Illusions

Chapter Twenty-One

TAMANI WATCHED DAVID RUSH AROUND TO THE driver’s side of Laurel’s car and open the door for her. After they walked hand in hand through the front doors of the school, Tamani grabbed his gloves out of his backpack. He was so tired of them. Still, another week, maybe less, and he could throw them away, hopefully forever.

He fastened the Velcro strip at his wrist and stared at his hand. He could still feel her fingers on his shoulder, her hand beneath his. Maybe he should have pushed for more. Maybe he would have gotten more. But for how long? A day? Maybe a week, before she started feeling guilty and cut things off again — cut him off again?

He followed David and Laurel inside. His eyes found her the instant he passed through the doors. She was standing with David, as usual, and hadn’t noticed him yet. David’s arm was draped casually over her shoulders and Tamani wrangled with his jealousy. He knew that, for humans and faeries alike, romance was often impermanent, especially between young lovers. Laurel had even told him, once, that she wasn’t looking for her “one true love.” Tamani clung to those words, though her behavior since that time seemed at odds with her claim.

A cool hand caught his wrist and pulled Tamani back to reality.

“I called your name, but you didn’t hear me,” Yuki said in her perfect, unaccented American English.

“Sorry.” Being alert was central to Tamani’s job. One moment of distraction could be the end of Laurel. This was why Shar had been reluctant to send Tamani in the first place. Chastising himself for letting his feelings for Laurel endanger her, however slightly, however briefly, Tamani turned and smiled at Yuki, though he kept one ear tuned to Laurel’s conversation.

Yuki returned his smile, then asked if he had watched some television program he’d never heard of before. He shook his head and invited her to tell him about it. After that it was pretty easy. She tended to prattle on about human musicians, internet gossip, and television programs with ludicrous or demeaning premises, but this made it easy to nod amicably at everything she said.

Laurel had turned and was walking toward her first class. Yuki was in the middle of explaining how Japanese aidoru differed from American starlets, so Tamani just shifted a little, to better keep an eye on Laurel as she navigated the sea of students. He didn’t even see David until a shoulder slammed into him, swinging him around and wrenching Yuki’s arm away.

“Watch it!” Tamani said, suppressing the urge to break David’s nose. Or his neck.

But David just looked back with a satisfied grin on his face before continuing down the hall. “Sorry, bro,” he said, mimicking Tamani’s brogue. “My bad.”

“I don’t know what Laurel sees in that guy,” Yuki said disapprovingly. “She seems nice, I guess. But he’s kind of… intense.”

Tamani nodded. His eyes searched for Laurel again as Yuki touched his shoulder tentatively and asked if he was okay. He opened his mouth to reassure her when his eyes found Laurel’s face.

She was looking back, her hands gripping the straps of her backpack, glaring. Tamani had to look twice to make sure, but it was true! She wasn’t glaring at him.

She was glaring at David.

It was a nice change of pace.

But this did little to dissipate Tamani’s anger. He hated that he couldn’t go all out with his rival. Couldn’t fight David, couldn’t steal Laurel, couldn’t court her the way a faerie should be courted — not without giving them both away. He sat and fumed through Government. Laurel sat so close — just inches away, in the next desk over — but what did it matter? She may as well be a hundred miles away. A thousand. A million.

And, of course, she was a Fall faerie, which limited him in other ways. But he didn’t like to think about that.

About halfway through class Laurel passed him a note. He glanced at it — the results of the phosphorescent test on his sap. Thirty-seven minutes. Right between Laurel and Yuki. Tamani had to admit he didn’t really know what that meant — if anything. He took out a pen and started to write a response. Scratched it out and tried again. But they were the wrong words. Were there any right words with her anymore? With a sigh he shoved the note into his backpack with all his writing scribbled out. He didn’t look at Laurel; didn’t know if she even noticed.

Laurel waved at him as she left the classroom — concern in her eyes — but even that felt like mockery as Tamani dragged himself out of his chair, collected his meaningless, stage-prop pile of books and supplies, and headed to his next class.

By the time he’d finished second hour, he’d had enough. He escorted Yuki to her third-period class, but couldn’t bear to go to his own. After wandering the school grounds for a while, he walked out to the parking lot instead and slumped into the driver’s seat. With the top down and his shirt unbuttoned, he enjoyed the sunlight that filtered down through the autumn clouds.

A few minutes before the lunch bell, Tamani forced himself to return to the school, having made the same decision he made about twice a week. All of the heartache, the anger, the fear that this was as good as it was ever going to get, was worth it. Here, he could see her eyes and bask in her smiles — even when she wasn’t smiling for him. Every day was worth the pain.

But he didn’t have to like it.

The hall was empty. There were a few more minutes before the flood of humans would be released, and they would pour out of their classrooms, half climbing over each other to get to their meals, ravenous beasts all. He spun the sticky dial on his locker — not that he would care if someone made off with anything he kept in there — and yanked on the latch. He casually tossed his backpack in and tried to decide what to do for the lunch break. Would Yuki want to have lunch with Laurel’s group? He wanted to see Laurel, but he didn’t know if he could bear the sight of David. Not today.

Tamani heard footsteps and turned to see David walking along the opposite side of the hallway, glaring. A few other kids were milling about — they must have gotten out of class early. What was that saying humans had about speaking of devils?

Tamani knew he should turn away, ignore the boy’s dirty looks and petty one-upmanship. He knew better than to feud with a human. He had a job to do.

Instead, he returned David’s glare, measure for measure.

David slowed down, then stopped in front of Tamani, the air between them cooling tangibly.

“You got a problem, Lawson?” Tamani asked.

David hesitated. He was clearly out of his element. But Tamani knew from two years of experience just how stubborn and persistent this human boy could be. He wouldn’t back down. “You know what my problem is,” David replied.

“Let me rephrase,” Tamani said, taking two steps forward. “You have a problem with me?”

“I have nothing but problems with you,” David said, matching Tamani with two steps of his own, bringing him within arm’s reach.

Tamani took one more step forward, halving the gap, and felt, rather than saw, eyes turn toward them. “Tell me how you really feel,” Tamani said, so quietly he doubted anyone else even heard.

“Even my vocabulary couldn’t quite describe it,” David said, crossing his arms over his chest.

It wasn’t exactly trash talk — maybe nerd trash talk — but Tamani had to admit it was clever. “Luckily,” Tamani said, a malicious grin playing at the corners of his mouth, “I know a lot more words than you, òinseach.” He threw the Gaelic word at David with more scorn than the literal translation probably warranted. The lunch bell rang, but Tamani scarcely heard it.

“You’re just baiting me,” David said, but he sounded unsure. Hesitant. “You want me to make Laurel mad. You want her to feel sorry for you.” More students were gathering around them, hopeful for some entertainment.

“Not at all,” Tamani said, placing the fingertips of one hand against David’s chest. “I want to put you in your place, burraidh.” He pushed just hard enough that David had to take one small step backward to keep his balance.

The combination of confusion and anger had just the right effect. David stepped forward and pushed Tamani back. He could have kept himself upright, or taken David to the ground with his own momentum, but instead Tamani staggered back, then came forward with both hands outstretched. He put a lot of show into the push, but little effort; still David had to take two steps back this time. Before he could recover, Tamani moved in close and shoved him one more time, so David’s back hit the lockers with a rickety metal clang.

“Fight!” an anonymous student shouted from the crowd. Others took up the chant. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Oh yes, Tamani thought. A cornered animal will always fight.

As David’s fist slammed into Tamani’s jaw, he was forced to admit that the boy had a good arm. But Tamani’s pain was swallowed up in satisfaction; David had thrown the first punch. He was fair game.