The Broken Window Part 13

"Undoubtedly."

"I'm guessing he didn't do it for kicks." Jedrick simply nodded, and the redhead drummed his fingers on the side of his phone. "The enemy doesn't need a reason to create havoc, but Adin's different than most. What's he after?"

Jedrick spread his hands wide, begging ignorance. "Shimron believes their sole goal may have been the release of this one demon."

Baird shook his head. "The Fallen don't help each other; they use each other. Freeing that big fella was hardly charity on Adin's part, which means there's another goal."

"Agreed."

"Given everything else that's gone down, I think you should warn the one in the most danger."

"Prissie?"

The redhead's brows shot up. "Seriously?"

"We have been Sent to support Tamaes," Jedrick pointed out, green eyes intent.

"No doubt!" Baird agreed. "And she totally needs looking after, 'cause the fallout's gonna be a doozy, but I doubt Adin is turning heaven and earth upside down for her sake."

The Protector's expression grew thoughtful, then grave. "Your words ring true, which means ..."

Baird's gaze drifted northward as he finished his captain's hanging thought. "Adin's probably looking for Aril."

By the middle of the next week, Grandpa and Grandma Olsen finished packing and provisioning their RV, and the whole family was up extra early to see them off before school. "We must take flight before this weather gets any more serious," Grandpa Carl declared, dramatically tossing the end of his scarf over his shoulder. "The reports say you'll be kicking up more winter in these parts. If we stay any longer, we'll be drifted in 'til spring!"

"Smootchies!" Grammie Esme demanded, starting the rounds of goodbyes. She went around the room twice-once for hugs, once for kisses-before announcing, "We left a little something for your stockings with your Momma, so think of us at Christmas!"

The chorus of promises and porch-side waving continued until their big rig rumbled out of view, bound for the highway and points south. It all left Prissie feeling a little wistful, but she was startled to notice tears in Koji's eyes. "What's the matter?" she asked in concern.

"I have discovered that I do not like goodbyes," he confided softly.

"n.o.body does," she retorted.

"Unless it's to someone you're glad to shake loose," interjected Neil, who clapped the Observer's shoulder on his way back to the kitchen, clearly aiming for a second helping of breakfast. "Then it's good riddance!"

Curious, Prissie asked, "Who would you want to get away from?"

Her older brother shrugged. "Pests."

"There's always one," Prissie's homeroom teacher muttered as she added a glitzy package to the pile of gifts on the table in the back of the cla.s.sroom. Everyone had been instructed to wrap their white elephant gifts in either newspaper or plain brown paper, but the latest contribution arrived in gaudy green-and-red wrappings. It stood out from the crowd, and Prissie felt sorry for it. She could sympathize.

Most of her cla.s.smates had opted for casual attire since they only had a half-day before being released for winter break, but she'd kept with tradition and wore her Christmas dress. She felt uneasy with her decision because everyone seemed to think she was trying to draw attention to herself. Some of the ruder comments stunned her, but they also made her furious. No one made fun of Elise for dying her hair or Marcus for always wearing his leather jacket. Why was a nice dress worse ... or even something worth teasing about?

"Where'd you get that?" Elise demanded in disdainful tones.

"My grandmother made it," she replied curtly.

"It's homemade?" her cla.s.smate asked, looking her up and down. "How weird. You people even make your own clothes."

Prissie had no words for the spiteful girl, so she cast a hopeless look at Koji, who'd joined her by wearing his shirt and tie. She appreciated the moral support, but it was small comfort. He simply wasn't drawing the same unwelcome attention, and she envied him his providential ability to fade into the background. Keeping her head high, she strode to her seat.

Just then, Ransom ambled into the room and remarked in pa.s.sing, "I don't remember that one."

She stiffened, waiting for some sly follow-up, but the teen just dropped into his seat and turned to Marcus. How odd. He hadn't paid her a compliment, but he'd noticed her dress. Ransom's opinion meant nothing to her, but it still made her happy that he'd been not-rude. Cheeks flaming, Prissie turned in her seat and fixed him with a surly glare.

He did a double-take and quirked a brow. "What's up?"

"Thank you," she muttered, turning her back again.

His silence was followed by a low murmur of voices that Prissie did her best to tune out. Right as the bell was ringing, Ransom tapped her shoulder, and whispered, "Say, Miss Priss."

She turned her head just enough to hiss, "What?"

"Marcus wants me to tell you that he thinks so too."

"Thinks what too?"

Ransom blinked abashedly. "Well, c.r.a.p. He got me."

Prissie frowned at the Protector slouched in the desk kitty-corner behind hers, but Marcus didn't react.

"Well, fine. Whatever," Ransom grumbled. "You look nice, so don't listen to the ones who say otherwise."

For the second time in the s.p.a.ce of two minutes, Prissie found herself at a loss for words. The world was probably ending. Yes, that was the only possible explanation for the bane of her existence to turn out to be considerate.

As usual, Prissie's party contribution included two big boxes of cupcakes from her father's bakery, and they were welcomed with enthusiasm, especially by the boys. To her relief, Ransom never brought up the fact that he'd handled the icing. He only ate them one after another, grinning over the teasing he received. "Best cakes in town come from Mr. Pomeroy's place!" he boasted.

"He's like a walking billboard for Loafing Around," she complained to Koji.

The young Observer nodded thoughtfully. "He is not ashamed."

In addition to the baked goods, there were chips and pretzels and two-liter bottles of soft drinks. The health nuts in their cla.s.s were satisfied with a veggie tray and a bushel basket of apples from the Pomeroy's orchard. April and a couple other girls set up a coffee bar in the corner, which turned out to be the most popular of all the refreshments.

"Oh. Em. Gee! Could this be more boring?" drawled Elise, earning a chorus of snickers. She shot a look in Prissie's direction with a smirk that spelled trouble.

Prissie sighed and wondered why the pouting girl hadn't skipped school.

No matter what Elise or the other students said, Prissie liked the gift exchange part of the proceedings. It was fun and funny to see what everyone had brought. When April opened her package, she turned her gift over and around, clearly mystified. "What is this thing?" she asked.

Prissie authoritatively announced, "It's a ricer. You press boiled potatoes through it."

Her friend fiddled with the handle and asked, "Why?"

"Obviously, to get rid of lumps," she explained. "Or if you serve potatoes riced, they have a pretty texture."

"It looks more like a giant play dough toy!" someone heckled.

"Everyone knows mashed potatoes come from a box!" another kid offered.

Prissie shook her head at their ignorance. It wasn't as if the ricer was that unusual. Grandma Nell used theirs all the time! When Prissie's turn came, she rescued the poor, misunderstood implement, giving April the chance to try for another mystery package.

Some of the prank gifts were awful, and others were awfully funny. Silly trinkets. Broken oddments. Unwanted clutter. Ransom whooped with laughter when Marcus opened a box that contained a pink mug with Daddy's Little Princess printed on the side. The whole cla.s.s yowled when Ransom turned around and opened a lumpy package containing a battered fedora. He donned the hat, tilting it at a rakish angle and defying anyone to try to take it from him.

Prissie was honestly enjoying herself until one of her cla.s.smates opened the gaudy little attention-getting package and lifted out a turquoise blue diamond of gla.s.s, framed by translucent marbles in shades of blue and green.

Koji's hand reached out, but she s.n.a.t.c.hed hers away before he made contact. There was no way she was letting Elise see her clinging to him for comfort. Head high, she did her best to tune out her cla.s.smates' comments as the noisy game continued, for many were vying for the pretty sun-catcher. No one wanted the ricer she cradled in her lap, so it was safe. But the gift Prissie had given Margery for her birthday at the end of summer was quickly pa.s.sed from one pair of hands to the next.

Prissie stole a peek at her former best friend, but Margery was whispering with Elise. Jennifer looked as if Christmas had come early, but April's face was pinched with concern. She met Prissie's gaze squarely and whispered, "There must be some mistake."

Koji and Marcus traded a long look, and then the Protector leaned close to Ransom and said something that lifted his eyebrows. Prissie doubted she could take any further embarra.s.sment, so she slipped from her chair, quietly excusing herself to the refreshment table. She caught her teacher's eye, pointed at the door, and mouthed a request for the bathroom. The last thing she saw before making her escape was Elise's smug smile.

Maybe she was selfish. Maybe she'd been naive. Either way, Prissie had hoped that Elise was just another of her old friend's many fads. Margery was supposed to come around, see the error of her ways, and apologize so that everything could go back to the way it had been. But for the first time in her life, Prissie realized that wanting something wasn't going to change anything.

Somehow, she pulled herself together enough to return to the cla.s.sroom and endure the time that remained before they were bussed home. On her way out, Marcus called, "Prissie, wait!"

She couldn't disobey the Protector, especially since Koji grabbed her hand and dug in his heels, preventing her from bolting. With a weary sigh, she faced Marcus. "What?"

He held out a clumsy bundle of tissue. "This is important to you."

Just enough colored gla.s.s stuck out at the edges for her to know what his offering contained. "Who says?" she demanded, keeping her hands at her sides.

"April explained." Marcus lowered his voice. "She wanted you to know that Margery doesn't know how this ended up in the exchange."

Prissie felt sick. She hadn't even rated an apology, just a third-hand excuse. "You're a Messenger now?" she asked sarcastically.

"Seems like," he replied with a shrug. "Take it."

With an injured look, she whispered, "I don't want it either. You keep it."

Marcus hesitated, then nodded. "I'll keep it safe for you," he promised as he tucked it into his pocket.

"Funny how the weather down here isn't half so bad as ours," Beau remarked.

"How much snow didja get?" asked one of his youth group buddies.

"Our place is drifted under."

"Whoa, lucky!"

Beau protested, "Not when you're the one trying to keep the walkways clear!"

Prissie hid her smile under her scarf. Poor Beau. Unlike the rest of her brothers, he really didn't care for the out-of-doors. He dragged his feet whenever ch.o.r.es took him away from his books or computer.

The latest storm seemed to have stalled right over West Edinton, and the boys had been shoveling since sunup. A little ways away, Tad yawned hugely. Prissie had half-expected him to beg off of the Wednesday night service, but he'd insisted that he wanted to take part in the caroling beforehand. She wondered if he really wanted to be here, or if he just hadn't wanted to disappoint Koji. Tad could be thoughtful like that.

"I wish to greet Kester," Koji whispered, giving her a hopeful look.

"Go ahead. I'll be right here when you get back."

"Indeed. I will return shortly."

He darted toward the tall Worshiper, who was stationed off to one side of the group, and she automatically searched for Kester's mentor. Baird might be a little flighty, but he turned out to be pretty good at herding cats. Prissie supposed that part of it was that this was the third caroling go-around, so most of the youth already knew the routine, but there was no denying that the Worshiper could hold a crowd's attention. This evening, the redhead wore a ridiculous, rainbow-striped hat with a huge yellow pom-pom on top, so even though he was shorter than more than half the crew, he was easy to spot. "Just follow the bouncing ball," she murmured wryly.

"Yeah ... bouncy," agreed a voice just behind her shoulder.

Glancing back, she did a double-take. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not even sure, to be honest," Ransom replied in an undertone. "Your brother invited me."

"Which one?" she asked, mystified.

"Neil."

"And you're humoring him because ...?"

"Curiosity, mostly," he admitted. "Your dad talks this place up, and that band was pretty good when they played in your barn."

"Oh," she replied. "So ... do you sing?"

"Not very well," he admitted with a shrug. "You?"

"Not very well," she grudgingly confessed.

"Then what are you doing here?" Ransom asked, turning the question around on her.

Prissie frowned thoughtfully; there were a lot of possible reasons. Practically speaking, her older brothers had wanted to go caroling, and they were her ride. Also, while Koji hadn't said anything specifically, she knew he was eager to take part, and he would never have come without her. But mostly, she'd wanted to hear her angelic friends sing. Baird, Kester, Milo, and Koji were all present and accounted for, and their harmonies lifted her heart like nothing else. Giving her braids a toss, she declared, "I guess because it sounded fun."

"Go figure," Ransom replied with a smirk. Glancing around, he said, "If this turns out to be any kind of fun, I might try to drag Marcus along next week. Maybe some of the other guys."

"Really?"

"Why not? I don't think Joey sings, but I know Brock is pretty good. He'd probably come just for the cocoa."

Fleetingly, Prissie wondered what had happened to Koji. He could have rescued her from carrying on a conversation with Ransom ... not that it was so bad. With a jolt, she remembered that Ransom probably didn't know anyone except her and her family. A small smile crept onto her face as she remembered one of her father's favorite sayings: "Knowing the Pomeroys is like knowing half the crowd."

Just then, an exuberant redhead sidled up to them, cheerfully greeting, "Miss Pomeroy! Mr. Pavlos! Glad you could make it!"

"h.e.l.lo, Baird," Prissie replied, shaking her head at his whimsical formality.

"How would you like to join our rhythm section tonight?" Looking both ways, he leaned closer. "Kester totally refused these, but it'd be a shame if they went to waste!"

"Jingle bells?" she asked, picking up a set and giving it a gentle shake.

"Yup!" he exulted, pushing the second set onto Ransom. "You can ring-ting-tingle all over the place! It'll be all seasonal!"

"Now I remember!" Ransom blurted, shaking a finger at the redhead. "I remember you!"

"From that day in the barn?" Baird ventured. "Beau Pomeroy's birthday gig?"