James Axler – The Mars Arena

“It was you,” he said, hoping that was a safe statement. It also made clear that he thought all the responsibility, for good or evil, should be hers, which might be chancy.

She smiled at him. “You know, Dean Cawdor, looking at you all rawboned and unkempt sometimes, and hearing about how you fought so dirty out on the school ground, I didn’t think you’d be such a romantic.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, which made his bad eye hurt. He hoped Jak never heard about this, because he’d never live it down.

“If you’ll let go of my wrists, maybe I can make your eye feel better. I can at least clean it up.”

Gingerly Dean released her, pushing himself back.

Phaedra started to sit up, unmindful that the blanket had gathered at her waist, revealing her breasts to him. “Can’t believe we didn’t wake somebody up with all that noise,” she said with a grin.

Dean couldn’t, either. He was also aware that Calgary had edged down farther on the eaves. “Uh, mebbe you need to keep covered up.” He didn’t want the other boy to see.

“Why? You embarrassed? After all, it was you come stealing into my bedroom.”

Dean watched Calgary suddenly come loose from the eaves over Phaedra’s shoulderand fall.

Chapter Twelve

Calgary screamed, loud and high-pitched like someone being torn apart by stampeding horses. A muffled thud ended it.

“Shit,” Dean said, wondering if the boy had accidentally chilled himself. Bad enough to be caught in the girls’ dorm, but triple bad if Calgary ended up dead. He pushed up from the bed, one hand clapped over his injured eye because the moon seemed too bright for him.

“What was that?” Phaedra demanded, yanking the lavender blanket around herself.

Dean stuck his head out the window and peered down. Calgary was squirming around, trying to suck in air like a man come near to drowning and finally back on dry land.

“That’s Calgary Ventnor,” Phaedra said, shoving through the window beside Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, wondering how the hell he was going to explain the other boy’s presence. Telling Phaedra that the jaunt into her bedroom had been at Calgary’s instigation seemed tantamount to slitting his wrists the long way. But he couldn’t think, not the way his head was hurting and with the vanilla scent of Phaedra standing so close coming into his swollen nose with every breath.

She looked at him. “Calgary must have followed you up here.”

Dean blinked his good eye at her, then didn’t hesitate at all. “That’s probably it.”

“He’s a pervert,” Phaedra declared. “He’s been caught two, three times peeking through glory holes he’s carved through the girls’ shower room.”

“Phaedra?” a voice behind them said.

They turned together, Dean bumping his head on the window frame and creating a new onslaught of pain that nearly swept his senses away.

Bitha was sitting up in her bed. Her eyes widened as they locked on Dean. Then she screamed, an ear-piercing shriek that would have moved the dead.

Phaedra grabbed Dean’s arm and pushed him at the window. “Get out!”

“What?” Before he knew it, she almost had him out the window.

“If they don’t catch you, they won’t know who you are,” Phaedra said in a desperate whisper. “Bitha can’t see shit without her glasses. If you don’t get caught, neither one of us has to explain what you were doing in here.”

“That’s a long way down,” Dean protested.

“Yes, well, Calgary Ventnor is still alive, isn’t he?” Phaedra pushed again, shoving Dean through the window. “If he can make the jump, so can you.”

Footsteps sounded at the door, and a man’s voice demanded, “Are you girls all right in there?” A heavy hand beat against the door rapidly, shaking the heavy timbers.

Dean glanced at the door, one leg over the window frame and barely finding purchase on the narrow board below. Bitha was still screaming, the covers pulled over her head.

“Go!” Phaedra ordered impatiently. She put her shoulder against Dean with more force than he’d expected.

Off balance and hanging precariously, Dean had no chance to keep his grip. He plummeted, waving his arms wildly in an attempt not to land on Calgary. An instant before he hit the ground, he managed to get his feet under him. On impact he crumpled his legs and breathed the air out of his lungs, letting his body be its own cushioning system. He went forward into a roll and came up on his feet, none the worse for wear. The drop had been no big challenge, but it had looked bad because of the night shadows draping the landscape.