Burning Hearts Read online

  Jenna let it go. She could’ve halted everyone right there and demanded to know if Riddick liked her, but she didn’t. She knew Pru wasn’t playing a joke; that wasn’t her style. But the possibility that Riddick liked her was…well, it was weird. They got along well, but he was Goth and she was whatever the opposite of Goth was.

  And as much as it was pushed, opposites do not attract.

  “It sounded close,” Jenna deduced. She walked to the foot of the bed where there was a cedar chest bestowed by her late grandpa, Simon Love, in his will when he died a year ago.

  “It must’ve been that,” Riddick said, pointing to a large silver lock on the floor.

  Jenna crouched and picked it up. It looked like a lock from a pirate’s treasure chest. “That’s weird.”

  “How?” asked Pru.

  “Well, ever since this was handed down to me from my late grandpa’s possessions, I could never get the lock off. A key was never found. So I just left the chest here as a reminder of him.”

  Riddick and Pru crouched with her. He took the lock from Jenna, examined it, and then pointed to the chest. “Wanna look inside?”

  Jenna was curious to see what was hidden within. But as soon as she laid her hand on the lid, the front door opened.

  “Jenna, we’re home!” yelled her mom, Rachel, with her dad, Jacob, no doubt following behind.

  She took the lock from Riddick and placed it on the lid of the chest. “Another time.” She stood up and retrieved Macbeth from her desk. “Let’s rehearse being witches.”

  After several renditions of “Double, double, toil and trouble,” the soon-to-be Oasis High premiere actors were done for the day. And after another bowl of ice cream, followed by leftover lasagna, Riddick’s step mom arrived to pick him and Pru up.

  “Hurry up, it’s getting late,” she urged Riddick, standing on the welcome mat at the front door.

  Mrs. Polly Sharpe had just come from the salon. Her long brown hair was in a fancy bun, streaked with blond highlights. Her nails were perfectly manicured, painted in hot pink. She was wearing a tight tank with short shorts and flip-flops. Apparently, she thought that she was fourteen instead of forty.

  “Why don’t you stay and have some lasagna?” asked Jenna’s mom, who had thick and wavy red hair—without repeated visits to a fixer-upper. She and Jenna could be twins.

  Mrs. Sharpe managed a smile of bleached whites. “No, thank you. We must be getting on. Pru’s mom’s waiting.”

  Jenna, Riddick, and Pru were sitting at the dining room table. Pru had already finished her meal, but Riddick was taking slow bites.

  Jenna’s dad (who always made sure his blond hair was styled neatly, even though the dead didn’t care what he looked like) sat at the head of the table, enjoying seconds.

  After taking his last bite, he turned to Pru with a gentle smile. “How’re your parents doing?”

  “They’re okay,” she replied briefly.

  Pru’s parents had recently gotten a divorce. It was all the town of Oasis could talk about for two weeks until it was replaced with other gossip. Pru lived with her mom, while her dad was in Phoenix for his new job. She visited him every other weekend.

  Jenna was sure Pru was being cryptic for a reason. Her parents were most likely not okay, but Pru didn’t say much or anything about her home life. Jenna often felt bad for inviting her over, witnessing how well Jacob and Rachel Love got along. It was evident to everyone in town that the high school sweethearts were soul mates. They never argued and worked great together in the family business of burying and cremating dead people. Jenna didn’t consider it to be a macabre life. Everyone dies. Someone has to take care of the bodies.

  She had no problem working at Love’s Funeral Home and Crematorium once she graduated high school, but her parents insisted on college. She had no idea what she wanted to do in life, but was assured by teachers and guidance counselors that she’d discover that once she entered, finding inspiration in the liberal arts curriculum. Jenna would prefer to just burn people. Besides, she was daydreaming about it. Maybe fate was speaking to her.

  “Must be going,” Mrs. Sharpe not-so-delicately announced.

  Riddick let his fork fall with a clang! on the half-eaten plate of lasagna. “Wouldn’t wanna miss her show: Silicone Stepmothers.”

  He said it low enough for those only at the table to hear. Jenna’s dad stifled a laugh.

  Jenna patted Riddick on his arm to console him. He winced in pain. “Oh, sorry,” she apologized. “Lemme see.”

  Riddick wouldn’t let her. “It’s fine. I’m okay.” He smiled. “See you tomorrow at school.”

  Jenna shook her head. “Nah, think I’m gonna skip the whole day.”

  “Yeah, right,” said her dad, smiling.

  Jenna sighed. “Of course, I’ll be there. It’s not like I have nothing better to do.”

  Everyone said their goodbyes with Mrs. Sharpe being the quickest about it, but Jenna pulled Pru back while the others walked outside. “Hey, Pru, can I ask you something?”

  Pru smiled. “You just did.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but um, well, does Riddick have a crush on me?”

  Pru fell characteristically silent.

  “C’mon. You can talk.” Jenna gave her an encouraging smile. “You’ve done it before. I know you can.”

  Pru unsealed her red lips. “I’m not getting involved.”

  “That means ‘yes,’ right?”

  “Hypothetically, if he did, how would you feel?”

  “I dunno. He’s not ugly or anything, but he’s my friend and well, I dunno if we’d work well together.”

  Pru chuckled. “You’re not trying to run a corporation. It’s high school hookup—these things never really last. Especially if you’re gonna go to college after graduation. Riddick plans on moving to Houston to be with his mom and having his step dad set him up with a job at his car dealership.”

  Now Jenna chuckled. “I can’t imagine Riddick selling cars.”

  “No, he’d be in the auto shop, a mechanic.”

  Jenna furrowed her brow. “He knows how to work on cars?”

  Pru nodded. “Pretty good too. He fixed up his step mom’s car…well, that was before she arrived. It was supposed to be his, but…”

  “Along came Polly.”

  “Yep.”

  Right on cue, Mrs. Sharpe honked the horn, urging to flee.

  “Well, I’ll let you go.”

  Pru went to leave, but then stopped, and turned back to Jenna. “Deep down, Riddick’s really a sensitive person. If you two didn’t work out, it would break his heart. I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but maybe it’d be best if you just stayed friends. And you’re just coming off a bad break with Val.”

  “It’s been three months,” Jenna reminded her rather crossly.

  “Still,” said Pru, taking no offense. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

  Jenna folded her arms over her chest, defensive. “I don’t look at him. He’s a jackass.”

  “A jackass who was your first love.”

  Jenna shook her head and unfolded her arms, letting them hang limp by her sides. “If I’d given him what he’d wanted, we would’ve never broken up, but then I’d never be friends with y’all and truly,”—she smiled—“I’d rather have that.”

  Pru gave her a hug. Jenna tugged gently on a few strands of her black hair, just like Riddick’s; but instead of his falling sharply down, it stuck up in the middle like he’d been electrocuted.

  “He’s really a good guy,” Jenna said. “But I dunno if I’m ready to be back in a relationship.”

  Mrs. Sharpe honked the horn twice.

  Jenna sighed. “You’d better go before she breaks a fake nail. Nice talking to you.” She smiled. “You should do it more often.”

  “I prefer to listen than speak.” Pru winked. “I’m a spy-in-training.”

  “I knew it! That’s not your real hair, is it?” Jenna tugged on her black bob again. It didn’t come off.
“No, it’s real. If you were wearing a mustache, I could’ve ripped that off.”

  Pru smiled. “Now there’s an idea. I should go to school wearing a mustache.”

  Jenna nodded in agreement. “Yeah, no one would make fun of you then.”

  Jenna’s parents reentered the house. Her dad approached Pru with a gentle but urgent smile. “Polly’s about to have a fit in that car. And I think Riddick’s about to commit murder.”

  Pru said her goodbyes and left. Jenna watched Mrs. Sharpe drive away with Riddick looking sullen in the backseat, and Pru playfully pushing his face, trying to cheer him up. It didn’t work and Pru gave up.

  It was late and Jenna decided to go to bed. But just as she was settling under the covers, she noticed the silver lock on top of the chest.

  Now she was wide awake—bitten by the curiosity bug.

  She padded to the end of the bed and got down on her knees before the one thing Simon Love had left her after his death. She always knew he had it—placed in a corner of his room at his old house that her parents eventually sold to a newlywed couple looking to get away from Los Angeles.

  Grandpa Simon was a bit of a recluse, but he was never rude to people. He just preferred to be alone ever since his wife, Dottie, had died on Christmas day, three years ago. After his burial—Simon Love didn’t want to be cremated—Jenna received the chest but couldn’t open it. The lock was so thick and strong, her dad was afraid that he’d destroy all his tools just to open it. It was decided to leave it alone, that perhaps nothing of great importance was inside because it was so light in weight.

  Well, now the lock was off—mysteriously opened—all by itself.

  She couldn’t help but to connect the events. Three times that day she had visions of stabbing people in their hearts. They’d caught fire, and then turned into piles of ashes. The first vision that morning had been horrific and sickening; she vomited. But the next two were not that vomit-inducing; it was as if she were doing something good. She was protecting the world from the baddies with strange fiery eyes. But how could murder be condoned? And why’d her victims catch fire with only a stab from a small knife? The grandfather clock in the living room chimed loud, announcing it was midnight. Jenna settled herself before the chest and opened the lid. She picked up the first item, confused.

  “A white tunic?” she wondered aloud.

  She proceeded to remove a pile of clothes that one would wear out of a scene from Lawrence of Arabia until she found three strange heirlooms. One was a small book; its spine was cracked and the black leather cover was peeling, but the pages were blank. The second item was a piece of jewelry, a necklace. A bronze chain held a pendant of the same metal, engraved with a black cursive script that resembled an ancient language.

  She placed both items on the floor, for the third item was the heirloom that made her shiver. After controlling her shaky hands, she carefully removed the brown leather sheath. The knife was the same one in her visions. It had a polished cedar hilt with a curved bronze blade. It didn’t look dull, but new as if forged only hours ago. She studied the black cursive script that was engraved from the top of the hilt to the tip of the blade; it was still all nonsense. But she didn’t need a translator to know what a knife could do.

  She stood up and held the weapon, poised to strike. There was only one word to describe how she felt: awakened. A surge of strength took hold of her.

  Destiny called. And she answered. She was meant to wield this knife. She was meant to kill.

  So much for college.

  THE NEW GUY

  She didn’t mean to destroy her alarm clock, but that’s exactly what happened when she hit the snooze button the next morning. The guts of the machine went flying and landed on the rosy-carpeted floor.

  She passed it off as a weird occurrence and went to take a shower, but got covered in soap when she squeezed the bottle, causing rose-scented ooze to explode like a liquid bomb. She gave herself a quick wash, hoping not to destroy the only bathroom in the house.

  Everything was fine until breakfast when she bent a spoon in half. After three more tries, she was finally able to finish her cereal. Thankfully her parents were gone, already at the funeral home; so they didn’t see her dispose of the evidence of her mutant strength in a bag with the rest of the garbage and haul it outside to be picked up by the city.

  When the bus arrived, she carefully stepped on, walking slowly to join Pru and Riddick, seated together and smiling at her. Riddick pressed Pru to snug closer to the window so Jenna could have room; but being cautious and with no desire to bend her friends in half, she took the seat opposite them, alone.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Riddick, looking concerned as he leaned toward her.

  Jenna had to lie. “Feeling sick. Vomity.” She raised a hand in front of her mouth like she was going to spew. “Don’t wanna get it on y’all.”

  Riddick slyly moved away from her, pressing against Pru. “Oh, sorry. Hope you get better. What’d you eat? We all had the same thing last night and I’m fine.” He turned to Pru. “You okay?”

  Pru nodded.

  Jenna shrugged. “Maybe something’s going around. I could’ve caught it anywhere.”

  “Are you sure you don’t wanna stay home?” asked Riddick.

  Jenna managed a smile and shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. It’ll pass.”

  But she had a feeling it wouldn’t. The murderous visions. The super strength. The strange heirlooms. They were all adding up to something; she just didn’t know what.

  When they exited the bus at school, Jenna hurried off, away from Pru and especially Riddick—who was trying to keep pace at her side, despite the false belief that she was a puke machine. Jenna made it to first period chemistry with Mrs. Lara Quinn. They were set to continue their discussion on mole ratios that were to Jenna, the easiest things in the world; so she knew she could phase out to concentrate on trying not to break anything—or anyone.

  Most of the class was already there. Unfortunately, four of the Stuck-Ups—Daniela, Emma, Barrie, and Aidan—were there, but seemed to be more interested in kissing than thinking up of ways to taunt Jenna. Daniela was sucking face with Barrie like they were in her bedroom and not an institution of supposed learning. Jenna felt like she might just vomit.

  She rushed over to the lab table she shared with Kylie; she dropped her backpack on the floor and rested her head against the black surface where frogs were dissected for Mrs. Quinn’s last period junior biology class. She hoped that it’d been wiped down yesterday, because she really didn’t want to puke in front of everyone—although it would back up her false claims. Karma would turn her lie into a gross truth.

  “Uh-oh, what’s wrong?” asked Kylie, wearing a cheerful pink headband on her wavy brown hair.

  “Don’t feel good.”

  Kylie wrinkled her nose. “Not vomity?”

  Jenna just nodded.

  “I love you but please not on me. Why aren’t you at home?”

  “It’ll pass.”

  She hated lying to her friends, but it was the best excuse for keeping her distance. She didn’t want to hurt her friends or damage any of the school property—as much as the old building needed to be remodeled.

  Mrs. Quinn, wearing her trademark flowery skirt, walked in and instantly told the lovers to separate. Daniela slid off Barrie’s lap and sat next to Emma at their table. Fortunately, all four of the Stuck-Ups were across the room so Jenna didn’t have to look at them. She wished she could plug up her ears too, but teachers had this annoying habit of wanting students to pay attention to them.

  The lecture on mole ratios began and everyone opened their books and past lecture notes. Jenna followed suit but had no desire to pay attention. She had to work on not crushing her book. The pages threatened to tear, but she handled each with care and nothing was destroyed. The pen in her hand felt malleable but stayed intact.

  As the class went on, Jenna felt more and more used to her body, recognizing its strengths and wh
en not to utilize them. Testing her theory, she took her pen and slowly started to bend it, up until the point it would crack and shatter, and then brought it back, unscathed.

  Jenna kept her voice low. “Hey, Kylie?”

  Kylie finished writing the lecture notes that was on the board. Then she turned to Jenna. “Yeah?” she whispered back.

  “Shake my hand.”

  Kylie furrowed her brow. “Don’t you mean ‘pull my finger,’ and are you really gonna fart in the middle of class?”

  Jenna stifled a laugh. “Just shake my hand.”

  Jenna held out her hand, concentrating on not crushing every one of Kylie’s bones. They made contact, squeezed briefly, shook and separated.

  Jenna smiled. “Thanks.”

  “What was that for?”

  Jenna had to lie. So she joked. “It’s for the mother ship in space. You’ve been tagged. You’ll be taken and probed thoroughly. You can thank me later.”

  Kylie went to smile, but then her face fell. “Tagged? Did you just get me sick with whatever you have?”

  Jenna shook her head. “No, no. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  But Kylie took precautions anyway. She went in her backpack and pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer. She thoroughly cleansed her hands, even up to her lower arms.

  “Sorry,” she said, putting the near-empty bottle back in her bag, “but I can’t stand to puke.”

  “Sorry, again.”

  “It’s okay. Why’d you wanna shake?”

  Jenna didn’t have a truthful answer—and thankfully, she was interrupted from conjuring up another lie—as the door to the classroom opened with a loud creak!

  “Ah, our new student,” Mrs. Quinn announced with a smile.

  Everyone stared as they always do at something or someone new.

  But Jenna stared the hardest:

  Tall.

  Muscular.

  Caramel skin.

  Raven black hair.

  Flaming blue eyes.

  He was gorgeous, exotic, and somehow dangerous.

  Jenna loved and hated him.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” he said with an indistinguishable accent, handing the teacher a slip of paper from the main office.