Bloodlines

She’d insisted she was fine, and when morning came, the only acknowledgment she gave of her nightmare was to insist that we not mention it to Eddie.

“It’s only going to worry him,” she said. “And besides, it’s not a big deal.”

I conceded that point, but when I tried to ask what had happened, she brushed me off and wouldn’t talk about it.

Now, at breakfast, there was a definite edge to her, but for all I knew, it had more to do with finally facing her first day in a human school. “I still can’t get over how different I am from everyone,” she said in a low voice. “I mean, for one thing, I’m taller than almost every girl here!” It was true. It wasn’t uncommon for Moroi women to push six feet in height. Jill wasn’t quite there, but her long, slim build gave the illusion of being taller than she was. “And I’m really bony.”

“You are not,” I said.

“I’m too skinny—compared to them,” Jill argued.

“Everyone’s got something,” countered Eddie. “That girl over there has a ton of freckles. That guy shaved his head. There’s no such thing as ‘normal.’”

Jill still looked dubious but doggedly went off to class when the first warning bell rang, promising to meet Eddie for lunch and me in PE.

I made it to my history class a few minutes early. Ms. Terwilliger stood at her desk, shuffling some papers around, and I hesitantly approached.

“Ma’am?”

She glanced up at me, pushing her glasses up her nose as she did. “Hmm? Oh, I remember you. Miss Melbourne.”

“Melrose,” I corrected.

“Are you sure? I could’ve sworn you were named after someplace in Australia.”

“Well, my first name is Sydney,” I said, not sure if I should be encouraging her.

“Ah. Then I’m not crazy. Not yet, at least. What can I do for you, Miss Melrose?”

“I wanted to ask you . . . well, you see, I have a gap in my schedule because I passed out of the language requirement. I wondered if maybe you needed another teacher aide . . . like Trey.” The aforementioned Trey was already there, sitting at a desk allotted to him and collating papers. He glanced up at the mention of his name and eyed me warily. “It’s last period, ma’am. So, if there was any extra work you needed . . .”

Her eyes studied me for several moments before she answered. I’d made sure to cover up my tattoo today, but it felt like she was staring right through to it. “I don’t need another teacher aide,” she said bluntly. Trey smirked. “Mr. Juarez, despite his many limitations, is more than capable of sorting all my stacks of paper.” His smirk disappeared at the backhanded compliment.

I nodded and started to turn away, disappointed. “Okay. I understand.”

“No, no. I don’t think you do. You see, I’m writing a book.” She paused, and I realized she was waiting for me to look impressed. “On heretical religion and magic in the Greco-Roman world. I’ve lectured on it at Carlton College before. Fascinating subject.”

Trey stifled a cough.

“Now, I could really use a research assistant to help me track down certain information, run errands for me, that sort of thing. Would you be interested in that?”

I gaped. “Yes, ma’am. I would be.”

“For you to get credit for an independent study, you’d have to do some project alongside it . . . research and a paper of your own. Not nearly the length of my book, of course. Is there anything from that era that interests you?”

“Er, yes.” I could hardly believe it. “Classical art and architecture. I’d love to study it more.”

Now she looked impressed. “Really? Then it seems we’re a perfect match. Or, well, nearly. Pity you don’t know Latin.”

“Well . . .” I averted my eyes. “I, um, actually . . . I can read Latin.” I dared a glance back at her. Rather than impressed, she mostly looked stunned.

“Well, then. How about that.” She gave a rueful head shake. “I’m afraid to ask about Greek.” The bell rang. “Go ahead and take your seat, then come find me at the end of the day. Last period is also my planning period, so we’ll have plenty of time to talk and fill out the appropriate paperwork.”

I returned to my desk and received an approving fist bump from Eddie. “Nice work. You don’t have to take a real class. Of course, if she’s got you reading Latin, maybe it’ll be worse than a real class.”

“I like Latin,” I said with absolute seriousness. “It’s fun.”

Eddie shook his head and said in a very, very low voice: “I can’t believe you think we’re the strange ones.”

Trey’s comments for me in my next class were less complimentary. “Wow, you sure have Terwilliger wrapped around your finger.” He nodded toward our chemistry instructor. “Are you going to go tell her that you split atoms in your free time? Do you have a reactor back in your room?”

“There’s nothing wrong with—” I cut myself off, unsure what to say. I’d nearly said “being smart,” but that sounded egotistical. “There’s nothing wrong with knowing things,” I said at last.

“Sure,” he agreed. “When it’s legitimate knowledge.”

I remembered the crazy conversation with Kristin and Julia yesterday. Because I’d had to take Jill to Adrian, I’d missed the study session and couldn’t follow up on my tattoo questions. Still, I at least now knew where Trey’s disdain was coming from—even though it seemed absurd. No one else at school had specifically mentioned my tattoo being special, but a number of people had approached me already, asking where I’d gotten it. They’d been disappointed when I said South Dakota.

“Look, I don’t know where this idea’s coming from about my tattoo making me smart, but if that’s what you think, well . . . don’t. It’s just a tattoo.”

“It’s gold,” he argued.

“So?” I asked. “It’s just special ink. I don’t get why people would believe it has some mystical properties. Who believes in that stuff?”

He snorted. “Half this school does. How are you so smart, then?”

Was I really that much of a freak when it came to academics that people had to turn to supernatural explanations? I went with my stock answer. “I was homeschooled.”

“Oh,” said Trey thoughtfully. “That would explain it.”

I sighed.

“I bet your homeschooling didn’t do much in the way of PE, though,” he added. “What are you going to do about your sport requirement?”

“I don’t know; I hadn’t thought about it,” I said, feeling a little uneasy. I could handle Amberwood’s academics in my sleep. But its athletics? Unclear.

“Well, you better decide soon; the deadline’s coming up. Don’t look so worried,” he added. “Maybe they’ll let you start a Latin club instead.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, not liking the tone. “I’ve played sports.”

He shrugged. “If you say so. You don’t seem like the athletic type. You seem too . . . neat.”

I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a compliment or not. “What’s your sport?”

Trey held his chin up, looking very pleased with himself. “Football. A real man’s sport.”

A guy sitting nearby overheard him and glanced back. “Too bad you won’t make quarterback, Juarez. You came so close last year. Looks like you’re going to graduate without fulfilling yet another dream.”

I’d thought Trey didn’t like me—but as he turned his attention to the other guy, it was like the temperature dropped ten degrees. I realized in that moment that Trey just liked giving me a hard time. But this other guy? Trey completely despised him.

“I don’t remember you even being in the running, Slade,” returned Trey, eyes hard. “What makes you think you’re going to take it this year?”

Slade—it wasn’t clear to me if that was his first or last name—exchanged knowing glances with a couple friends. “Just a feeling.” They turned away, and Trey scowled.

“Great,” he muttered. “Slade finally got the money for one. You want to know about tattoos? Go talk to him.”