All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [118]
“Well, you can forget Eliot,” Sarah remarked. “Obviously.”
“Why?” Amanda asked, her dark eyes smoldering. “I think he’s nice. Cute, even.”
Someone thought Eliot was cute? Fiona might have believed dorky or clueless . . . but cute? She wasn’t sure what was more shocking: hearing this . . . or hearing it from Amanda. She sure had come out of her shell since that shopping trip to Paris.
“If you like a puppy dog that trips over its own paws,” Jezebel remarked. “Perhaps when he grows up . . . No, for pure aesthetics, I have to stick with Jeremy.”
Sarah tilted her head appreciatively. “But for attitude and old-fashioned chivalry,” she said, “I’d take Robert Farmington. There’s something about him so deliciously rugged. Wouldn’t you agree, Fiona?”
Fiona opened her mouth, but found herself unable to speak. With Sarah’s perfectly styled red hair and her oh-so-cute freckled peaches-and-cream features . . . she was so not Robert’s type. But while Fiona knew Robert could outdrive and outfight any boy on campus, when it came to Sarah, would he be able to recognize that she was a viper in disguise?
Sarah’s eyes widened a fraction. “Oh, I didn’t know, dearie. Are you and he—?”
Fiona blushed, both embarrassed and angry—fought to control it—which only made it worse.
After an awkward moment, Fiona whispered, “Last summer there was something. But it’s over now.”
The three girls exchanged looks of curiosity, disbelief, and envy.
Fiona didn’t want to talk anymore. This entire conversation was disgusting.
But she couldn’t just walk away. It would seem like she was running away because Sarah had asked her about Robert, so she added, “Mitch gets my vote. Everytime he smiles, I don’t know, it makes me happy.”
Jezebel scoffed. “A man’s smile is like a dog wagging its tail—before it bites.”
“No.” Sarah held up a finger. “I have to agree with Fiona. I’ve seen that smile—devilishly charming, it is. Mitch is handsome. Oh, perhaps in need of a haircut and a bit of grooming, but a fine specimen nonetheless.”
“Eliot still gets my vote,” Amanda muttered, now looking at her feet. “He’s so . . . deep, you know?”
Jezebel nodded across the courtyard. “Speaking of our young Master Post. It looks like he is deep. In trouble.”
A crowd of students had gathered around the Contemplation Pool of the Faun, a koi pond with bronze statues of fauns and satyrs and enchanted mushrooms.
Fiona spotted Eliot there—face-to-face with Donald van Wyck.
Donald still had his left arm in a sling from their last gym match. That didn’t stop him from shoving Eliot.
“Oh no.” Fiona marched toward them.
Jezebel, Sarah, and Amanda trotted behind her.
Fiona hoped Eliot wasn’t stupid enough to get baited into a duel.
But Fiona caught the look in Eliot’s eyes—pure hatred—and she knew there’d be a fight.
Another boy from Team Wolf, however, the dangerous short one with a scar on his face, joined Van Wyck and they both faced Eliot.
Fiona was too far away to stop whatever was about to happen.
But Robert wasn’t. He appeared from the crowd and stepped next to Eliot. He dropped his pack and halted the approaching boys with his no-nonsense glare.
“Two on two, then?” Van Wyck laughed.
“Why not?” Robert said, flexed his fist, and popped his knuckles.
But the other six from Team Wolf then appeared behind Van Wyck, making sure Robert and Eliot stayed outnumbered.
Fiona and the girls finally got to them.
Donald Van Wyck looked them over, swallowing at the sight of Jezebel. “So you need your girlfriends to help you out?” he asked.
Fiona stepped up before either Eliot or Robert could answer. “No one’s doing anything,” she told him. “You can’t make anyone fight on campus. Duels are by mutual consent.”
Van Wyck snorted. “So they are. Fine, we don’t settle this here. It’s a short walk to the gate. We’ll wait outside for you . . . where there are no rules about stopping at first blood.” A smile spread over his thin, pale lips.
Fiona went cold.
He was threatening her, her brother . . . everyone on their team. Could he get away with