28. Thea
Thea
The Ball Doesn’t Lie, but My Heart Might
My dream feels more like a memory.
Jerimiah is telling me a story about a flower growing under a stone. I’m trying to spell a word with rocks when he’s torn apart.
My sheets are soaked in sweat and tears when I wake up. I tie on my running shoes and run from the room, trying to escape the memory.
It has been twelve years. Why are the memories flooding me now and not when I was Adora? Then I could’ve done something about it.
That’s a lie. Adora figured out the truth. She kept it quiet.
So am I.
Telling the truth would just speed up my execution.
The slap of my feet is the only sound as I run around the lake. On the first lap Mavrik falls into step without a word, headphones in.
That dream wasn’t a real memory. I wasn’t with Jerimiah when he died. I don’t remember the rock or the stone. I don’t even know the word I spelled.
Maybe it’s a premonition.
I’ve never had premonitions before.
Then again, I never had any powers before.
Mavrik and I run three laps before I peel off and head home. When I get to the library, I look for a goblin book on gemstones but come up with only a handful of witch ‘crystal’ magic books that are bull.
Maybe they’re in the goblin section, but I can’t find that either.
Mr. Jordan is more than happy to help and sends me to a spot on goblin enslavement, but no books even written by a goblin. They’re all witch texts. When I get back he tells me he’d order the books I want, but he needs titles.
I really want to know what Jerimiah spelled out. Benson should be at lunch. When I get to the cafeteria he isn’t there yet so I load up my plate and sit down to wait. When he comes in, he sits beside two other guys and I rush over.
“Benson!” I greet excitedly.
“Hi,” he looks confused. The others lean away as I realize my hands are on the table. Goblins. I pull them back.
“Um,” I panic. Thea might be stronger, but still awkward. I look around the table and recognize one from English last year. “It’s Percy, right?”
His eyes get big and he nods so I turn to the other.
“That’s Reuben,” Benson tells me.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” I say and smile at them warmly. His throat bobs as he swallows.
“I had a question and I think the three of you’d be the best to answer.” I place a piece of paper on the table with the word. “ What does this mean?”
Benson looks over at the other two who somehow look more surprised than before.
“Ril et Thren,” he answers. “Flower and stone.”
“Oh,” I can feel my face falling. I’d thought someone was reaching out to me, giving me some hint, but it was just a memory.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes,” I plaster on a fake smile and change the subject. “I went to the library to look up Aventurine, but they didn’t have any Goblin geology books. And none on Graven either. Does this school have a secret library I don’t know about?”
“You tried to look it up?” Benson smiles.
“Thea looks up everything,” Zair says as he walks up to the table. “Where’s your food? You never skip a meal.”
I give him a sour look then point to my table. “I’ll be there in a minute. I needed to ask Benson a question.”
“Benson can sit with us,” Zair says offhand. Benson gives Zair a look that says he’d rather not.
“Don’t be rude, he’s sitting with Reuben and Percy, and I’ve already taken up their time. Thank you guys.” I grab Zair’s arm and pull him away. We pass a table of witches and I hear the whispers.
“See, she’s touching his skin, she must’ve cursed him.”
“Maybe a love potion.”
“I hear it’s—”
I drop his arm as we keep walking. Honestly, I’m surprised it took the rumor mill this long. Mavrik is sitting in my usual seat and I slide in next to him, shoving him against the corner and digging in.
“Someone tried to put something in your food. You shouldn’t leave it alone,” Mavrik says offhand.
“Who?” Zair asks concerned.
“A shifter. The shadows chased them off and I came over to sit here. I can leave.”
“Why would we want you to leave?” I ask him.
“Er — Never mind.” When lunch is done, Zair reminds me I promised to go to his soccer game and then goes to warm up.
Mavrik and I head to the library and work on our calculus homework. When it’s time for the game, I say goodbye.
The stands are packed. Fans cluster together in tight groups, their excitement palpable. I scan the stadium for Lazlo, heart sinking as I remember I have no idea what I’m looking for. How can I not know him?
We talked about everything, our deepest fears, our wildest dreams. He told me about the places he wanted to see, the things he wanted to do. He confided in me that he doesn’t want to be a healer, didn’t want to shepherd souls to the other side as a banshee is supposed to.
He’d told me all about his love of soccer, about matches he went to in Ireland, about how it felt when he played.
But I don’t know if he played for the school team, or if he even liked playing with other people.
I’d been too scared to ask. Too scared that if I pieced together who he truly was, I might realize he was someone who already knew me and didn’t like me.
I pretended it was because I didn’t want to give him away, but the truth is, I was terrified.
The chances are high that we’ve crossed paths before.
I admit I’m tempted to take the coward’s route and not find him.
Because he could be anyone, and I don’t think I’m ready for that.
What if he turned out to be someone who’d sneered at me in the hallway or ignored me in class?
Or worse, one of the guys Anita played with.
I find myself thinking Lazlo is better as a memory, but I have to find him, I have to save him.
I’d only seen him that once, when I was tied to the stake. He was in banshee form, grey skin, sunken features. Not exactly helpful. He was tall, and skinny, but that could’ve been because we had been starved. No, I have no idea what he looks like. And I haven’t found any Irish witches.
As the game starts, my gaze drifts from player to player.
Benson looks chaotic as he twists midair to make what is likely a difficult save.
He passes the ball to Zair, who moves with such precision.
Every pass is a calculated decision, every shot perfectly executed.
It’s hypnotic, but it isn’t Lazlo. Lazlo had always been chaos, wild and unpredictable, like the storm he was.
Zair, on the other hand, is all control, all confidence.
Nothing about his movements feels spontaneous.
Still, I can’t help but hope. Maybe I just want it to be him. I’m not afraid to admit that Zair is attractive, easy to talk to, and more than a little magnetic. But in the pit of my stomach, I know he isn’t the one I’m looking for, even if the disappointment is palpable.
Someone sits down beside me as I study the opposing side of the field. Everyone is wearing the light blue. A black hoodie looks out of place. It seems to move.
Mavrik.
Why didn’t he come with me? I told him I was going to the match and… I didn’t invite him. Does this mean he likes soccer?
I wish I’d brought my notebook. I’ll have to add it to his pros list tonight.
I glance at Zair, still focused on his effortless play. Zair is a distraction, a tempting one, but nothing more. He darts down the field, then fakes a pass so smoothly the defender stumbles. The ball flies into the back of the net. The crowd roars. My heart does something stupid.
“You know you’re supposed to cheer when someone scores,” the slightly accented voice next to me comments. A handsome man in a security uniform sits beside me and it takes a moment for recognition to hit.
“Officer Ollin?” He nods.
“It’s Thea, right? Didn’t expect you to be here.”
“Why’s that?” I tease. “You think destruction of property is how I like to spend my evenings?”
He smirks. “If it is, just don’t do it on my watch.”
“No promises,” I joke. “Actually my friend dragged me here.”
“The one who just scored?” he asks casually. “I’ve noticed he walks you home every night.”
My eyebrows shoot up. He shrugs. “You seem like trouble.”
I laugh at that.
“I’m not trouble! Look at me here to observe the sporting event”
That makes him snort.
“He your guy?” he asks.
“No. Just friends,” I tell him. I need to change the subject. “So when the ball goes into the hoop, it’s a point?”
He stares at me like I’ve offended his ancestors. “Gringas,” he mutters.
I let him explain to me all the intricacies of the sport until he tells me he has to get to work. Never mind that I already knew them.
“Get home safe, alright?”
“And make your night easy? Never.”
I turn to the field just in time to catch Zair weaving past a defender, every movement sharp and practiced. And just like that, the ache returns.
A whistle blows and the crowd erupts around me.
I guess that means we won. I follow the line of fans until I’m yanked out by a very sweaty dog.
And by ‘dog,’ I mean Dylan, who apparently doesn’t understand personal space, post-game hygiene, or the very real threat of having a witch in his arms. Before I can even react, he throws me effortlessly over his shoulder, and I squeak in surprise.
“Eww! Dylan!” I complain as he jogs to the sidelines with me slung across his back like a sack of potatoes.
“Look who I caught trying to escape,” he jokes.
And then, as though this wasn’t embarrassing enough, he literally throws me into a shirtless Zair’s arms.
Oh god.
My heart leaps into my throat. His skin is hot and damp against mine, and I can’t avoid the sharp, overwhelming reality of how damn good he smells.
“You made it!” Benson says, completely ignoring the fact that I’m now pressed up against Zair, my face probably a shade of red that doesn’t exist in nature.
“Thanks for coming,” Zair says before gently putting me down. “Though you could’ve cheered.”
“What makes you think I wasn’t?” I shoot back.
“He spent more time watching you than the game., Dylan jokes and Zair hits him.
“Honestly,” Benson says, slinging an arm around my shoulders, “I’m surprised you didn’t bring a book.”
“I was watching,” I insist. “You all played exceedingly well.”
“But no cheering,” Zair teases. “Next game, I expect full commitment.”
“Be careful what you ask for,” I warn, already plotting.
“It’s the only way we know people care,” Benson says solemnly.
“Exactly,” Dylan adds. “And if you really want to motivate me, scream my name every time I kick the ball. Super subtle. Totally works.”
“I’ll probably do it at the wrong time,” I joke. “I had to ask a security guard which goal you were shooting on.”
“You monster,” Dylan gasps, eyes sparkling. “Give us twenty, and then I’m dragging you to the after party.” He vanishes into the locker room.
“I’m not a party person,” I start to say, but Zair and Benson are already shaking their heads. Damn, I don’t have a choice.
Turns out the party was just Dylan’s favorite pizza place. “Now this is my kind of party,” I say around a slice. “If this is the reward, I might suffer through a few more games.”
They groan dramatically, but I just grin.