I don’t know what I’d expected. Some yoga mats. Maybe a punching bag. And Saylor did have those things. But she also had three dummies set up on stands. Against one of them, there was a sword at least as long as my leg, and Bee stared at it, mouth agape.
“Oh, wow. Y’all are . . . hardcore.”
“Yes, yes,” Saylor said, bustling over to the sword and picking it up. “This is for . . . inspiration. We obviously don’t want to involve weapons. At least not yet.”
“Yet?” Bee asked, but Saylor was already heading back into the house with the sword. “Now,” she said when she came back. “One of the things Harper has been learning is how to stay on her guard so attackers can’t surprise her.”
“Right,” Bee said, nodding like that was a totally normal thing for Saylor to be teaching me.
And I have to hand it to my best friend. For the next hour, she watched Saylor Stark throw various things—knives, pots, and more ceramic lambs than any one woman should own—at me from various directions while I was blindfolded, and at no point did she run screaming from the house, calling us all crazy people. She sat in the grass, legs folded, serenely watching the President of the Pine Grove Betterment Society lob a knife at the Homecoming Queen.
“Good job, Harper!” she called out when I batted the knife away, striking the hilt with the side of my hand. “Way to hustle!”
It was the exact same thing she shouted at Brandon when he practiced basketball, and for some reason, it made me smile. Same when, after I spun away from a particularly heavy china cat tossed at my midsection, Bee launched into one of our cheers, complete with shaking her fists like there were pom-poms in them.
After I’d deflected enough things, Saylor finally called it quits. We were both sweating and breathing hard, Saylor from throwing, me from the tension of spending an hour trying not to get whacked.
“Good job, Harper,” Saylor told me, untying the blindfold. “And you, Miss Franklin. You were very . . . supportive.”
Bee stood up, dusting off the back of her pants. “Thank you, Miss Saylor.” Then she nodded her head at the sun porch. “I thought you were training David, too. Why didn’t he get stuff thrown at his head?”
David, who was leaning on the French doors, arms folded over his chest, said, “I’ve already passed this stage. Have my dodging-stuff badge. Belt. Whatever.”
I shot him a look, and his chin trembled with the effort of not laughing.
But Bee accepted that. “Okay. Well, that was . . . interesting. Thanks so much for letting me watch, Miss Saylor.”
“Any time, honey,” Saylor cooed, even as she gave me a glare that plainly said, Never again.
“Are y’all done now?” Bee said.
“I have a few more things to go over with Harper, but it’s more theory than training.” Right. Saylor had wanted to show me the spell Blythe was planning on doing.
“In that case, I’ll go ahead and skedaddle,” Bee said.
“I’ll walk you out,” I told her as I wiped the sweat from my face with an embroidered towel that smelled like lavender.
Once we’d gotten to the driveway, Bee turned to me. “Right, so that’s kind of nuts,” she said.
I grimaced. “I know.”
“But,” she added, screwing up her face. “It’s also kind of awesome. You looked so fierce, all—” She lifted her hands, doing a few chops and slices that I guess were an imitation of me deflecting stuff.”
“Shut up,” I said, laughing as I batted her hands down.
“Seriously, I get why you’re keeping this secret, but . . . I don’t know, I’m proud of you. Homecoming Queen, debutante, President of All the Things, and a secret ninja. Best best friend ever.”
“Harper!” Saylor called from the porch. “Are you coming?”
Sighing, I gave Bee a quick hug. “No rest for the ninja,” I said. “And thanks, Bee. For not thinking this was too weird.”
Her cheeks flushed a little, and she glanced down. “To be honest, Harper? I didn’t believe you. That’s why I wanted to come today, to, like—”
“Call my bluff?”
Nodding, Bee pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head. “Which makes me the worst best friend ever.”
“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I’ve been out of it lately; I understand.”
“Harper!” Saylor called again, her voice a little sharper this time.
“Go,” she said, giving me a friendly shove. “Get your ninja on.”
I reached out to link my pinkie with hers. She squeezed it back. Smiling sheepishly, Bee ducked her head, blond hair swinging over her collarbone. “I forgive you for being a bizarre combination of totally perfect and totally weird.”
I laughed at that, and as Bee drove off, my heart felt lighter in my chest.
Chapter 27
That weekend, I finally had a date with Ryan. Between training with Saylor, preparing for Cotillion (both the normal and the supernatural parts of it), and keeping up with all my regular stuff, I hadn’t exactly been a model girlfriend. Hence tonight’s date, which included a movie of his choosing and, since his parents were at their lake house for the weekend, some alone time at Ryan’s place. I actually couldn’t remember the last time we’d . . . been alone, and I told myself it was anticipation making my hands tremble as I brushed my teeth that evening, not nerves.
When I came downstairs, Mom and Dad were both sacked out on the couch, watching some true crime TV show. “Hey,” I said, pausing in the doorway.
Dad’s arm was around Mom’s shoulder and both of them had their feet propped up on the coffee table. Even their ankles were crossed the same. “Hay is for horses, Harper Jane!” Dad called out, and I rolled my eyes, but smiled.
“Fine. Good evening, parental types.” Mom looked over her shoulder at me. “You look pretty. Where are you off to?”
Preening a little, I smoothed my fitted sweater over my stomach. “Date night with Ryan. I’ll be back by midnight.”
There was a splash of light across the pale blue of the wall as Ryan’s car pulled into the driveway, and I was already turning to meet him at the door when Mom said, “Ten.”
I paused, sure I’d misunderstood her. “Ten what?”
“Ten is when you need to be home. The movie starts at what? Seven? That’s plenty of time to get back.”
Dad kept his eyes on the TV, but his fingers were drumming on Mom’s shoulders. “Um . . . seriously?” My purse was on the end table nearest the couch, and I twisted to grab it.
Mom’s eyes met mine, and I could swear there were hollows under hers, new wrinkles in the corners. “Yes, seriously. Ten o’clock, Harper.”
Outside, Ryan’s door thumped shut, and I could hear his steady tread coming up the front steps. “It’s always been midnight,” I insisted, hating how petulant I sounded, but . . . I had plans for tonight. Boyfriend maintenance plans. And I hadn’t had to be in that early since middle school.
The doorbell rang then, and I cast a quick look toward the front door. “Mom, my curfew has always—”
“I don’t care what we’ve always done,” Mom snapped, her voice slightly shrill. “I’m your mother, and tonight, I want you back in this house by ten. Is that clear?”
Ryan had better manners than to press the doorbell again, but I could practically feel him out there waiting for me. Too bad he wasn’t the only one I clearly needed to spend more time with. Knowing that snottiness wouldn’t get me anywhere, I nodded. “Okay,” I said, doing my best to seem okay. “See y’all at ten.”
Mom sagged back onto the couch, relief obvious on her face. Dad, too, seemed to relax a bit, lifting his hand in a wave. “Be safe, kiddo.”
I brooded the entire way to the theater. Pine Grove only had one, and it only showed two movies at a time. I’d let Ryan pick tonight—I almost always chose what we saw—and of course, he’d gone with the action film. I’d rolled my eyes, pretending to be exasperated, but really, I wanted to see it, too. I had plenty of moves in my Paladin arsenal, but it wouldn’t hurt to add a few more.
We already had our tickets and had stepped into the lobby when I told Ryan about Mom’s new curfew. Frowning, he shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Whoa. Okay. I just . . . I kind of wish you’d told me that before we’d come here.”
The lobby reeked of burnt popcorn and spilled Coke, and it seemed even more crowded than usual for a Saturday night. The place was always full—when you only have one movie theater in your town, that happens—but tonight it was packed, and I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic. “Why?” I asked Ryan as someone bumped into me from behind.
Rolling his shoulders, Ryan stepped a little closer to me. “Because if I’d known I was only going to have a few hours with you, there are a lot of other things I’d rather be doing than watching a movie.”
Maybe it was that unexpected bout of nervousness I’d felt about that very thing earlier. Maybe I was still irritated with my mom and looking for someone to take it out on. Or maybe I was honestly a little pissed off at Ryan. “So, what, if you’d known you’d have to choose between a date and fooling around, you would’ve chosen the latter?”
“Whoa, Harper,” Ryan lowered his voice and looked around us. Only a few yards away, our old Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Catesby, was buying a box of Junior Mints, and I should have been horrified at the thought that she might have overheard me, but I wasn’t. Not even a little bit.
Ryan, on the other hand, was. “Keep your voice down. And that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I’ve hardly been alone with you since when? Before Homecoming?”
“I’ve been busy,” I insisted, and Ryan rolled his eyes at me.
“Yeah, I know. With school and Cotillion and whatever other stupid shit is more important than your boyfriend.”
I could not believe this was happening. I was fighting with my boyfriend in public. Across the way, I could see Abigail and Amanda, huddled near the ladies’ room. They saw me, too, and as they lifted their hands in greeting, Mary Beth emerged from the bathroom. Her eyes landed on Ryan first, and there was no mistaking the . . . it wasn’t even lust, it was honest to God love, or at least a very deep case of like.
“Don’t call the stuff I do stupid,” I told him, this time pitching my voice near a whisper. I tried to keep my face blank so the other girls wouldn’t be able to tell we were fighting, but they were already heading this way.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan blew out on a long breath. “But, God, Harper, sometimes I feel like your whole life is a checklist, and I am way down at the bottom. And, you know, every once in awhile, you throw me a bone to keep me happy.”
I flinched at that, hard. Not only because it was insulting, but because it was way too close to the truth. “You’re not at the bottom,” I said, and then Abigail, Amanda, and Mary Beth were there, and I was frantically blinking back tears and faking a huge smile.