Shadow Hills

by Anastasia Hopcus

  “How is—Hey!” Graham cut himself off to yell at someone walking by our table. The guy was tall and scrawny—his narrow chest all but disappearing under his oversize T-shirt. His arms were like a scarecrow’s stick limbs, all points and angles. With his scruffy light brown hair and sort of zoned-out expression, he reminded me of Shaggy from Scooby Doo.

  “This is Brody Kincaid,” Graham introduced the Shaggy look-alike. “You, of course, remember Toy, and these lovely ladies are Adriana and Phe.”

  “Hey.” Brody gave a small half wave as he sat down. His clothes had the definite musty smell of cigarettes, but I also detected the faint hint of pot emanating from his person. Brody looked at me for a second, then screwed up his face as if he was trying to figure something out. “Are you Persephone?”

  Okay. This was getting beyond strange.

  “Yes.” I eyed him warily.

  “I thought so. Zach was telling me about you.” Brody took a sip of the soda in his hand. “Said you were cool.” The mystery of my identity solved, Brody turned back to Graham. “So, you going to the SAC tonight for that movie slash pizza party shit?”

  “Yeah.” Graham answered him. “It’s better than dorm study.”

  “Well, if it’s either one or the other, I guess I’m going, too,” Adriana added.

  “It should be fun.” Toy smiled at her. “They’re showing two Tim Burton films.”

  “Are you making an appearance?” Adriana cocked an eyebrow at me.

  The picture of the gold key flashed across my mind again. They had said the library would be closed tonight; it might be the perfect time to figure out what was up with this secret archives room.

  “I don’t know.” The faint outline of a plan was forming in my brain. “I have some homework I have to do.”

  By the end of the day it was glaringly obvious that I was going to have to do a lot of homework unless I wanted to flunk all my courses. I was practically the only one taking notes during the lectures, and what made it doubly embarrassing was that half of the students hardly paid attention. I’d also seen people in various classes scan through their books, glancing at each page then quickly moving on to the next, as if they were taking a snapshot of each one.

  Finally, I was driven to ask Graham about it as we left the only class we shared, computer science. He just shrugged and said, “Townies.”

  “So everyone not listening is from Shadow Hills?”

  “Well, probably not everyone who isn’t listening,” he conceded. “But the ones who don’t pay attention and still manage to get good grades are townies. It’s pretty annoying, actually. While I’m in my room studying, they spend the afternoons in the SAC playing pool.”

  “And they can pass these ridiculously hard classes? Are they super intelligent or what?”

  “I guess.”

  “Doesn’t that strike you as weird? A whole town of smart kids?”

  “Yeah. But not everyone from Shadow Hills goes to school at Devenish. There’s a public school. We must get only the high-IQ students. A lot of them are the children of doctors and researchers at the hospital, so I guess it makes sense. Plus, they must teach some kind of speed reading in elementary school.”

  “So the flipping through books at the speed of light deal—that is the way they read?”

  “I guess. I’m not friends with any of them except Brody. And he doesn’t do that.”

  “Brody’s a townie?” I asked in surprise. “I thought he lived on campus.”

  “He does. His parents are dead. I’ve never really talked to him about it; he’s not big on the sharing. Brody’s kind of strange.”

  “He’s not the only one.”

  I was glad that advanced photography was my final class. It was a combined course, covering 35 mm and digital photography, and I’d done both before. I sat down at one of the two-seater tables in the back, and at the last minute someone slid into the seat beside me. It was Zach.

  “Okay, class. I am Professor Sherwood.” Mr. Sherwood stood. He was tall and husky, and the way he wore his tie tucked into the vest of his three-piece suit made his round belly more noticeable. His tie with the little turtles on it, together with his jovial expression, gave him a sweet look in spite of his size.

  But that didn’t make it any easier to concentrate on what he was saying. I was painfully aware of Zach—the faint scent of his light sandalwood-based cologne, the heat from his body. It felt like there was an electric current running between his thigh and mine. Zach shifted in his chair, and though his knee didn’t touch mine, it was almost as though his energy bumped into me. Yeah, ’cause that’s not a crazy idea or anything. I tried to turn my focus back to Mr. Sherwood’s explanation of the course.

  “… then we’ll change gears and do some work in the ‘wet’ darkroom. You should already know the basics, so you’ll be allowed to develop pictures on your own.”

  Sitting next to Zach was making me antsy, like I’d drunk too much caffeine. I wanted to jiggle my leg, but every time I did my chair rattled. I glanced over at Zach. He was staring straight ahead, the veil of his ebony hair obscuring his eyes from me. I thought about what I’d heard in the library earlier. Not the weird stuff, but the fact that he’d said he thought I was hot. Yet now he wouldn’t even look at me.

  Mr. Sherwood set down his chalk and turned around to face us. “The person sitting at the table with you will be your partner for the rest of this semester.”

  I stole another look at Zach. He happened to glance over at me at the same time, but he turned back to the front before I had a chance to smile at him.

  “I’d like you and your partner to go out into the courtyard and shoot a digital portrait experimenting with depth of field. You have until the end of class.”

  The awkwardness that had hung between us at our shared desk was still there when we got outside.

  As everyone else started to spread out, I turned to Zach, trying for a nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone. “Why don’t we start here? You can stand in front of this tree.”

  “Sure,” he agreed quickly, probably relieved that I wasn’t grilling him like yesterday.

  I positioned him so that the shadows from the tree branches were falling where I wanted them. My hands tingled where they rested on Zach’s shoulders, and something tugged at my mind. I was dizzy and disoriented, like I’d just stepped off a tire swing.

  It seemed as if vibrations from Zach’s body were intertwining with vibrations from mine. He gazed at me, his pupils huge. He probably thinks you’re insane. And maybe he’s right.

  Now, concentrate on the assignment. His eye line is too low; it’s going to throw shadows on his face. The steeple on the chapel would be a good focus point.

  “You want me to look at the steeple on the chapel?” Zach asked before I could even open my mouth to suggest it.

  “Yeah.” I narrowed my eyes. “How did you know that?”

  “Umm …” Zach looked around like he might find the correct answer to my question written on the sidewalk. “I could just feel the shadows on my face. I figured it would be good to look up.”

  Zach’s tone was majorly lacking in conviction. Still, it was a better explanation than the alternative: that he had read my mind. That was even more impossible than all the other impossible stuff I’d thought he was doing. Well, except maybe for the dream thing. I itched to ask him what was going on, but there were people all around us. Instead, I held the camera’s view-finder up to my eye and concentrated on taking the pictures.

  When it was my turn, Zach had me sit cross-legged on the ground, leaning up against the tree. As a cool breeze brushed my hair back, I closed my eyes. The light-headedness that had gripped me earlier faded into a tranquil calm. Zach was quiet and worked quickly. Before I knew it, we were back in the classroom. Mr. Sherwood went around to each table with a laptop and USB-connection cord to inspect the students’ work. Since I’d picked the table in the back of the room, he got to Zach and me last.

  “Very nice,” he compl
imented me as he scrolled through the pictures on his laptop. “You have a good sense of light, and your images are crisp and clear.” He handed my camera back and plugged in Zach’s.

  I watched as Mr. Sherwood looked over the images. The pictures Zach had taken were amazing. In one, Zach had caught me brushing a lock of hair from my face, and you could see every detail of my hand—the faint trace of blue veins, the chipped nail polish. Mr. Sherwood paused on a photo of me with my eyes closed, hair blowing out behind me from the breeze.

  “Now, this is exceptional,” Mr. Sherwood complimented Zach. “The way you have captured this moment, you can almost feel that wind on her face.”

  “Thanks.” Zach said, avoiding looking in my direction.

  Mr. Sherwood unplugged the camera and placed it in front of Zach and then went back up to the front of the class. As he finished his lecture, I kept thinking about Zach’s pictures. They were so strange to me. I’d never thought of myself as a photogenic person. My sister had always been the one who shone in our family portraits. But in Zach’s pictures, I had looked … beautiful.

  “Phe?” Mr. Sherwood caught my eye as I was packing up my stuff to leave.

  “Yeah?” I looked up.

  “We have your advisor meeting on Friday, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Great.” He smiled. “Remarkable work today, by the way.”

  My cheeks flushed.

  “Thanks, Mr. Sherwood.”

  As I stepped out of the building an involuntary shiver ran through me, and I whipped around to see if someone was behind me. There were several students walking by, but no one seemed to be watching me. I had almost convinced myself I was being paranoid when I heard a voice call out my name.

  I turned back to find Zach’s cousin from the bookstore leaning up against a tree, staring at me. “It is Persephone, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I looked at him quizzically. He pushed himself off from the tree and strolled over to me. His movements were sinuous. “How do you know my name?” He definitely didn’t hear it from Zach’s dad. There had been a distinct lack of introductions.

  “I’m in your psych class,” he answered smoothly. “But we haven’t formally met. I’m Trent Redford IV.”

  He grasped my hand in a firm shake, and again I felt the dizziness I had experienced earlier when I put my hand on Zach’s shoulder. Except this time, it made my bones ache. It was like the shock I had received from Corinne, but stronger, deeper.

  What we are. Zach’s words floated back to me. Trent was related to them; maybe he was what they were. Maybe all the townies, with their high IQs and speed-reading skills, were “what they were.” Whatever that meant.

  “I usually go by Phe.” I worked to keep my voice steady, but Trent was staring straight into me and gripping my hand even more tightly than before. The large ring he wore dug into my skin. This no longer felt like a handshake. He was holding me in a vise grip, one I knew I couldn’t break, even if I tried.

  “Phe. That’s … cute.” Trent smirked, still not letting go of my hand. “I’d like to get to know you better, Phe. At the back-to-school dance. The Saturday after next? You can be my date.” It was more a command than a request.

  Trent may have looked like a young Chris Pine, but he still made my insides lurch. There was something off about him, something wrong. My leg muscles were contracting, building pressure, preparing me to flee from him.

  “Uh, I don’t know …” I thought about my beautiful new dress from Flirt. I wanted to go to the dance, but not with this sadistic-seeming person. Plus, I had this irrational hope that Zach would ask me, despite all these mysterious “reasons” why we shouldn’t be dating. Part of me wished he would break the rules—no matter the consequences. “I have to check with Adriana. We talked about going stag. But, you know. Together.”

  Trent cocked his head, looking me up and down. “If I were you, I would be careful not to bet on the wrong Redford. Some of us are much more likely to break the rules—no matter the consequences.” He smiled, but it was empty; Trent was baring his teeth. “Think about my invitation. It’s not a bad way to start off the year—on the arm of the most eligible bachelor in school … See you tomorrow, Goldilocks.” Trent winked and, finally releasing my captive hand, walked away.

  My hand was on fire, and the spot where his ring had made contact with my skin was bright red and splotchy. My mind whirled, and I felt as if I might faint. I walked unsteadily to the edge of the building and rounded the corner so I was sure Trent couldn’t see me before I allowed myself to crumple to the ground. How did Trent happen to say exactly what I’d thought?

  When I got back to the dorm, I changed out of my uniform and washed my face. I immediately felt more like myself, not as shaky and freaked out.

  Whatever was up here, one thing was certain. I needed to study. This was not a school I’d be able to coast in, and if I flunked out I’d never see Zach again. But no more than an hour later, I already needed a study break. There are probably Ivy League colleges with a less rigorous curriculum. As I flipped through a magazine, my mind wandered back to my encounter with Trent. It was another very strange incident to add to all the other peculiar things that I had seen since I got to Shadow Hills.

  I thought again of the archives room that I’d overheard Zach and Corinne discussing in the library.

  Grabbing the guidebook off my desk, I thumbed through it carefully, looking for any mention of an archives room. Nothing. I went over to my dresser and pulled the welcome packet off the top. It wasn’t on any of the maps either. What kind of school had a secret locked archives room? They must have something of great value in it. And I was willing to bet it wasn’t a first edition Moby-Dick.

  The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that at least some of the answers I was looking for must lie in that archives room. It was like the gold key in my dream had been pointing me to it. And tonight would be the perfect time to try to find it, while everyone was at the movie and the library was closed. Surely that was where the room was located, and luckily I knew where I could get a key to the library: Graham.

  I seriously doubted that he would carry that gigantic key ring with him to the movies. I can sneak into his dorm room and try to find it after he leaves.

  I realized that it was an insane plan, but I couldn’t sit around and do nothing.

  Graham had written his name and room number down when he had first given the welcome packet to me—Garrettson Hall, Room 216. Good, that shouldn’t be hard to find. My room was 116, so if the dorms were the same, as they looked on the outside, Graham’s room would be at the end of the hall on the left, like mine, only a floor higher.

  A knock at my door pulled me out of my reverie.

  “Yeah!” I called, sticking the map back in the folder and tossing it aside.

  Adriana stuck her head in.

  “You ready to go to the SAC?”

  “I’m actually not feeling so good.” I rubbed my stomach in a show of pain. “I think I’m going to stay here.”

  “What’s wrong?” Adriana’s expression was concerned. “Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’ll be okay. I just have a stomachache.”

  “Okay. Text me if you need anything,” Adriana told me before leaving.

  I waited a few minutes, then followed her. The stone pathways outside were deserted. Everyone was either at the movies or studying in their rooms. There were several lights on in Garrettson, Graham’s dorm, probably boarders trying to memorize their textbooks to keep up with the townies. I pushed open the front door and stuck my head in.

  It was clear. I took a soft step into the lobby, one of my shoes squeaking against the tile floor. Shit. I slid off my Vans and dropped them into my oversize purse. Silently, I made my way along the hall, not even daring to breathe until I got to the stairs. I ran up them as noiselessly as I could, pausing for a moment outside Graham’s door. If he finds out I went into his roo
m and stole his keys, I could lose the first friend I made at Devenish. Was I willing to take that risk?

  I thought of Trent’s fiery grip on my hand. My weird dreams. My inexplicable connection to Zach. I have to know. I’d just make sure Graham never found out. I held my breath and turned the knob.

  The door swung open. I was in. My eyes canvassed the room. Where would Graham keep his keys? My first two attempts at his desk and bedside table both turned up nothing. My gaze fell on the dresser. I pulled open the top drawer, and my breath caught at the loud creak it made. Hopefully the guys on this floor are at the movie.

  There it was, a huge ring with about thirty keys on it. I shoved it into my purse and shut the drawer, pulling Graham’s door closed gently. Then I booked to the library. I had to get to the library, find the archives room, get into it, look around, and return to Garrettson to replace Graham’s keys—all before the film fest ended.

  Chapter Seven

  My hand shook as I tried the eighth key in the library door’s lock. I hadn’t counted on their being labeled in some code that only Graham understood. It seemed like I had been trying different keys for at least ten minutes, and I wasn’t even halfway through them. I glanced around, making sure nobody happened to be strolling along the path next to me. Finally, the eleventh key slid effortlessly into the lock. I turned it and heard a satisfying click.

  I was thankful for the emergency lights they left on at night. A lower level seems like a good place for a secret room. I checked behind the front desk. No doors leading down to a cellar. I’d have to check the perimeter. I jogged along the wood-paneled wall, looking for some kind of opening or door. I made it all the way around. Nothing. The longer I was in here, the more likely it was that I would get caught.

  I walked around the room again, more slowly this time. Maybe there was some kind of lever system, like you pulled on a certain book and it revealed a hidden entrance behind a panel somewhere. There was no way I could try every book in the library, though—I would be here forever. If I were going to be clever and hide a key or lever, where would I put it?