Part 13 (1/2)
”Undoubtedly.”
”I'm guessing he didn't do it for kicks.” Jedrick simply nodded, and the redhead drummed his fingers on the side of his phone. ”The enemy doesn't need a reason to create havoc, but Adin's different than most. What's he after?”
Jedrick spread his hands wide, begging ignorance. ”s.h.i.+mron believes their sole goal may have been the release of this one demon.”
Baird shook his head. ”The Fallen don't help each other; they use each other. Freeing that big fella was hardly charity on Adin's part, which means there's another goal.”
”Agreed.”
”Given everything else that's gone down, I think you should warn the one in the most danger.”
”Prissie?”
The redhead's brows shot up. ”Seriously?”
”We have been Sent to support Tamaes,” Jedrick pointed out, green eyes intent.
”No doubt!” Baird agreed. ”And she totally needs looking after, 'cause the fallout's gonna be a doozy, but I doubt Adin is turning heaven and earth upside down for her sake.”
The Protector's expression grew thoughtful, then grave. ”Your words ring true, which means ...”
Baird's gaze drifted northward as he finished his captain's hanging thought. ”Adin's probably looking for Aril.”
By the middle of the next week, Grandpa and Grandma Olsen finished packing and provisioning their RV, and the whole family was up extra early to see them off before school. ”We must take flight before this weather gets any more serious,” Grandpa Carl declared, dramatically tossing the end of his scarf over his shoulder. ”The reports say you'll be kicking up more winter in these parts. If we stay any longer, we'll be drifted in 'til spring!”
”Smootchies!” Grammie Esme demanded, starting the rounds of goodbyes. She went around the room twice-once for hugs, once for kisses-before announcing, ”We left a little something for your stockings with your Momma, so think of us at Christmas!”
The chorus of promises and porch-side waving continued until their big rig rumbled out of view, bound for the highway and points south. It all left Prissie feeling a little wistful, but she was startled to notice tears in Koji's eyes. ”What's the matter?” she asked in concern.
”I have discovered that I do not like goodbyes,” he confided softly.
”n.o.body does,” she retorted.
”Unless it's to someone you're glad to shake loose,” interjected Neil, who clapped the Observer's shoulder on his way back to the kitchen, clearly aiming for a second helping of breakfast. ”Then it's good riddance!”
Curious, Prissie asked, ”Who would you want to get away from?”
Her older brother shrugged. ”Pests.”
”There's always one,” Prissie's homeroom teacher muttered as she added a glitzy package to the pile of gifts on the table in the back of the cla.s.sroom. Everyone had been instructed to wrap their white elephant gifts in either newspaper or plain brown paper, but the latest contribution arrived in gaudy green-and-red wrappings. It stood out from the crowd, and Prissie felt sorry for it. She could sympathize.
Most of her cla.s.smates had opted for casual attire since they only had a half-day before being released for winter break, but she'd kept with tradition and wore her Christmas dress. She felt uneasy with her decision because everyone seemed to think she was trying to draw attention to herself. Some of the ruder comments stunned her, but they also made her furious. No one made fun of Elise for dying her hair or Marcus for always wearing his leather jacket. Why was a nice dress worse ... or even something worth teasing about?
”Where'd you get that?” Elise demanded in disdainful tones.
”My grandmother made it,” she replied curtly.
”It's homemade?” her cla.s.smate asked, looking her up and down. ”How weird. You people even make your own clothes.”
Prissie had no words for the spiteful girl, so she cast a hopeless look at Koji, who'd joined her by wearing his s.h.i.+rt and tie. She appreciated the moral support, but it was small comfort. He simply wasn't drawing the same unwelcome attention, and she envied him his providential ability to fade into the background. Keeping her head high, she strode to her seat.
Just then, Ransom ambled into the room and remarked in pa.s.sing, ”I don't remember that one.”
She stiffened, waiting for some sly follow-up, but the teen just dropped into his seat and turned to Marcus. How odd. He hadn't paid her a compliment, but he'd noticed her dress. Ransom's opinion meant nothing to her, but it still made her happy that he'd been not-rude. Cheeks flaming, Prissie turned in her seat and fixed him with a surly glare.
He did a double-take and quirked a brow. ”What's up?”
”Thank you,” she muttered, turning her back again.
His silence was followed by a low murmur of voices that Prissie did her best to tune out. Right as the bell was ringing, Ransom tapped her shoulder, and whispered, ”Say, Miss Priss.”
She turned her head just enough to hiss, ”What?”
”Marcus wants me to tell you that he thinks so too.”
”Thinks what too?”
Ransom blinked abashedly. ”Well, c.r.a.p. He got me.”
Prissie frowned at the Protector slouched in the desk kitty-corner behind hers, but Marcus didn't react.
”Well, fine. Whatever,” Ransom grumbled. ”You look nice, so don't listen to the ones who say otherwise.”
For the second time in the s.p.a.ce of two minutes, Prissie found herself at a loss for words. The world was probably ending. Yes, that was the only possible explanation for the bane of her existence to turn out to be considerate.
As usual, Prissie's party contribution included two big boxes of cupcakes from her father's bakery, and they were welcomed with enthusiasm, especially by the boys. To her relief, Ransom never brought up the fact that he'd handled the icing. He only ate them one after another, grinning over the teasing he received. ”Best cakes in town come from Mr. Pomeroy's place!” he boasted.
”He's like a walking billboard for Loafing Around,” she complained to Koji.
The young Observer nodded thoughtfully. ”He is not ashamed.”
In addition to the baked goods, there were chips and pretzels and two-liter bottles of soft drinks. The health nuts in their cla.s.s were satisfied with a veggie tray and a bushel basket of apples from the Pomeroy's orchard. April and a couple other girls set up a coffee bar in the corner, which turned out to be the most popular of all the refreshments.
”Oh. Em. Gee! Could this be more boring?” drawled Elise, earning a chorus of snickers. She shot a look in Prissie's direction with a smirk that spelled trouble.
Prissie sighed and wondered why the pouting girl hadn't skipped school.
No matter what Elise or the other students said, Prissie liked the gift exchange part of the proceedings. It was fun and funny to see what everyone had brought. When April opened her package, she turned her gift over and around, clearly mystified. ”What is this thing?” she asked.
Prissie authoritatively announced, ”It's a ricer. You press boiled potatoes through it.”
Her friend fiddled with the handle and asked, ”Why?”
”Obviously, to get rid of lumps,” she explained. ”Or if you serve potatoes riced, they have a pretty texture.”
”It looks more like a giant play dough toy!” someone heckled.
”Everyone knows mashed potatoes come from a box!” another kid offered.
Prissie shook her head at their ignorance. It wasn't as if the ricer was that unusual. Grandma Nell used theirs all the time! When Prissie's turn came, she rescued the poor, misunderstood implement, giving April the chance to try for another mystery package.