“Why don’t you take it? Join me and the two of us can build a bigger arsenal.”
He lifts a brow. “And here I thought that’s exactly what I have been doing.”
“What does that mean?” I demand.
But he’s already turning away, already walking away, and I’m left staring after him.
As usual.
Damn it.
Something tells me this boy—and his world-famous disappearing act—is going to be the death of me.
19
We Came,
We Fought,
I Froze
“Jaxon Vega, huh?” Flint asks as the cold slaps me in the face for the second time today.
“Don’t start,” I say, giving him the side eye.
“I’m not,” he answers, holding both hands up in mock surrender. “I swear.” He’s silent for a minute or so as the three of us concentrate on trudging through the snow toward everyone else. And can I just say that I’m pretty sure Macy undersold the crowd when she said fifty people. Even in the weird civil twilight that surrounds us on all sides, it looks more like a hundred, maybe even the whole damn school—minus Jaxon and his friends, of course.
On the plus side, at least they’re all wearing hats and scarves and coats…which I’m taking to mean that not everyone in this place is an actual alien. Thankfully.
“I just didn’t know ‘screwed-up and obnoxious’ was your type, that’s all.”
I shoot him a glare. “I thought you weren’t starting.”
“I’m not. I’m just looking out for you. Jaxon is—”
“Not screwed up.”
He laughs. “I notice you didn’t even try to say he wasn’t obnoxious, though, did you? And no offense, Grace, but you’re new here. You have no idea just how fucked-up he is.”
“And you do?”
“Yeah. And so does Macy. Right, Mace?”
Macy doesn’t answer, just keeps walking and pretends like she doesn’t hear him. I’m beginning to wish I could do the same.
“All right, all right, I get it.” Flint shakes his head. “I won’t say anything else against the Chosen One. Except tell you to be careful.”
“We’re friends, Flint.”
“Yeah, well, take it from someone who knows. Jaxon doesn’t have friends.”
I want to ask him what he means by that, considering Jaxon’s got the Order, and they seem pretty damn close to me, but we’ve reached the first row of trees, where the others are gathered. Plus, I’m the one who just said I didn’t want to talk about Jaxon. If I start asking questions, that gives Flint carte blanche to say whatever he wants, and that doesn’t seem fair, since Jaxon isn’t around to defend himself.
Flint walks into the middle of the group like he owns the place. Then again, judging from the way the others respond to him, maybe he does. It’s not that they all come to attention, necessarily. It’s just obvious that they all really want him to notice them…and they all really want to hear what he has to say.
I can’t help wondering what that kind of popularity is like. I don’t want it—would probably melt under the pressure of it in less than twenty-four hours. But I do wonder what it feels like. And how Flint feels about it.
I don’t have long to dwell on my thoughts, though, because Flint gets started giving a quick rundown of the rules—starting with one that sounds an awful lot like there are no rules, except it’s followed by the one that says if you get hit by five snowballs, you’re out—and then disperses the crowd. As the five-minute countdown starts, he grabs Macy’s and my hands and starts running with us toward a large thicket of evergreen and aspen trees several hundred yards away.
“We’ve got two minutes to find a good spot,” he says. “Another two and a half to get things together. Then it’s open season.”
“But if everyone finds a spot, who will we have to throw sno—”
“They won’t,” Flint and Macy interrupt me at the exact same time.
“Don’t worry,” Flint tells me as we finally reach the trees. “There will be plenty of people to wage war on.”
Wage war? I can barely breathe. It’s a combination of the high altitude and cold air, I know, but I can’t help feeling self-conscious about the way I’m huffing and puffing. Especially since he and Macy both sound like they just finished a leisurely garden stroll.
“So what do we do now?” I ask, even though it’s fairly obvious, considering Flint is already scooping up snow and making it into balls.