Chapter 16: I Like Isolde

The coach watched Nathan barrel around the court like a tank. He marveled at the damage Nathan could do, but he also knew this pure-power game had plenty of limits—run into somebody with a better body and it gets hard-countered. But he had no better option left. Gritting his teeth, he smacked his thigh and inwardly hollered: "No way around it—Nathan plays the four. Pile on some extra work these next few days and hope some last-minute cramming buys him a few more points of skill."

With that "talent"—actual species: bloodborn—uncovered, the coach finally locked in the starting five. After two intra-squad games to shake things down, he announced that today's activities were over and everyone could head back to class.

Nathan had a blast playing today. He'd never much liked basketball, so he'd never asked for minutes—but today's run of wide-open, satisfying games had him kind of liking the sport. Just as he was getting ready to leave with everyone else, the coach suddenly held him back and said, voice low: "You're in ninth grade, right?"

Nathan nodded, and the coach went on, careful and serious: "If our team makes the top ten at nationals, there's one athletic scholarship to Greyhaven Preparatory Academy. The old starters have all quit, and Tobias's only in eighth grade—if we crack the top ten, that slot is yours for sure. I know you're in ninth grade and the study load is heavy. But word is your academics are so-so; going by your usual grades, even a second-tier high school would be a stretch. Better to take a swing at that scholarship. You do know Greyhaven Preparatory Academy is the best high school in our city—no contest, right?"

Nathan was mildly stunned. He knew his own academic standing: third-tier high school at best, or vocational school, maybe trade school. Bottom line, a first-rate school like Greyhaven Preparatory Academy was never going to be in the cards for an academic bottom-feeder like him.

Something stirred in Nathan's chest. He suddenly remembered how many times Isolde had said she was applying to Greyhaven Preparatory Academy for high school. His heart warmed right up, and he nodded quickly.

The coach breathed easier too. There was a reason the other ninth-grade starters wouldn't gamble on that slot: going by the school team's actual strength, the odds of making the national top ten were extremely low. Those starters had decent grades—getting into a good school was easy for them—and nobody wanted to take the risk, since this was a whole-lifetime kind of decision.

After a full day at the club, Nathan got back to the classroom at the last study hall of the afternoon. Lots of kids who lived farther out skipped that period entirely, heading home to study on their own, and no teacher was watching.

Nathan glanced at Isolde's seat, found her still there, and something in him settled. It was habit by now: wherever Isolde was, his mood evened out. All he could do was sneak looks from a distance, though—openly going up to talk to her in the classroom? No way he had the nerve.

Just as Nathan was walking back to his seat to pack up and head home, Leopold stood up, coughed once, and said: "Nathan. A word."

Nathan stared at Leopold in genuine surprise—they were hardly close. If Leopold weren't in the same cosplay club as Isolde, Nathan would never have thought to have anything to do with that arrogant, always-looking-down-his-nose type. Especially with the two of them clashing lately, he couldn't figure out what Leopold wanted with him.

"What is it?"

Nathan tossed the question back offhandedly. Leopold gave a light chuckle, then suddenly raised his voice: "Two things! One: our cosplay club is suspending activities for a while for the ninth-grade entrance exams. From here on, only core members will keep meeting up—so stop hanging around our club." Nathan's face went sour on the spot. Watching his expression shift, Leopold went on, with some relish: "Two: Isolde asked me to tell you that from now on she doesn't need you trailing her home after school. You'd best get some self-awareness."

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Nathan's face went black as thunder—and this time he wasn't even firing up any black-light vitae.

He shot Leopold a few cold looks, then suddenly raised his voice and declared, loud and clear: "I like Isolde! Even if I'd never said it out loud, I'm sure everybody here already knows. Isolde—if there's something you don't want me to do, I absolutely won't do it. Just like when you wanted me to lose weight: I trained hard for three years and never once complained. So why route the message through a guy like this?"

The classroom erupted. Everyone had known Nathan liked Isolde, but nobody imagined he'd go public with a confession right there in class. The students, listless little zombies till that moment of study hall, perked up like they'd been mainlining adrenaline; plenty of boys loudly cheered Nathan on—everybody loves watching somebody pull off something that takes guts. Even a few of the girls looked at Nathan in a whole new light, clicking their tongues in amazement and whispering back and forth.

Isolde, hard at work reviewing her lessons, hadn't reacted at all when Leopold stood up to warn Nathan off. Only after Nathan's public confession did she lift her head slightly and fix him with her eyes.

Nathan, stubborn fire lit in him, didn't dodge an inch—stared right back at her, hard, with no further thought for Leopold whatsoever.

Isolde held out a little while, then lowered her head and said, in a very clear, bright voice: "I did not ask Leopold to say those things. But it's true I don't want to slow down my studies—we're in ninth grade now, after all..."

She paused a beat, then said, evenly: "If you want to keep chasing me, then get into Greyhaven Preparatory Academy." With that, she gathered up the books on her desk, packed them into her bag, and walked out of the classroom, bag hugged to her chest.

The classroom promptly burst out laughing; Leopold put on the face of a victor.

Nearly three years as classmates, and everybody knew who was what. If Nathan's grades could get him into Greyhaven Preparatory Academy, then pigs would fly. Everyone took Isolde's line as nothing more than her official rejection of Nathan.

Nathan clenched his fists, but there was a faint shine in his eyes. He said nothing more; he packed up his bag too and walked out of the classroom.

When Leopold saw his warning had accomplished exactly nothing, his nose practically bent sideways with fury. He badly wanted to chase Nathan out, but one thought of Nathan's bulk and he swallowed that mouthful of poison.

Walking quickly out of the school, Nathan saw Isolde strolling unhurriedly along, in no particular rush to get home. He wanted to catch up but, in the moment, couldn't find the opening. It was Isolde who turned around with a sweet smile and said: "Back in seventh grade, I said if you slimmed down to a hundred and thirty pounds I'd consider being your girlfriend. Honestly, I never imagined you'd work out that hard—I figured you'd give up."

Nathan gave an awkward little laugh, not knowing how to field that. Isolde smiled and went on: "In the end you never did get down to a hundred and thirty pounds, but I know that wasn't your fault. Anyone who shot up that much in two and a half years couldn't possibly have dropped to that weight either. I've always meant what I say, so I'll give you a second chance—even though I don't think there's any chance at all you'll manage it."

Nathan couldn't resist asking: "And what if I actually do?"

Isolde actually laughed out loud, then said, in earnest: "If you pull off something like that, then I'll honor the promise—you can keep chasing me."

Nathan's heart leapt, and he was just about to bring up the scholarship when Isolde turned back around and said, coolly: "Even though I'm touched, I still won't agree to date you. Because I honestly don't like you enough."

Something jammed itself into Nathan's chest; for a moment he couldn't breathe. He watched Isolde get farther and farther away—and didn't chase after her again...