Core Page 2

  “It’s Saturday,” Miriam started tentatively, “and I was thinking maybe you’d want to go to the mall with me. There’s a new sporting goods store that opened, and I have some money saved up….”

  Anger sizzled up in Ava. It happened like that often. Fine one moment, then a trigger–something small–and her whole emotional state changed.

  Money saved up. The Conrad house was a statement of wealth. Jim Conrad–state senator extraordinaire–lacked for nothing. The foreign car, the marble floors and granite counters, the silk curtains. Yet, Miriam resorted to hiding her soggy stash of dollar bills behind the pots in the kitchen cabinet, someplace her husband would never think to look.

  Ava swallowed her distaste, pushed her pancakes aside, and filled her water bottle. “Actually, I have to go to the gym for a while. Maybe tomorrow.”

  She wasn’t trying to make Miriam feel bad, and a little pang of guilt hit her gut as her foster mother frowned into the pancake batter, forehead wrinkles creased into her otherwise attractive face. Blonde hair, pale blue eyes. Every time Ava looked at Miriam, it was clear she could never be her daughter. Not really. So she filled up her water bottle, thanked Miriam for breakfast, and left for the bus.

  Ava pushed the gym doors open to scattered applause. She ignored the aquaintances that had tried to throw her a victory party the night before and tossed her backpack carelessly into a corner. It took a moment for her to scout out a spot devoid of other trainees, but once she found the discarded box of jump ropes, she hurried to them. She tugged at one of the ropes, but it was stuck. In fact, every rope was tangled together into one irritating snake’s nest.

  She continued to tug at it, ignoring the stranger who moved closer to her. The boy stood and watched, and Ava held back the urge to tell him to back off. Why do people hover? Pulling the rope recklessly wasn’t getting the job done, so Ava sighed and dumped the box onto the floor.

  “Hey, you were great last night,” the stranger said, still watching.

  Ava grunted in reply, still focusing on freeing the jump ropes from one another.

  Cale wiped his palms off on his jeans, even though his hands were nowhere near clammy. “I was wondering if you give lessons,” he said. Better, he thought. To the point and still polite. Get her to spend time with me, then BAM, show her my stuff.

  “Look, I’m really busy,” she said, not bothering to glance up at him.

  Cale frowned, unable to mask his disappointment. It wasn’t working. He needed her to like him. To more than like him. To more than love him. He needed Ava to want him. Forever.

  “What if–what if I paid you? Then could you teach me?”

  The idea of bribing her made Cale feel a little dirty, but he pushed the guilt away. He wasn’t paying for her loyalty, he was paying for a lesson. Then, he planned to earn that loyalty. Thinking of it that way made him feel slightly less queasy.

  “Pay me, huh? How much?”

  Hope. The beginnings of an actual two-sided conversation. “I can pay you whatever you think is reasonable.”

  Ava got prize money for winning amateur matches, but nothing close to what professionals like T earned. And any of the money she did win went into new equipment and association fees. At that moment, she had about four dollars to her name, some of that in nickels and dimes. I could suffer through a lesson or two.

  “Twenty an hour.”

  Cale was about to accept, more than eager to shake her hand if she offered it.

  “Cale? Cale Anders?”

  Walter interrupted the transaction, putting a calloused hand on Cale’s shoulder and turning him around. The older man’s deep set eyes were crowded by wrinkles, his hair littered with grays. “Cale, what are you doing here?”

  Walter? The anxiety Cale had been battling turned to fear. If the old man was clumsy, if he said something to Ava before she was ready to hear it, he would ruin everything. Cale tried to reason with himself. Walter had been around for years and had kept their secret safe. It was his secret too, really. He wouldn’t destroy Cale’s chances. Not on purpose. Suddenly, Cale wanted to throw up. Or at least go for a run and come back a few hundred years later.

  “You know him, Walter?” Ava asked.

  She abandoned the jump rope for a second, fully attentive. She hadn’t expected a random fan to be connected enough to know her coach. For the first time, she took a good look at the stranger. Short, dark hair and a strong, lean build. Light brown eyes and a mouth that naturally held a slight smile, even while he frowned. Handsome. But Ava couldn’t care less about handsome.

  Walter’s wrinkles multiplied when he smiled and slapped Cale’s shoulder once more. “Cale’s an old friend of the family, you could say,” he explained.

  “If you’re friends, then why didn’t you just have Walter give you lessons?” she asked, her eyes moving from Cale to Walter and back. “He’s the one who taught me in the first place.”

  Cale stammered, scrambling for an answer that wasn’t a lie. He was terrible at dishonesty. He counted it as one of his biggest faults. Of all the red dragon traits he’d inherited, immaculate honesty was the least useful gift.

  “Oh, Cale doesn’t need me to teach him,” Walter laughed, his dark brown skin creasing even more. “He could probably take both of us, baby girl.”

  Ava frowned, but there was a sudden spark in her green and red eyes. “If he’s so talented, why did he want my help in the first place?” She moved closer to Cale, close enough for her to stab a finger into his chest. “You’re trying to embarrass me in my own gym.”

  “No,” Cale said a little too loudly. “Nothing like that. I just–I just wanted to talk to you.”

  “Then why didn’t you just talk to me?”

  “You’re not exactly the talking type,” Cale said, biting his lip just moments after the words left his mouth.

  Walter chuckled until Ava glared at him. She rummaged through another box of equipment and tossed a pair of brown gloves at Cale. “Suit up.”

  Cale grinned, eagerly stuffing his hands into the gloves, ready for his lesson. It worked. “Are we starting on the bags or…?”

  Ava slipped into the ring and pounded one fist against the other. “You want to talk, let’s talk.”

  Cale’s jaw dropped. This is not want I meant at all. He had every intention of remaining firmly on the ground, as far from the ring as possible, but Walter was already leading him towards it, the old man stronger than he looked.

  “No, no, no, no, I don’t want to fight her. Believe me,” he said.

  He wanted to demonstrate his skills, if anything. He wanted a chance to be around her. Not to hit her. And if he got into the ring and refused to fight her, she’d clobber him. That wasn’t Impressive either.

  Walter grinned, gaps where healthy teeth used to be years before. “You’re not going to get out of this one. If I know Baby Girl, she’s not going to change her mind. Might as well get it over with before it happens while you’re walking home one day. You challenge her, she’ll come at you.”

  But I’m not challenging her. Cale refused to climb into the ring. Instead, he pulled Walter aside, his eyes wide. “Walter, you don’t understand. I can’t fight her.”

  But before Walter could answer, Cale swallowed his words. A quick jab connected with his kidneys and he turned around just in time to taste Ava’s glove. She bounced on the balls of her feet, barely a foot away from Cale.

  “We’re not even in the ring,” he objected.

  Ava planted one on his jaw. She danced, her footwork quicker than Cale knew his was. But he was stronger. No, he thought. Don’t think about how to beat her. Think about how to win her.

  “Okay.” He put his gloved hands up in the best surrender he could muster. “You win.”

  Ava’s fist thrust into Cale’s midsection so that he doubled over, a wisp of smoke escaping from his mouth. He batted it away, disguising the movement as trying to get more air to his lungs. The next punch Ava threw at him, Cale blocked, countering with a left jab
of his own. The blow caught Ava sharply just below the ribs.

  Cale froze, terror clear in his light brown eyes. His reaction had been purely instinctual, and she had specifically asked for a fight, but he couldn’t blink, couldn’t move. I hurt my rider. She’ll never forgive me.

  And she didn’t. Not even close. Instead, she dropped to the ground and swept his legs. His back hit the floor hard and he reacted just as quickly as she had, using his legs to push into Ava’s midsection so that he could flip her over his head. She landed on her back and used her feet to push herself backwards. Then she rammed an elbow into his chest and thrust her palm upward into his chin, fighting him from the ground. He bit his tongue and swallowed the blood, about to retaliate more aggressively than Ava would have been prepared for, until Walter stepped in.

  “I call that a good spar,” he said standing in between the two. “Shake it off.”

  Cale realized in horror that they had drawn a crowd. Mumbles filled the room as the trainees debated over the winner of the sparring match. Ava ignored them all, shaking out her muscles and discarding her gloves as she headed back over to the jump ropes.

  “What did I just do?” Cale whispered to Walter.

  Walter shrugged, hiding a mischievous smirk. “Go apologize if you feel so bad about it.”

  “But she’s my–”

  “I know who she is.”

  That didn’t make Cale feel any better about hitting her. Even worse, he knew he would have kept up the fight if Walter hadn’t snapped him back to reality. Combat was in his blood. It was part of who he was. But he wasn’t prepared to explain all of that to Ava. Not yet.

  “How’d you know?”

  Walter shook his head and chuckled. “It’s all over your face, kid. Now go on.”

  Cale was starting to hate all of the help he was getting from fellow reds. It was a lot of pushing and shoving, a lot of rushing into things head on. A part of him wanted to think it out, wanted to make sure he was doing it right. He had a feeling that Ava didn’t trust very easily. A bad Impression might have been the only one Cale made.

  “Hey, I’m really sorry about that,” he offered.

  As Ava wrapped the end of her rope around her hand, she smiled.

  “Next time, just ask me to spar with you,” she said, her hands on her hips. “You don’t have to trick me into it.”

  Cale beamed, his tan skin alive, his eyes sparkling. Next time. There’s going to be a next time. “I can do that.”

  It was all he could do to keep from bouncing up and down. Don’t celebrate yet. She hasn’t agreed to anything. He tried to stay collected, clearing his throat. “Hey, I told you I’d pay for today.”

  Ava held out her hand, but Cale frowned.

  “I don’t have it on me. Maybe you could stop by my house later to pick it up? I can give you my address.”

  Ava stiffened. She didn’t like the idea of going over to a stranger’s house, especially one as strange as Cale. She didn’t know what it was exactly, but she knew different when she saw it. And Cale was different. She was about to turn him down when Walter stepped in again.

  “I bet Karma’s making something delicious for dinner,” he said, slapping Cale’s back. “Ava, you should go. Trust me, they’re great people to know. What time is dinner, Cale?”

  Ava began to protest when Cale interrupted.

  “Six. My mom’s making steak.” Then he wrinkled his nose. “And some vegetable crap on a stick, if you like that kind of thing.”

  “Perfect,” Walter said. “She’ll be there. T can give her a ride.”

  Ava crossed her arms in disbelief. They’re having this conversation without me. She stepped back from the schemers so she could think about it. She had three options. One, she could use her bus money to buy a hotdog at one of the street vendors, leaving her stranded until T could give her a ride home.

  Two, she could have dinner with Jim and Miriam. She fought the urge to gag at that thought.

  Or, option three, mooch off of this odd, petulant dude’s family and never have to see him again.

  “I guess that sounds good,” she said with a shrug. “Your parents won’t care?”

  Cale almost laughed out loud. Care? “No, trust me, they won’t. Besides, I owe you one for beating you up.”

  Ava glowered, but Cale thought maybe she was hiding another one of her smiles. “Fine. What’s your address?” she said.

  “Give me your number and I’ll text it to you.”

  Ava rolled her eyes and gave him the number against her better judgment. He was so excited he could barely hit the right digits with his thumbs. He flashed a grin at Walter and mouthed a “thank you” to him when Ava wasn’t looking. Walter pointed at her, then at Cale. Then he mimed being punched in the face. He mouthed, “watch out” to Cale, but he was smiling just as big as Cale was.

  On the way out, Cale stopped to slip something into the backpack he’d seen Ava walk in with. The contents of the leather pouch were a gift to her. Cale wasn’t all for tradition, and he had the feeling Ava wasn’t either, but he still wanted her to have it.

  He sprinted around the corner and headed home, forgetting to call Rory for a ride. Every time he took a step, Cale felt his heart get lighter and lighter. If he wasn’t careful, he might have convinced himself he could fly.

  Three

  Welcome

  Ava tugged at the long-sleeved, green t-shirt that hugged her frame, doing a quick mirror check. It fit her fine, but it wasn’t comfortable enough for her taste. Still, she didn’t have many options. It was too warm to wear a sweatshirt, and she needed something long enough to cover up the new bruise she’d just added to her collection. As if my nose isn’t bad enough.

  Her phone lit up and she grabbed it and shoved it into her backpack instead of answering. It was better to be quiet when Jim was in one of his moods. Miriam was cleaning up in the kitchen, sweeping up nonexistent dust bunnies, and Ava waved at her as she rushed through the front door, her way of letting her foster mother know to leave the window open for her if Jim was still home later.

  Ava hurried to T’s car, slipped in, and slammed the door behind her. She winced as the motion jarred her arm. T didn’t notice. Instead, he put the car into reverse and blasted the AC. Ava flicked her vent closed and leaned back.

  T looked at her sideways. He let his gaze linger before he spoke. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she said, shutting her eyes for a moment.

  T sighed and shook his head at her. “How long have we known each other, Ava?”

  She glanced at him knowingly. He had that look on his face, like he had been thinking about her for a long time, probably on the drive over to her house. It was Ava’s turn to sigh.

  “I don’t know, T. A couple years.”

  “Right. That’s kind of a long time, yeah?”

  “Sure.”

  “What I’m saying is, you don’t ever tell me anything. Half the time you treat me like a complete stranger. It drives me crazy.”

  Ava opened and closed her fist. The action made the bruise on her arm sore, but it was good to have a distraction. “What is it you want me to tell you? I’m not that interesting.”

  He scoffed. “You’re plenty interesting, Ava. The fact that you think you aren’t interesting is interesting.” He angled his rearview mirror so he could look at her without her knowing. He did it often, letting his eyes linger wherever they wanted. “What are you going to this guy’s house for, anyways,” he asked.

  “Food.”

  “That’t it? You don’t even know these people. Let me buy you dinner. There’s this place….”

  Her face didn’t change. She was still pulsing her right fist, still refusing to make eye contact with him.

  “He owes me money,” she explained further.

  “So just pick it up. I’ll wait outside.”

  “No, that’s alright. I’m good.”

  Having dinner with T would not have been so bad, but he would expect it to happen again. An
d again. Next thing you know we’ll be having pillow fights and making brownies. Ava bit her lip against the idea of that.

  T frowned even deeper at her silence, his hands still on the wheel as he drove. “I want to be friends, Ava,” he said, frustration leaking into his voice. “That’s all I’m saying. I’m not asking you to marry me. Just friends.”

  “We’re already friends.”

  He scoffed again. “Friends talk. Friends hang out. Friends call each other when they need someone to listen to their problems. All I get to do is give you a ride once in a while.”

  “And I’m grateful for that. There. Friendship.”

  T pulled up at the address Ava had given him and put the car in park. “Call me when you want me to pick you up,” he said. His words were choppy. Ava could tell he was pissed.

  “Thank you for the ride, T,” she said as genuinely as she could.

  “Sure.”

  Ava wanted to take a shower to rid herself of all the unreturned affection he’d spilled out on her. She hated talks like that. Miriam had them with her all the time. Even when she was a little girl, Ava would cringe. “It feels like you’re trying to choke me,” she’d say.

  She sighed and walked up the driveway. God, don’t let these people smother me to death. The house looked decent enough. Simple, charming, birdhouse mailbox on the front lawn, blue and white shutters on the windows. She wiped her feet on a welcome mat that actually said “welcome” on it, and took a deep breath.

  Inside the Anders house, Karma was slicing chunks of raw steak with remarkable precision. When the doorbell sounded, Cale, who had been pacing near the refrigerator, scrambled, knocking his mother’s handiwork off of the counter. He fumbled as he caught the meat midair, and Karma snagged the cutting board before it clattered to the tile. Cale placed the steaks back onto the cutting board and licked the blood off his fingers, a nervous reaction.