Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [22]
My head dropped between my knees with a noncommital shrug.
Brent took my silence for agreement. “Good. So she might not be crazy but you . . . you have an awfully short temper,” Brent teased with a smile in his voice.
Despite my current feud with Brent, I laughed. “I usually don’t,” I said honestly.
He chuckled. “So, what you’re saying is I bring out your book-wielding, short-tempered side?” He hooked his foot through the straps on my backpack and brought it front of him. “Removing temptation.” I gave him a look that communicated he should wither and die.
“So why did you follow me out here?” I snapped.
“I told you. I saw what happened in class and I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
My hands immediately flew to my necklace and began twisting it nervously. “I got nervous,” I said. “I felt sick, but I’m feeling better now.” It was an edited version of the truth, but still not a lie.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant during your speech.”
“I got nervous,” I repeated slowly. “Stage fright.”
He sighed. “Yara, are you trying to tell me you didn’t astral project in the middle of talking?”
My jaw dropped.
He gave me a smug smile as he leaned forward and patted me on the knee. “I knew it. I think I knew it from the start. You’re one of us.”
I verbally stumbled. “One of who?”
“You’re a Clutch.”
“I . . . like in a car?”
Brent looked amused. “No, like in a Clutch, a person who can astral project.”
My mind searched through all the fringe science stuff I had read through with Cherie and back toward everything my grandma had ever told me, but I came up empty. “I’ve never heard that term before.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have— it’s what they called it here at school. It used to be Pendrell’s secret society.” Brent leaned in, his voice lowered. “No one is supposed to know any of this but I . . . know some things.”
“A secret society?” I bit my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Yeah.” Brent didn’t notice my mocking of him; his mind was somewhere else. “It sort of disbanded a while ago, but I want to get it running again. If there are two of us, maybe we can.” Brent whistled excitedly, his fingers drumming on his leg. “You didn’t even need training, you did it yourself. I didn’t even know a girl could.”
The feminist in me bristled. “How very eighteen-hundreds of you. You’re a regular misogynistic chauvinist pig, huh?”
“Now, now don’t get yourself all riled up. They just never had a girl member before, but we’re going to have to let you in.”
“Really? I can join your secret club? Do I get to learn the secret handshake and everything?” I clasped my hands together in mock glee. “Of course you’ve never had a female member here, idiot. You’ve never had girls enrolled here before. How did I dance with a guy who’s never heard of feminism?”
“I’ve heard of it, but that doesn’t mean a woman can do everything a man can do,” he goaded. I went to smack him on the back of his head, but he ducked with a snicker. “I’m learning,” he informed me. “How did I ever consider dating such a violent girl?”
“We’re both lucky we got out early before we really knew each other.”
“Oh yes, good thing neither one of is still interested in the other,” Brent said with a playful grin. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”
“I may not be angry anymore, but it takes a while to forgive,” I informed him honestly, wiping the flower petals from my black pencil skirt. They rained down over fallen leaves, adding a dash of color to the brown foliage.
“Makes sense.” Brent nodded as he crossed his arms. “I only said that about girls because I honestly didn’t know girls could do it. I was told it passed down through the male genes.”
“Oh.” He had me on that one; the Acordera gene only passed down through the maternal side, after all, as far as I knew.
“That’s it?” He prompted, shocked. “No apology for smacking me?”
I yawned and studied my nails in reply.