Bloodlines (Bloodlines, #1)(36)

I returned to my own game, worried for her, just as the opposing team spiked the ball into a zone that wasn’t well guarded by my team. I didn’t have the reaction time that, say, a dhampir had, but in that split second, my brain knew I could block the ball if I made a hard and fast move. Doing so went against my natural instincts, the ones that said, Don’t do anything that will hurt or get you dirty. I’d always carefully reasoned through my actions, never acting on impulse. Not this time. I was going to stop that ball. I dove for it, hitting it into range of another teammate who was able to then spike it back over the net and out of danger. The volley pushed me to a hard landing on my knees. It was ungraceful and jarred my teeth, but I’d stopped the opposition from scoring. My teammates cheered, and I was surprised to find myself laughing. I’d always been trained that everything I did had to have a greater, practical purpose. Sports were sort of antithetical to the Alchemist way of life, because they were just for fun. But maybe fun wasn’t so bad once in a while.

“Nice, Melrose,” said Miss Carson, strolling by. “If you want to defer your sport until winter and be on the volleyball team, come talk to me later.”

“Well done,” said Micah, and offered me his hand. I shook my head and stood up on my own. I was dismayed to see a scrape on one of my legs but was still grinning from ear to ear. If anyone had told me two weeks ago that I’d be so happy about rolling around in the dirt, I wouldn’t have believed it. “She doesn’t give out compliments very often.”

It was true. Miss Carson had already been on Jill a number of times and was now halting our game to correct a teammate’s sloppy form. I took advantage of the break to watch Jill, whose game was still in action. Micah followed my gaze.

“Doesn’t run in the family, huh?” he asked sympathetically.

“No,” I murmured. My smile faded. I felt a pang of guilt in my chest over exalting so much in my own triumph when Jill was obviously struggling. It didn’t seem fair.

Jill still looked exhausted, and her curly hair was drenched in sweat. Pink spots had appeared on her cheeks, giving her a feverish look, and it seemed to take all her effort to remain upright. It was strange that Jill would have so much difficulty. I’d overheard a brief conversation in which she and Eddie had discussed combat and defensive moves, giving me the impression that Jill was fairly athletic. She and Eddie had even talked about practicing later that night and—

“The sun,” I groaned.

“Huh?” asked Micah.

I’d mentioned my concerns about the sun to Stanton, but she’d dismissed them. She’d just advised that Jill be careful to stay inside—which Jill did. Except, of course, when school requirements made her take a class that kept her outside. Forcing her to play sports out in the full blaze of the Palm Springs sun was cruel. It was a wonder she was still standing.

I sighed, making a mental note to call the Alchemists later. “We’re going to have to get her a doctor’s note.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Micah. The game was back on, and he shifted into position beside me.

“Oh. Jill. She’s . . . she’s sensitive to the sun. Kind of like an allergic thing.”

As though on cue, we heard Miss Carson exclaim from the other court: “Melrose Junior! Are you blind? Did you not see that coming right toward you?”

Jill swayed on her feet but took the criticism meekly.

Micah watched them with a frown, and as soon as Miss Carson was off picking on someone else, he darted out of formation and ran over to Jill’s game. I hastily tried to cover both his and my own positions. Micah ran up to a guy beside Jill, whispered something, and pointed back at me. A moment later, the guy ran over to my team and Micah took the spot beside Jill.

As class continued, I realized what was happening. Micah was good at volleyball—very good. So much so that he was able to defend his spot and Jill’s. Without seeing any blatant blunders, Miss Carson kept her attention elsewhere, and Jill’s team grew a little less hostile toward her. When the game ended, Micah caught hold of Jill’s arm and quickly walked her over to a shaded spot. From the way she staggered, he seemed to be all that was holding her upright.

I was about to join them when I heard loud voices beside me.

“I’m getting it tonight. The guy I talked to swears it’s gonna be badass.” It was Slade, the guy who’d sparred with Trey earlier. I hadn’t realized it out in the sun in the middle of the game, but he was the player Micah had swapped places with. “It better be,” continued Slade, “for how much he’s charging me.”

Two of Slade’s friends joined him as they began heading toward the locker room. “When are tryouts, Slade?” one of his friends asked. In chemistry, I’d learned Slade’s first name was Greg, but everyone seemed to refer to him by his last name, even teachers.

“Friday,” Slade said. “I’m going to kill. Like totally destroy them. I’m gonna rip Juarez’s spine out and make him eat it.”

Charming, I thought, watching them go. My initial assessment of Slade had been correct. I turned toward Jill and Micah and saw that he’d gotten ahold of a water bottle for her. They seemed okay for the moment, so I caught Miss Carson’s attention as she walked by.

“My sister gets sick in the sun,” I said. “This is really hard on her.”