Sleeping Beauty by Maureen McGowan Read Free Book Online Page B

dainty doll for him to put on display for boys. She’d show Miss Eleanor what she thought of her grooming lessons. With short hair, she’d look even more like a boy than she already did. Maybe then the school would see her slayer
potential. Maybe she’d reenroll in the Slayer Academy under a new secret identity—Luke.
    Somehow, she’d make everyone see that she needed to train, even though no one could know why it was so important.
    She cut off another chunk of her hair, close to her scalp, and furrowed her brows. Her eyebrows might be thick and ugly, but no way was she letting Miss Eleanor’s tweezers within ten feet of her face. The other girls all looked permanently startled with their overplucked arches.
    â€œLucette, what in the world are you doing?”
    She spun away from the mirror to see her mother standing in the doorway, her face stricken with concern. But Lucette refused to cave in to her mother’s obvious hurt. She turned back to the mirror and sawed off another chunk of hair. Her father hated her for not cooperating on his matchmaking project. Miss Eleanor hated her for not playing nice at school. That tall, handsome boy Tristan hated her for being careless in the gym. Now her mother could hate her, too. She didn’t care.
    â€œGo away, Mom! Leave me alone.” She shut the door to the bathroom and continued to hack away at her hair.

    Two weeks later, things still hadn’t turned out as she planned. In spite of her new haircut, the teachers had not let her train with the boys, and Miss Eleanor forced her to wear an itchy wig at school. Worse, her haircut had broken her father’s heart. He could barely look at her now, yet still insisted she meet boys every Friday night.
    But Lucette wasn’t one to let rules interfere with what she wanted. She peered through the posts of the balcony railing and studied
Tristan. He trained here every day at three o’clock, once classes were over, and she never missed it. From up in the balcony where he couldn’t see her, she copied his actions, learning as much of his training routine as possible.
    After watching his last sequence, she leaped, spun, and kicked into the air. Without a real stake or the straw dummy to strike, it was difficult to tell if she had used enough force or if her form was correct, but it felt good. She felt strong, having developed so many new muscles since beginning this shadow-training regimen.
    Tristan threw a spear down the length of the gym to impale a straw dummy. With nothing to throw, Lucette wound up and launched an imaginary spear, visualizing it sailing through the night air to pierce a vampire’s heart.
    â€œWhy don’t you come down and try with a real spear?” Tristan called, and Lucette froze. He had seen her.
    â€œCome on,” he said. “I can hear you up there and I see your shadow. Your form on your roundhouse kick is getting better. Pretty good, considering all you’re attacking is air.”
    She stepped up to the railing and, after drawing a deep breath, leaned over to see if he was serious. If he were mocking her, she’d try out one of those real spears—on him.
    He smiled and ran a hand through his short blond hair. “Come on down. I don’t bite.” He flashed a wide smile.
    â€œNo,” she said, “but you do tackle.”
    He chuckled. “Hey, I saved your life. The least you could be is grateful.”
    â€œYeah, well, if they’d let me train as a slayer, then maybe one day I could pay you back and save your life.”

    He laughed again and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not if you stay up there.”
    Excited, she headed for the stairs. If he was serious about helping her train, no way was she going to turn that down.
    â€œHey,” he called up before she reached the first step. “Do you want to be a slayer, or not?”
    She walked back to the railing and looked down at him. “Why else would