Kelley Armstrong - The Gathering

“You will.”

“That’s our girl. We need our champ.”

He waved at the wall of trophies. Not all mine, obviously. But there were a lot of trophies, considering the size of our school. As in academics, in sports we get the best of everything. Top equipment. Great coaches, plus expert trainers flown in a few times a year.

We can’t field a team for football or hockey, so the school concentrates on track, swimming, wrestling, and boxing. In kindergarten we’re encouraged to join at least one. I dislike the water, and hate hitting anyone, but when it comes to running, jumping, and climbing, I’m in my element. I’d taken last year off the track team, though. I just didn’t have the heart for it after Serena died.

I left the meeting. As I walked back through the principal’s office, I nearly tripped over a guy with his chair pulled over to the door, eavesdropping.

Rafael—Rafe—Martinez. Salmon Creek’s newest student. Actually, our only new student in three years. Rich parents in surrounding towns tried to get their kids into our school, but they were always turned down. Rafe wasn’t a rich kid. He lived with his older sister in a nearby cabin they’d inherited from a distant relative. I guess the board figured it was the right thing to do, letting him attend our school free of charge rather than spend hours on a bus every day.

Rafe told everyone he was from Texas. That was bull. I’d dated a summer guy from Texas, and Rafe’s drawl was all wrong. His last name suggested he was Latino, and he kind of looked it, but his high cheekbones and amber eyes said Native to me. He was a little taller than Daniel, lean, with black hair that hung just past the collar of his leather jacket. Worn blue jeans and low motorcycle boots completed the image: American Teen Rebel.

It was a look we didn’t see a lot at our school, and the other girls loved it. Not that Rafe needed the added cachet. Considering we’d had the same guys in our class since kindergarten, Rafe’s novelty factor alone would have had the girls tripping over themselves. He was the hottest ticket in town. And he knew it.

When I bumped into him, I said a polite, “Hey,” and tried to get past.

“Hey, yourself.”

He grinned and, in spite of myself, I felt a little flip in my stomach. Rafe wasn’t gorgeous, but he had a sexy, crooked smile and eyes that looked at a girl like she was the first one he’d ever seen. When he stood close, I swore I could feel heat radiating off him. And Rafe always stood close.

As I backed up, he hooked a thumb toward the conference room. “Barnes in there?” he asked, meaning the principal.

I shook my head. “Haven’t seen him. Ms. Morales was around, though.”

“Yeah, I talked to her. She says I need to talk to Barnes. Late once too often this week.”

That grin sparked again, like being late for school earned him a place in the bad boy hall of fame.

“No worries,” I said. “You didn’t miss much.”

He fell into step beside me, so close his knuckles brushed mine. “I hear you had yourself a close encounter of the wild kind.”

“Um-hmm.”

“Morales said you’ve seen more mountain lions than anyone around here. Says they practically hang out on your doorstep hoping for a saucer of milk and a scratch behind the ears.”

He meant cougar—mountain lion is an American term.

“I live in the park,” I said. “I’m going to see a lot of wild animals.”

“Still, mountain lions … Never seen one myself.” He slid a sidelong look my way. “Think you could fix that?”

Like hell , I thought, but just kept walking.

“Never been in your park either,” he said. “What do you say I come over tonight? We can take a walk, look for big cats, watch the stars come out.…”

I laughed. “Do lines like that ever work?”

He only smiled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Actually I could. Rafe didn’t just flirt—he charmed girls right up to the point where they fell for him, then he changed his mind. I called him a player with attention deficit disorder. That made Daniel laugh. I didn’t think it was so funny.

Would I think better of the guy if he followed through and scored with every girl he could? No, but he seemed like a cat toying with a mouse—no plans to make a meal of it, just batting it around awhile, leaving it wounded and dazed, then sauntering away.

He’d taken a run at me shortly after he arrived. When I turned him down, he’d seemed to take the hint and had backed off. Had that only been a temporary reprieve? I hoped not.

“Maya?” a soft voice called.

I glanced over to see Nicole Tillson, the mayor’s daughter, at her locker. She looked from me to Rafe, concern darkening her blue eyes. I mouthed “Save me,” and her pixie face lit up in a grin.

She scampered over. “Oh, thank God I found you. Did you read that chapter for history? I was halfway through when Hayley called and I never got back—” Her eyes widened as if she’d just noticed Rafe there. “Oh, hey, Rafe. Do you mind if I steal Maya’s brain for a minute? I seriously need it.”

She tugged my arm, pulling me away before he could answer. “Okay, so the first part was on World War II, right? I got as far as …”

She continued babbling for another minute, then glanced over her shoulder. “Okay, he’s gone.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. I know you don’t like him so—” She glanced up at me. “You don’t, right? I mean, I guess not, or you wouldn’t have asked me to save you, but if you do …”

“No. Hayley can have him.”

“Good. So did you bring your lunch today? If you didn’t, I was thinking maybe we could all pop over to the Blender. My treat. Mom finally paid me for that extra work I did at the clinic.”

We stopped at her locker so she could get the book she’d come for. I had to help her with that. I’m only five foot five, but Nicole’s at least four inches shorter, and the guys like to stick her books up where she can’t reach them.

Nicole was on the swim team and in the choir, so she’d been more Serena’s friend than mine. That changed after Serena died. We’d kind of taken on each other as replacement pals. It wasn’t a great fit—we didn’t really have that much in common—but it filled a gap.

I DON’T MIND SCHOOL. I’d like it a lot better if it wasn’t indoors. Being inside just seems to sap my energy. It’s gotten worse the last couple of years. I go home and I crash.

That worries my parents, but the doctors say it’s a combination of hormones and my metabolism—I’m used to being outside and active, and being a teen only makes it worse. They gave me some vitamins, but I still need a nap most days.

When school ends, I get outside as fast as I can. Today I was waylaid by Ms. Morales, who wanted a firsthand account of my cougar encounter. When I finally escaped, I spotted Nicole with Daniel on the other side of the playground. He had an eighth-grader pinned to the grass, arm twisted behind his back.

“Bully!” I shouted.

Daniel glanced over and grinned. Then he let the kid—Travis Carling—go and got down on all fours so Travis could try the move on him. As Daniel gave instructions, Travis’s brother, Corey, made suggestions that had everyone within earshot laughing. Travis and Corey were Chief Carling’s sons.

Dark haired, over six feet tall, big, and burly, Corey was the school’s second-best wrestler and boxer after Daniel. Also Daniel’s best guy buddy. I could only imagine what he was suggesting Travis do to Daniel while he had him pinned. It was drawing a crowd. Corey always did. He was one of those guys who can talk to anyone—and talk his way out of trouble, which in Corey’s case is a necessary survival skill.