Burning Hearts Page 4

  Mrs. Quinn took it and gave him a smile. “That’s all right.” She turned to the class. “Please welcome Malcolm King, newly arrived from Egypt.”

  The class was silent, staring. Even the Stuck-Ups were speechless. Malcolm held his head down, looking shy. He nervously adjusted his red backpack, his hand wringing around the strap against his chest. He was wearing black sneakers, blue jeans, and a white T-shirt.

  It was all very casual, but somehow staged as well. To anyone else, it seemed that he’d thrown on whatever had been lying on his bedroom floor—but Jenna sensed that he’d meticulously thought over each article of clothing—down to his used backpack that had threads hanging out.

  “Why don’t you take a seat next to Jenna?” Mrs. Quinn turned to her. “Jenna, hold up your hand so Malcolm can see you.”

  But Jenna’s hands were clasping the edge of the table, trying not to tear it to crumbs.

  Kylie lightly jabbed her in the ribs. “Jen!”

  Jenna came back to reality. She was in school. Act normal, she told herself. She raised her hand, but Malcolm had already been staring at her. He gave a slight smile and walked to the lab table next to her—with no partner. He sat on the wooden stool, laid his backpack down on the table, and smiled when Mrs. Quinn delivered his chemistry textbook.

  The lecture went on and everyone forgot about Malcolm King—all except Jenna.

  She just kept staring at him.

  Malcolm had been copying the lecture notes, but he stopped, and turned to Jenna. “Hi, how’re you?” he greeted. She now recognized his accent to be hard clipped English mixed with a soft lingering Arabic. He smiled, all very polite, but there was apprehension written all over his gorgeous face.

  Jenna stared at his blue eyes, unlike anything she’d ever seen. They reminded her of the visions—except the people who she’d killed had red eyes—like fiery wreaths around black pupils.

  “What’s wrong with your eyes?” she bluntly asked him.

  Malcolm’s fiery blue eyes widened. He looked nervous.

  “Jenna,” Mrs. Quinn called out to her from the front of the room. “Could you pay more attention to me and not Mr. King?”

  Daniela and Emma giggled. The whole class was staring at her. Kylie looked concerned about her friend’s state of mind.

  “Yes, Mrs. Quinn,” Jenna replied.

  She hastily picked up her pen; the plastic cracked, breaking in her hand.

  As the class went back to staring at the front, Jenna rummaged around in her backpack, trying to find another pen, and trying not to destroy anything else.

  “Here,” said Malcolm, holding out a black fountain pen.

  She hesitated, not wanting to touch him, but eager at the same time.

  “What if I break it?” she asked.

  He smiled. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

  As she reached over, their fingers grazed. She was hit by a jolt of static electricity and jerked away, but managed to hold onto the pen, secured in her hand.

  He looked concerned. “Are you all right?”

  She gave a slight nod before turning away from his fiery blue stare. She wasn’t going to tell him that she felt a mixed desire to kill him and protect him. No one wants to hear that on the first day at a new school. And she definitely wasn’t going to tell him that a language she didn’t know before, had suddenly translated in her mind, and then morphed back into nonsense; her memory was awful at this point, and she couldn’t recall a single word.

  He kept looking at her out of the corner of his scorching blue eye—and she kept ignoring him. After awhile, he gave up, and concentrated on note-taking. Twenty agonizing minutes later, the class came to an end. Jenna watched as Malcolm left without saying goodbye.

  Kylie looped her arm around Jenna’s as they joined the crowd in the hall. She didn’t seem concerned anymore that Jenna could be contagious—or either really confident in her germ-away ritual.

  “What’s up with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She smiled. “Staring at the new guy, Malcolm. Yes, he’s hot, but why’d you ask him about his eyes?”

  “Didn’t you see them? They were practically on fire—but blue.”

  Kylie shook her head. “They were just plain blue to me. No fire.” She felt Jenna’s forehead. “Well, you’re kinda warm, but not feverish.”

  Jenna did a little jerk with her head. “Uh, so you’re saying I imagined him with fiery blue eyes?”

  Kylie raised her eyebrow. “Well, I’m not calling you crazy, but…”

  Jenna smiled. “The mental asylum called and they have vacancies.” She shook her head. “I dunno. Maybe I’m going crazy.” She held out her hands. “What human being has fiery blue eyes?”

  “Exactly! He’s just like you or me—except he’s a boy—with boy parts,” she contrasted simplistically.

  Jenna put a hand to her mouth, feigning shock. “Don’t make me blush, Miss Vale.”

  As they turned the corner, Jenna saw Malcolm walking toward the water fountain.

  “Hey, I’ll see you later,” she told Kylie. “I wanna give the new guy his pen back.”

  Kylie grinned. “Yeah, right.”

  Jenna thrust the pen at her. “Okay, you give it to him then.”

  Kylie refused, throwing her hands up in a no way gesture. “I gotta get to class. That Arab heartthrob is all yours.” She blew Jenna a farewell kiss before walking away.

  Jenna held herself together as she approached Malcolm, already done at the fountain; now he was scanning the school’s announcement board about the premiere of Macbeth.

  She managed a smile and held out the pen. “Here you go.”

  He turned to her and smiled back. “You keep it. I have plenty.”

  She couldn’t help gazing into his fiery blue eyes. How could Kylie or anyone else miss it? Was it just her? Was she going mad?

  “I’m sorry for staring at you,” she apologized. “I’ve been having a rough couple of days.”

  “Oh?” He seemed interested.

  She shook her head. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  He gave her a warm, inviting smile. “Well, when you’re ready, seek me out.”

  He held out his hand. Inquisitive and also to be polite, she took it and didn’t get zapped. She was very gentle—too gentle. He squeezed. She squeezed back, keeping up the pressure—until he winced in pain, trying to jerk his warm hand away. She let him go.

  He flexed his fingers, testing their dexterity. “You have quite the grip, Jenna.”

  She’d been testing him, seeing how much he could take. His hand should’ve been a mangled mess. But it wasn’t.

  Was her strength fading? Or was he stronger than the average human?

  RESCUED

  “Lemme see your arm.”

  “Which one? I got four.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes at Riddick during lunch. “The one I hit. The one where I hurt you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Lemme see!”

  Pru, Kylie, and Caleb stopped eating their hard-to-stomach cafeteria meals to view the Jenna Has Gone Crazy show.

  Riddick slapped her probing hands away. “Leave me alone.”

  “Please! I need to find out something!”

  He sighed. “All right—but don’t freak out.”

  She tensed. “It’s that bad?”

  He replied by pushing his T-shirt sleeve up. His whole upper arm was bruised.

  “Oh, no!” She slapped a hand over her heart. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay.” He pulled his sleeve down, covering the damage. “It’ll pass. Speaking of passing—are you feeling any better?”

  “Why? What’s wrong?” asked Caleb.

  “Jenna was sick this morning,” Kylie informed, “but I have a feeling something else is going on.”

  Jenna sighed. “I have to tell y’all something—but not here. Come by later? At my house?”

  Everyone nodded.

  She turn
ed to Riddick. “I feel so bad.” She lifted up his sleeve and gave his bruise a gentle kiss.

  “Jenna…” Riddick trailed off, not knowing what to say.

  “Knew those two freaks would hook up!” Sadie screeched, resonating from two tables down.

  “I can’t believe I’m related to that bitch,” Kylie expressed with a disgusted face about her cousin.

  Jenna turned to see Sadie huddled with the Stuck-Ups. Val looked sickened but kept his mouth shut. All throughout history, he and Sadie had made her feel like crap, going on about how she looked like a “sickly-pale, freckled-freak.” Kit kept silent.

  It took every ounce of her being to not snap their necks—which she was fully capable of doing. Her only sanity was the black fountain pen Malcolm had given her. When she held it, she thought of him. He was a mystery—unlike most of the students at Oasis High who she’d grown up with—knowing who used to pick their noses, or pee in their pants.

  His pen—just an ordinary writing utensil—somehow connected her to him. It was his and now it was hers. But as she saw him sitting with the Stuck-Ups—smiling, laughing—she didn’t feel that great about his gift anymore. For all she knew, he gave pens out to every girl, luring them into some false hope of his attachment.

  But then again, he kept looking at her, smiling, but not in a smug way. It was a look that said: “I want to know you.” It was mutual. She wanted to know his deal too. And it wasn’t just the fact that his black pupil was wreathed with a fiery blue flame. Take away that supernatural trait and he was just…yummy. She could easily fall in love again—and possibly get hurt again.

  The bell rang.

  “Remember, guys, my place,” said Jenna.

  Pru and Kylie gave Jenna departing smiles before going off in different directions.

  “Jenna, we need to talk,” said Riddick.

  She shook her head. “Caleb and I have to get to class.”

  “No, y’all go on.” Caleb waved Jenna away with a smile. “I can manage.”

  Riddick reached for Jenna’s hand, but she pulled it away, and clasped onto the handles of Caleb’s wheelchair. “At my house, later, okay?”

  He nodded, sealing his lips; but whatever he wanted to say, made his face wrinkle with anxiety. She gave him a slight smile in farewell, not wanting to hurt his feelings; but also not wanting to encourage his stay, and pushed Caleb out of the cafeteria, to the elevators. Caleb was silent until they got inside the small box.

  He held up his hand, motioning for hers. She gave it and he brought her palm to his mouth, kissing it. “Don’t worry, Jenna. Whatever you’re going through, we’re your friends, no matter what.”

  She bent down and wrapped her arms around his neck, gently, with barely any pressure. “Perhaps there are some people the Misfits just won’t accept.”

  The elevator doors opened. He patted her hand. “Enough with the depressing, huh? We’ll talk later.” He smiled. “Now let’s go scribble and call it art!”

  She chuckled and wheeled him to their spot in the art room to only have her smile fade as she saw Malcolm, already seated at a vacant table in the back.

  He saw her and flashed a smile, giving a slight wave. She acted like she didn’t see him and resumed working on her abstract painting that she’d started the week before. Fortunately, she and Caleb sat in the front. She could relax for the next hour.

  “Can I listen to your iPod?” she asked Caleb, wanting to ease her tense brain muscles with soulful jazz.

  “Yeah, sure.” He handed it to her. “If I need to get your attention, I’ll just slap a wet paintbrush across your face.”

  She turned to see the smile on his face. “Or you could be normal and tap me on the shoulder.”

  “I could be,” he mused jokingly.

  She set the iPod aside, desiring to talk instead. “Caleb, you’re a nice guy. Why aren’t more people friends with you?”

  “I don’t think it’s necessarily that people don’t like me, they just dunno how to act around me.”

  “Because of your legs?”

  He shrugged. “Well, absence of.”

  “Well, it’s not like your head is missing. I don’t get it.”

  He smiled. “Now that would be awesome. I could carry it around and whenever I wanted to talk to people, I’d just hold it up, and my mouth would move.”

  Jenna could tell Caleb wanted to joke, but she wanted some real answers.

  “But how can you be so…chipper…about life? About people? Don’t you just…hate?”

  He shrugged again. “I could. But where would that get me? Besides, I know just about everyone here in this school and you, along with Kylie, Pru, and Riddick, well, y’all are the only ones I wanna be around.”

  “Aw.” She tugged on his earlobe.

  “Ow!” He covered his ear, in pain.

  “Oh, no, no, no! Did I pull your ear off?”

  He removed his hand. His ear was still there, just slightly pink. “No, I’m fine.” He rubbed at it, making sure it wasn’t going anywhere. “But you got strong all of a sudden.”

  “That’s what I wanna talk to y’all about after school.”

  He smiled, pain forgotten. “I know! You went to Oz and asked the Wizard for strength.” He was back to joking. “Can you ask him for a pair of legs?”

  “Sorry,” she whined. “The yellow-brick road is under construction. No travel.”

  “You got a broom stick? ’Cause we could fly straight there.”

  “I’ll go find a witch.”

  “Riddick’s step mom might have one.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Ooh, look at you! Being nasty!”

  “I blame you. You’re a seducer of weak men’s minds.”

  “What?” She slapped a hand over her heart, feigning astonishment. “Little ol’ me?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, if you got all prettied up, you’d be unstoppable.”

  She dipped her brush into some blue paint and went for his face.

  “Un-uh,” he warned, pushing her hand away. “You’re not supposed to mess with the poor, crippled boy.”

  She put the paintbrush down. “You’re only crippled in the head.”

  He motioned to his missing legs. “And what do you call that? A magic trick?”

  “You wanna borrow my legs?” she joked. “They’re held on by Velcro.”

  “I don’t want your hairy legs,” he replied deadpan.

  Jenna laughed loudly, throwing her head back.

  Ms. Rush-Holliday turned toward the disruption; her copper bracelets made a clanging noise on each arm as she moved. “Miss Love, quiet introspective, please, and less emotional outburst.” Her tone was soft, gentle; she was never one to yell; the yoga lessons must be working.

  Jenna was chuckling when she gave the teacher a two-finger salute in obedience. But she quickly fell out of humor when she noticed Malcolm staring at her with those fiery blue eyes of his.

  She turned to her friend. “Hey, Caleb?”

  “Hey, Jenna,” he joked.

  “See that new guy over there?” She tilted her head in Malcolm’s direction.

  Caleb turned toward the back of the room. “The one staring at you, like you’re an idiot?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s not why he’s staring at me.” She furrowed her brow. “Or at least I don’t think he is.” She waved her worries away. “Anyway, do you see his eyes?”

  “Yep, all three of ‘em.”

  “Don’t make me hurt you, ’cause I can. Do they look…fiery? Like blue flames?”

  Caleb shook his head. “Nope. I can’t even tell what color they are from here.”

  “Is he still looking?”

  “Nope. Now he’s staring at the teacher’s butt.”

  “What?” She whipped her head around to find Malcolm. He was looking down, busy painting. The teacher or her butt wasn’t even in his supernatural sight.

  She turned back to Caleb and raised her fist.

  He raised his hands in a submissive gesture. �
��All right, all right. Don’t go getting feisty just ’cause you’re in love with the new guy.”

  “I am so not in love!”

  “Says the girl whose emphatic statement does not use contractions.”

  ~~~

  In her next class, calculus with Mr. Zechariah Worth, people probably thought she was in love with Malcolm. He sat right in front of her because Mr. Worth could never remember his students’ names, preferring to keep everyone in alphabetical order. All except Val, Barrie, and Aidan; they were allowed to sit in the back because Mr. Worth—a star quarterback back in his day—thought football players were the only reason for a school’s existence. The middle-aged teacher stood at the front with a diagram of the seating arrangements on his podium.

  “Jenna?” he chose out of the twenty-six other possibilities.

  “Huh?”

  Mr. Worth took off his square-rimmed glasses and with his thick forefinger, loudly tapped at the problem on the board. “Care to solve?”

  “Not really.”

  “It wasn’t a choice.” He held up a piece of chalk, motioning her forward.

  Her heart was racing. She hadn’t been paying attention at all, staring at the back of Malcolm’s head, breathing in his exotic essence—while chewing on his pen.

  “C’mon Jenna!” Val urged, lounging with his buddies in the back of the room. Barrie and Aidan started chuckling. “You can do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!” her good-for-nothing ex cheered.

  The class chuckled too, knowing what he meant by his enthusiasm. Mr. Worth just told him to quiet down, still insisting on embarrassing Jenna. As she stood before the blackboard, white chalk in hand, staring at the problem to be solved, she kept hearing Val’s chorus, along with his backup singers.

  She felt enraged, so enraged, she crushed the chalk in her hand. The white powder fell like snow on the tiled floor. Mr. Worth ignored her feat of strength and handed her another piece of chalk.

  “Can anyone help her?” he asked the class.

  “No, she’s helpless,” Val replied with a chuckle.

  “I can.”

  Jenna turned to see Malcolm, walking toward the board. He took the chalk from her and solved the problem.