Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(16)

“You ditched me for her again. You were supposed to bring me food.”

“I ordered food for you. They were supposed to deliver it to your room.”

“They didn’t.” She slammed the phone down while he argued his case.

Cursing, she exited her room and set out for the café on the first floor, where the cook had no recollection of Zavien placing an order. She bought three submarine sandwiches and a large soda. Back in her room, she ate and fantasized about setting Nola’s hair on fire.





Chapter Seven


Over the next few days, Bryn found it harder and harder to contain her jealousy. No matter how irrational it was, she hated that Zavien jumped whenever Nola called. During class, when her mind wandered, she daydreamed about sneaking into Nola’s room in the middle of the night and shaving her pretty Barbie head bald.

Zavien appeared at lunch and gave her pie or cookies as part of his extended apology for being a jerk when they’d first met. Whenever they were alone together, he swore Nola was a friend. She so wanted to believe him.

Thursday morning in Elemental Science, Bryn found a yellow mum on her desk. It wasn’t just her. Every student had a small potted plant on their desk and a small cup of dirt beside it.

“Are we planting flowers today?” Clint asked.

“Today,” Mr. Stanton said from behind his desk, “we are working on using your emissaries as tools. In small doses, you can funnel Quintessence from one thing to another. Observe.” He produced a small twister of air in his right hand and directed it toward the fern on his desk. Before their eyes, the twister of air grew while the fern shriveled into a brown husk. Then he directed the twister to the cup of dirt on his desk. A green shoot burst forth from the dirt and grew into a stem with leaves.

Bryn had seen him do this trick before when he’d sucked the life force from a fern and used the Quintessence to change the color of a bird’s feathers. Still, it was impressive.

“You should all produce an emissary and use it to draw on the power of your plant. Feel your life force drawing on the plant’s life force.”

“Makes me feel bad for the plant,” Ivy muttered to Clint.

“Maybe you can resuscitate it afterward,” Clint said.

Bryn focused and produced a small fireball in her right hand. She held her hand above the mum and concentrated on drawing energy from it. A strange tickling sensation made her palm itch as the mum shriveled and died and her fireball grew. She held the enhanced fireball over the cup of dirt and focused on sending energy down into the soil. Poof. Her fireball doubled in size, startling her. Crap.

A strange chemical smell filled the air.

Clint’s Styrofoam cup had melted on his desk. “This is not as easy as it looks.”

Ivy held a ball of lightning in her left hand. With her right hand, she shot tiny sparks into the soil. After a few shocks, a green shoot poked from the soil. “I think I’m doing it.”

Maybe Ivy had the right idea. Bryn held her fireball in one hand and focused on sending Quintessence into the cup with the other. The fireball in her hand shrank as the green stem shot out of the dirt. “Good idea, Ivy.”

“As some of you have noticed, it’s not easy to control how much life force you send to the seed. You can use the two-handed method like Ivy until you achieve better control.”

“He should have told us that in the first place.” Clint zapped the small pile of dirt on his desk with miniature lightning bolts. The seed popped open and sent out a gnarled leaf.

“That’s just sad,” Ivy scooped up the malformed plant and tucked its roots into her cup of dirt. “It’s okay, little guy.” She directed half a dozen sparks into the cup. “I’ll take care of you.” Both plants in Ivy’s cup grew a few inches.

Mr. Stanton came and stood by Ivy’s desk. “You seem to be a natural. There are artists who specialize in creating gardens and topiaries. You might want to consider looking into that as a career.”

Ivy blushed. Clint’s chest puffed out with pride. “That’s my girlfriend. The plant whisperer.”

…

That night at Stagecraft, Bryn rolled primer onto a set. Rhianna helped, but she wasn’t smiling.

“Is something wrong?” Bryn asked.

Rhianna set the roller down. “Rumors are circulating about you and Jaxon.”

Bryn snorted. “You can’t believe Jaxon and I are involved.”

“His behavior toward you has changed.”

If she could explain how she’d saved Jaxon’s life, this would be so much easier. Sticking to the official version of her time away from school tied her hands. She went with the party line. “We learned to tolerate each other when we went before the Directorate.”

“Where did your book bag come from?” Rhianna asked.

That was easier to explain. “It was a gift from Lillith. She bought a similar bag for Jaxon because she liked it so much.”

“Why would his mother buy you a gift?”

Crap. Maybe this wasn’t so easy.

Jaxon showed up at that moment, so she tossed the ball to his court. “Rhianna asked why your mother bought me a book bag. I don’t really know why. Do you?”

Maintaining his cool composure, he ran his hand through his hair. “Either she likes to shop and has a generous nature, or she felt sorry for Bryn because her book bag was subpar.”