Fates' Folly by Ella Norris Page B

two large windows and pretty much everywhere in-between. Where
there weren't shelves, the furniture acted as substitute, with
books stacked on every available surface and crammed into every
available space.
    "Somebody's a reader," I muttered to
myself.
    Giant Opie looked down at me, his top lip
curled in disgust again. "A man is known by the books he reads.
Ralph Waldo Emerson."
    "The more you read, the more things you will
know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go. Dr.
Seuss." Jackass.
    "Bartholomew," Riley said in greeting,
walking past me to stand in between The Trainer Extraordinaire and
myself.
    "Caisus," Bartholomew said, with a regal head
nod. "What did I do to deserve this mongrel pounding at my
door?"
    "Mongrel? Listen here you freakishly tall,
red-headed bastard-"
    I'm not sure what I had planned to do, but
just as I stepped around Riley, he pulled me back against him,
turned me so my left side was practically one with his chest and
tucked me under his arm.
    It took him less than five seconds. His voice
never wavered, nor was there any other indication that he had just
rendered me completely immobile and was still holding me in place
as he answered Bartholomew’s insulting question. "We've known each
other too long for theatrics, old friend. You know exactly why we
are here," Riley said.
    "Why me? Really Caisus, I think I've earned
the right to only accept the elite for my tutelage, and you bring
me…" he gestured to me, "this."
    I really didn't like this guy. "I really
don't like you," I grumbled into Riley’s chest.
    I was so pissed. I didn’t appreciate being
held like a disobedient child while the Jackass Extraordinaire
insulted me. I tried again to break Riley’s hold when suddenly he
let go.
    I did not miss my opportunity. I gave Riley a
quick elbow in the stomach and swung a fist at Bartholomew's ribs.
He blocked my hand. I kicked. He blocked my foot. I stomped on his
toe and kicked his shin. At least, that was my intention. He moved
his foot out of the way and grabbed mine, flipping me so that I
landed hard, very hard, on my ass.
    "I really, really don't like you," I
growled.
    Bartholomew ignored me, nodding at Riley,
holding out his hand. "I'll do it," he said.
    I stood up. "I don't want you to," I said,
now whining because my bum really hurt.
    "Thank you," Riley said, shaking
Bartholomew’s hand.
    I turned to Riley. "Why can't you do it?”
    "Bartholomew is the best," he said.
    I frowned.
    "Better than me," he said.
    "True," Bartholomew said.
    "He won't do a good job. He doesn't even like
me," I said, feeling a little panicked. I did not want to be left
with Barty the red headed Frenchman.
    "I always do a good job. Like has nothing to
do with it. However, I do think I will enjoy training you,"
Bartholomew said, with a smile that was so creepy it made my skin
crawl.
    "I know I'm going to regret asking this, but
why?"
    "Watching you fall on your ass was highly
entertaining, and I have a feeling you'll be doing it often."
    I thought about calling him a number of foul
names, giving him the finger, or my patented don't-mess-with-me
glare, which always worked well on high school students, but it was
no use. Bartholomew out matched me in wit- and probably intellect-
not to mention he'd probably throw me on my ass again.
    "Fine. But you'll have to work around my
school schedule, and though Friday is the last day for students, I
still have two more weeks of post planning."
    Bartholomew gave me a look of disdain.
    He said to Riley, "I'll get my appointment
book."
    I watched Bartholomew disappear through a
doorway. All of a sudden the apartment felt stuffy, and I felt too
tired to stand. I moved a stack of books off a little settee and
sat. I looked over at Riley who was intently staring at his feet. I
wondered if he was disappointed in me, then I mentally slapped
myself for the thought. Why the hell did I care what Riley, who –I
shouldn't have had to remind myself- I'd only known for less than