Crave

CHAPTER 11

Savannah
When I woke up, I could swear I still felt the press of Tristan's lips against my skin, and I wanted to cry. Why did the good dreams never seem to last long enough?
Then again, maybe I should be glad it was only a dream. Otherwise I would be responsible for Tristan's missing out on playing football for the rest of the year.
I rolled over, looked at my alarm clock then sighed. No time for bawling like a baby over a dream. I needed to get up and ready for the fundraiser. The Charmers were working as carhops at the local Sonic today. All tips would go toward paying for things like our team charm bracelets, duffel bags and game-day team shirts. I and some of the other Charmers were working the early lunch hour, so the tips should be good for our shift.
The job was easy, just delivering food and taking money, and made even easier by the Sonic manager's counting out change for us. Or at least the job had been easy until a certain black, chromed-out, single-cab Dodge Ram rumbled into a parking spot near the glass doors of the Sonic building. Instantly, that familiar ache filled my chest and stomach.
The driver-side window rolled down, revealing the driver. I barely held back a sigh. Tristan should not be allowed to wear sunshades. It ought to be illegal to look that good.
My muscles tensed as he placed his order, the speakers near the grill filling the kitchen with his deep voice.
I willed the regular employees to slow down, to take a little longer at putting together Tristan's order. We were swamped with customers now, and all the other Charmers were still out delivering orders. Which left only me to deliver Tristan's.
Just as his order was ready to go, Bethany Brookes returned, granting me a reprieve.
"Here you go." I thrust the tray of food at the stunned blonde. "Car five."
"Uh, okay," she muttered, no doubt wondering why I didn't take it myself. Oh, well, let her think I was being lazy. Anything not to have to take that particular order myself.
With a sigh of relief, I watched her go. No way could I have faced Tristan today. Not after last night's dream. My hand tingled again with the memory of his kiss. I rubbed the spot and turned away from his truck.
I could swear I felt someone staring at me.
I tried to ignore the urge to rub my tingling neck. When someone else's order came in, I was only too grateful to take it to a car parked on the row opposite from Tristan's.
When I returned, the relief was short-lived.
"Milk shake for car five," the manager said, sliding a red plastic tray with a foam cup toward me. I searched for someone else to take it, but I was the only Charmer there. Lovely.
Clenching my teeth, I grabbed the tray, headed toward Tristan's truck and braced myself for emotional impact.
"Hey, Savannah," he murmured when I reached his window. He'd removed his sunshades, and I felt the full effect of that watchful gaze on me. Maybe his wearing sunglasses shouldn't be illegal, after all. At least they would have given me some protection against those soft green eyes and long, gold-tipped eyelashes. Why, oh, why, did the boys always get the long eyelashes?
I couldn't speak; my throat was too dry. So I forced a small smile instead.
"I guess you heard the news by now."
That got me to look up, at least as high as his nose. "Hmm?" He was wearing an electric-blue polo today. A white T-shirt peeked out from beneath its opening. My fingertips itched to trace that ribbed collar.
"About last night's game?" he prompted.
"Oh. Yeah, I saw it."
"Seems like everyone did." His chuckle sounded just like it did in my dreams. "So, I suddenly have a lot of extra time on my hands. And a free first period every day."
Wait. What? "You're not playing football anymore?" Why wouldn't the coaches have just temporarily benched him or something? Getting kicked off the team for shoving a team-mate seemed a bit overkill.
"Yeah. My parents yanked me from the team for the rest of the year."
Holy crap. Just like in my dream. My heartbeat took off. How the heck had I dreamed about this? Was this some kind of witchy thing, like clairvoyance or ESP?
And in my dream, he said that Dylan and he had been fighting because of me.
Was it true?
"Tristan, did you shove Dylan because of-" Wait. I couldn't say that without sounding like an egomaniac. But I had to know. "Um, why were you and Dylan fighting? If you don't mind my asking, that is."
He froze, then lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Don't worry about that. So listen, Bethany had an interesting suggestion."
I fought the urge to frown. Of course he would think anything Bethany said was brilliant. Everything the perky blonde said captivated the boys. Good thing she was actually nice or more girls would fantasize about murdering her on a daily basis.
Tristan continued. "She said your team has an opening left for an escort."
A Charmers escort? Him? He'd be bored out of his mind. All they did was sit beside the managers at the football games. That and escort the officers around the field during the second quarter when the officers went over to meet and greet the other dance teams. Not to mention Mrs. Daniels and the new Charmers captain usually handpicked each year's escorts. The job was invitation only.
Then again, no Charmer would ever turn down the opportunity to hang on Tristan's arm if given the chance. If he asked, they'd let him be a Charmers escort in a heartbeat.
But why in the world would he want to?
"Um, that's an...interesting idea," I finally managed to stammer out.
"Yeah. So what do you think? Should I give it a shot? Am I Charmers escort material?" He put on his best grin and waggled his eyebrows like a goofy comedian while he gave me money for his order.
I tried to put on my Ice Princess mask but wasn't quick enough. A small laugh escaped me. "Well, it would be convenient for flirting with the Charmers." In fact, the escorts were notorious for dating the Charmers. Since his player notoriety was already firmly established in our school, he'd fit right in.
"Good point. It would make it easier to actually see a Charmer, since your team seems to have nonstop practices and performances."
I nodded, though the idea of his dating a Charmer made my stomach churn.
"So you think I should do it?" He stopped smiling, solemnly waiting as if my answer actually mattered to him.
"I..." Because I yearned to gaze into his eyes, I stared down at the five-dollar bill he'd given me instead. "I'll go get your change."
I tried not to run for the safety of the kitchen. What refuge could it really offer anyway? The building was mostly glass on the upper half of its front three walls. And I knew with absolute certainty that Tristan was staring at me now. Probably wondering if I was nuts.
I lingered inside until the manager frowned at me, then I slowly walked back to his truck. "Here's your change." I counted it out, careful not to touch him in the process.
"Aren't you going to give me something?"
Pulse racing, my gaze slid up to his mouth. "What?"
"A straw?"
"Oh!" With a relieved laugh, I got him a straw from my half apron's pocket.
And gasped as his fingers wrapped around both the straw and my hand. "And your answer to my question?" he murmured, his hold a gentle torment to my skin.
A breeze kicked up around us, bringing with it the slightest hint of his cologne, a little bit spicy, a little bit cool and crisp. I wanted to drink it in.
What was the question?
Oh, yeah. Should he be a Charmers escort?
Oh, Lord, what a question to ask me of all people, and while holding my hand, too. He must know or at least suspect that I had a crush on him. Okay, a bit more than a crush now, but that was beside the point.
He stared at me, still waiting for my answer, his strong fingers gentle and warm on my skin. Oh, crud.
"Um, Tristan, I think you should do whatever will make you happy." There, that was a good reply. "I'd better go. Thanks for helping out the Charmers. Have a great..." Whatever else I had meant to say was forgotten as he lifted my hand to press a kiss to the back of it.
He paused then murmured, "Thanks for helping me decide."
After he released my hand, I stumbled away a few steps, completely speechless. We both froze for what seemed a long time. When I could think again, I turned and slowly walked to the safety of the kitchen, rubbing my still-tingling hand as I went.
Tristan
I sat in my truck, unable to move or do anything but watch Savannah walk away from what she probably thought was another crazy stalker.
Was it too much too soon, kissing her hand like that? I'd hoped it would remind her of our shared dream last night. But what if it scared her off instead?
I'd hoped that after last night we could make more progress today. I'd had it all scripted out, though I'd had to order a milk shake I didn't want just to get her to come to my truck. But the conversation hadn't followed the plan at all. Why couldn't I get her to relax and be herself with me in real life like I could in our dreams?
Somehow I had to get her to let her guard down around me in real life, too. One or two shared dreams a year wasn't going to cut it. We needed to spend more waking time together.
Hmm. Well, she did say I should do whatever would make me happy. Mom had said "any activity but sports." And seeing Savannah every day up close and outside the Clann's spying eyes would definitely make me happy as well as give her time to learn to relax around me.
Grinning, I grabbed my cell phone, pulled up the internet and searched Google for a certain woman's number.
Savannah
I clutched my thermos cup of tea in one hand and the ring of team keys in the other as I got out of my truck in the JHS front parking lot. The truck was an old, single-cab Chevy S10, primer gray and in desperate need of a few layers of paint. My father had had it delivered last week for my sixteenth birthday, an obvious and unsuccessful bribe to try and get me to talk to him again. Apparently speaking with his daughter didn't even rate a truck with an actual paint job. Not that a brand-new sports car would have been enough to make me forgive him for threatening Mom's and Nanna's lives, either.
Even my friends had teased me a little at my slumber party, suggesting I buy some Rust-Oleum spray paint to keep it from rusting any further. Still, it got me where I needed to go and was free, so I'd asked Mom to pass on my thanks to him. But I also didn't feel too bad about pushing the door shut with one foot. It wasn't like I could damage the finish.
In the early-morning, late-October hush, the campus was cooler now that autumn had finally arrived. It was also empty and peaceful, just the way I liked it best. No one around watching me, judging me. No one to have to try to hide all my secrets from. Until the Charmers began to show up in the next fifteen minutes, the campus was all mine. And maybe the janitors', though I never saw them around this early before school. At this time of the day, the normally confining pines surrounding the school felt cozier, like a giant green blanket to hide in.
I adjusted the headphones over my hair and ears, pushed Play on my iPod, then walked fast past the cafeteria and math building. I needed to get moving or I'd be late with the sound system for practice. I'd switched out this duty with the freshmen managers today so they could start fetching ice bags and deliver roll-call charts to the front office instead. This new system should work out perfectly since I had to unlock the dance rooms anyway.
Sighing, I passed the math building, started up the cement ramp that led to the sports and art building's foyer doors...and nearly dropped my thermos and keys.
Tristan was leaning against the doors, his hands tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans. In the early-morning light, made gray by the shadow of the building, he looked surreal against the royal-blue painted doors. Maybe I was still half-asleep and imagining him. I yanked off my headphones.
"Good morning, Savannah."
I stumbled but quickly recovered. Nope, he was definitely here. "Um, good morning, Tristan."
"You use the old-style headphones. Interesting choice." He nodded at the hot-pink and black headphones still dangling from my hand.
Blinking fast, I jerked open the zipper on my duffel bag and shoved my iPod inside. "Uh, yeah. My ears are too small for those earbud things to stay in." Plus the old-style headphones stayed on better when I danced. "What are you doing here?" I winced. That came out ruder than I'd intended, but it was better than showing how I really felt about him. "I mean, if you're here about the escort thing-"
"Yes and no."
Okay. That cleared it all up. "Are you here to talk to Mrs. Daniels?"
"No, I already talked to her on Saturday. I gave her a call and explained my situation."
Even walking as slowly as I could, I still wound up at the doors. And much too close to him. I fumbled through the team keys one-handed, trying to hurry up and get the doors unlocked so I could move away from the temptation as quickly as possible.
"Here, let me." He eased the thermos from my hand, his fingers sliding over mine in the process. A tiny shiver rippled up my spine. I froze for a few seconds then recovered and focused on unlocking the doors. He held open the door for me and offered me the thermos.
"And what did Mrs. Daniels say?" I took the thermos back, careful not to touch his fingers, then darted under his arm and through the doorway. But not fast enough to miss catching the tiniest hint of his cologne.
"She and I came up with a better idea." He followed me inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoed, emphasizing how empty the building was. How alone we were together.
Why, oh, why, did he have to be a descendant?
I had work to do. I should remember that and stay focused on my duties. I headed down the length of the shadowed foyer, pausing at the base of the stairs. Was he going to follow me around?
Oh, good Lord. I could not handle being this close to him much longer. He needed to leave so I could breathe right again. "So are you going to tell me why you're here?"
"You're looking at the newest Charmers manager." He gave a wry smile.
I couldn't help it; I snorted. Like the dancers, the Charmers managers had always been females since the team's founding in 1984. "Yeah, right. You? A manager for the dance team? What happened to being an escort?"
"I'll be doing that, too. But I needed something to replace football first period and cover my P.E. credit this year. The Charmers team class will do both. And Mrs. Daniels mentioned you were short on managers. So I figured, why not?"
Why not? I could think of a million reasons why not. "Uh, hate to break it to you, but I don't think we have a manager's suit in your size."
Laughter burst out of him, and I felt a ridiculous thrill in response. "Not a problem. I'll be in escort clothing at the games. I'll only be helping out as a manager at the practices."
He'd be with us at every practice and game?
Oh, no no no no no. This was so not good. Ignoring him in history class was hard enough. How in the world would I manage to hide how I felt about him if I had to spend hours with him, alone, every morning and afternoon?
To cover my dismay, I started up the stairs but had to stop halfway as another thought hit me. My family. They would make me quit the Charmers for sure. No way would they be okay with my spending time alone with any descendant. Especially not with the leader's son. Not to mention what the vampire council might assume if they found out about it, too.
I already wasn't allowed to dance. Now I would lose even the right to be the head manager.
"Uh, Savannah?" he asked, making me realize I was still frozen on the stairs.
Twisting slowly, I frowned down at him. "Why are you really joining the Charmers? I mean, is this because of...you know, what you said after that fight with Greg?"
"After five weeks?"
Huh. He had a point. Even as bad as Greg had been affected by the gaze daze, it had still taken him less than a week to recover.
"So you're really doing this for the P.E. credit?" I searched his face.
He shrugged. "It seemed like a good solution, since my parents banned all sports as part of my punishment."
I cringed as the question I hadn't been able to stop thinking about all weekend returned to me now. Why had he and Dylan fought? Logic said it couldn't possibly have been because of me. But logic also couldn't explain my dreaming about his being pulled from the football team before I should have known about it.
Chewing the inside corner of my lips, I continued up the stairs, my mind and heartbeat racing. Okay, I needed to chill out and think clearly here. So what if my subconscious or imagination or whatever had gotten one thing right in a dream? That didn't mean the rest of it was true. And Tristan showing up here to become a Charmers manager...well, that didn't have to be about me, either. He just needed something that would fill first period every day. Only the sports and spirit teams took up first period on both A and B days. And if his parents banned him from all sports for the rest of the year, that would only leave cheerleading or Charmers.
He could have asked his sister to let him be a male cheerleader for a while, my mind whispered.
I tried to picture Tristan in a male cheer uniform yelling on the sidelines. Hot, but unlikely. He'd never be happy having to take orders from his older sister all the time. Not to mention having to cheer for the football team he used to play for.
So that left Charmers as the last option available. Nothing to do with me, no reason to think I was the cause behind his fight with Dylan or his volunteering to help the Charmers. Right?
Unfortunately, Mom and Nanna were still going to have a fit and make me quit the team, no matter what his reasons were for joining. Unless...they never found out. And why would they? Neither of them came to any of the games or team performances since I wasn't an actual performer.
Besides, I might get lucky. Maybe he'd quit soon. Mrs. Daniels was tough to please, and flirting with a bunch of giggling dancers could only be fun for so long. One, two weeks tops and he'd be so bored he'd be begging Mrs. Daniels to let him quit.
Funny how that thought didn't make me feel relieved as I reached the third-floor landing and pushed open the hallway door. But at least the panic stopped clawing at my throat. Maybe this would turn out to be no big deal, after all. It was just another shared class with Tristan. Right? Nothing romantic. No major rules broken, really. Surely I could hide my feelings for him for a couple weeks.
The upstairs floor was dark, with just enough light coming in from the windows to prevent me from running into anything. Tristan dogged my every step, so closely that, when I stopped at the hallway light switch, he bumped into me. He grabbed my waist, I was pretty sure from reflex.
"Oomph." His chest felt like a solid wall as it thumped against the back of my head.
"Sorry," he muttered and stepped away, his fingers sliding from my sides.
I worked not to sigh and tried to think straight again. "Um, why don't you stay here? I'll be done in a minute."
My hands shook as I unlocked the dance-room and director's office doors, turning on lights in both areas as I went. I grabbed the MegaVox portable PA system, jam box and trainer bag from the office closet then rejoined him in the hallway. I was surprised to find a dark scowl on his face.
"What, afraid of the dark?" My feeble attempt at a joke.
"This is part of your daily routine?"
"Yep." I headed out of the hallway, but he stopped me to take the sound system. "And I do it all in reverse each evening. Except the foyer doors-those the janitors lock up at night."
We headed down the stairs, the heavy trainer bag thudding against my thigh suddenly making me feel about as attractive as a pack mule.
He waited until we were out of the building before speaking again. "Do the other managers usually go with you for safety?"
"You sound like me on my first day as a manager. I asked my head manager almost the same thing when she used to do this. There used to be three full-time managers plus the head manager. But then Head Manager Amber moved away, and the other two sophomore managers were needed as alternate dancers for the rest of the football season after two of our dancers got hurt. So now it's just me filling in as the head manager, and two freshmen office aides temporarily on loan."
"So you're doing it all? The unlocking in the mornings, the setup, the locking up at night?"
We headed down the cement ramp toward the road that cut through the campus, connecting the front and back parking lots.
I shrugged. "Somebody's gotta do it, and the team director's already working her butt off creating choreography, putting together music, working with the school band on music and dance routines for halftime performances, running practices..."
He grumbled something under his breath, making me wonder if maybe he had the same problem I did with being awake this early in the morning.
At the end of the cement ramp, we turned to the left, heading down the road past the back of the math building toward the practice field. In the growing morning light, dew sparkled like thousands of diamonds on the grass that bordered the woods at our right, reminding me of my dreams. Of fantasies spent sitting in the grass at night with the very boy who walked beside me now. I ducked my head to hide the rising heat in my cheeks.
At the practice field, we entered through the chain-link gate and crossed the spongy black track that circled the grass.
The Charmers were already gathering at the center of the field, though practice wouldn't officially start for another ten minutes. As they waited, they stretched individually. But even at this hour, they were anything but quiet. Someone's laugh rang out, startling birds in the thin woods that ran along the outside of the field's fence.
Ugh. Morning people. Needing fortification, I sipped my tea then used the thermos cup to hide a smile as the Charmers visibly reacted to Tristan's presence.
I watched the change among the dancers with a strange sort of fascination. Honestly, I didn't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes. Even the seniors sat up straighter and pushed out their chests.
Bethany came running over with a perky smile. "Hey, Tristan! What are you doing here?"
Tristan shot me a smile for some reason. "Everyone seems to be asking that this morning."
Why was he smiling at me? I took the sound system from Tristan then tuned them out as best I could, moving away a few yards to drop my duffel and trainer bag so I could start setting up. Unlike the dancers, my duties started as soon as I hit campus and didn't usually end until practice was over. I didn't have time to stand around and chat.
"Hey, Miss Savannah." Keisha crouched down beside me and the MegaVox at the fifty yard line. Her knees popped from the action, making me cringe. She'd need wraps for those soon. "What's he doing here?"
"It seems we have both a new escort and a new manager."
"Him?"
I nodded, keeping my gaze down on the jam box I was checking the batteries on.
He must have heard us talking about him, because he came over and squatted beside me so close our knees bumped.
"Have fun," Keisha murmured. I tried to ignore the now familiar pain at seeing her join the dancers instead of working with me.
"Miss Savannah?" he asked after she left.
"We all call each other 'Miss,' then the person's first name, except for the director. It's a team rule to help us remember to always show each other respect."
"And you have to do that all the time, or...?"
"No, just during team time. Though sometimes we forget and do it in the halls and stuff, too." I dug through my bag for the clipboard and legal pad I used to take team notes on each day. "You'll need to follow it, too, if you stick around."
He gave me a wolfish grin. "Oh, I definitely plan to stick around."
Yep, he was already checking out the Charmer buffet.
"You close with a lot of the team?" He jerked his head in Keisha's direction where she stood talking with Vicki now. They didn't try to hide the fact that they were talking about Tristan. I just hoped they weren't including me in the conversation, because I so had nothing to do with this.
I shrugged. "Most treat me like a stand-in mom or something. They know they can come to me if they need something or someone to talk to. But Keisha and I are closer than most. She's a manager, or she was till she became an alternate dancer for the season."
I felt him staring at me, though I tried to ignore that sensation, as well.
"Is that hard, seeing her dancing with the team while you do all the work behind the scenes?"
I looked at him now, wondering if he was trying to be mean. But his eyes were wide with innocence and something else...like he actually wanted to know the answer.
"A little. But I'm really proud of her, too." I was lying, of course. It was more than a little tough. But I was keeping my promise to the vampire council. No more dancing. And Keisha was a good dancer and worked hard as an alternate. She and Vicki both deserved to get to dance with the Charmers.
After a long, uncomfortable minute, he said, "So, what are we doing here?"
Grateful for the change in subject, I explained how to work the sound system, showing him the MegaVox's two headsets with microphones, one for the jam box and one for Mrs. Daniels to wear so she could call out directions to the team from the bleachers.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Daniels and the rest of the Charmers arrived. The director chatted with her dancers for a couple minutes then climbed into her usual spot at the top row of the metal bleachers.
As soon as Mrs. Daniels was seated, I stood up. The director liked me to hurry and get to her for our pre-practice meetings. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Try to save the flirting for after practice, or you'll tick off Mrs. Daniels."
He grinned up at me. "Good to know. I'll try to contain myself."
He'd probably make a beeline for the nearest Charmer as soon as I walked away. No telling how many of them were his exs. And how many more were soon to be.
The week passed smoother than I'd hoped for, though everything Tristan did seemed to have both advantages and disadvantages. He asked to be in charge of fetching the ice bags toward the end of each practice. Probably so he could play knight in shining armor for the injured dancers. But at least neither I nor my loaner managers had to deal with Dylan in the field house for a few days.
Tristan also liked to stand close to me and watch my every move while I wrapped strained knees, ankles and shin splints at the end of each practice. Either he enjoyed how the girls blushed from his nearness, me included, or he was gunning for my job. At least he was helpful, handing me things from my trainer bag when I requested them, though his fingers managed to brush mine every single time. I was starting to get used to wearing goose bumps from head to toe now.
Unfortunately, the temporary managers still hadn't completely settled down around him, which was becoming a problem. The two freshmen giggled and whispered a lot more now, which grated on my nerves. So I had to keep finding more things for them to do. The charming smiles he occasionally sent their way didn't help, either.
By Thursday afternoon, I had to pull him aside. "Could you please stop smiling at my loaners?"
"Uh, your who?"
I jerked my head in the freshmen girls' direction. "You know, the girls from the front office? The ones you've kept giggling for days now?"
He looked sincere in his confusion. But how could he possibly have missed the effect his smiles had on them? "I was just being nice to them."
"Well, would you quit it already? It makes them..." I waved a hand at the two giggling girls a few yards away on the track. "It's getting beyond annoying."
"So you want me to be rude instead?"
"No. Just try to be more, I don't know, big brotherly."
"Yes, ma'am, Miss Savannah," he said, his fake salute making me fight the urge to giggle myself.
Tristan
I hadn't expected to feel much while watching the Jacksonville Indians football team play without me that Friday night at the Tomato Bowl in downtown Jacksonville.
But it stung. A lot.
As I sat beside Savannah in the bleachers in my new escort uniform of a long-sleeve button-up denim shirt and khaki slacks, I remembered how it felt at the start of a game. The adrenaline rushing through my veins. Suiting up in my protective gear and uniform like a warrior readying for battle. The excited roar of the crowd, and knowing they were all yelling for me and my team.
Second quarter was worse. I'd been assigned to escort one of the Charmers officers. As we followed the line of escorts and officers to the visitor bleachers on the other side of the field, I could feel my shoulders and neck steadily knotting up. The tiny blond senior clinging to my arm was cute and sweet. But she wasn't who I wanted at my side. I gritted my teeth and glanced across the field toward the home bleachers.
Just in time to see Savannah returning to the Charmers section with what looked like a box lid full of foam cups.
Heat raced over my skin, and I had to work not to growl. She shouldn't be fetching for the dancers. She was too nice for her own good.
Most girls wouldn't be so helpful all the time, or put up with half the crap she did. All night tonight, I'd had to listen to Charmers whispering, "Miss Savannah, do you have some hairpins?", "Miss Savannah, do you have any boot polish?", "I have a run in my tights, Miss Savannah. Do you have any fingernail polish?" And on and on and on. How could she take the constant neediness? Why didn't these girls bring their own emergency supplies?
I kept expecting Savannah to get onto them for forgetting so much stuff, or at least tell them she didn't have whatever they were requesting. Yet she never once frowned or hesitated to help them. One girl had even forgotten her hat and lived too far outside of town to get it, so Savannah had to leave the Tomato Bowl, drive two miles over to the high school and then walk around alone on a dark campus to find a spare.
Which didn't exactly help my mood. She should have told me where she was going. I could have fetched the stupid hat for them, or at least gone with her and made sure she was okay.
Either she was a doormat, or she was too brave for her own good. I couldn't decide which. One thing I did know...she'd rather be out on that field at halftime in the limelight with the rest of the dancers. She'd tried to hide it, acting busy with prepping wraps and ice bags for the dancers who needed them after performing. But I'd caught the pure longing in her eyes when she'd thought no one was looking.
So why wasn't she a dancer? Was it because she couldn't dance well enough to make the team? It couldn't be for religious reasons. Bethany Brookes had told me earlier this week that everyone had to try out for the Charmers before they could apply to be managers. Including Savannah.
Even if she was the world's worst dancer, she still didn't have to be the Charmers head manager. She could do something else with her life, something that took far less time, energy and patience. Was she aiming for sainthood? Didn't she ever get tired of helping others? Didn't she ever want something for herself for a change, instead of always doing what others wanted her to do?
And why did she put up with the twins calling her a freak in history class when they thought I couldn't hear them?
By the end of halftime, it had all combined into a heated ball in my stomach.... Anger at myself for taking Dylan's bait and getting pulled off the football team during the playoffs. Rage at the Clann for brainwashing all the descendants' kids into thinking a nice, innocent girl like Savannah was somehow a freak who should be avoided at all costs. And fury at Savannah herself for putting up with it and settling for being just a head manager.
So much stupidity and unfairness. And for what? Why?
I didn't get up when everyone else did for the third-quarter break. I was so mad I couldn't pry my hands from my bouncing knees. I didn't care that staying in the empty Charmers section practically guaranteed that my parents would see me here since they came to every JHS Indians football game to see Emily lead the cheerleading squad on the sidelines near the bleachers. Let them see that I was a Charmers escort. They'd pushed me into this.
I'd had enough of their controlling ways. Because I understood now. I was just like Savannah, wasn't I? I always did what my parents wanted, never stood up for anything I wanted for myself. My parents ran every part of my life. And I let them.
I hated to admit it, but maybe Dylan did have one thing right...some of the Clann's rules were just flat-out wrong.
At some point toward the end of the third quarter, everyone returned to the bleachers. Savannah came back to her seat beside me but didn't sit down. I could feel her looking at me, though I didn't look at her. I couldn't. If I did, I might yell or go hit a brick wall or something. I was already having a tough time controlling my energy level without seeing that sweet, patient expression I knew I'd find on her face.
"Tristan, did you want to go grab something to eat or drink? There's still enough time left in the quarter."
Once again, Savannah was thinking of someone other than herself. Bitter acid rose up in my throat. "No, thanks."
"Would you like me to bring you something instead?"
As if my legs were broken? Did she fetch for the dancers so much that she'd become everyone's servant? Gritting my teeth, I pushed out the words, "I don't need a slave, Savannah. If I want something, I'll get it myself."
"What?" she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.
"You heard me. I said I can get it myself."
I never looked at her directly, but out of the corner of my eye I saw her body tense up. A few seconds later, she sat down, her back stiff.
Regret shot through me. I pushed it away. I wasn't going to apologize. Maybe I could have said it better, but I was still right. She did need to stop slaving for others all the time. Apparently I was the only person in her life who cared enough to tell her the truth.
She didn't speak to me for the rest of the game. Which was probably a good thing, because unlike her, I wasn't that nice. I couldn't just swallow my real thoughts and not spit out something that would show how ticked off I was by it all.
My foul mood carried me home, where Mom and Dad waited in the dimly lit kitchen. Dad was already in his favorite green house robe and matching slippers. Mom hadn't changed out of her designer jeans and Cheer Mom shirt yet.
Mom began, her arms tightly crossed. "So just when were you going to tell us about becoming a Charmers escort?"
I shrugged. They knew now. "What else was there? I'm barely passing Spanish and I suck at chess. You took away football. This is all I've got left."
"But, son, you know the Clann rules about staying clear of that Colbert girl," Dad said.
"She's not in charge of the escorts. And helping the Charmers is no different than having the same history class with her," I said, working to keep my returning fury in check.
Mom threw her hands in the air with a loud huff. "Why must you be so difficult? Why can't you just go to school, come home and do your magic training? You're already so far behind. How do you ever expect to lead the Clann if you keep wasting your time like this? And what is the Clann going to think about you working with that Colbert girl?"
"It's always about what the Clann thinks. What the Clann wants. What about what I want? You already took football away from me. What else are you going to take?" Blowing out a long breath, I turned and braced my hands against the cold granite surface of the island. "Maybe I should just leave the Clann."
Mom gasped.
"I get how important it is to you that I follow in your footsteps and become the next Clann leader," I said. "But that's what you guys want. It's not what I want."
Dad stepped closer to me. I turned my head to look at him. His face was twisted with hurt and confusion. "I thought you were enjoying the training. Do you really hate magic that much? Do you hate the Clann? Do you hate what I stand for as the Clann leader?"
My anger deflated a little. "No, Dad. Training with you has been fun. I love the time that we spend together working on spells and charms and stuff. But it's not what I want to do with my life. Magic is cool, but it's like a hobby."
"I thought football was your hobby," Dad muttered. "Something you would eventually grow out of. Just a passing phase."
"Yeah, well, it's not." I dropped my head and stared at the chaos of the mottled black-and-tan granite. "Look, I get it. I know I screwed up, and maybe I deserved to be taken off the football team for a while. I was stupid and I lost control. But my life can't be just about school and magic for the rest of the year. I need something else to do, or I'm gonna go crazy here."
Silence filled the kitchen for a long moment.
Finally Dad sighed and said, "All right, son. Let your mother and I talk this over tonight, and we'll all discuss it over breakfast. In the meantime, why don't you go do a little grounding and then get some rest."
They wanted me out of the house so they could talk. Fine, whatever. I nodded and headed out the patio door, sitting on the grass for a couple minutes. But for a change, I was already drained. I'd never spoken to my parents like that. All I wanted to do now was sleep. So I went back inside, up the stairs and down the hall toward my room.
At my doorway, I heard my parents' voices coming through their closed bedroom door. I hesitated, then eased closer until I could make out their words.
"Now, Nancy, you can't keep pushing him so hard," Dad said. "He's going to rebel, just like I did. Then he'll end up taking off, and we won't see him for years."
"Oh, please. Like he'd really run away from home. He wouldn't last a day on the streets."
Dad chuckled, the sound muffled through the wood. "Oh, you'd be surprised. I made it for two years before I met you and you talked me into coming back home. Plus, I didn't have that big ole trust fund to rely on like Tristan will when he turns eighteen."
Mom sighed. "I'm just so sick of all this football nonsense. How are we ever going to convince the Clann to make him the next leader if he won't buckle down and focus on his training?"
"He'll come around. If you stop pushing him. Let him be on this whole helping-the-Charmers thing. It won't hurt anything, and besides, he probably just wants to be around all those dancers. If I was his age, I'd want to be a Charmers escort, too."
"Are you sure it's not the Colbert girl he wants to be around?"
"Nah. That was over years ago. If he wanted to rebel, he would've done it back when we first separated them."
"I don't know, Samuel. I still think it's a bad idea."
"You think too much. Come to bed."
Time to leave. I eased along the hall, paused at my doorway, then continued on down the stairs and outside, flopping onto the grass on my back so I could stare up at the stars.
So Dad hadn't wanted to be the Clann leader, either, at first. Huh.
I spread my hands palms down on the grass, not to ground, but just to connect. To sense once again where I fit in this world. If I cleared my mind, I could actually feel it, that subtle pulsing of nature's energy beneath me. I was lying on one big battery, every blade of grass an outlet I could plug in to and take from or give back to as I wished.
I didn't reach for that energy, though. It was enough tonight to simply feel it, to know that I could tap into that power if I needed to.
I wasn't powerless against my parents, after all.
Until tonight, all my life I'd been drifting, unsure of who I was or what I wanted other than to play for the NFL. I'd let my parents make every decision for me, and I'd never complained much.
Now I still didn't know who I was. But I knew with absolute certainty what I wanted. Who I wanted. What I would give and do for her.
I'd finally found something worth fighting for. And somehow, I'd found my own freedom while I was at it.
I had a new kind of dream that night.
In the dream, I seemed to be connected with Savannah. No barrier separated us. I was able to sit down right beside her in the moonlit grass.
But she wouldn't speak to me or even look at me. And for the first time in any dream I'd ever had of her, she wore what I thought of as her Ice Princess mask. She was right there, just a few inches away from me. I could reach out and touch her if I dared. But I didn't, because no matter how near our imaginary bodies were to each other, she was still every bit as untouchable as in history class.
I woke up the next morning on edge and spent the rest of the weekend worrying about Monday.