Tuesday, 14:30, route 31
When Rick huddles in his seat to wait out the onslaught of students cramming onto his bus, he expects to be shaken back to reality by the boy with the moon-rabbit from that morning, not some fuming girl.
“Honestly!” she shouts, looking over her shoulder, her bus pass held between two fingers. “I go to school expecting to tell you two about the vampire I saw this morning, and then you jump me with information you should have told me years ago?”
The boy behind her smiles, apologies hidden in his eyes. He holds up two passes, and Rick narrows his eyes at the rabbit in the boy’s arms. If the girl who broke Rick from his tune-out was complaining about the boy with the rabbit, then was the boy with the rabbit truly responsible?
Rick squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s a bus driver, not a philosopher.
“It’s not that big of a deal, Divinity,” says the boy. “Besides, you know as well as anyone that most powerful folk don’t go around telling people they have magic.”
“We have been friends since kindergarten,” Divinity hisses. “Kindergarten, you hear?” She jabs a finger at the rabbit and leans forward. “And don’t think you can get away with this either, Willow. You may have an adorable exterior, but your soul is as black as the lie.”
Twitching her whiskers, Willow sniffles. “I didn’t lie, and my soul is bluish green.”
“You kept this from me!” Divinity says. “That’s as good as lying. And besides, how do you even know what color your soul is?”
“You can see it when I’m in my mixed form. Now can you please shut up about the whole powerful folk thing? We’re drawing attention.”
Drake’s subsequent chuckle sounds hollow against the silence of the other passengers, and their embarrassment at being caught listening looms like an elephant. To smooth out the atmosphere, Drake asks Divinity how her classes went.
“Gosh, they were awful,” she says. “Sometimes, I wish I was willing to put in the work to be in your fancy advanced ones. Do you know what Mr. Dion talked about today?”
Of course Drake and Willow do not; they have never set foot in Mr. Dion’s classroom.
“He kept blabbing about Mexicans stealing all our jobs, and then he turns to me and he’s all like “oh, but no offense to you, Divinity. You’re the best student I’ve ever had.” Like, how is that not offensive?” Divinity gestures like she’s crushing a pop can in her hand, glowering until her nose turns purple. “My mom was born here, and my grandparents are from the Dominican Republic, not Mexico. You can’t just assume that I’m Mexican because I speak Spanish at home, and what about all the kids who are? Did Mr. Dion even think about how they’d feel?”
Divinity’s anger scares Drake into loosening his grip on Willow, and she squirms to keep from falling to the ground.
“Honestly,” Divinity says, “what kind of insanely rare syzygy does it take to find a good teacher?”
“You must be learning something if you can throw around a word like ‘syzygy’ in everyday conversation,” Willow mutters. “Even a valedictorian-track student like Drake or Martin wouldn’t know what that means.”
Again, Drake nearly drops the rabbit. A red splotch creeps across his cheeks, and tiny scales dot his face like freckles. “But do you know the definition, Willow?” Despite the rabbit’s correct assumption of Drake’s lack of knowledge, his voice remains calm and gentleman-like.
“Of course I do. It’s an alignment of three celestial bodies.” Then Willow fidgets in Drake’s grasp and paws at her whiskers. “But I mean, syzygy is sort of important to anyone involved with outer space, so I just picked up the word from my parents.”
“Alas, the dragon is beaten by the rabbit,” Divinity says, shrugging. “You’re both animals associated with cunning, so I was wondering who would win. Insubstantial rabbit: one. Flaming lizard: zero.”
A few nearby passengers giggle, but they are drowned out by the screeching of brakes. As Divinity turns to face the front of the bus, her face turns from sly disappointment to shock. Lines even threaten to crease her forehead.
“No way,” she whispers. “Someone pressed the stop button before me. That hasn’t happened since I was ten.” She whips her glare back to Drake and Willow and growls. “Outrageous. I will get dirt on someone tomorrow.”
The doors squeal, and frigid air spirals through the bus, sending nervous sparks down Drake’s and Willow’s spines. Goosebumps turn to hills and mountains as Divinity shoots one last, devious scowl at her friends. And then she is gone, lost in the river of students pouring from the bus.
Drake lets out a breath. “She’s much scarier than any powerful folk I know.”
“Imagine if she teamed up with Martin. They could cover every fear in the book.”
“I never want to get on their bad sides,” Drake replies. He squeezes Willow closer and shivers before relaxing and letting his shoulders sag under the weight of his backpack. “Are you staying at my house until the spell wears off, or should I leave you at your house and come to get you later?”
Wrinkling her nose, Willow attempts a wry grin. “I think I’ll stay with you, though I’m definitely not touching anything in your house ever again.”
“Even the carpet?” Drake asks. He chuckles and reaches for the stop button posted near the front exit. When he pushes the button, a short ping echoes in the quiet.
Willow tilts her head as though she might roll her eyes. “Sure. Even the carpet.”
Points: 2320
Reviews: 40
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