Page 10 of School Spirits
“I don’t think I ever made you girls any food. Finn could make mac and cheese by the time she was four, and you were using a microwave by that age. I should’ve cooked more.”
I stared at her. “Mom, we were fine. And I happen to like SpaghettiOs. Especially the kind with the meatballs. Finn used to give me the meatballs out of her bowl, and—”
I hate crying. The tears, the snot, the red face. All of it. But what I really hate is when crying sneaks up on you unexpectedly. So I looked down at my plate and shoved a piece of bacon into my mouth, hoping that would stop the sob that was welling up in my throat.
You need these meatballs more than I do, Junior.You’re soskinny, a shifter is gonna pick his teeth with you one day.
Mom had turned back to the sink. “Hurry up before you miss your bus,” she said, and I could’ve imagined it, but her voice sounded a little watery, too.
The bacon might as well have been made of cardboard for as much as I tasted it, but I got it down. “Right. Okay. Well. I, uh, guess I’ll go wait for the bus.”
Mom turned. “Do you want me to wait with you?”
I did. A lot. Why was hunting monstersless scarythan waiting by a freaking stop sign in the suburbs? But I shrugged. “No, don’t worry about it. I think I can handle standing on a corner by myself for ten minutes.”
The parentheses deepened around her mouth. “Don’t get smart.”
“I wasn’t! I…” Sighing, I shouldered my backpack. It was the same one I used to take when Finn and I would patrol, but this time there were no crossbows or vials of holy water. Just notebooks and two packs of pens.
“I’ll be home after three,” I told Mom.
“Okay,” she replied. “Remember, main thing today is just to start getting yourself situated. Head down—”
“Eyes open,” I finished for her. That might as well have been the Brannick family motto.
Mom gave a sharp nod. “Right. We’ll talk when you get home. And…”
She walked over and, to my surprise, gave me a hug. “Have a good day, Iz.”
I hugged her back, closing my eyes and breathing in the safe, familiar smell of Mom. Brannicks aren’t huggers, and I couldn’t remember the last time Mom had wrapped her arms around me. “I will.”
The kitchen was right off the main hallway leading to the front door. The old owners of the house had put up a little shelf with hooks, a box for keys, and a tiny mirror to, I don’t know, check your lipstick before you went out or whatever. I snagged my black jacket from one of the hooks, and as I did, caught a flash of movement.
Torin.
In the mirror, he leaned against the wall behind me. “Nervous?” he asked, grinning.
Glancing down the hall toward the kitchen, I leaned in closer and whispered, “No.”
His grin got bigger. “Yes, you are. You’re a Brannick, a Queen Among Women, and you’re scared of going to school. When, really, it’s the school that should be scared of you.”
He said it like that was something to be proud of. Mom was still banging pans, water running in the sink, but I kept my voice as low as I could. “What the heck does that mean?”
“Like I said,” Torin replied, “you’re a Brannick. Not only have you been trained to dispose of the most powerful creatures this world has ever known, you’ve been bred to be an effective killer. Over one thousand years of genetics, all coming together to form Isolde Brannick, a deadly weapon.”
I stared at him. “Torin, is…is this your idea of a pep talk?”
His brow wrinkled. “A what? I am simply trying to make you feel more confident about your day by giving you a small speech on your many virtues.”
Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I poked at the glass. “That’s a pep talk, then. Except yours isn’t really helping.”
Now Torin was leaning back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. “I actually felt it was going quite well, and I hadn’t even gotten to the part where I declare you a tiger sent to matriculate among kittens.”
In the kitchen, the water shut off. I glared at Torin. “I’m not atiger,” I hissed. He gave one of his elegant shrugs as Mom called, “Iz?”
She stepped out of the kitchen, but by then, Torin had already vanished from the mirror.
“Yeah?” I replied, hoping I sounded casual.
