shining under its edge. “Catherine’s,” Pietr confirmed, pointing. “Max’s. Alexi sleeps downstairs.”

He opened the other door and pushed an old light switch.

The sudden light illuminated Catherine’s strange statement quite clearly.

“Umm . . . you must read a lot,” I said, seeing the shelves packed with books. There were no visible walls, just shelf after shelf of book spines, some new, many faded with age and wear. They were a mix of English, Russian, and a few other languages—German, French, and something else. A single window looked out over the lawn, wedged between the shelves like a single awkward eyeball in a cyclops skull.

He flopped onto his bed and moved a book aside.

“Is that—?”

“Not
Romeo and Juliet,
” he proclaimed.
“The Merchant of Venice.”
He shrugged.

“Did you know that’s the first written thing that has the name Jessica in it? She and Lorenzo are the Romeo and Juliet of that story. Well, sort of. So. Reading Shakespeare. And not for school.”

“I read when I have time. I’ve been told it’s very Russian of me.”

“Hey—I read, too,” I said. Okay, maybe a bit too defensively. “Wow—some of these are pretty heavy: philosophy and stuff,” I mentioned, noticing a few titles. Yeah. And I was knee-deep in
vampire novels. I looked at him as he lounged, leaning on his pillow, watching me with curiosity coloring his bright eyes.

He nodded. “I think a lot about that stuff.”

“Yeah?” I said, perching on the corner of his bed. I tried not to think about the fact I was sitting on a guy’s bed. In his room. And should not be thinking anything at all romantic was going to happen. “What sorts of things do you think about?”

“What makes a man a man.”

I choked on the topic. “If you asked half the junior class, they’d probably say it’s having sex.”

“Da,”
he said, twisting his lips around in thought.

“What do
you
think makes a man?” I asked.

“His deeds. His responsibilities and reactions.”

“Okay, I’d agree.” I tugged at one of my shoelaces. “What else do you think about?”

“What makes a man a monster.”

I stared at him for the longest time, the cogs in my brain slipping as if the very mechanism of thought was breaking down. “And what have you decided makes a man a monster?”

“The same things.”

I nodded. Slowly. “Heavy stuff.” I picked at a wrinkle in the comforter on his bed. “What about Ashton’s question in lit? Were Romeo and Juliet screwed by destiny or their own doing?”

He chuckled. “You’re asking if I think we really get to choose in life.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t think we get as many choices as we should.”

“Huh. That’s an interesting way of answering. So is your destiny set in the stars?” I giggled.

Again he didn’t answer directly. “I know how my story ends, if that’s what you mean.”

“Happily ever after?”

Again he avoided me. “Too soon.”

“That’s a safe enough answer,” I conceded. I licked my lips. “So. Are you okay?”

He leaned over, lifting my chin with his hand, so I saw the pain glittering golden in his eyes. “I’m getting better,” he claimed.

So we made small talk, quietly avoiding the topic of that very thing that brought us together: death. I pulled my legs up and tucked my feet beneath them, sitting cross-legged. “Here.” I patted my thigh. “Put your head here.”

Silently he obeyed. I ran my fingers along his forehead, tracing the faint worry lines there, trying to brush them away. He sighed, a sound that seemed to come from the deepest part of him. His whole body relaxed then, his breathing evened out, and I knew he had fallen asleep.

It wasn’t long until my leg did, too. Pinned beneath the crushing weight of his head (who would have guessed it could feel so heavy?) I tried to regain feeling in my leg and foot.
Nuts.
I slipped my hands under his head and lifted as I scooted awkwardly away—and right off the bed. Suddenly on the floor, I blushed when Pietr’s eyes popped open.

He grinned. “You okay down there?”

“Yeah. Hey. Want to go for a ride?”

He sat straight up. “Sure. ATV?”

“Nope. Tonight you’re riding with me. Come on.” I jumped to my feet, my knee buckling beneath me, my leg still tingly.

Pietr laughed, grabbing me and looping my arm across his neck. “There will surely be questions about this tomorrow,” he smirked.

Sure enough, Max glanced up as we made our way down
the stairs. He paused, a smile twisting his lips. “What can you possibly do so quietly that winds up with her limping?”

My ears burned at the implication, but Pietr snarled at him in my defense, “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

Max shrugged. “Just don’t let Sasha find her here so late.”

Pietr followed me until we were standing beside Rio. “Okay, let’s do this.” I quickly explained what I was doing and why as I saddled her, mounted, and kicked my feet out of the stirrups so he could use one to vault up behind me.

He mounted like a pro.

“Have you ridden before?”