Chapter 25: Hormones And Humiliation
I made it through the rest of the day without having to turn down any more offers of best friendship, so I felt a little more emotionally stable by the time the last bell rang. I was free to escape. I could only guess Alison went home for the rest of the day because she wasn't in any of my usual classes nor at any of her typical haunts during breaks.
Guess she was sick or something.
I knew how she felt.
I tried to talk to Brad after school but missed him. I know he saw me, but he drove off with his buddies before I had a chance to say anything to him. It felt important I know one way or another if he was angry with me.
Part of me was mad at him anyway. He brought this on, after all. And how dare he be angry with me for standing up for myself? Brad could go piss off, if that was the case.
The other part of me, the part that wished things could be different, wanted to know Brad did everything he could to help but his friends wouldn't let him.
Yeah, right. Even I wasn't that clueless.
I dragged my gaze from the retreating SUV and turned to leave, catching Quaid staring at me. That was about to stop and never happen again. I squared my newfound aggressive tendencies and marched up to him.
He smiled at me, really smiled. His chocolate brown eyes smiled too.
It took me by surprise. And knocked the anger out of me.
Still, I had to try.
"Something funny?" I demanded.
Quaid grinned, showing perfect white teeth. His black hair glowed in the sunlight, tall, lean body totally at ease. Wow, he was hot.
"Not sure what you were going for," he said in that velvety deep voice of his, "but at least they're all afraid of you now."
"I wasn't going for that," I said.
"Really?" His lips twisted to the side, eyes still sparkling. I was having trouble concentrating for some reason. Oh right. My stupid demon side was panting over him. That made it very hard to concentrate on despising him. And if I found out he was using magic on me, I had plans to kill him.
No such luck. Just hormones and a randy demon, damn it.
"Really," I said. "In case you hadn't noticed in your little friendship with Alison, I'm not exactly the most popular person around here."
"Yeah," he said. "I got that. And she's not my friend."
"You seemed pretty chummy yesterday," I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
He laughed, a deep, warm sound wrapping me in something that had nothing to do with magic.
"We're different that way, Syd," he said. "You try to fit in. I don't."
"Then why the whole Alison thing?"
"I wondered what she had to offer," he said. "Not much."
Wow. That was cold. Still, I agreed with him, sadly enough.
"Least you could have done was stay out of the way," I complained. "You didn't have to help her along."
"Sorry if I gave you that impression," he said.
"So you were using her, is that it?" I'm not normally so skeptical, but the last few days taught me some things.
"You could say that."
"Yeah, right," I challenged him.
"Really." He let the full weight of the truth hang between us. I had to admit he at least believed what he said, even if he was deluding himself.
"At least I'm honest about my motives," he added. "Unlike some."
I didn't take long for me to look away.
"I don't have motives, except being left alone."
"Hm-hm. No revenge, no desire to have them run from you?"
There was the rabbit image. But this whole day was so much easier than any other day I ever experienced since I started high school. Part of me knew he was right. Their fear was my freedom, whether I liked it or not.
"Fine," I said, "if they're scared of me, better than being pushed around." I meant it.
"Don't you sometimes wish we could..." he drifted off, mischief on his face, still smiling. But there was a darkness to him that worried me.
"What?" I said back. "Let loose?"
He laughed, cynical and jaded well beyond anything I had experience with. But with parents like his, I hardly wondered where that attitude came from. I'd be pretty dark too if I had Batsheva Moromond for a mother.
I had to plant that image in my head, didn't I?
"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it," I admitted. "But I'd never do it."
"Never?" His dark eyes challenged me, still smiling while my demon half pushed me to agree with him.
"Never," I made it a firm no in spite of her. He laughed again.
"Yeah," he almost whispered. "Me neither."
We exchanged a moment that made me uncomfortable, all the more so because he felt so open and raw to me. I didn't want that glimpse inside him or his life. I didn't want to know how troubled he was or that his life sucked more than mine. I almost had the impression he was asking for more than just a conversation. Was he really reaching out?
Damn it. I had my own problems. But my demon wouldn't let me walk away.
"You're doing a good job for someone who says he doesn't want to fit in." Was that resentment showing its filthy head? Probably.
That made him laugh again, as harshly as before. "You could say that, I guess." His dark eyes drifted away from me, expression bored. "I could if I wanted to. And I don't. I'm not sure why it's so important to you." His gaze snapped back to me. "Why take crap they hand you when you're so much better than that?"
It couldn't have been a compliment. "In case you hadn't noticed, that's exactly what I did." It was like he purposely tried to goad me. But my anger had faded, replaced by curiosity of my own tied to wondering about how his attitude could affect the family. I wondered if I should bring it to Mom's attention.
He shrugged, the smirk coming back. "The thing about old habits is they tend to come back." Like he expected me to revert? Never. Or was he talking to me at all?
Quaid didn't look dangerous or like a loose cannon. Mind you, I didn't think I did, either. My demon really liked him but I wasn't trusting her as a good judge of character. Still, maybe it was normal high school angst? If anyone could understand that, surely it was me. Still, I decided to keep a closer eye on Quaid Moromond, just in case.
That made my demon incredibly happy.
Since when did I care? Guess even the suggestion of a threat to the coven brought out protective feelings in me and made me wonder if I really wanted to be cut loose after all. Or did I want my cake and eat it too?
I hated it when I doubted myself. And this was a big one.
I walked away from Quaid and headed home on my own, leaving him to grin after me like he knew something I didn't. I had a feeling regardless of whether he was a danger to the family or not, Quaid was a threat to me and the way I thought about the world. I was starting to understand his presence was going to be more of a challenge to my choices than I first thought, not to mention the sulking my demon did every time I made her leave him behind. Why I would let some strange boy affect my way of thinking, I had no idea, but the way he pushed me to admit the truth to myself pissed me off more and more the further I was from him.
My mental conversation turned so heated I stopped halfway home and turned around to confront him. I pulled myself back to reality almost immediately. Kind of a stupid thing to go charging after him when I had absolutely no idea where he lived.
When I let it drop, reality rushed in. It was Wednesday, and that meant because of my little chat with Quaid I was about to be late for soccer for the very first time ever.
I ran the last block.
I tore through the kitchen and up to my room, dumping everything to change into my uniform. Somehow Mom managed to get the chocolate out of my jersey. Probably magic, but at the time she could have chanted it out with a smoking stick of incense in her underwear and I wouldn't have cared less.
Well, maybe not in her underwear.
I hit the kitchen at a full run and ran into my mom. Before I had a chance to dodge her she stopped me with a hand on my arm. For the first time, I noticed the way she was dressed.
Fear punched me in the stomach so hard I had nothing to say.
Normally, Mom dressed in flowing skirts, blouses, large silver jewelry. She didn't get she looked like the stereotypical witch right down to the delicate pentagram she wore around her neck. I'd tried, Erica tried, I think the whole coven mentioned to her gently at one time or another she could do with a wardrobe change. But nothing influenced Miriam Hayle and her sense of style.
Until now. I groaned at her ensemble of cute blue yoga pants and matching cropped jacket, her white tank top peeking out from behind the shiny sparkle zipper. A ponytail held back her long, wavy black hair. Trendy little sneakers graced her feet. My mother was in sneakers. She couldn't possibly be thinking what I thought she was thinking.
Oh, the horror of it all. My mother was trying to be cool.
"Meira said today is one of your last soccer games," Mom said.
No, please, no. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"I'd like to come watch you play."
She said it. She said the words that sealed my doom and meant the end of the only thing in my life I had for me and me alone with no interference. How did I tell her I didn't want her there? I knew this was painful for her, too, this effort she made to be someone she wasn't, to be the mom I wished I had instead of the one I got.
Oh, crap.
"Okay," I whispered.
The tension in her eased. "Wonderful," she said. "Let's go."
I followed her out the door, dragging my feet, terrified at the implications of what was about to happen. I shook myself. What was I expecting? It wasn't like she would break out into magic or anything. Looking at her, she screamed normal Mom. What was I so worried about?
She opened the door of her beautiful convertible and climbed in. I hesitated by the door.
"Coming?" She asked. I never got to ride in the Mustang, usually relegated to one of the back seats of our minivan. I climbed in beside her, careful to hold my kit bag carefully in my lap.
"It's only a couple of blocks," I told her.
"Rather arrive in style," she winked at me before putting on a pair of huge shades I had never seen before. I was sure they had a price tag on them only a little while ago.
She spun the car out onto the street and drove very fast to the soccer field. She pulled into an empty spot, one of the only ones left, and climbed out, removing the sunglasses, as if she wasn't sure what to do with them. I understood then how little my mother knew about the outside world. How had she survived for so long? She was a grown woman for goodness sakes. But she was a grown woman destined from birth to lead a powerful coven, schooled privately, unlike me, by other witches, groomed as witches were groomed in her generation, protected by not only the magic but by the large mass of old wealth the Hayle family managed and expanding for centuries.
I knew then what a leap it was for Mom to let me be raised like a normal child, unsheltered from the outside world, exposed to everything she'd been protected from. I instantly gained respect for her. I walked around the car to her to offer what little help I could.
I took the sunglasses from her and slid them on top of her head, into her hair.
"Am I okay?" She asked.
"Yeah, Mom," I answered. "You are."
Together, we walked across the parking lot to the soccer field. I left her by the fence to change into my cleats. Maybe I really believed it. Maybe not. I was about to find out.
Mom clutched the fence with both hands, smiling at me. She waved a little.
I started to relax and get into game mode, fear easing. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
It wasn't until I reached the field and glanced around that I noticed how many faces I recognized in the crowd.
My mom brought the family to watch me play soccer. I didn't know whether to scream and run away or hug her.
I watched as the coven gathered around Mom, chatting and laughing, their combined power leaking out around them like a cloud. Erica and Jared both waved, Jared shooting me a wink and a huge 'go get 'em' smile. The more of them that joined the group, the louder they were. My heart pounded as I watched the normal parents, compelled by instinct, move away until the circle of witches stood isolated.
A sharp word from my coach snapped my attention back to the field.
"Hayle!" Coach Matters growled. "Get in the game!"
I trotted to him and tried to ignore the weight of the family on the other side of the fence.
"Sorry, coach," I said.
His whole talk on game strategy went out the window as my energy sucked away in waves of nausea and dizziness. I felt it happen and couldn't do a thing about it. But why? The coach had to snap at me a couple of times to get me to focus, but no matter what he did, I was lost a few minutes later. It was as if my proximity to the group drew me into their circle and triggered everything bad about my connection to magic. Even my demon seemed disoriented and only then did I understand how much she supported me when I played. Not having her strength to push me on had a huge impact on my game. I couldn't break free of the heavy family influence no matter how hard I tried.
My heart pounded not from the cardio but from pure fear. I couldn't play! How could I with them watching, leeching, leaking power and shoving me over my comfort edge? I gritted my teeth and struggled to get some control back.
I loved soccer. They would not take it away from me.
The worst part was, they didn't even know what they were doing.
Right from the first kick, I was a total mess. I battled desperately to take focus, to block them out. But the moment I thought I was in the game, I lost my concentration again. I don't know how many times Coach Matters yelled at me in that first forty-five minutes, but I think it was the most times my name was spoken cumulatively since I was born.
My skills went out the window with my concentration. I couldn't kick without ending up on my butt in the grass. I couldn't pass without getting it to the opposing team. I was clumsy, distracted and very, very angry by the time the referee blew the whistle for the end of the first half.
I collapsed on the bench, realizing as I did I was alone on my end. The rest of my team huddled as far from me as possible, shooting me dirty looks.
Coach Matters approached and crouched in front of me. His face shone with fury.
"Tell me you're purposely throwing this game," his voice was a low snarl. "Because if you are, at least that would explain what the hell is happening out there."
I trembled, hurting and wanting to die.
"I'm sorry, coach," I whispered. "I can't seem to get it together."
"Then stay on the bench," he snapped. "And stay out of the way."
He stalked off in a huff to have a huddle with the girls. I sat there for a minute, heart pounding, battling tears and the sharp jab of loss. The family watched me with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. Jared, obviously confused about the rules of the game and the fact you need to win to celebrate, gave me a double thumbs up and a grin. Mom tried to support me, but she it was pretty obvious from the pained smile on her face and the murmurs she exchanged with the others that she felt far more worried about what they thought of my crippled abilities.
It affected me more than I expected. I kicked off my cleats, bagged them and fled.
I could hear my mother calling after me, but I didn't care. I ran across the street toward the park, refusing to even consider going home. I ended up in the empty play area. I threw my bag as far away from me as I could and slumped into one of the swings, unable to believe I lost the last thing that made me happy because of the stupid coven.
I hated them so much in that instant I would have gladly turned them in to whatever authorities I could except of course no one believed in witches and would think I was nuts if I told them. I wanted to scream, to throw things, to hurt whoever I could reach as much as I possibly could so that they would realize what they took from me.
My mom picked right then to turn up. Naturally. She took a seat next to me on another swing.
"Honey," she said, concern in her voice, hand reaching out to touch me, "what happened?"
I spun on her so quickly she pulled back with actual fear in her eyes. Good. I wanted her to be afraid.
"You people happened," I hissed at her, all my rage, all my pain in my face, in my power as I released it and pushed it at her so hard she paled. I ignored the battle between disorientation and my demon to fling my fury at her with words. "You and your stupid ideas, your meddling, your need to keep me prisoner in your horrible family." My voice climbed in volume as I rose from the swing and started yelling at her, hands clenching into fists as I spit my fury without reservation. "How dare you ruin my life! How dare you take away the one thing I love because you think you deserve to be a part of it? You never wanted to be a part of it before! Why did you have to now? Why!"
I struggled to pull myself under control, fought to keep from doing something I would always regret, but it was hard, so hard. My demon writhed with anger of her own, shoving aside my natural aversion to her and the magic inside me. Mom may have seen it in me but she wasn't about to make it easy for me, either.
"Syd," Mom said. "We were trying to support you. I thought you said you were a good player. I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of the family."
My control vanished in a blaze of demon rage I barely contained within me, a thin veneer my final barrier. The only thing between her and my magic was my absolute refusal to be her.
"I hate the coven," I snarled at her. "I hate the family," I leaned it to her so she would see and hear the truth, "and I hate you. I can't stand you, you have no idea. You ruined everything and I hate you for it."
It took Mom a moment to pull herself to her feet. She shook, just under control herself. I knew she held her own power back, could feel it firmly pressing against mine, raised in answer to the threat my demon presented.
"You will never speak to me that way again," her voice was low, almost a whisper. "And you will get yourself under control right now. Right NOW."
Her eyes flashed. I felt the demon retreat from her but fought against Mom and her desire to control me, her will, her very spirit. It surprised me how easy it was to get to a stalemate where I held her, my demon spitting and snarling, at a standstill. Was my mother holding back? I didn't think so.
The very thought that I, untrained and unwilling, was already able to block out my powerful mother, shut me down instantly, like water running from a broken glass. My demon hissed spitefully as I stood in front of Mom, shaking with the release, free of both the pressure of my power and the smothering anger I used as a weapon.
"You need to go home," she said, voice steady but low. "We'll talk when I get there."
"We have nothing more to talk about," I said, but this time I felt empty, used up, my stomach ready to empty itself without my consent. The anger vanished, leaving only a little regret.
She looked up, knowing more than my voice changed. We faced off in that park, neither of us making a move, letting the certainty of what we did to each other there settle between us like a curtain.
Neither of us spoke as I retrieved my kit bag and walked away.
***
