Going Down in Flames (Going Down in Flames #1)(43)

She found several books with intriguing titles and returned to grab her book bag. When she picked it up, it weighed a ton, and it felt wet. What the heck? She opened the bag and stared in confusion at the jagged block of ice encasing her books and her notebooks. Fire roared in her gut. Some asshole Blue was behind this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of making her lose control.

“Not funny,” she called out to the idiots who were no doubt hiding nearby. Now what? The only solution was to melt the ice. She inhaled and then exhaled a tiny fireball into her bag. It hit the ice and sizzled. Okay. Maybe she needed more of a stream. She let her anger build and then focused on the flames coming from her fingertips. Moving her hand back and forth over the ice, she melted it until she reached her books. She dumped the contents onto the table and worked at it from the other side. By the time she was done, her books were damp, and they smelled like smoke, but they were still readable. Now, back to her regularly scheduled day. She placed her books in the damp book bag, but carried the library books, and headed down to the first floor to check them out.

At the front desk, a dark-haired woman in a green shirtdress greeted her with a smile. “You must be Bryn.”

Weird. “How’d you know?”

“I’m Miss Enid. Mr. Stanton told me to watch for a girl with striped hair.”

Now she understood. “I want to check these out.”

The librarian pulled a card with a magnetic strip from a box. “Let me enter your name into the computer, and you’ll be able to check out whatever you want.”

Miss Enid scanned the card and then held her hand out for Bryn’s books. “You’ve picked some good ones. I love the old legends. It’s more fun to read about people falling in love based on instinct. The Directorate wanted to ban these books, but I fought them fang and claw.”

Miss Enid seemed on board with the anti-Directorate sentiment. Good to know.

Bryn exited the library and dashed to the Physical Education building. Ivy waved at her from the main hallway.

The locker room looked like it belonged in an expensive health club. Polished wooden benches ran between rows of beige metal lockers. The room smelled of disinfectant and lemon air freshener.

Bryn was surprised to see her name posted in neat script on the locker next to Ivy’s. She opened the door and pulled out a boring, gray shirt. “Isn’t this pretty? I guess I don’t need the workout clothes I brought.”

“Students used to wear their own clothes, but some of the girls’ shorts were too revealing. Now we’re stuck with these hideous uniforms.” Ivy unbuttoned her blouse and hung it in her locker.

Bryn hesitated.

“You better hurry up. If we’re late, Mrs. Anderson will take off points.”

Great. So much for privacy. Bryn stripped off her blouse.

“Are those lizards on your bra?”

“I think they’re fun.” Bryn removed her skirt.

“Cool thigh highs. What’s the occasion?” Ivy teased.

“I’m panty hose impaired. Whenever I try to put them on, I shove my thumbnails through them. These are easier to deal with.” Bryn was surprised to find a pair of tennis shoes in her size sitting in the bottom of the locker. “How did the school know what size I wear?”

“The Directorate knows all,” Ivy said in a mocking voice.

“That’s kind of creepy.”

She put on the right shoe and felt something slide inside. “I think they forgot to take out all the packing stuff.” She reached into the shoe and found a piece of paper, folded in half. Her stomach dropped. She knew what she’d find before she opened it. Steeling herself, she unfolded the note and read, “You won’t last the semester.”

Ivy snatched the paper. “What the hell is this?”

“Some idiot keeps leaving me messages.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“How do you know?” Ivy asked. “Have you shown them to Zavien?”

“No. They’re just annoying, not threatening.”

“Really?” Ivy held the note so the words faced Bryn. “Because that sounds threatening.”

Bryn snatched the note, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in the bottom of her locker. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Once they were dressed, they joined the other girls who stood on a black line outside the locker room. A redheaded woman dressed in black shorts and a white T-shirt read names from a clipboard. Mrs. Anderson was embroidered on her shirt.

“Bryn McKenna, where were you yesterday?” the teacher asked.

Several girls snickered.

“I was in Mr. Stanton’s office. He said he’d send you an email.”

“I remember now. In my class, you’ll have the opportunity to take your temper out on a punching bag or a Slam Man. I suggest you take advantage.”

Could she tape a picture of Jaxon to the Slam Man first?

“All right, class. You have forty minutes to work out.”

The gym was divided into sections designated for different activities. They found Clint on a treadmill. Ivy hopped onto the elliptical trainer next to him. “We have to warm up before we pick an activity.”

“I want to joust.” Clint pointed toward two raised platforms. A student stood on each platform holding what appeared to be a giant cotton swab. One of the students swung low and knocked the other student off the platform into a pit of foam blocks.