Sunny - Mona Lisa Blossoming

I smiled grimly at Thaddeus. "Well, little brother, I hope one of us learns fast."

"So do I," he said, gazing down at my recently healed calf. "So do I."

The next morning ended up being a continuation of my long, long night. The plan was to enroll Thaddeus in the parish's local high school. Then I was hitting my bed. We were in a good school district, living as we were in the seat of old wealth. The other houses we drove past, while not mansions, carried the weight of their years with well-maintained dignity and expensively groomed lawns.

Thaddeus was in the back. Halcyon sat in the front passenger seat, looking as tired as I felt. The big SUV actually felt empty with just us three in it. Gryphon had been surprisingly agreeable when I had suggested that Halcyon accompany us to the school. In fact, Gryphon had been amazingly cordial and calm about Halcyon's presence thus far. But maybe that wasn't so surprising. Gryphon had asked for help, after all, and Halcyon had come to our aid, healer in tow. He seemed willing to entrust our safety into the Demon Prince's hands, satisfied that my brother's presence would be adequate chaperone.

I'd asked Halcyon to come along because, of the three men able to withstand daylight, Halcyon would actually blend in the most. Amber was too strikingly big and Gryphon was just too damn beautiful. They would attract a lot of attention and curiosity, which I wanted to avoid. Prince Halcyon, the High Prince of Hell, actually wouldn't draw much human attention, believe it or not. He blended wonderfully, except for his long nails.

"Just keep your hands in your pocket or behind your back," I reminded him once again.

Halcyon just smiled and nodded.

"I said that before, didn't I?" I said, nervously tapping the steering wheel.

"Only four or five times," Thaddeus muttered.

"All will be well," Halcyon reassured me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know why I'm so nervous."

Thaddeus, looking curiously at the school grounds we were entering, obviously wasn't.

I pulled into an empty parking space in front of the three-storied brick building. Two long rectangular wings flared back at forty-five degree angles from either side of the structure so that it looked like a giant brick bird about to take flight.

"Don't worry," Thaddeus said, getting out of the car, "I'm not even starting school yet."

It was the last Friday before Christmas break. Our timing was almost perfect, as if we had planned it, which, let me assure you, we had not. It had just luckily worked out that way, like sometimes things did. School would be out for the next three weeks and the administration had decided that it would be best if Thaddeus started classes after the holidays. We were just here to register him and tour the school. Butterflies, however, still fluttered in my stomach as we stepped through the white double doors. The sight of long corridors, rows of lockers, and closed classroom doors brought back a wave of memories, many of them unpleasant. No matter where you are, schools smelled the same the world over, like waxed floors and disinfectant, the sweat of young bodies, still sweet, not yet pungent with maturity, the faint stench of gym socks, the whiff of old textbooks and new notebooks, girls' floral perfume, and the scent of forbidden bubblegum, chewed in hidden silence.

The registrar's office was to our right. A lady with tanned, wrinkled skin and obviously brown, dyed hair sized us up in one encompassing glance, peering over the rim of reading glasses perched low on her nose with sharp, no-nonsense eyes. A veritable dragon.

I self-consciously smoothed the skirt of my dark blue dress under that piercing stare. It was the only short dress I owned. I'd bought it and worn it only once before, for my job interview at St. Vincent's Hospital. Tersa, acting like my lady in waiting, had French-braided my hair neatly back away from my face, and had even applied some makeup with a surprisingly deft hand. When she was done, I almost didn't recognize myself. I looked older, more sophisticated. Pretty.

Now, I just had to act the part, which was easier said than done. Speaking slowly, calmly, I introduced myself. "Hello, I'm Lisa Hamilton. I'm here to register my brother, Thaddeus Schiffer, for next quarter. He's transferring schools."

The dragon's glance slid over me and moved on to Thaddeus, who was dressed neatly in brown corduroys and an oxford shirt. Then she looked pointedly at Halcyon; a woman who knew how to let silence speak for her.

"This is Albert Smith, my friend," I said, answering her unasked question.

Halcyon smiled charmingly back at her, his hands casually hidden in his front pockets.

"We've been expecting you," she said crisply and introduced herself as Mrs. Boudoin. She disappeared into the adjoining office for a moment. When she returned, she waved us in. "Mr. Camden will see you now."

Mr. Camden was a pleasant-looking man in his thirties who smiled warmly at us in welcome, shook both Thaddeus's hand and mine and gestured for us to take the two seats in front of his desk. He nodded congenially to Halcyon, who remained standing deliberately back against the door.

"Your school has already forwarded your records and SAT scores to us, Thaddeus. Both of which are very impressive. And you are just—" He glanced down at the opened file on his desktop. " — sixteen. Two years younger than the rest of our seniors." And looking even younger, more like fourteen. Social suicide in high school. I did not envy my brother.

"Thank you, sir," Thaddeus said. "I started kindergarten early and Hawthorne Academy was kind enough to arrange a curriculum allowing me to complete high school in three years instead of four."

Mr. Camden smiled. "The heavier course load does not seem to have affected you adversely in any way."

"No, sir."

"Well, we can certainly accommodate you here as well," the smiling Mr. Camden said, looking at both Thaddeus and I. "You only have one extra course per quarter to fit into your schedule, which we should be able to do quite easily."

"We appreciate that," I said, and smiled for the first time at him. He seemed stunned for a moment. Then his smile became even warmer, and his eyes dipped down to gaze at my bare left hand.

My smile disappeared.

"It's unusual for students to transfer in the middle of their senior year. May I ask what precipitated this change?" Mr. Camden asked.

"His parents were just killed in a car accident. My brother has only recently come to live with me," I explained.

Mr. Camden murmured his condolences. "Do you have any plans for college, Thaddeus?"

"I've been accepted into Harvard and Yale, sir."

Mr. Camden smiled. "Congratulations. But not so surprising with your scores."

"However," Thaddeus continued, "I have decided to attend one of the local universities instead."

Mr. Camden's brows rose with interest. "I have a friend who works in admissions at Tulane. You would be someone they would most definitely be interested in." He wrote down his friend's name and number and handed it to me with another warm smile. Then he got down to business and showed us the busy schedule he had tentatively worked out. With only a few minor changes Thaddeus suggested, the courses for the rest of his school year were finalized, and a locker assigned to him.

The assistant principal, a Ms. Emma Thornton, took us on a brief tour of the school. She was handsome rather than beautiful, a tall, elegant woman who seemed to smile with special interest at Halcyon. Made one wonder if the entire faculty here was unmarried.

Thaddeus's textbooks in hand, we left the building just before noon, finally sucking in air that didn't smell recycled. The sun—hot yellow ball hovering straight overhead—shot fiercely down upon us as we walked to the car.