Touching Smoke (5 page)

The teachers were no better. The favoritism was appalling. They didn’t even try to hide it. Some of them were bending over backwards to keep their
pets
happy. These kids were usually one of the very elite, the sons and daughters of the very important. I didn’t recognize any of them as celebrates, but I guess it took all kinds as long as they had money.

For me, mom may have paid a small fortune to get me in, but that didn’t mean I was accepted. My parents didn’t do anything important, thus, I wasn’t important, which was fine by me. I was just bidding my time until I could leave anyway.

At the end of the first grueling week, I was called into Ms. Wonnacott’s office. She threw a garment bag onto my lap.

“Your uniform has arrived,” she stated briskly. “You will be in charge of keeping them clean and in order, is that understood?”

“Yes, Ms. Wonnacott.”

There was no beating around the bush; my uniform did nothing for my complexion or figure. It didn’t mold and fit me like it did the other girls — some who looked like they had simply painted their uniforms on — nor did it bring out my eyes or the highlights in my hair. If anything, I looked even more washed out than before, and the whole thing hung off me like a designer potato sack.

“You’ll have to get that altered,” my dorm mate, Lidia, decided, never glancing away from the glossy pages of her fashion magazine.

She was a pretty girl with short, tight ringlets framing a small, round face. As roommates went, I guessed she was okay. It wasn’t as if we talked or anything, but she hadn’t drowned me with a stack of rules when I took the bed next to hers so she got an automatic A in my books.

Also, she was the only one who smiled at me when we passed in the halls, which didn’t make us friends, but it was nice all the same. And, she wasn’t messy. Her side of the room was cozy, full of pictures, dolls, stuffed animals and other little glass knickknacks that were placed neatly on shelves. She’d been at Lady Clara’s her entire life and her section of the room showed it.

The differences between our sides was a little jarring at first glance, her with her bright colors and me with absolutely nothing, not even a picture frame on the nightstand. I had nothing on my walls or shelves, except my schoolbooks. I hadn’t even unpacked my duffle. It was stuffed beneath my bed whereas she had all her clothes neatly folded in the dressers and hanging in the closet.

If she found my behavior odd, she never said — another A for her.

“Altered?” I asked, turning away from the mirror behind the closet door to face her.

She lay reclined across her bed, her left foot propped up on her right knee. She was still in her uniform, even though classes were over. I’d never seen her in regular clothes, except when she went to bed in her gray shorts and white t-shirt with the school logo on the right breast.

Bright, green eyes rose over the magazine and met mine. “Yeah, you know?
Altered.”
She grinned a little. “Did you honestly think they would actually fit you?”

I would have taken offence if I didn’t understand what she meant. I guessed it made sense how everyone else’s uniform fit them so well and mine… well, it was embarrassing.

“Where do I get them altered?” I asked, not that I had the money for such luxury.

Lidia tossed her magazine down and sat up. “Well, technically, we’re not supposed to do it, you know? Unity and all that good stuff, but no way would anyone be caught dead walking around looking like that—” I didn’t blame them. “—but if you want to do it, you can have your family send them off overnight. It’ll cost extra, but whatever, right? Or you can do it yourself, if you’re handy with a needle and thread. But I wouldn’t let on that you didn’t send it off.”

I
was
pretty handy with a needle and thread; being on the road a lot meant a lot of free time, not to mention… who else would do it? We didn’t have professional tailors following us around. When something ripped, we sewed it together ourselves.

“Thanks,” I said to Lidia, taking my uniform off and placing it on the bed.

“No problem.” She swung her long legs over the side of her bed and got to her feet, tightly wound curls bouncing around her face. “Hey, listen, I’m heading down to the theater room to hang out with some friends. You want to come along?”

It was a life altering opportunity she was giving me, allowing me to join her group, but I couldn’t afford to make friends. I would be leaving soon and it would be that much harder when the time came.

“Thanks, but I have things to do here.” I motioned towards my uniform.

She shrugged her tiny shoulders, making her russet curls bounce again. “Okay, but you know here to find us if you change your mind.”

I thanked her again, watching as she slipped into her shoes and left the room. I sat down on the bed, still clad in my underthings, and sighed.

Being a gypsy was never easy.

“He won’t stop!”

The hand clutching the pen trembled. Tears splashed across the yellow pages.

Outside, the storm screamed, throwing itself against the glass. The windows rattled, threatening to shatter beneath the blows. The candles flickered around the room, trembling as though fearing what was about to come.

“He’s coming!” Amalie said suddenly, pen dropping from her fingers. “He’s coming! Get up!”

“Fallon!” Someone was shaking me, hard. The muscles along my arm and neck screamed in protest under the assault. Something sharp hooked into the bare flesh of my bicep and tugged. “Fallon, get up!”

My eyes snapped open, and for a full heartbeat, disorientation stole my breath. Everything around me was rattling. Objects rocked on their shelves and tumbled off, smashing to dust across the floor. Like a pendulum, the hanging light overhead swung wildly from its chain, creating spider webs in the plaster. Across the room, the window shattered. Someone screamed. I bolted upright just as something heavy toppled on top of me, pinning me down on the mattress. Flaring arms and legs beat against me as my companion fought for freedom. The fragrance of something exotic and expensive identified the mysterious bulk flailing and screaming in my ear.

“Lidia?”

Her shrieks continued as she struggled to untangle herself from me and my bed. I managed to shove her off and get to my feet just as the earth gave another violent shudder. The lamp on the nightstand tumbled over, crashing across the hardwood. Bits of glass and debris crunched beneath my bare feet as I rushed to the door and threw it open.

People were running and screaming along the hallway. The fire alarm blared, muffling the thunder of feet. The emergency lights flashed at the end of the hall, painting the corridor a violent shade of crimson.

“Lidia!” I turned back into the room and the girl still fighting with my bed sheets. “We have to get out of here!” I shouted over the deafening din.

In two quick strides, I made it to her side and tore her free. I grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. Green eyes, wide with horror, rolled in their sockets. Madness gleamed in their depths, wild with panic.

“No! Let me go!”

I never saw the punch coming. Stars exploded even before the dull ache in my cheek settled. My grip fell away, my hand flying to cradle my throbbing face.

“Ow!” I snapped, glaring at her with my good eye.

Breathing so hard and loud I could hear her perfectly, Lidia shoved me, sending me crashing into the wall with a force that cracked my teeth together. Stars burst across my eyes a second time as I slid to the floor. I was only vaguely aware of Lidia making a run for it, leaping like a beautiful gazelle over my fallen body and disappearing out the door. One of her family photos tumbled off the wall and shattered next to me, reminding me that I was about to get crushed by a building if I didn’t get myself together and moving.

Man, that girl hit hard! My head was buzzing as I pushed upright and staggered back to my bed. It was stupid and reckless, but I couldn’t leave it behind. My duffle was all I had. I swung it over my shoulder, wobbling beneath the weight and the continuous rumble beneath my feet. The walk from the bed to the door was like walking through a bouncy house. The floor kept shifting and bobbing beneath my feet. But I made it to the threshold when something struck the top of my head. I didn’t even remember the floor jumping up to meet me until I hit it with a thud.

“Fallon!” Someone was shouting my name. I could just make it out over the earsplitting sound of glass shattering in the background.

Strong, firm hands grabbed my arm and non-to-gently rolled me over. Something silky tickled my face, suffocating me with a mixture of spices and leather as my savior rested their head on my chest, possibly searching for signs of a heartbeat. The weight on my chest lifted a second later and something tapped the side of my face sharply.

“Fallon, wake up!” I heard the voice growl into my ear, so close I could feel the heat of their breath burning against the skin on my face.

I might have groaned; I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t even hear myself thinking over all the commotion, but I felt the person jerk back.

“Fallon?”

This time I did groan, shifting and struggling to sit up despite the weight pushing me down. “No, it’s Santa Claus!”

Good God my head hurt. The splitting headache was doing just that, splitting my skull in two. I would have happily thrown up with the pain if I hadn’t taken that moment to open my eyes and tumble into a pair of breathtaking electric-blue pools so bright, they could have been laser beams or lightening. I would have gladly drowned in them, bathed in them, lost myself in them forever.

“Can you stand?”

I blinked, bringing into focus the rest of the room and the danger we were still in. “Yes!”

With his help, I struggled to my feet. My rescuer kept a firm grip on my elbow as he dragged me to the door and peered out.

I don’t know what he was looking for, a possible escape route maybe, but he checked up and down the hall before taking left and running to the nearest staircase.

“Hang on!” he shouted over his shoulder as we practically tumbled down the stairs — or at least I did. He seemed to be in complete control of everything he did, as if running from a collapsing building was something he did every day.

“Where are we going?”

I knew from countless hours of wandering that this particular staircase didn’t lead outside, but toward the basement and the indoor pool.

It was hard to tell, but I could have sworn I heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘
hell if I know’.
But I didn’t get the chance to question him when his loud cursing had me worrying about other things, like the twin figures floating up the stairs in our direction.

They were
not
there to help us. Everything from their stone-cold expressions, milky-white complexions and long, black trench coats screamed evil. I couldn’t see their eyes behind their dark glasses, but I had a feeling it was better that way.

“Go!” my companion shoved me back up the stairs, back the way we’d come. “Go! Go! Go!”

Really, I didn’t need to be told twice. I was up those stairs as fast as I could while numb with fear. My duffle repeatedly slammed into the back of my thighs, hindering all chances of a speedy escape until I gripped the handles and pulled the bag away from my body. Behind me, I could hear my companion following. Our feet thundered against the metal steps. The sound echoed around the cylinder stairway. I dared a glance back and instantly wished I hadn’t.