Black and White [Icarus 01] by Caitlin Kittredge & Jackie Kessler

Author:Caitlin Kittredge & Jackie Kessler [Kittredge, Caitlin & Kessler, Jackie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780553906660
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2009-04-12T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 32

JET

We have declined to prosecute the Everyman Society as a whole in this instance.

Statement issued from the New Chicago District Attorney’s Office

FIVE DAYS LATER

“So then I say, I don’t know, go ask your mother!”

Were cracked up on the punch line, as usual, and Samson followed suit, ditto the usual. Even Frostbite and Red Lotus were chuckling. Iri exchanged a look with Jet that clearly said “Boys are freaking stupid” far louder than any words. Jet absolutely agreed.

But they were also really cute. At least, Samson was. And he was a toe-curling-good kisser. She tried not to blush as she ate her salad.

Iri reached across the table for the catsup. “You kissed your mother with that mouth, Were?”

“Just before I ate her, babe.” He howled laughter and high-fived Red Lotus, who almost spewed his lunch from laughing so hard. Samson and Frostbite snickered, even though Sam looked like he was trying not to (and failing miserably).

Iri elbowed Were in the ribs. “Gross!”

Jet didn’t get it, but she knew better than to call attention to that, so she took a cue from Iri and frowned at Samson until the big teen blushed redder than his skinsuit. Smiling sheepishly, he said, “Come on, Jet. It’s funny.”

She sniffed. “Must be a guy thing.” Then Sam blew her a kiss, and she giggled, utterly ruining her cold disposition.

An appreciative whistle from Were dampened Jet’s laughter. She glanced at the wiry teen, who was kicked back in his seat and had thrust one large, booted foot on the table—right next to his lunch tray. Yuck. How can he eat like that? His hands were propped behind his head, and he had a crap-eating grin on his face. The picture of insolence. His black skinner shimmered beneath the cafeteria’s fluorescent lights, much like Jet’s own skinsuit, but there was one crucial difference between a skinner and a skinsuit: Were’s costume morphed with him when he shed his human form. Couldn’t have a werewolf running around in an Academy-standard pre-Squadron outfit; that would be tacky. And expensive to clean. Not to mention bad PR.

Jet smiled to herself. She was getting positively cynical. She arched an eyebrow at him. “What?”

Were shook his mop of long, brown hair out of his eyes and grinned toothily at Jet. “I swear, babe, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you and Fright Night were bloodkin. You have his haughty cold shtick down pat.”

“If I were related to Night,” she replied—coolly, of course—“you better believe I’d freeze you with a look.”

“Hey,” Frostbite said, affronted, “that’s my line.”

“Signature quip,” Red Lotus agreed around mouthfuls of Salisbury steak. “He’s working on the patent.”

“You can’t patent a quip,” Iri said. “I checked.”

Frostbite rolled his eyes. “You would.”

“Hey, I’m just getting a leg up on Branding.”

“Yeah? What are you thinking of—doing the Snow White thing to the extreme?” He motioned to Iri’s black hair, her pale skin, her white unikilt with black piping. “Maybe getting Disney to sponsor you? You’d need cartoon forest creatures in your entourage.

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