"You're seventeen, and in less than a year, someone's life and death will be in your hands." His voice still sounded firm, but there was a gentleness there too. "If you were human or Moroi, you could have fun. You could do things other girls could."
"But you're saying I can't."
He glanced away, and his dark eyes went unfocused. He was thinking about something far away from here. "When I was seventeen, I met Ivan Zeklos. We weren't like you and Lissa, but we became friends, and he requested me as his guardian when I graduated. I was the top student in my school. I paid attention to everything in my classes, but in the end, it wasn't enough. That's how it is in this life. One slip, one distraction..." He sighed. "And it's too late."
A lump formed in my throat as I thought about one slip or one distraction costing Lissa her life.
"Jesse's a Zeklos," I said, suddenly realizing Dimitri had just thrown around a relative of his former friend and charge.
"I know."
"Does it bother you? Does he remind you of Ivan?"
"It doesn't matter how I feel. It doesn't matter how any of us feel."
"But it does bother you." It suddenly became very obvious to me. I could read his pain, though he clearly worked hard to hide it. "You hurt. Every day. Don't you? You miss him."
Dimitri looked surprised, like he didn't want me to know that, like I'd uncovered some secret part of him. I'd been thinking he was some aloof, antisocial tough guy, but maybe he kept himself apart from other people so he wouldn't get hurt if he lost them. Ivan's death had clearly left a permanent mark.
I wondered if Dimitri was lonely.
The surprised look vanished, and his standard serious one returned. "It doesn't matter how I feel. They come first. Protecting them."
I thought about Lissa again. "Yeah. They do."
A long silence fell before he spoke again.
"You told me you want to fight, to really fight. Is that still true?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"Rose...I can teach you, but I have to believe you're dedicated. Really dedicated. I can't have you distracted by things like this." He gestured around the lounge. "Can I trust you?"
Again, I felt like crying under that gaze, under the seriousness of what he asked. I didn't get how he could have such a powerful effect on me. I'd never cared so much about what one person thought. "Yes. I promise."
"All right. I'll teach you, but I need you strong. I know you hate the running, but it really is necessary. You have no idea what Strigoi are like. The school tries to prepare you, but until you've seen how strong they are and how fast...well, you can't even imagine. So I can't stop the running and the conditioning. If you want to learn more about fighting, we need to add more trainings. It'll take up more of your time. You won't have much left for your homework or anything else. You'll be tired. A lot."
I thought about it, about him, and about Lissa. "It doesn't matter. If you tell me to do it, I'll do it."
He studied me hard, like he was still trying to decide if he could believe me. Finally satisfied, he gave me a sharp nod. "We'll start tomorrow."
TEN
"EXCUSE ME, MR. NAGY? I CANT really concentrate with Lissa and Rose passing notes over there."
Mia was attempting to distract attention from herself - as well as from her inability to answer Mr. Nagy's question - and it was ruining what had otherwise been a promising day. A few of the fox rumors still circulated, but most people wanted to talk about Christian attacking Ralf. I still hadn't cleared Christian of the fox incident - I was pretty sure he was psycho enough to have done it as some crazy sign of affection for Lissa - but whatever his motives, he had shifted the attention off her, just as he'd said.
Mr. Nagy legendary for his ability to humiliate students by reading notes aloud, homed in on us like a missile. He snatched the note away, and the excited class settled in for a full reading. I swallowed my groan, trying to look as blank and unconcerned as possible. Beside me, Lissa looked like she wanted to die.
"My, my," he said, looking the note over. "If only students would write this much in their essays. One of you has considerably worse writing than the other, so forgive me if I get anything wrong here." He cleared his throat. " 'So, I saw J last night,' begins the person with bad handwriting, to which the response is, 'What happened,' followed by no fewer than five question marks. Understandable, since sometimes one - let alone four - just won't get the point across, eh?" The class laughed, and I noticed Mia throwing me a particularly mean smile. "The first speaker responds: 'What do you think happened? We hooked up in one of the empty lounges.' "
Mr. Nagy glanced up after hearing some more giggles in the room. His British accent only added to the hilarity.
"May I assume by this reaction that the use of 'hook up' pertains to the more recent, shall we say, carnal application of the term than the tamer one I grew up with?"
More snickers ensued. Straightening up, I said boldly, "Yes, sir, Mr. Nagy. That would be correct, sir." A number of people in the class laughed outright.
"Thank you for that confirmation, Miss Hathaway. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the other speaker then asks, 'How was it?' The response is, 'Good,' punctuated with a smiley face to confirm said adjective. Well. I suppose kudos are in order for the mysterious J, hmmm? 'So, like, how far did you guys go?' Uh, ladies," said Mr. Nagy, "I do hope this doesn't surpass a PG rating. 'Not very. We got caught.' And again, we are shown the severity of the situation, this time through the use of a not-smiling face. 'What happened?' 'Dimitri showed up. He threw Jesse out and then bitched me out.' "