The goblin path, p.5
The Goblin Path, page 5
Her parents had opened the restaurant when Layla was five, and she’d been forced to spend every night there until she’d reached thirteen and they’d finally trusted her on her own at home. Most weekends she’d spent there too, only getting the chance away whenever Blair’s dad let her come over—which was as frequently as they were able to get him to.
“Blair, what the hell happened?” Ian asked as he slid into the seat next to Layla, shoving her backpack out of the way as he did.
She hadn’t even realized they’d made it to his house yet, the last stop because he lived the closest of all of them to the school.
“We’ve already heard the story, dude,” Layla told him with a shrug. “Should have gotten here sooner.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” he replied back with a roll of his eyes and a pointed adjustment of his glasses.
* * *
The first half of the day passed surprisingly normal. Blair kept expecting to see Wren staring her down across the hall or something equally awkward and intrusive, but she’d yet to see him at all. Not even a glimpse. She might have been wrong, but she was pretty sure she passed by him on her way to third period on the regular, yet she’d been unable to spot him today.
Was there a chance he was avoiding her? Maybe she’d pissed him off more than she’d thought with that comment about his uncle.
By the time lunch rolled around Blair had decided to stop caring. Really, she should be glad she hadn’t run into him yet, because how was she supposed to act like everything was normal when she knew he wasn’t even human?
That thought gave her pause as she was bringing her lunch tray over to an empty table. Just because she was now aware that Wren was a goblin, that didn’t actually change him at all, did it. He’d been a goblin before, and she just hadn’t known. Which meant, really, he was the same arrogant jock she’d always considered him to be.
It was just, there was maybe a little bit extra to him now. The part about this she should be focused on, rather than the goblin aspect of it all, was the fact she was going to have to pretend to actually like him.
Or, maybe she wouldn’t, since he was more than likely avoiding her like the plague.
“Blair,” Oliver came up on her side so suddenly she jumped a little, sending the plastic silverware on her tray rattling. “Whoa, are you okay? Why are you standing here?”
She blinked and glanced around, realizing she’d been spacing out. So much for acting like everything was normal.
“It’s nothing. Where do you want to sit?” she asked, noting the empty table she’d been heading toward was now occupied.
He motioned to one by the windows with his elbow. “Let’s go over there.”
Almost as soon as they’d settled, a group of students entered the cafeteria together, drawing the attention of most of the occupants, including Blair. It didn’t take her long to pick Wren out from the rest of the varsity jacket crowd.
He was surprisingly not scowling, instead listening intently to something Kennedy, the head cheerleader rumored to be his girlfriend, was saying. When he laughed, Blair’s eyes actually widened a fraction before she could help it.
It wasn’t like she’d never heard him laugh before either, sure he was mostly broody, but he was popular and had a ton of friends, most of whom he clearly enjoyed the company of. What really got her, though, was how different it sounded from any of the mock chuckles he’d given her Saturday night. If it hadn’t been painfully obvious then that he hadn’t actually found her funny at all, this moment in time definitely hit that home.
That, and the next instant, when he suddenly glanced up, caught her watching, and his grin turned into a glare sharp enough to cut through diamond.
“What’s up with that?” Oliver asked, and Blair quickly looked away, feigning intense interest in her mushy mashed potatoes.
“What?”
“That look he just gave you.”
She shrugged a single shoulder. “Who knows. That reminds me though, I was wondering how soccer is going?”
Oliver tilted his head, brow furrowing. “Soccer?”
“Yeah,” she waved her spork in the air, “you know, that sport you play?”
“Sure,” he nodded, “I actually know it better as that sport you don’t care about though. Why are you asking?”
“Because I care about you, silly.” Blair flicked one of her peas at him, and it landed in his fries.
“What up?” Ian appeared and took the seat next to Oliver, spoonful of food halfway to his mouth before his butt even hit the chair.
“Blair’s being flirty-weird again,” Oliver said, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Which means she’s keeping a secret.”
“Am not!”
“To which accusation?” Ian spoke around a mouthful of potatoes, swallowing quickly so he could continue. “The part about flirting like a weirdo or the part about having something you don’t want us to know?”
“I threw food at him, how is that flirting?”
“Oh,” he spun towards Oliver, ignoring her, “it’s probably got something to do with the forest. She was in there a while, I bet she had to use the bathroom behind a tree or something.”
The idea of them thinking about her using the bathroom in any capacity, outside or otherwise, made her blush. She felt the warmth staining her cheeks in a split second and before she could cover it up somehow, they noticed.
Ian laughed, almost choking on a bite of his cheeseburger, a glob of ketchup plopping out the end.
“Shut up,” she growled, flicking a pea at him now for good measure in a move she was still positive wasn’t even remotely flirty.
“That can’t really be it?” Oliver asked, chuckling a little himself. When she glared he held up both hands. “Okay whatever, I’ll drop it. Let’s just talk about soccer, since you’re suddenly so interested.”
“Ew, can we not?” Ian didn’t really care either, truth be told. Actually, it kind of had to suck to have three best friends all uninterested in the sport.
“You’re coming to our next home game,” Oliver reminded him, pointing his spork at him and making a threatening stabbing motion in the air. “You promised. I went to your band thing.”
“It was the home coming game,” Ian stated. “You came for football.”
“Sure but I could have left at halftime,” he said, “instead I stuck around and watched your show. That counts. You’re coming.”
“Who’s being flirty-weird now?” Blair joked, laughing when both of them turned on her with affronted looks.
“No way, dude,” Ian held up a hand, “I wouldn’t date you if you were the last guy on the planet.”
“Oh come on,” Oliver threw an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him in for an obviously too tight hug, “I’m great. You’d be lucky to have me. In fact, I should call your boyfriend up and tell him as much right now.”
“Get off.” He shoved at him. “Go right ahead. Dylan will agree with me anyway.”
Blair was only partially listening to them, distracted by Wren, who she could see over their shoulders.
He and his friends had gotten their food and were crowding around two tables, sliding seats close enough all of their shoulders were touching and their arms were crushed a bit. Though he was offered a place in the center of all that chaos, Wren took a spot on the end, settling down next to another guy from the soccer team.
This time, when he looked up and caught her staring, he didn’t bother with the glare.
He was just completely expressionless.
* * *
“Hey,” Layla bumped shoulders against Blair as they walked down the halls toward the front entrance, “you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell in the woods? You’ve been out of it all day.”
The bell had just rung signifying the end of school, and they were currently being swept forward with the crowd of other students eager for freedom. Usually, Blair would be just as excited to call it a day as they were, but she was too busy fretting over the last couple of periods and how odd they’d been.
After lunch, she had two classes in a row with Wren. She’d sort of assumed that they’d interact in them, just a little, that he’d give a hint or a clue, say something, to indicate everything that happened Saturday night was real and he was following his moms orders. And yet…
She’d spent more time staring at the back of his head—first in fifth period, then sixth— than she had the board, and there was nothing to show for it other than the faint idea that maybe Layla had a point.
Had she hit her head harder than she’d thought? Had she wasted her entire Sunday researching goblins because of a hallucination?
It’d felt so real…?
But Wren hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction during classes, almost like meeting her gaze at lunch had been a coincidence. He was acting like he usually did.
Ignoring her.
Since when did something normal bug her more than the idea of something crazy—like goblins?
Blair sighed and was about to tell Layla that she wasn’t sure any more, when they turned the corner and she came to a stop.
In order to get to the main entrance, they had to pass by the front office, a space with a row of windows that overlooked the hall. There were many students milling about, both within and out of the office, but one person in particular caught Blair’s attention.
If it’d all been a hallucination, then how was Linden currently visible within the office, standing in front of the front desk?
The Goblin Kingdom had been the only place she’d ever seen him before, and he’d been wearing different clothes then as well. Gone was the all black ensemble, instead he was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans tucked into brown workmen’s boots and a mustard colored t-shirt.
“B?” Layla tapped her arm, glancing into the office, clearly trying to figure out what had captured her attention so quickly. “That a new kid?”
As if he somehow heard her through the glass and over all the voices, Linden paused in the middle of a sentence with the secretary and turned towards them. His eyes met Blair, and he smiled wide, waving at her enthusiastically with one hand while he shook the guy next to him with the other.
Wren, who’d up until that point had been facing the opposite direction and was playing on his phone, glanced over. His gaze sharpened when he spotted Blair, and behind his cousin’s back, he gave a subtle shake of his head.
She frowned, not sure what he was trying to tell her, not that it mattered. Linden was already sliding a folder off the countertop and heading towards the glass doors to greet her.
“Blair!” he called her name loud enough it turned heads, practically sprinting out of the office and down the hall where she was still frozen in place. “Hey! I was hoping to run into you today.”
“Oh.” That was stupid, she knew it was, but people were still watching and she was still dealing with the seesaw of emotions going through her. This had to prove, without any doubt, that Saturday night had in fact happened. So that was one thing checked off her to do list, she supposed.
She felt kind of dumb for doubting herself just because Wren had ignored her.
“Oh?” Linden repeated, pressing a palm over his heart. “You wound me, Blair.”
“Dude, shut up,” Wren ordered, moving up to his cousin’s side. He twisted around so he could lean back against the window, hands in his pockets. A couple students who passed by called out his name and received a curt head nod.
Blair barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
On her left, Layla laughed lightly into her hand.
“Did I mess it up?” Linden asked Wren. “Isn’t that the type of thing the hero of the story says to the fair maiden?” He leaned in as if to share a secret with Blair, though the volume of his voice never wavered. “My cousin loves that junk.”
“I said shut up!” Wren snapped to attention, shoving Linden with enough force to jostle him.
He balanced on one foot to keep from falling completely over, laughing the entire time. “All right, all right.”
“He’s funny. I’m Layla,” she held her hand out, waiting.
“Linden.”
“Aren’t you cold, Linden?” She motioned down to his short sleeves.
“I’ve got thick skin.” He smirked, staring just a little too long at her friend for Blair’s liking.
Pointedly, she cleared her throat.
“How do you two know each other?” Layla asked, dutifully letting Blair back into the conversation. Before either of them got the chance to answer however, she saw Kennedy heading towards them over Linden’s shoulder. “Great. Make way for her royal bitchiness.”
Blair elbowed her lightly in the side, looking over towards Wren. Everyone knew the two of them were dating, and the last thing she needed was for him to have another reason to be pissed at her.
Surprisingly, the corner of his mouth was tipped up, almost like he’d found the comment funny.
“Wren!” Kennedy didn’t spare the rest of them a glance as she approached, hips twisting purposefully to show off the black and silver trimmed cheerleaders uniform she was wearing. “I’ve been waiting for you by the gym for like ever.”
When she finally reached them she frowned at the office. “What are you doing here?”
Linden snapped his fingers suddenly, instantly gaining all of their attention at once. “That reminds me.” He dug into his back pocket and removed a cell phone, handing it over to Blair who snatched it faster than she could blink.
“Oh my god.” She pressed her thumb to the home screen button and sighed in relief when it immediately came on, no glitches or strange marks. Her screen protector wasn’t even cracked. Clutching the device to her chest, she told him, “I rescind my earlier, ‘oh’, and replace it with a far more appropriate, ‘Linden, it’s so good to see you’.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” He held up his hand, and even though it was a little odd, and they’d only met twice, Blair found herself responding, slapping her palm against his in a high five.
“Where’d you find her phone?” Layla asked, checking the device in Blair’s hand as if to confirm herself it was the right one. “I thought you lost in it the woods?”
“Nah,” Linden shook his head, “she left it our place. Wren found it this morning.”
“Our place?” Kennedy stated, reminding the three of them that she was still standing there, practically toe to toe with Wren, who’d immediately returned to his lax position leaning against the window. “What was she doing at your house? And who are you?”
“His cousin,” Linden said, some of the friendliness fading from his tone. “Who are you?”
“She’s the head cheerleader,” Layla answered for her, the comment layered with a hint of mockery. It wasn’t that Layla had a problem with cheerleading, it was Kennedy she didn’t like. Maybe she was even a bit envious, though Blair would never say as much out loud.
Layla used to be on the squad, had been a cheerleader ever since Middle school and had loved it. Last summer, her dad had hurt his back and been hospitalized. Her mom had needed more help at the restaurant in order to keep it afloat, and as a result, Layla had had to quit the team. Originally, she’d planned on returning this year but as soon as she’d discovered that Kennedy had taken the head spot—the one Layla would have gotten if she’d been able to attend Cheer camp—she’d changed her mind.
Blair wondered if she missed it, but Layla never gave any hints to the affirmative. On the outside, her friend didn’t appear to regret her choice in the least.
“That sounds about right.” Linden nodded his head slowly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kennedy crossed her arms and popped out a hip.
“Nothing, just that you’re Wren’s type, that’s all.”
“Oh.” She smiled, the ice queen act dropping away as quickly as it’d come.
Linden blinked once and turned back to Blair. “Why do girls keep doing that to me today?”
“It’s your face,” Layla circled a finger around her own then gave him a thumbs up. “It’s a very ‘oh’ worthy face.”
“Thank…you?”
“You’re welcome.”
The corner of Wren’s mouth turned up again, and for a split second, Blair felt a flash of jealousy towards Layla for making him smile.
Blair seemed to only be capable of making him glare.
“You’re kinda weird,” Linden said, then canted his head in thought, “or maybe I’m kinda weird.” He turned to Wren. “Is this normal?”
Wren lifted a shoulder, clearly uninterested.
So of course Kennedy felt the need to fill in an answer with a grunt and a muttered, “Please. As if.”
“And that would be our cue to go.” Blair reached out to grab onto the side of Layla’s arm before she could attack Kennedy—it wouldn’t be the first time she got into the other girls face over one snide comment or another.
“You’re leaving?” Linden actually sounded disappointed.
“The bell rang and school is over so…yeah.”
“Huh.” He smiled. “Guess since I’ll be starting tomorrow, I should start learning these things.”
“Have you never been to school before?” Layla asked, ignoring the look Blair sent her.
“I was homeschooled,” he explained.
Layla grinned and rocked on her heels. “Oh.”
“Okay, now we’re definitely leaving.” Blair tugged her back into the center of the hall, hoping the traffic, though it had thinned considerably since they’d started this mess of a conversation, would pull them in the right direction.
As in, away.
“I’ll walk you out,” Linden said, but had only managed a single step before being yanked back by his cousin. He stared down at Wren’s hand on his arm then glanced up at him. “What?”
“They know where the exit is,” he replied after a brief hesitation, clearly struggling for an excuse.
“It’s called being polite.”
“Right,” Wren said dumbly, then straightened from the wall a second time, “I’ll go with you.”
