Tags:
Fiction,
Young Adult Fiction,
Japan,
Young Adult,
teen,
Samurai,
teen fiction,
warrior,
Reincarnation,
youth fiction,
supernatrual,
kunoichi,
ninja,
senior year
getting hurt, you might want to reconsider the seating chart—” Q shoved an elbow into my side before I could finish.
Mr. Fritz crossed his arms and frowned. “I’m sorry. What was that?”
I glanced back and forth between Mr. Fritz and Q. The identicalness of their scowls was uncanny. Finally, I sighed. “Not important. I’m sorry about the water bottle, Mr. Fritz.”
He nodded, the movement sliding his glasses to the edge of his nose. “One strike, Ms. Martin. Don’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t,” I replied glumly and stuffed the bottle back into my bag.
Seemingly satisfied, Mr. Fritz nodded and moved on to another table.
“ Anyway. ” Carly smacked her gum, each pop like a hammer pounding the base of my spine. She poured the contents of a test tube into a beaker. “I didn’t want to do it—I know you guys are best friends and all—but I had to tell Mom that I didn’t feel safe with Rileigh coming over to our house anymore.” She looked up at me and smiled. “At least not until you work out your issues. ”
Quentin made a choked sound as I whirled around to face her.
“What?” My pulse jumped from a jog to a sprint as the pressure built inside of me, pushing against my ribs until I thought they would crack. It was no secret that Carly and I couldn’t stand each other, but she’d never tried to come between Quentin and me before. He’d been my best friend since first grade. Not to mention he was the one person who kept me firmly grounded in this life. Without him, I’d be more lost than ever.
Invisible hands ripped into my chest, trying to claw their way out. What little control I had was slipping away—and fast.
Quentin, as if sensing my distress, snatched the empty test tube from Carly’s hand. “Carly, oh my God, you got something on your face.”
Wide-eyed, she patted her face. “Where? What is it?”
Quentin pointed to his nostril.
“Oh, God.” The color drained from her cheeks. “Mr. Fritz!” She leapt from her stool, ran to the front of the
classroom, and snatched the wooden hall pass from a hook on the wall. “I have to go to the bathroom!”
He looked up from assisting a table of students and waved her away with a sigh. “Hurry back. Your table is behind the rest of the class. You should have your Bunsen burner turned on by now.”
She nodded and ran for the door.
Quentin gave a nervous glance to the matches in front of him. “Don’t listen to her. My mom loves you and she knows Carly’s a drama queen. She’d never ban you from the house.” He looked at me. “Are you—are you okay?”
Not even close. But maybe if I lied to him I could fool myself. “I’m good.” I tried to sound convincing, but my voice came out strained.
He took a match from the box but didn’t strike it. “Besides, I love you and isn’t my opinion the only one that counts?”
“I just thought she’d be more understanding, you know? I’d assumed since I saved her life, lost my house, and almost died, she’d get off my back.” I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to harness the energy swirling inside me. It felt like I was being torn in half.
“ Yeah, well … ” Quentin turned on the valve that released the gas. “Welcome to high school.” He struck the match and raised the lit tip to the nozzle.
At that moment, the hum of ki burst through my skin. To make it worse, I’d spent so much of my energy trying to keep it from escaping that I had none left to control it when it did. It happened so fast, I was helpless to warn Quentin about the attack coming his way.
The Bunsen burner exploded in an angry fireball that ricocheted him off his stool, and he collapsed onto the floor. He buried his face in his hands while uttering a stream of obscenities under his breath.
“Q!” I leapt from my chair and joined him on the floor. The acrid stench of singed hair stung my nostrils. “Oh my God! Are you alright?”
He didn’t move but continued to mutter every curse
Serenity King, Pepper Pace, Aliyah Burke, Erosa Knowles, Latrivia Nelson, Tianna Laveen, Bridget Midway, Yvette Hines