Fire Born Dragon (Rule 9 Academy Book 1) Page 2

  I ignored the gossipy table and took a large bite of my cone and looked at the only other customer in the place. In a corner booth, so deep in the seat she all but disappeared, was another girl about my age. She was short and thin, making me feel like a mammoth by comparison.

  Now that was Goth. She was dressed head to toe in unrelieved black. Black jeans, black long-sleeved t-shirt in August? Hair, jet black and straight straight hung well below her shoulders. Her eyes were the only color in her face. They stared straight into my own, the palest of gray, rimmed dark at the edge of her irises. I blinked and jerked my eyes back to my ice cream. I’d been staring. I finished up and laid money next to my crumpled napkin for a tip. The sting of multiple eyes on me as I left made my fingers tingle and itch as the door banged shut behind me. I rubbed my hands with vigorous strokes along my thighs. They did that when I was nervous. It was super annoying.

  Time to go home. I’d looked over the town and found it wanting if you didn’t count the sporting goods store. I turned back the way I’d come and headed towards the base of Shephard’s Mountain.

  I wanted to go home and grab my cross bow and do some exploring of a different kind.

  I wanted to know where the path behind the house ended.

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, I was back. I threw together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and grabbed a handful of carrots and threw them on a plate. I took a huge bite, filling my water bottle from the filtered water spigot while I chewed.

  Mom was there, rearranging and cleaning in the living room. She watched as I shoved my water bottle and a few energy bars into my backpack and bit her lip in nervous reaction. I waited for the lecture.

  Mom didn’t disappoint.

  “You need to be careful. You’re good in the woods and smart, but this is like nothing you’ve ever been in before. The Tobacco Root Mountains extend for hundreds of miles up that ridge, forested most of the way, until you hit the snow. If you stick to that main trail on Shephard’s Mountain, you should be okay, but don’t leave it.

  I gave her what she called ‘the look’, heavy with disdain. I was more at home in the woods than anywhere else. I was far from stupid and knew better than to test the waters in a strange wilderness I knew nothing about. I bit back a scathing retort, but just.

  Mom fiddled with her dust rag, looking like she wanted to say a lot more. She settled for one more parting shot.

  “Make absolute sure you are back before dark. And if something should happen and you can’t? Climb the tallest tree you can and stay there and quiet until morning...” she snapped her mouth shut and turned with a jerk, cleaning along the filthy edge of the fireplace mantle with short, jerky movements.

  Now Mom had caught my attention. I stared at her for several seconds. What the absolute hell was she talking about?

  I shrugged and crammed the rest of the sandwich in my mouth to free up my hands. I tossed the plate in the sink with a clatter and grabbed my bag, heading down the hall to grab my bow. I attached an extra quiver of bolts to the side of the pack before swinging it onto my back and adjusting the straps for easy carry.

  I glanced at mom’s rigid back as I passed back through the living room and grabbed the door. “Later.” I mumbled. She nodded but didn’t turn.

  Off the porch, I turned the corner of the house and stared at the path that led up the mountain. It was wide enough for an ATV to move along at a crisp pace. I wished we had one. I wondered if later I could talk to mom about getting one.

  But today I had two good feet for walking. I hit the path, sneakers silent on the heavy pine needle track, cushioning any noise. The path meandered in a switchback fashion, heading up. It leveled to flat stretches on rare occasion. I paused several times to catch my breath. I was in good shape, but I was huffing and winded within the first half hour. There were a few open areas along the way, brief meadows of June grass, Indian Paintbrush and blue Lupine dotting them as I went higher. The heavy forest of spruce and ponderosa pine thickened as I climbed, and the shadows grew deep. Quaking aspen weaved in the dry breeze, clustered in open areas and reaching for light. Their leaves were already beginning to fade to yellow. Fall was on its way.

  I looked and listened for signs of wildlife. Meadowlark and several chickadees flitted above my head, curious and landing out of reach to watch as I passed beneath. I jumped a rabbit at one point, making my heart race. I thought about grabbing my bow. But I wasn’t here to hunt. I had the bow more for protection. I still hadn’t studied up on what lived in these woods, but I knew bear and wolf did. In broad daylight my chances of coming across them were thin, but I didn’t rule it out.

  At the crest of a vicious hill, I startled a trio of deer that moved along out of my way, unafraid of me. I found that odd. They were lucky I wasn’t there for meat.

  As the woods deepened, the natural light from above faded and it became darker still. The conifers blocked out an extensive amount of the light and caused the vegetation on the ground to become sparse. The carpet of needles blanketing the trail and surrounding woods thickened. It was peaceful, and I should have relaxed in the solitude—it was what I was used to. Only for some reason, my senses were on high alert. I was sure it was the density of the woods combined with the fact I was alone in strange surroundings. In North Dakota, stands of pine and deciduous trees this thick were rare. I was used to the open prairie.

  I stopped at the top of the next rise and pulled my water bottle out for a long welcome drink. Sweat glistened and ran down the crease of my back and settled in the band of my jeans and itched in discomfort.

  Pulling my phone out, I looked for bars of service. Nothing. I wasn’t really surprised. At least I knew the time. Had I really been at this less than an hour? It felt like five. I was more out of shape than I thought.

  I capped the bottle and stored it and looked up the trail. How come the predominant direction always seemed to be up. From my vantage on the ridge I stood on, I could see into the lower valley and up to where the base of the next peak lie. My eyes traveled higher to where the snow formed a thick cap of white in the highest elevations. The darker shadows at the lower elevations were where the forest thickened. I shivered. I wouldn’t make it that far today, but I was hoping I could at least make it a little further before the incline sharpened to straight up. I’d see where the trail went from there. I really hoped it was sideways or down.

  I groaned as I started walking again, my muscles protesting. I’d be sore as hell tomorrow. One more hour, no more. Despite my skepticism earlier, I wasn’t any more eager than my mother to be out past dark and wandering around blind in the strange woods. I knew the danger.

  Over the next hour, the incline grew. My calves were screaming by the time I rounded the last curve in the winding path and the trees opened to a small meadow before Shephard’s mountain cut North at a sharp angle—meaning straight up. Unless I was into rock climbing, I was at a dead end. I crossed a substantial stream that ran about fifty yards back from the base. It was the second stream I’d had to traverse. I picked my way over a fallen tamarack, worn smooth on top to make for a decent bridge. Wet shoes would spell disaster and ample blisters I had no desire to court. On the other side, I hopped down to spongy earth and looked up. Up more and I was staring almost straight into the sun and the top of the mountain. I wondered if the peaks had individual names and decided a bit of research might do me a solid when I got back. I needed more information than I had.

  Staring at the edge of the bottom of the mountain, I frowned. A large granite outcropping ran along the front for well over fifty feet. Behind it, the mountain was a display of bare rock before the forest of conifer continued again several hundred feet up the sharp slope. I moved forward and ran my hands, palm down, along the surface of the damp granite. Drainage and condensation off the mountain bled from underground tributaries. Heavy moss and lichen hung in recessed places along the rock and pulled my eye. It was the kind of boulder I liked to climb and sit atop and soak up the sun from on a sunny day.
<
br />   I sighed and looked at that sun, already descending. Looking at my watch, I decided it was time to start back. It was only 3:00. There were still several hours before dark and it would take half the time going back down as it had coming up because, well—downhill instead of straight up. Still, I was in no mood to push it and the peanut butter sandwich had long since worn off. I stared at the mossy rocks, reaching my hands out to cup them beneath a thin rivulet of icy water as it overran my fingers and dripped onto the sandy soil.

  I frowned and looked closer. Beneath the fingerling roots and moss, a pattern emerged just above eye level. Strange whorls and designs etched into the rock formed a circular grid that resembled a maze. I reached a finger out to touch the largest ring when a crack behind me had me spinning, heart pounding in my throat. I froze stock still when I saw the bear crossing the same bridge I had and in my direction. I didn’t move as the grizzly, the size of a small VW bug, sniffed the air in my direction, wet snout quivering in suspicion. It snuffled with a rough grunt and then meandered back along the river, taking its time, not wasting any more on me. But the moment was broken, and eyes to the sky, I called it quits. Another day. I glanced behind me, my eyes on the odd designs—my fingers on fire where they itched. I scrubbed at them with my nails. Did I have allergies?

  I shifted my bow and took one last pull on my water bottle, draining the second one. Capping it, I stuffed it into my pack and headed back down the way I’d come. Supper was waiting, and I was starving.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I hated school. I hated being stuck in a classroom with a bunch of stuck up preps who wouldn’t know a bear track from a bird turd if you drew them a picture in living color. The teachers weren’t much better. Most of them seemed bored and mired in the same old drag year after year, and it seemed like most of them were no more eager to be there than me. I liked to read, and I was passable at math when I could summon the energy to concentrate and wasn’t daydreaming about being anywhere else.

  So, when mom decided it was time to go into town to sign me up, I was less than enthused. Moving my achy body out from beneath the welcome warmth of my comforter seemed like an awful idea. Three snooze alarms later, along with the insistent pounding on my door, had me hauling myself out of bed and screaming through the door just to shut her up.

  “I’m coming already, lay off the pounding.” I slid out and threw on the jeans I’d worn for two days straight, and the clean but crumpled t-shirt I yanked out of my drawer. I sniffed it and frowned. Well, at least I think it was clean. Whatever, I wasn’t trying to impress, and I yanked it over my head as I opened the door and walked towards the bathroom to splash water on my face and reapply my liner. A mutinous twist to my mouth, I applied it with an extra heavy hand just to make her mad. I ran a finger over my teeth and grimaced, reaching for my toothbrush.

  In the kitchen, mom stood tapping her feet, mouth in a thin crease as she stood by the sink drinking what had to be her third cup of coffee for the morning.

  I opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, uncapped the lid and was moving it towards my mouth when she snatched it out of my hands and poured it into a glass. She thrust it in my direction, and several drops sloshed over the sides.

  Well, well, well, look who had gotten out on the wrong side of the bed besides me.

  “What crawled up your—” I started to say. I caught her stink-eye and amended. “—Butt?” I finished.

  Mom’s eyes slashed to mine. “Nothing, hurry, can you? I need to be back here before 10:00. I have an interview with the Lawyer’s office in town at 12:00. I’d like to have a little time to get ready for that. There’s a list of chores that need to be done on the fridge while I’m gone.”

  I froze, glass halfway to my mouth and three-quarters gone already. My eyes moved to the endless list under the Hello Kitty Magnet hanging on the fridge.

  “There must be at least five different things on that list! It’ll take me hours to do all that!” I enjoyed keeping my room somewhat neat. That was as far as my cleaning ambitions went. Any kind of housework might have been the only thing I hated more than signing up for school in a town where I knew no one and was simply fine with that. I was angry all over again and took my glass and slammed it down on the counter unfinished, satisfied when orange juice splashed up and out and covered the spout and backsplash. I was not cleaning that up.

  I looked at my mother’s furious face. “Well, let’s get going then. I’m ready when you are to get this epic fail over with.” I grabbed my backpack from the hook by the back door and slung it over my shoulder. Mom pushed away from the counter, rinsed her cup and grabbed her keys and purse. She glanced at my hair.

  “Do you want to brush your hair first?” she asked, reaching out to touch my tangled mass of hair, halfway down my back and half in half out of the hair tie I’d thrust it in before bed last night.

  I grinned. “Nope, I think it’s a perfect reflection of what I’m feeling at this exact moment.”

  Without another word, mom moved towards the door, slamming it behind her in my face.

  I reached for the handle, my smile gaining teeth. Yup, it was perfect.

  Breathless High was a joke. Who named a school for post pubescent teens well versed in drama and prone to getting into trouble something like that? Only an adult past their midlife crisis could fathom that as being a likely name.

  The school itself was two stories and at the edge of town just as we entered. It was well back from the road, the space behind it for a stadium that surrounded an adequate football field. A track that had seen better years ran the circumference. It was old, and some really sick individual had decided that Pepto-Bismol pink was the best color to paint the walls. It was not.

  I drug my feet behind mom as she walked up the steps and entered the office. The secretary smiled when we entered. When you weighed that much, what else was left? But she was efficient and had me signed up and registered in record time. A bored looking teenager sitting off to the side and playing on her phone looked up when the secretary, Ms. Simms, addressed her.

  “Katie, could you show Sadie around, show her where everything is?” Katie glanced up and stared at me with bored eyes. I understood bored. The girl hit a button on her phone with a huff and stood up, putting it in her back pocket.

  “Only if I have to. Come on.” She nodded in my direction and opened the door, not waiting. Behind her I watched Carly and Ms. Simms exchanged disgruntled looks and eye rolls.

  I didn’t care. I followed Katie, who seemed to be in a race as she click-clacked down the tiled hall in her too-tall strappy sandals and swinging skirt that just brushed the back of her knees. I immediately labeled her as a prep’. No one I’d be sharing a lunch table with for sure. She didn’t pause as she walked past the classrooms, speaking in a monotone as she went.

  “Room 101, English lit, here Science, Algebra, History/Civics depending on the hour.” She paused at the end of the hall and opened two double doors to an expansive gym.

  “Gym,” she continued, phone back out, scrolling as she went. The entire school was one great big oval of classrooms in the center and specialty rooms and the gym at one end, the office and cafeteria on the other. I had to hand it to her. She managed the entire tour in under ten minutes, coming back to the same chair as before and plopping back down and ignoring them all once more.

  Ms. Simms spoke to me. “Sorry about that. Katie is in our summer school program. Part of that is the community service hours she missed, so we have her help me out during registration.”

  I looked at the rude snit in her chair, blond hair arranged neat over her slim shoulders, mouth turned down in a permanent moue of disapproval. “It’s no problem. I had about as much fun with her as she had with me.” I said, face deadpan. But it had the desired effect.

  Blond hair whipped about her head as Katie snapped her head up, eyes glacial on mine. It surprised me when her lips twitched and a slight smile played there before she went back to her phone. I’d gotten her at
tention.

  Schedule in hand, we headed back to the house. I looked at mom and thought about mentioning the list again but changed my mind. My mother’s mind was miles away on something else. I was sure whatever it was, it didn’t involve her bratty teenager. Still, I had to try.

  “Mom.”

  She ignored me.

  “Carly! About that list?”

  I had her attention then, but I should have known better. She ignored me, but when we got home she picked up a pen off the counter and added a sixth chore.

  I got the message and dug beneath the sink for the kitchen cleaner and a bucket.

  HOURS LATER I GAVE the flat-screen TV one final angry stroke of the cloth. I looked around to see if I’d missed anything obvious. I tossed the rag under the sink for mom to find later and bitch about and crossed the last item on the list off. Mom had come back hours ago and after throwing on shorts and a t-shirt went slamming through the door and to the shed in back, grabbing pruning shears. She’d been hacking away at the thick jungle of overgrown weeds and shrubbery that surrounded the house for hours.

  I thought it safe to assume the interview hadn’t gone according to plan. Not that I cared. Dad was paying plenty to make the bare bills after the divorce. It wasn’t like we would starve or anything.

  I lifted an arm and gave myself a sniff as I moved down the hall to my room. Enough was enough, and I grabbed a towel from the hallway closet. I needed a shower.

  I’D BEEN AWAKE FOR hours, tossing and turning and not sleeping. A glance at the clock on my nightstand and I groaned. Midnight. I did not understand why I was still awake. Mom had retired hours ago. I glanced at the windows, looking out and beyond the thin sliver of moonlight that angled in through the panes and dribbled across my bed quilt.