Shadow Walker (Neteru Academy Books) (8 page)

“The perimeter here and at the school is secure? You’re positive?”

Sarah watched her father’s expression as a little silver flickered around the edges of his irises before he answered.

“Would I let my kids go if it wasn’t?” Her father sat back and stared at Uncle Jose hard. “Marlene added extra spiritual lines of defense in both places, awright?”

Uncle Jose held up his hands in front of his chest and kept his voice low. “If you like it, I love it, hombre.”

“I
don’t
like it,” her father said, cutting a glance at her mother, “but I don’t have a choice.”

“We’ve been over this already, Carlos,” her mother said in a quiet but firm tone.

The back of Sarah’s chair bumped suddenly and broke into her eavesdropping. As she spun around quickly, she saw her brother coming from the buffet with a fresh stack of pancakes and bacon.

“I was gonna ask you how you were doing, but I see your third eye is trying to pop out of your forehead. Damn, that’s a beaut,” Al said laughing, and then jumped back as she tried to elbow him. He sloshed his milk, but shot a tactical charge at it before it could hit the ground, returning it to his cup. “I got skills, sis, so you’ve gotta do better than that.”

Sarah was out of her chair with the intention of shoving him hard, but her father snapped his head up from his conversation, eyes beginning to turn silver.

“I’m not in the mood this morning, Al. Leave your sister alone.”

It wasn’t a comment, it was a command, and it rolled across the table and paralyzed her brother like a rush of instant thunder.

“She pushed me!” Al argued, trying to save face.

“I did not!” Sarah yelled. “He’s always got something smart to say—I can’t stand him!”

Sarah watched her father take a very slow sip of his coffee, fangs beginning to lengthen.

“What did I say?” her father asked slowly, dropping each word with perfect diction. His silver gaze was fixed on Al. No one spoke, no one moved, all conversation had ceased. The general had spoken. “I swear to you, if I have to get up…”

Her mother let out a huff of breath and tossed her napkin onto the table. “All of you kids need to hurry up and finish eating, then get ready for your first day at the Academy, so stop horsing around.”

Just like a hard, clean rain, the tension was broken, and uncles and aunts began eating again. Damn, Sarah thought. Her mother had averted a potential confrontation that she’d so wanted to see. Would it have been so bad to have Al get vamp-snatched by the scruff of his neck? But, no, her mom always had to save her dumb brother’s hide!

Al walked away with some of his dignity still intact, and Sarah stuck her tongue out at him as she cleared away her plate.

“He’s stupid, you know that,” Tami said a few minutes later, as they scraped their dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

“He’s no different than the hundreds of other kids who are going to see Mount Everest on my forehead this morning,” Sarah said, dejected. “I gotta go get dressed.”

Once breakfast was behind her, it felt like it had taken forever to get away from everybody and reach her room. Once inside, she did something she rarely did. She locked the door. She didn’t want to deal with Tami bursting in with more sarcastic comments, or Allie’s fretting or Hyacinth’s too cheery view of the world. This morning sucked. Her position at the Academy sucked.

Sarah snatched the letter off her dresser and reread it, hoping the contents had changed since her last reading.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Rivera,

Per our conversation two days ago, this letter is to confirm that your daughter, Sarah Rivera, will be placed in the Blends talent division at the start of the school year. Again, I apologize that it was necessary to test Sarah three separate times. We certainly never expected to receive three completely different yet inconclusive results. Since she has demonstrated such an unusual mixture of talents, we feel that the Blends division is the right place for her at this time.

We will also be happy to continue to watch her development throughout the school year and will be more than willing to retest her at a later date. We expect that, given her parentage, Sarah will quickly place in one of the more refined talents division—perhaps the Specials, along with your son, Alejandro.

How dare that crazy old dragon mention that idiot in her letter!

If you have any questions at all, I am more than happy to set up a time to talk to you via PirateNet, or we can arrange an in-person meeting at the Academy. In the meantime, we humbly welcome Sarah and Alejandro to our institution, and look forward to shaping them into fine Guardians and more.

Sincerely,

Ms. Zehiradangra, Guidance Counselor
Dragon Pearl Oracle of the Highest Order

Nothing had changed. Same crappy letter. Sarah practically shook as she crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash. Washed-up old broad. What did Ms. Z know anyway? Everyone knew the woman was half crazy—and yet she got to test kids and determine their fates. Where was the logic in that?

Sarah stomped back over to the mirror with a handful of her clothes to get dressed. She was already showered, and if she went back into the bathroom she’d be tempted to try to lance the huge zit, which would only leave a scar.

The whole talent division process grated her. Why did they have to have placement tests, anyway? Some people just didn’t test well, and she was one of them. Here in the compound all her aunts and uncles and both her parents were thrown together as family in one big pot. Nobody cared that Uncle Jack and Uncle Jose were noses—the best Olfactors and trackers around. Aunt Inez was a great seer, and she was married to Uncle Big Mike—Ayana’s stepdad, who could hear demons like a danged hunting dog. Who was gonna tell the big audio he couldn’t sit wherever he wanted at the breakfast table?

Uncle Dan and Uncle JL could practically levitate whole buildings, as veteran Tacticals… and then there were the family members with special talents. Aunt Jasmine could draw stuff on the walls and make it come alive. Aunt Krissy and her brother, Uncle Bobby, were white-lighters, wizards whose lineage went all the way back to Merlin’s time. Heck, her Aunt Valkyrie was a battlefield flier, and there were maybe only a handful of those left in the world now. Hyacinth’s grandparents were healers. But nobody was separating her family and saying those team members couldn’t work as a group. Compounds didn’t function according to talent divisions in the real world, so why did kids have to go through this at school? It wasn’t realistic, wasn’t practical. Not that her opinion mattered.

But someone had made up a stupid rule that every Guardian had to have a talent, an extra sensory ability that they were born with, and people with the basic skill-sets got split up into four groups at the Academy: Olfactors, Audios, Tacticals and Clairvoyants. Those who excelled at everything were dubbed Specials.

But she had the misfortune of falling into the dreaded category of kids whose talents hadn’t presented fully yet, despite puberty, despite age, despite parental lineage. In short, they were the duds. Weapons that didn’t fire, like a bum grenade. The division you got put in determined whether or not you were marked for success or had to endure teasing, possibly for your whole life. She would never forgive Ms. Z for this.

There was no getting around the fact that her dad had been so proud when he’d heard that Alejandro had been tapped for the Specials division. It had been written all over his face…followed by the worried look he gave her when he learned she’d tested into Blends. Sure, he’d given her a hug, the one that said she was still his baby girl, but that only made her feel worse.

Sarah struggled with getting her red sweater over the white blouse and tugged on her khaki skirt—her uniform for the next year until she moved up a level. She blew out a breath. Leave it to the headmistress, her grandmother Marlene, to color code the freakin’ uniforms by the chakra system. First years, the lowest level, got red. Great. Just great.

Sarah looked in the mirror and cringed.
Oh no! Allie!
What she saw wasn’t some new talent emerging—it was static cling, courtesy of Allie’s first-day nerves. Working frantically, she tried to ground herself and dispel it by touching her wooden dresser with one free hand. No luck. Every time she brushed her sweater down with the other hand, a blue haze of static crackled over it and made it emphasize her lack of curves in an even less flattering way. Even her red socks were crackling, and the laces of her sneakers were standing straight up in the air. When she felt her ponytail begin to lift off her neck, she almost screamed in frustration.

Her father’s bellow for them to hurry up made Sarah hug herself and close her eyes. At the light knock at the door she her let out a long sigh. She knew who was on the other side of the door and was so not ready to deal with that situation on top of everything else.

“Y
ou okay?”

Sarah turned around and looked at her mom as she came into her bedroom. “Yeah.” What was the purpose of locks if your mom had tactical ability to just turn the tumbler and come in anyway? But she really couldn’t be angry. Her mom never barged into her room, and she had just mentally screamed…. Maybe she had called her hard in her head without meaning to, because if anybody could fix what was wrong, it would be her. Sarah just hated having to ask.

The two of them regarded each other for a long moment, quietly searching for a way to begin the conversation that needed to be had. In that moment Sarah knew why her dad had fallen in love with her mother. Who wouldn’t have? She had goddess written all over her. Perfect cinnamon brown skin, even at her age. Not a wrinkle on her face. Thick, long, amber-hued dreadlocks. A body that would make all the Upper Sphere boys’ jaws drop when she showed up in Kemetian robes. But that was better than having her mom show up in leather battle gear—they’d have to pass around smelling salts for the guys, if she did that.

“You don’t sound so okay,” her mother finally said, then waited, leaning on the doorframe as she closed the door behind her.

It was always the same way. Her mom would make a comment, then wait as silence slipped into the quiet space between them to answer the question for her. Sarah watched the angle of her mother’s gaze go first to her forehead and then to her clothes before it lingered on the trash can and then came back to her eyes.

“I’ll be fine.”

The last thing she needed was to worry her mother about a pimple and static cling. At least that was what everyone always told her: Don’t bother your mother, don’t trouble your father, your parents have enough on their minds.

But her mother crossed the room and enfolded her in a warm pair of arms anyway, and the gentle breath against her scalp made the tears Sarah had been holding back hard to fight.

“I remember my first day of high school,” her mom said, kissing the crown of Sarah’s head. “I was scared to death I wouldn’t fit in.”

“Not fair,” Sarah said, stiffening. “You’re supposed to ask before reading my mind. House rules for all clairvoyants, even mothers.”

“I didn’t read your mind, just your eyes, honey. I wouldn’t do that to you without your permission.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks. Sorry.” Sarah let her breath out in a hard rush, frustration claiming her as she pulled away to collect her suitcase. Distance helped keep the tears in check. “But you stood out because you were the pretty one, the one who had extra powers—not because you were the opposite.”

Her mother dragged her graceful fingers through her dreadlocks and tried to look serene. “It’s always hard being different, honey…and you’re not the opposite.”

“Face it, Mom, I’m not you. I didn’t get the superpowers, didn’t get the looks—didn’t get any of the stuff you had going on when you went to school. Al got that, not me. And I hate that everyone is always telling me to watch out for my brother, when I’m the last person he listens to.”

“Sarah… I know how you—”

“Don’t say you know how I feel, Mom—because you don’t.” Sarah turned away and hugged herself, wanting to both scream and cry at the same time, and not completely sure why. “Times are different. Why can’t you accept that? Just like I’m different. They didn’t even have schools like this back in your day, just regular high school for normal human kids without special stuff. All the kids in this school have gifts or at least way more cool gifts than anything I’ve got. To be going to a school like…like almost a normal human is like…” Sarah looked away. “It’s like being a reject\. The worst part is, all my best friends will still be in different divisions once I bomb out on my tests again, and I’ll be all by myself with a bunch of new people I don’t even know or like.”

“Tami will be with you, honey, and so will Donnie.”

“Tami is gorgeous and fits in wherever she is. She may be crazy, but she’s crazy in a cool kinda way that’ll make her fit in with the bad-ass girls, who are always in the cool club.” Sarah glanced at her mom, realizing she’d let a curse word slip. “Sorry, Mom, but you know what I’m saying. Anyway, chances are Tami will come into her vamp powers real soon and will be out of Blends quicker than you can blink.” Sarah’s shoulders slumped as the magnitude of it all weighed on her. “And as much as I love Donnie, as far as fitting in with the cool group, he’s a social and talent disaster—like me. Great friend, loveable guy, but a geek. Period.”

She could literally feel her mother cringe at her words, and it only made the tears she’d been battling finally fall. So she was right. That was how her mom saw her, too. Non-talented.

“Sorry I disappointed you and Dad. I know me placing in Specials like Al would have meant a lot to you both, especially Dad.” Sarah sniffed hard and wiped her nose with the back of her wrist.

“Oh, Sarah… The last thing you are is a disappointment, honey. You are beautiful, smart… Your gifts will come in. Mine came in stages and—”