Chapter 4
BLAZE
I head into Pixie Cups and order a cappuccino from the barista behind the counter. I turn around, spotting the person I'm supposed to be meeting coming inside the coffee shop as I do.
Zara gives me a tentative smile and pushes a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear. "Hi," she says.
"Hey. What do you want to drink?"
"Earl Grey, please, with a slice of lemon and no milk," she says straight to the barista. She taps a few things on her phone and holds it out, clearly intending to pay.
"I can get these," I say.
She shakes her head. "You're meeting me as a favour, I can't let you pay for your drink."
I want to argue with her, but let her do as she wants. She does have a point. I am meeting her as a favour, but it still feels wrong to let her pay for my coffee.
The barista sets down two mugs and we take them over to one of the free tables. Zara holds her head up high and meets my gaze, seeming every bit the formidable cheer captain everyone says she is. Despite knowing I shouldn't, I asked around about her after meeting at the food festival.
"So," I say.
She takes a short breath. "I wanted to ask how much it would cost to have the Fire Tumblers give a couple of introductory lessons to the Sapphire Sparks."
I raise an eyebrow. "That's not what I expected you to say when you asked if I'd be able to help you," I admit.
She sighs. "If it's not possible, that's fine."
"It should be possible," I assure her. What I don't say is that we want more equipment, and teaching some cheerleaders how to do very basic fire dancing will get us there a lot quicker than any of the small fundraisers we've come up with as ideas. We could really do with a couple more performances like at the food festival. They don't pay much, but it's enough to get us some of the upgrades needed.
"That's great. How much are we talking?"
"How much will you offer?" I ask, picking up my cappuccino and taking a sip. It's scalding hot, just how I like it. If anything, I could take it ten degrees hotter, but I'm not about to ask a pixie to make coffee to a dragon's temperature.
"I guess it depends on what you think you can do for us," she says. "Will there be actual fire?"
"Do you think you can handle it?"
She meets my gaze. "I can. And several members of the squad are fireproof."
I raise an eyebrow. "Is that so? What have you got?"
"To my knowledge, a couple of dragons, a hellhound, and a couple of unknowns who assure me they can withstand a little bit of flame."
I chuckle. "Ominous. Do you believe them?"
"They'd be fools to fill out the intake forms wrong. We use that information to make sure the routines don't put anyone in danger."
"Surely they shouldn't be putting anyone in danger?"
She tucks another strand of hair behind her ear. "Accidents happen, but they're a lot less serious if you've got someone with wings at the top of the pyramid."
"Ah, fair enough. It's the same in the Fire Tumblers. Those who are naturally fireproof get the more difficult stunts."
"So what does that make you?" she asks.
A smile lifts the corners of my lips. "Don't you know it's rude to ask?"
"Not if it's pertinent to my health and safety assessment."
I laugh and let my eyes flicker. I know from seeing other people do it that they've changed from my normal brown to a deeper yellow with two black slits.
To her credit, Zara doesn't flinch. Either she has nerves of steel, or she's seen a dragon do this before. I think my money is on the latter.
"Fair enough," she says. "At least that explains why you had no fear of the fireball you were throwing around on stage."
"It's hard to be scared of something when your brother first set you on fire when you were five."
She almost laughs. "I wouldn't know, I'm an only child."
Interesting that's the thing she's responding to and not the idea of being set on fire.
"So, when were you thinking for the lessons?" I ask. "And do you want us to come to you, or you to come to us?"
"I suppose it depends where you practice," she says. "We've got a lot of space if you want to come to us."
I nod. It might be better to do that, especially with the fact that not everyone on our team is going to want to help the cheer squad, even if it means getting more money for our equipment. "Sure."
"And the when is up to you. We practice at four on Mondays and Fridays. Wednesdays are out because we normally cheer for whichever of the Obscure Academy sports teams is playing. Oh, and Saturday mornings, ten am."
I raise an eyebrow. "That's a lot of practice."
"Welcome to competitive cheer," she says, picking up her mug and taking a sip.
"I've heard it's a lot."
"It is. But I don't imagine that fire dancing is any different, especially to get as good as you are."
I raise an eyebrow. "You think I'm good?"
"You know you're good, otherwise you wouldn't have been the entertainment at the food festival," she responds. "It's much more attractive if you own it."
"I'll keep that in mind if I want to impress any cheerleaders."
She laughs. "Knowing the squad, I'm sure you'll impress many of them."
"We'll see about that," I respond. "So why do you want lessons from the fire dancing team?"
For a moment, I don't think she's going to tell me, but then she sighs. "I think we're in a creative rut, and I want to win the final round of this year's cheer competition. So I'm willing to do anything to make sure that happens."
"Ah, the plot of every cheerleader movie ever." I finish off my coffee.
She grimaces. "That's what gave us the idea," she admits. "But how do you know that?"
"I love dance movies," I respond, not seeing any harm in telling her, it's not like she can do anything with the information. "A lot of them have the same formula, so I've watched some of the cheerleader ones too."
"Ah. Right. I thought you were going to say that you were a cheerleader in school or something."
"Sorry, no secret cheering past," I respond. "I was more of the smoking-behind-the-bike-shed type."
She rakes her gaze over me, clearly trying to imagine it. "What changed?"
"I upgraded to smoking batons," I joke.
Zara laughs, seeming to be a little bit more relaxed than before. "I don't know if you're being serious or not."
I shoot her a lop-sided grin. "I'm not going to tell you that."
"Maybe I should put you through your paces and see if you have what it takes to be a cheerleader," she responds.
"Let's see how my teaching you goes first." Though I'm not opposed to learning a few tricks. I'm not naive enough to believe that competitive cheer is an easy sport to be part of, and I'm sure that means Zara knows a thing or two that could help me when it comes to fire dancing. My days of doing it at the academy are numbered, but I'm hoping to find an amateur group I can join in whatever city my future career takes me to. There's nothing quite as soothing as spinning a flaming ball around above my head.
"All right, but the offer is there," she says. "Though I should warn you that I'm tough."
"So I've heard, you've gotten yourself a bit of a reputation." The moment I say the words, I regret them, especially as an uncomfortable expression crosses her face. It must be hard to know what people say like that, especially when it's kind of her job to be that way. "That's not what I meant."
"It's fine," she says, waving my concern away, but I can tell she doesn't quite mean it. "I know what people say, and I'm used to it."
"Zara..."
"It's fine. I should get to class." She scrapes her chair back. "Let me know how much you're charging and I'll sort it out from squad funds."
I open my mouth to say something else, and hopefully to undo some of the damage I just did with my dumb mouth, but she's already making her way out of the coffee shop and not looking back.
I groan and lean back in my seat. And to think that it seemed like she was just starting to like me too.