Free Residue by Laury Falter

or one of the other cousins would orient me to the school grounds.
    As we pulled into park, I noted that this school resembled my old academy, albeit on a smaller scale. The campus housed red brick buildings dripping with ivy and expansive, lush lawns, bringing on a pang of sadness and the reminder that I needed to make a call to my friends soon.
    Spencer found a spot to park in a vacant row and the rest of my cousins’ sports cars fell in line next to it. I stepped out, still holding my canvas bag, and taking in the campus.
    “ Oh no…” Spencer said across the car’s roof. “Not that one. That’s for later.”
    Then he swung a laptop bag over his shoulder and rounding the car to replace the canvas bag in my hand with a laptop of my own.
    “ This,” he said heaving the canvas one across the backseat to settle next to his, “won’t be needed until after school.” He looked up to find my bewildered expression and explained, “That one is used for casting classes in The Quarter which start after school.”
    “ For extracurricular?”
    “ Sort of,” he replied as if having no other way to describe them.
    “ Come on,” Estelle called out, already strolling toward the school’s entrance with the rest of my cousins, the sash of her deep purple shirt trailing behind her.
    We reached two double glass doors and entered the school’s main hall together. Had the doors not been shaded, had the morning light been angled slightly different, what transpired next may never have occurred.
    I’d been right behind Oscar, close enough that when he came to a sudden halt just inside I nearly collided with him. Although I’m not sure he would have noticed.
    His attention was on six others directly in front of us.
    They all had the same sandy blonde hair and were all close in age to each other as well as to me and my cousins. And they all wore an agate stone, one of the oldest stones in recorded history and one thought to be worn for protection.
    None of this mattered much to me because the butterflies had returned.
    Stepping around Oscar, I came in to full view as Jameson turned to face us.
    “ Hi,” I said, excited to meet again and trying not to show it.
    His stunning translucent green eyes settled on me and didn’t move. “Jocelyn…” he stated softly, apprehensively.
    His tone was different today. It was restricted. And it instantly made me suspicious.
    Then all eyes were on us, swinging from me to him and back to me again.
    It was Estelle who asked what seemed to be on everyone’s mind. “You two know each other?” There was an edge to her voice.
    “ Yes,” I said, having no idea why I felt like I’d just broken a rule.
    “ How?” Oscar demanded. At the sound of his tone, the feeling I’d crossed a boundary grew more distinct.
    “ In the French Quarter, yesterday. Jameson showed me around.”
    “ First name terms, ha?” scoffed a girl next to Jameson, who gave her a swift glare for it.
    My defensiveness kicked in then. “That’s really none of your business.”
    The girl stepped forward but was also held back.
    “ You showed her around?” demanded a stout boy on Jameson’s side of the line, inquiring just as harshly with him as my cousins were being with me.
    Jameson didn’t respond right away. He remained rigid, his eyes boring in to me, guilty, seeming to apologize. But there was no reason for it. He’d done nothing wrong.
    “ Jameson,” snapped the girl, insisting on an answer.
    “ Don’t raise your voice to him,” I ordered, knowing that I was stirring up the fight.
    The girl was about to retort when Jameson responded. It was subdued but stiff and unyielding. “She didn’t know who I was.”
    His eyes never wavered from me.
    “ Did you know who she was?” urged the girl.
    He drew in a deep breath, unwilling to answer.
    After another forceful prompt from the girl, he growled in warning, “Enough, Charlotte. Yes, I knew she was a Weatherford.”
    There were gasps from both sides at his