Family Secrets

D. Rodriguez - 2

I hear a low laugh behind me. It makes me grit my teeth as I continue marching forward.

"Not gonna ask what I find so amusing?" Ilarion asks. I swear I can feel his heat behind me; he must have sped up too.

Resisting the urge to turn, I manage to make it to the gym, "Gym," I say, gesturing while barely slowing down.

"For all of us or just for you Weildon?" he asks.

That makes me pause. I've never thought about it before, but the Weildon do dominate the gym. "Um, mostly Weildon, I guess. The others use it during school if there's like rain or snow or something, but... yeah, except PE and those days, it's mostly Weildon."

"Surprise, surprise," he mutters, crossing his arms. Wayden, his arms. I'm not tiny, and Juan and Eliseo are monsters, but is jacked.

I manage to pull my eyes up in time to see him studying me. He quirks a brow, "Like what you see?"

"Just sizing up the competition," I say quickly, turning my back on him. I silently pray he didn't hear how breathy I was. Why do I feel so strange, so out of control? Why do I want to stare at him, touch him, just be near him?

Behind me I hear a heavy sigh, "Not much bigger than average, I'm afraid."

I glance back at him, "Dude, you're huge for a Giftling."

"Not where it matters," he grins self-deprecatingly.

"What?"

He looks down pointedly, then meets my eye, "Big enough, but not monstrous by any stretch of the imagination."

I feel the heat of my embarrassment rising up my neck into my cheeks even as my eyes dip to look—

No!

I jerk my gaze away, demanding my stalled legs to move again. The quicker I finish this little impromptu tour, the quicker I'll have time to think about this, to regain my sanity, to figure out some counter to his weird spell.

"Hey! Can you... slow down?"

I glance back at the breathy question, then stop fully when I see how red-faced Ilarion has become. Despite everything, I find myself asking, "You okay?"

"Asthma," he wheezes. "Normally... I'm good...but sometimes... stress and exercise..." he shrugs, hands on his knees as he gasps for breath.

"Shit," I whisper, my insides like ice. It doesn't matter if this guy bespelled me. If he ends up dying while he's with me—"What fixes it?"

"I have... an inhaler... bookbag."

"That's all the way across campus. What else?"

"Calm... cold... sit."

I pace for a second as I wrack my brain for a solution— "The old locker rooms! They're air conditioned."

I start that way then realize he can't follow. I turn back around, assessing, "Um, should I carry you?"

"Oh, Wayden..." he gasps, "why do you... try me so?... Yeah... Carry me... Weildon."

I scoop him up then immediately begin running, sprinting really, back towards the gym, my feet devouring the distance in seconds.

Once at the gym, I duck around the side, taking the cement steps down into the old boys' locker room.

As soon as I wrench the door open, we're struck with a blast of artic air.

Ilarion gasps. I hope that's a good thing.

Still moving fast, I don't stop again until I'm placing him on a padded bench underneath one of the vents.