The Thief (4 page)

“
And she’s brought with her
some projects you’re very excited about.”

Charlotte colored slightly. “Huh?”

“
You’ve got chalk on your
sleeves and your shirt’s inside out. You’ve turned into an
absent-minded professor.”

“
I’m a high school chemistry
teacher, not a professor,” she chided. “She expanded my budget, if
that’s what you mean by projects. I’ve been able to put together
much better experiments for the kids this year.” She smiled at
Camille. “You’re lucky, I’ve got some really cool things planned.
If we don’t set something on fire before Christmas, I’ll be
shocked.”

Gabriel sighed, looking at the new graffiti.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re the only one who’s happy we’re
here?”

“
Rin’s just a very careful
person,” she said generously. “And Hyde...that’s nothing personal.
He seems to think he has to test every new student.”

“
And Tailor?”

Her smile stiffened. “What about him?”

“
Ahh,” Gabriel said,
apparently seeing some sort of answer in her reaction. “Still that
bad?”

“
Don’t give up on him,
okay?” Charlotte said. “One of these days he’ll come
around.”

“
You say that...”

“
It would help if you’d stop
provoking him,” she admonished.

He smiled. “I like to think of it as
teaching him to lighten up.”

“
Pigs will fly before John
Tailor learns to lighten up,” Charlotte said dryly.

“
Maybe I should be the one
telling you not to give up,” he said.

She laughed. “That’s just being realistic,”
she said. “Well, I should get back. Looks like I’ll be seeing you
in class tomorrow, Camille.”

Camille shrugged.

“
She’s excited,” Gabriel
lied.

Charlotte laughed. “I bet I can teach her to
be. See you.”

Camille and Gabriel went back into the
stuffy half-finished cafe. He pored over lists and schematics on
the unpainted counter. She leaned against a pillar, wishing for a
chair.

“
I don’t want to go to
school with these people,” Camille said, glad to be back to
speaking Japanese like a normal person.

“
Oh, they’re not all that
bad,” said Gabriel. “Charlotte’s lovely. Didn’t you hear? She’ll
let you set things on fire in chemistry.”

“
I don’t like that Umino
woman,” she grumbled.

“
And she doesn’t like you,”
he agreed cheerfully. “Though to be fair, most of that is my fault.
There’s always going to be someone out there who’s bent on ruining
you - best to get used to that now. Speaking of...tell me the rules
again.”

Camille sighed. If she had a nickel for
every time he’d made her repeat the stupid rules. “Stay out of
bars. Stay out of fancy restaurants. Stay out of forests. And never
- ”

“
Ever, ever.”

“
- smoke
anything.”

“
Ever. If you see a man in
an expensive suit?” he prompted.

“
Don’t look him in the eyes
and find you immediately.”

“
If you see a man with green
hair?”

“
Pretend I don’t see him and
find you immediately.”

“
If you see a woman dressed
all in leather?”

“
Run like hell.”

“
That’s my girl.”

“
These are really weird
rules, Gabriel.”

“
These are weird times we
live in, kiddo. I tell you these things for your own safety. Now
you can either go unpack, or listen to me serenade you with
inventory lists.”

Camille made a face.

Upstairs, Camille looked around her new
living space and took stock of what Gabriel had signed them up for.
Her room was small and cramped, but that was actually comforting.
There was one window, cracked open a few inches to circulate the
breeze, facing the forest. She didn’t have a bed, just a futon
mattress on the floor, but she preferred that too. The rest of the
space was taken up by a large whitewashed dresser/vanity leftover
from the previous owners, complete with a chair and a large gilded
mirror in desperate need of polishing, facing the door. Camille
leaned closer to inspect the frame. Who knew what kind of metal the
frame was actually made of, underneath all that patina? Her hand
reached out to touch the metal.

In the mirror, she saw a
shadow slide behind her. She jerked, and spun around, but nothing
was there. Her right arm cradled her left with its iron bracer as
she tried to slow her breathing.
It had to
be nothing,
she told herself.
It’s just some old cloudy glass.
Downstairs, Gabriel turned on some
music.

Camille moved back to the
mirror. Oval shaped, it rested on the long side to stretch across
either side of the dresser. Still, it was huge – the entire piece
of furniture was taller than her own five foot one. She ran a hand
over the mirror’s frame, thumb tracing the time-dulled pattern.
There was a chance that there was something floral shaped under all
that patina. She peered closer at the discolored glass. Two things
ran through Camille’s head at once –
Alice
Through the Looking Glass
, and
Phantom of the Opera
. The
juxtaposition did not calm her.

“
Down, girl,” she barely
heard behind her. The shadow in the mirror flitted.

Camille spun again, eyes wide, clutching the
bracer. She was alone in the room.

She must have made a noise, because Gabriel
poked his head around the doorframe. “Alright in here? Everything
to your liking?” His voice was pleasant, but his expression was
guarded. He stepped inside, glancing casually around the room.

“
I think my room is
haunted,” Camille said lowly, feeling foolish even as she said
it.

He looked at her briefly as he moved to the
window, but she gathered nothing from his expression. “I doubt
that...” he said lightly, closing the window all the way. “There’s
no such thing as ghosts. And if there were ghosts, they wouldn’t be
out in the daylight.”

Then why had he closed the window? “You said
this was the safest place, but I have to ask,” said Camille. “Did
something follow us, or was it already here?”

“
Ask me later,” was all he
said.

Chapter 3

Mac

Once upon a time, there was a boy who knew
no fear.

Hi. My name is Mac Dupree. Mac is short for
MacAlister, and I’m short for just about everything. My specialties
include online fighting games, obscure comic trivia, and a certain
personal magnetism. Only problem is, the only thing I seem to
attract is trouble.

There are days where everything goes your
way. And then there are days that start with you getting tripped in
the parking lot. Exactly how I wanted to start the week.

My shins sting. Little bits of asphalt dig
into my palms as I push myself up. I’d chosen the wrong day to wear
shorts, apparently. My best friend Destin fared better in jeans. It
looked like his jacket had torn, though.

Raucous laughter surrounds us. Hyde’s laugh
is the loudest. He had taken one of the wooden swords from kendo
class and swiped our feet with it when we crossed in front of his
truck. He leans against the truck’s hood now, resting the sword
across his shoulders.

“
Forget to tie your shoes,
midget?” he cackles.

“
Yeah it’s really hard to
find laces for flip-flops,” I return, getting to my feet. I’m a
solid foot shorter than he is, three years younger, and I get
better grades, which makes me his favorite target.

Hyde isn’t a huge guy - honestly, Destin’s
taller than he is. But Destin looks like he’s built out of sticks
and a mop, where Hyde has been massacreing people in karate and
kendo class for the last two years. Hyde is usually dressed in
various combinations of slashed, torn, and singed leather and jean,
and has piercings in his lip, one eyebrow, and all over his ears –
but his most striking feature is the scar that runs from the bridge
of his nose halfway across one cheek. Rumors abound as to how he
got it, but no one seems to know for real.

“
Maybe you should watch
where you’re going,” Hyde grins. His scar crinkles.

“
Maybe you should hide
behind cars and trip people in the parking lot like a coward,” I
shoot back. “Oh wait, that already happened. Get a
life.”

He hops off the hood of his car, brandishing
the wooden sword. I stand in defiance. Still on the ground, Destin
cringes.

“
Unless there’s a meeting
I’m unaware of,” comes a familiar disdainful voice, “break it up
and get inside, people.”

The small crowd parts, startled at the
appearance of our English teacher, Mr. Tailor. Tailor looks kind of
professor-y with his collared shirts and wire-rimmed glasses, but
he has this way of staring you down that makes you just want to
disappear. Soda would stop fizzing if he told it to settle
down.

The spectators quickly break away and go on
to the school, not wanting to arouse his wrath. Hyde’s look sours
as Tailor regards us. There are only three people I’ve seen who can
exert some kind of control over Hyde, and Tailor is one of
them.

“
You want to fight, save it
for fourth period,” Tailor snaps, looking at us both. “It’s Ikeda’s
job to deal with this macho crap, not mine.” He snatches the wooden
sword from Hyde. “I catch you with one of these out of the gym
again, and it’s detention.”

“
Yes
sir
,” Hyde growls, leaving the scene
with a parting glare.

Tailor frowns at Destin. “How long are you
going to sit on the ground, Heron?”

Destin scrambles to his feet, a sheepish
look obscured by his thick curtain of dark hair. Tailor looks at
the ground where he’d fallen. Several downy feathers are being
blown away by a breeze.

“
My jacket tore...” Destin
mumbles.

“
Ignoring that you’re
wearing a down jacket in eighty degree heat...both of you get
inside. Dupree, go get bandages from Ms. Miller before you come to
homeroom,” he orders, strolling past us. “If you bleed onto my
floor you’re cleaning it up.”

We both hold our breath ’til he’s through
the front doors.

“
That actually didn’t go so
bad,” I say, after he’s out of earshot.

“
He must have had his
coffee,” Destin agrees. “Lucky.”

I brush off my shorts and wince, feeling my
shins stinging for real now. They’re pretty raw, but there’s no
blood. I’d probably be okay. I pick my bag back up and gingerly
start walking.

I’ve never won a fight with Hyde. I’m not
going to lie. It’s honestly pretty stupid of me to keep standing up
to him, and I can see it even a few minutes later, as we’re getting
our books out of our lockers. But when Hyde’s standing in front of
me, being an unmitigated ass, all I can think of is how much I want
to punch him in the face. Maybe with a cactus. I grin at the mental
image.

Our school is a little different than most.
It’s technically a private school, and they like to boast that we
have students from all over the world, though a good chunk of the
people who go here are local. The people who run the place
definitely aren’t from around here, though. I’d heard my mom say
somewhere that most of Havenwood’s funding comes from some Japanese
company. It’s weird, but I’m not going to complain. The place is
honestly really nice, and the cafeteria is choice. The teachers are
pretty decent too, even with Tailor being as grouchy as he is
sometimes. My only real complaint is the other students.

“
Not again,” I groan,
rifling around my locker in vain. “The comics I left in here on
Friday are gone.”

Destin sighs, his wordless ‘I told you
so.’

“
And the candy bars? Oh come
on!” I’m starving. I really shouldn’t have skipped
breakfast.

Our lockers have been pilfered several times
each since the school year started. No apparent signs of break-ins,
but if it’s not a textbook, it gets stolen, and it’s getting old
fast. We’re also having trouble coming up with a culprit. The list
is too long.

Besides Hyde, there are a few other juniors
and seniors who tend to pick on younger, smaller students. I
qualify on both counts, having skipped a grade to be a sophomore.
Despite his height, Destin’s whole demeanor practically screams
‘easy target.’ So we’re pretty much doomed on that front.

Then there’s the problem of the local
royalty - otherwise known as my sister Hayley’s little clique. She
wanders around with her copycat best friend and two rich guys,
pretending they’re superior beings. Hayley makes it a point to
distance herself from her nerd brother as much as possible. She
likes to describe the space around Destin and I as a ‘girl free
zone.’

Which reminds me.

“
Oh crap!”

“
You just remembered what
day it was, didn’t you,” Destin says.

“
Is she here? Have you seen
her?”

“
How would I know?” he
sighs. “I don’t know what this imaginary person looks
like.”

“
She’s not imaginary, and
she’s going to be the one person around here you’ve never seen
before. Duh.”

“
If you say so,” he
says.