The Circle of Lies Page 6

  Suddenly I thought back to how Principal Ferris had acted like a giddy schoolgirl around Dr. Logan, and how easily she had accepted his idea to move Temple Academy. Maybe it had been more than simple infatuation. If he had gotten his evil claws into her mind, that would explain a lot.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “With Anubis, anything is possible. But you know how as soon as he left, the weather cleared up?”

  Jason nodded hopefully.

  “Well, now that he’s gone, maybe the same thing will happen for your mom. It’s just going to take some time, that’s all.”

  Jason squeezed my hand and said, “I hope you’re right.”

  I just sat there for a while and enjoyed the thrill of having Jason hold my hand as we listened to the breeze blowing through the desert. But I had called him out there for a reason. “There’s something else you should know,” I said. “Something happened last night.”

  As quickly as I could, I told him about the whole scene in the gym—how I’d gotten the false phone call, and how we’d been attacked by countless eagles.

  “Are you serious?” Jason cried. “You got attacked by freaking eagles and you let me go on and on about my mom? Are you okay?” He scanned me from head to toe, as if he expected to see a gaping wound he’d failed to notice before.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “So are the others. We have a first aid kit at the dorm, so we patched ourselves up.”

  “But, Ana, you guys could’ve been killed. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because it all happened so fast,” I said. “And we’re getting pretty used to taking care of ourselves.” I stopped myself from saying what was on the tip of my tongue: What would you have done, anyway? I shook my head, trying to clear the unkind thought away. Jason may not have had supernatural powers, but he had helped us in the temple.

  “So that’s what happened to the gym.” He let out a low whistle. “That place was wrecked. Must have been some battle. I’m glad all of you are all right,” Jason said.

  “Almost all of us.” I told him about Shani’s meeting with his mother. “She thinks Shani vandalized the gym to get revenge on Coach Lawson. Jason, she kicked Shani out of Temple.”

  Jason gasped. “Whoa, that’s pretty hard-core. Shani must be going crazy.”

  “Yeah, she is,” I said, waiting for him to make the connection on his own. But when he remained silent, I had to wade in further. “There is something you can do to help, though. . . .” I shot him a pleading look, hoping he would offer what I needed without me having to ask. No such luck.

  Jason brightened. “Name it.”

  I just stared at him, my frustration growing. Wasn’t it obvious? “Maybe if somebody talked to your mom,” I said finally. “I don’t think she’d listen to me, but . . .”

  Jason’s face turned cold, and he shifted his body so he was facing me and our shoulders were nowhere near each other. “But what?” he said.

  “But maybe if you told her how great Shani is . . .”

  He stood up abruptly and strode out onto the track. “So, like . . . is that the only reason you’ve been hanging out with me?” He turned around suddenly, his face crumbling. “So you could get me to make my mom do stuff for you?”

  “What? No!” I cried, leaping to my feet. “Of course not. I just thought maybe she would listen to you and reconsider.”

  “Ana, I can’t get involved. My mom’s job is her job. I’m just another student here.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked a stray rock onto the track. “Do you have any idea how weird it is for me sometimes? Every girl here knows I’m the principal’s son. I try to tell them that I don’t have any say over my mom’s school decisions, but that doesn’t stop them from asking me to pull all kinds of strings for them. Later curfew privileges, grade changes, access to the jet to go on shopping sprees in Europe—you name it. I’m used to not knowing if a girl is talking to me because she wants to be my friend or because she wants to get to my mom through me. But I never thought I’d have to worry about that with you.”

  The accusation stung. I couldn’t believe he was lumping me in with all those other girls who obviously didn’t care about him the way I did. “But I’m not asking for anything silly,” I pleaded. “We’re talking about Shani. She’s getting kicked out for something she didn’t even do.”

  Jason looked up at the stars, down at the gravel beneath his feet—everywhere but at me. “I know it isn’t fair to Shani,” he said, “but that doesn’t make it okay for you to use me.”

  Now hurt—worse than any eagle could inflict—began to bubble up inside me. “I’m not a user, Jason. That’s not me. I wouldn’t ask at all if it weren’t important. Can’t you just ask your mom this one time . . . for me?”

  Jason shook his head, and his eyes grew dark. Though he’d looked angry before, now he just seemed disappointed in a way that I would never be able to make right. He let out a hollow laugh. “I’m such an idiot,” he said in almost a whisper. “All this time, I thought you liked me.”

  I watched helplessly as he strode away from me, toward his house. I kept my eyes on him as his figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance, eventually blurring because of the tears in my eyes.

  I was a total failure. Jason would probably never speak to me again—and come noon tomorrow, Shani would be gone.

  chapter 6

  Shani

  I DIDN’T REALLY BELIEVE I was going, until I saw the cab pull up outside the student center at noon sharp, just as Principal Ferris had promised.

  I got to my feet. “I think my ride is here.”

  Principal Ferris had given my friends permission to miss classes so they could spend the morning helping me pack. I’d pretended the whole time that we were just heading for a fun vacation somewhere. But now there was no denying that I was the only one going anywhere—and I wouldn’t be coming back.

  “I’m going to miss you so much, roomie,” Doli said, spreading her arms for a hug.

  “Right back atcha, boss lady.” I wrapped my arms around her, and Ana and Lin piled on until the four of us were one big lump of arms. When we pulled away, I saw that Ana was crying.

  “This feels so wrong!” she said, rubbing at her eyes.

  “No argument here,” I agreed, struggling not to cry myself. I didn’t want to make them feel any worse, but it was hard to hide how gutted I was. “This bites,” I admitted, “but really, there was no other way it could have gone.”

  “What are we supposed to do now?” Lin adjusted the bun on her head.

  “Hey, we still have technology. I promise, I’ll totally e-mail you guys twice a day—and I’ll text if I can. I’m still not sure what kind of service I’ll have in Mumbai, but I’ll figure it out.”

  “And we’ll keep you updated on whatever happens with the Brotherhood of Chaos and the temple,” said Doli.

  “You’d better. I may not go here anymore, but I’m still a Hunter, and we’re still a team. Besides, Ferris told me this morning that if I keep my grades up and my nose clean, she might let me come back next year.”

  “Really?” Ana said, a trail of tears drying on her face. “That’s great. I wonder what changed her mind. . . .” She trailed off with a faraway look in her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but at least this means there’s hope.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed that, though. Not really. I had tried so hard this year—I’d gone to all my classes and done well on my tests. I’d even done my homework! And for what? I’d ended up getting kicked out anyway. Even when I’m not looking for it, I thought, trouble just seems to find me. It was like a curse I couldn’t break.

  Together we rolled my bags out to the cab. The driver piled the luggage into the trunk while my friends hugged me again, and this time we all cried—even Lin. What was happening to me? I didn’t do mushy. Before I knew it, the car had pulled away, leaving Temple Academy behind. As I stared out the window at the desert sands blowing in the breeze and the sun rising high over the
mountains, I felt completely lost.

  Now what?

  Outside the Mumbai airport, it was as crowded as the New Mexico desert had been empty. As I wheeled my luggage toward the passenger pickup area, pushing through the crowd, I tried my best not to pass out. It had always been hot at Temple Academy, but this was a whole new level of heat. Already my shirt was soaked with sweat, and my head throbbed as people shouted all around me and car horns blared. How was I supposed to find my father in this mess?

  I wandered aimlessly for a while, taking in all the new sights and smells—jasmine, curry, coffee—wondering if this strange place would ever feel like home. Finally I spotted a man in a white cotton shirt and matching pants holding a sign with my name on it. I headed straight for him and gave him a dead-eyed stare as I shoved my luggage toward his free hand. “He couldn’t be bothered to come get me himself, huh?”

  Looking unfazed, the man rolled my suitcase toward the curb. “Your father sends his regrets,” he called over his shoulder. “He’s a very busy man with important matters to tend to, but he said to tell you that he’ll be home in time for dinner.”

  “Whatever,” I said, annoyed and a little hurt that I didn’t rank as an important matter. Still, at least Dad had agreed to let me come. Mom hadn’t wanted to see me at all—at least not yet. So she had sent me to my father. It was something they’d been doing since they’d divorced when I was little. Anytime one of them got tired of dealing with me, they’d ship me off to the other parent, like a long-distance game of Ping-Pong.

  The driver, who told me his name was Hemant, navigated us through the streets in his small black car, weaving through the traffic, which seemed to follow no pattern at all. We passed through packed sections of town filled with brightly colored tin roofs and barefoot children, which slowly transformed into neighborhoods with wide-open streets, two-story homes, and towering apartment buildings.

  Hemant dropped me off in front of a tall glass building with terraces dotting the front. He took my suitcases out of the trunk and handed them over to the doorman, who stacked them onto a rolling cart and wheeled them inside. Then he passed me an envelope and said, “The key to the apartment is inside. It’s number 14H. The doorman will show you. Welcome to Mumbai.”

  I followed the doorman inside, taking in the gold and silver accents and marble floor. I guess this is the kind of swanky place you get to live in when you’re a big-time diplomat. After the doorman brought my luggage into the apartment and told me to call downstairs if I needed anything, I closed the door behind him, grateful to have a minute to myself. I hadn’t seen my father in a long time—not since he’d left Egypt to serve as a diplomat in Mumbai. But we e-mailed every week, and I couldn’t wait to see a friendly face.

  In the meantime I decided to give myself a tour of the apartment. Then maybe I’d find out if they had Wi-Fi. I walked through a formal dining room, which reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. My stomach growled like Lin in tiger form. I was sure my dad wouldn’t mind if I raided his kitchen. I walked into the kitchen, aiming for the refrigerator, but it was already open, with someone peering inside.

  I gasped. “Dad?”

  An Indian girl around my age screamed and lifted her head above the stainless steel door of the refrigerator. She was wearing a maroon-and-white school uniform not too different from the one I wore at Temple. “You scared the daylights out of me,” she said in English. Her accent sounded like a mixture of Indian and British. It lilted up and down, the consonants crisp and clipped. “What’s your problem?”

  Huh. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so different from Temple after all. I seemed to have already found the Mumbai version of Lin. The old Lin, at least. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I—I must have the wrong apartment. I couldn’t see you behind the refrigerator, and I thought you might be my dad.”

  “Oooh,” the girl said, closing the door and leaning against the refrigerator. “You must be Youssef’s daughter, the criminal mastermind.”

  I inclined my head, trying to decide if I should be offended. I figured I’d been called worse. “Guilty as charged,” I said. “I’m Shani. And you are?”

  But in true Mumbai-Lin fashion, she didn’t answer. Instead she sauntered over to me with her mouth in a grim line and her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Listen, Shani, there’s one thing you need to get straight right away if we’re going to get along. You’d better keep your criminal mitts off my stuff. Just because we’re sharing a room doesn’t mean we’re sharing anything else, understand?”

  “Share—a room?” I sputtered. “Why would we do that?” Who was this girl? Was she the daughter of a live-in maid or something? Even if that were the case, why would we have to share a room?

  Before she could answer, the lock on the front door snicked open and my father came hurrying into the apartment.

  “Shani!” he cried, rushing forward to give me a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it here before you. I tried, but the traffic was terrible.”

  “You call that traffic?” I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “It’s more like some kind of vehicular thunder dome.”

  Dad, still sharp with his wavy salt-and-pepper hair and rimless eyeglasses, laughed as he pulled away. “I’ve missed your sense of humor. And this haircut—is it new?”

  I nodded. “It was an experiment.”

  “A good one,” he said. “It suits you!”

  I smiled. “Aw, thanks, Dad. Oh, and by the way, who is this?” I pointed a finger at Mumbai-Lin.

  Dad’s face went slack, as if he’d been hoping to put off this unpleasant business just a little bit longer. “Right, yes . . . Shani, I probably should have told you this sooner. . . .”

  The girl whirled on him, her chestnut hair swishing around her long, narrow face. “You mean you didn’t even tell her yet?” She rolled her eyes. “No wonder she’s acting so confused. I thought maybe she’d suffered a brain injury.”

  “Tell me what?” I demanded.

  Dad shifted nervously. “I was going to tell you at parents’ weekend next month, but . . . well . . .”

  Just then a beautiful Indian woman around the same age as my mom walked in the door. She had unlikely green eyes and skin the color of wet sand. Her hair was dark with blond highlights, and she had on long dangly earrings. She stopped next to my dad and linked her arm through his. That was when I noticed the large diamond ring on her left hand.

  “I got married,” my father said finally. He gave me an awkward smile and glanced at his bride adoringly. “This is your new stepmother, Sonia. And you’ve already met your stepsister, Kiah.”

  Kiah shook her head and bit out a laugh. “Didn’t even tell her,” she mumbled again under her breath. “Classic.” Then to me she smirked and said, “Welcome to the family . . . Sis.”

  But it felt like I was anything but welcome.

  “Look at that,” my father said with forced cheerfulness, ignoring Kiah’s tone. “You’re bonding already. Shani, Kiah will show you to the room you’ll be sharing from now on and get you all settled in. I think you’re going to like it here.”

  Kiah gestured for me to follow her down a long hallway with rooms on either side. She finally stopped at the last door on the left. Before she turned the doorknob, she glanced at me warily and said, “Remember. Hands off my things, understand?”

  “I understand,” I replied. I understand that your computer’s going to catch a really bad virus as soon as you leave the apartment.

  For the first five minutes of dinner that night, we ate in total silence. If you looked up “awkward dinner” in the dictionary, you would see a picture of the four of us huddled around a fancy granite dining room table, barely touching our veggie korma and basmati rice. But I’d never been great at holding my tongue—and that problem had only gotten worse since I’d found out I had a lion living inside me who happened to have a bit of an anger-management issue.

  “Can you pass the naan, dear?” Sonia asked my da
d.

  “Of course, my love,” he said, kissing her hand before passing her the basket of warm bread, his gaze lingering on her face. Sonia leaned toward him and kissed his cheek.

  Across from me, Kiah groaned. “They’ve been like this ever since the wedding,” she said. “You’d think with all the kissing they did at the reception, they’d have gotten it out of their systems by now.”

  “You were there?” I asked.

  “Of course. I was the maid of honor.”

  A spark of anger ignited in me. So Kiah had been in the wedding, while I hadn’t even known it was happening? That was the last straw. I finally slammed my fork down onto my plate, sending bits of rice scattering across the table. “How could you not tell me you got married, Dad?” I yelled. “And don’t say you never found the right time. You e-mail me every week. Every week! You don’t think in one of those e-mails you could have skipped the part about the weather and, I don’t know, told me you went and got a whole new family?”

  Dad set his own fork down next to his plate. He’d clearly known I would blow up about this eventually. He just hadn’t known when. At least he had the sense to look ashamed of himself. “I was going to tell you,” he said. “But it seemed like the kind of news I should tell you in person.”

  “So you let me walk in here and get ambushed?”

  Dad started to respond, but Sonia placed her hand over his as if to say, Youssef, let me handle this. “Shani, you’re not being fair to your father. He really was planning to tell you when he saw you for parents’ weekend, but . . .” Her eyes slid to the side, clearly not wanting to say anything distasteful that would offend me. Good thing Mumbai-Lin had no such hang-up.

  “But then you ruined that by becoming a real criminal and getting expelled from your school,” Kiah finished for her mother.

  “Kiah!” Sonia scolded. “Manners.”

  Kiah let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, Mother. What I meant to say was, your father’s plans were foiled when you experienced a lapse in judgment that resulted in your relocation to our loving home.” She smiled sweetly at her mother. “Better?”