Dandelion Iron Book One Read Free Page A

covered her, but it was far too short to be New Morality. No, it was a party girl’s dress, and I immediately colored with embarrassment.
    Wren smiled at me. Lips curled. Eyes cold. She then hitched up the right side of her skirt and yanked out a Springfield XD Subcompact 9mm pistol from a holster Velcroed to her upper thigh.
    Truth be told, her evil smile scared me more than the handgun.
    Mrs. Justice gasped. The white washed out of her face even as red flushed her neck. “What are you doing?”
    “Well, Mrs. Justice,” Wren said slowly, “like I told you, I ain’t leavin’ without our money.”
    With my heart pounding, I gripped my slate like it was a shield. “Wren, no.” Not sure what I was saying no to, but it seemed like the logical thing to say. What money was she talking about?
    “Well, Cavvy, Mrs. Justice says that if you leave early she won’t reimburse us your tuition. I don’t think that’s fair, do you?” Wren popped the magazine out, snapped back the action, and then with practiced speed caught the bullet that ejected out the side. She regarded my principal. “Our conversation was making me tense. Firearms generally calm my nerves, but now that my little pistol ain’t loaded, there’s no reason for you to be scared.” She placed the pistol, magazine, and bullet on the desk.
    Same old Wren. I hadn’t seen her in four years, not since she was sixteen, growing into her talons and fangs. Watching her, though, it seemed like yesterday.
    Mrs. Justice didn’t say a word—too pale to talk. Guns do that to law-abiding people outside in the World. Inside, the Juniper was the Juniper, outside, for us, was the World, where electricity worked and there were actual laws.
    “Why would I be leaving early?” I asked.
    My sister shrugged, then, with that evil smile still on her face, she said, “Mama’s dead.”
    A sharp shock swept through me, too big for me to feel. So I studied my sister’s smile, would’ve taken a picture of it, just to figure it out. The words my sister said were hard, but her smile was harder.
    Mrs. Justice finally found her voice. “My condolences, Cavatica, for your mother. I know you two must both be grieving. However, that doesn’t excuse your sister for bursting into my office and demanding the rest of this year’s tuition. Moreover, I refuse to be intimidated. I know you both grew up in chaos, but Ohio has strict gun control laws, and our Academy has a policy of zero tolerance …”
    Her voice became a drone. I couldn’t stop looking at Wren, wondering if she was telling the truth. Mama dead? Couldn’t be. Women like my mama didn’t die. There were too many chores to do. Too much money to chase. Death didn’t dare touch a woman like my mama.
    “I’m calling security and the police.” Mrs. Justice got up and walked out. Wren and I didn’t move.
    “How’d she die?” It was a dumb question ’cause of course she was alive.
    “Heart attack. She got herself into big money problems, and then dropped dead. Now the ranch is in trouble, and Sharlotte …” Wren closed her eyes, shook her head, and grinned with hate. “Sharlotte said if I didn’t come and fetch you, she’d hire killers on me. But I wanted to come. It’s been a long time, Princess, and I was curious to see how you’ve grown. By the way, I for one appreciated your little display. That Becca Olson sounded like a real rich priss.”
    Standing there, I tried not to believe her, but my denial was draining away like sand under my feet.
    Then it hit me what Wren’s smile meant. Wren had issues with inappropriate emotional reactions, something we studied in my psychology class, but this was something more. Wren wanted to see my reaction, wanted to see what I looked like gutted and laid open by the news. For her, it was entertainment.
    Fury filled me. But anger is what psychologists call an iceberg emotion. Underneath the rage, icy sorrow and colder despair gushed and swirled. If I had to swim in that