"Oh—that's fine," I agreed distractedly. I glanced at the clock high up on the far wall. Just under three minutes remained before the bell rang and we all had to go to class. Just one more hour until school let out, when I had agreed to meet Ahaziel at the caves.
Ahaziel. The caves. Only now could I see how crazy I'd been yesterday. I felt awash with embarrassment, though no one knew what I had agreed to. The caves on the beach were isolated even during the summer, when the town flooded with tourists. Now, in the winter, Ahaziel and I would be basically cut off from civilization. He was probably planning to murder me and throw my body out to sea. If he'd really wanted to see me because he liked me, as I'd stupidly thought, he should have suggested going for lunch or coffee or something. Anywhere public. Anywhere people could see him and later testify against him in a court of law if necessary.
The shrill bell punctured my thoughts and I moved with the students flooding out of the cafeteria and into the quad. Dazed, I moved slower than everyone else and they surrounded me like rushing water.
As the last punctual students darted into their classrooms before the bell, leaving me in the halls with the stragglers, I decided not to go to government, my last class. Instead I made my way to the library, realizing I hadn't spent much time in there since becoming a freshman. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I'd ever visited it. It was really a miracle I was able to locate it at all. It was larger than a classroom but felt small with all the tightly packed bookshelves crammed along the walls. A few empty rows of long, narrow study tables striped down the center of the room. I paused, unsure how to proceed.
"Do you have a pass?" The librarian, Miss Garver, immediately descended upon me.
"Uh, no," I stammered, having failed to consider that she would know I wasn't supposed to be there.
"You'll need to get to class, dear. I'll write you a tardy slip."
"But I—" She turned her back on me, heading for her office. "I'd like to find out about Havelock Point," I called desperately.
Miss Garver turned, her face softening. Apparently she couldn't resist a student who wanted to learn. "Well, that's an interesting request, dear. There might be some small bit of information in a book about Victoria's history."
Her bespectacled eyes were distant as she searched the shelves in her mind. She nodded to herself, hands waving daintily in the air as I followed her up and down the aisles of books. Just as I began to think asking about Havelock Point had been an incredibly dumb idea, she turned around and handed me two books. One was a history of Victoria and the other was about Oregon's numerous lighthouses.
"These are reference books, dear," Miss Garver informed me, "so you can't check them out. Just return them to me when you're finished."
"Thanks," I said. As if I'd ever checked out a library book. I didn't like to read.
"And I won't be writing you a pass for this period, so this will still count as an absence in whatever class you have now."
Not caring about an absence, I sat down at one of the old, scratched tables to peruse the books. I had no idea what I hoped to find. I'd never thought about Havelock Point until Ahaziel had taken me there. And even though I couldn't forget how much the place creeped me out, I still wanted to know something about it.
The book on lighthouses was large and heavy but slim, with a gray fabric cover. Havelock Point barely got a mention and apparently didn't warrant a photograph. The lighthouse at what is now called Havelock Point was built in 1896, the book informed me. It featured a first order Fresnel lens. The light was visible for 20 miles out to sea. Mr. Esmond Havelock became the lightkeeper and ran the lighthouse for eight years. After his death in 1904, Victoria's usage of the lighthouse ceased and it was abandoned for an automated model.
Pretty much to the point, I thought.
The next book, rough and maroon-colored with browning pages, gave me the same information but also a brief mention that a fire had claimed part of the house in 1904. I wondered if that was how Esmond Havelock had died. The town of Victoria had rebuilt the burnt part of the house in the fifties, having planned to renovate the place and open it as a bed and breakfast, but the idea was never realized.
I closed the book and stared out the big window overlooking the school lawn, not sure if that information had helped me any. Or why I'd wanted to know it.
I pushed the books away and sat there, waiting for the last bell. Listening to the scratching of Miss Garver's pen as she did whatever school librarians did. Smelling a damp paper smell. My gaze was trained absently across the street at some old lady rearranging empty planters on her front porch. I thought about Ahaziel waiting for me in the caves, expecting me. Maybe I had been being melodramatic earlier, thinking he had murder plans. If he'd wanted to hurt me, he would have done so in the forest, or at Havelock Point, both of which were just as isolated as the caves. And anyway, would he really do such a thing? I didn't know him, but I recalled something elusive in his eyes, something that comforted me. Something that told me he meant me no harm.
Just keep telling yourself that.
The final bell rang and I gathered my things. By the time I reached the parking lot I discovered my ride had already left. I silently vowed to kill my brother. There was no doubt in my mind he'd driven off to go do something with Chris, not even giving me a second thought. I hadn't even been late. Now I had to walk home.
At least it's not raining, I thought, trying to be optimistic. A low blanket of clouds covered the sky, shading the afternoon gray. Thin fog hovered at the ends of the streets.
A honking horn drew my attention and a giant red van pulled up beside me. Joy had rolled the window down and leaned over to shout at me. "Where are you going?"
"Home."
"I'm going to Oceanview Drive," she said. "Want to come?"
I shrugged and hopped in the van, having nothing better to do than finish my self-portrait assignment. "What do you need on Oceanview?" I asked, trying to sound friendly and interested. Maybe Joy would finally start to like me after we hung out, just the two of us. Maybe she wanted to be friends after all.
"I thought I'd check out that new psychic shop."
I had been to that shop several times, having been known to buy gemstones and incense, perhaps a pretty scarf or two, but it seemed much too metaphysical for Joy, who had always struck me as pretty firmly grounded in reality. I couldn't see what use she would make of anything a psychic shop had to offer.
"Why?" I wondered.
Turning to me, Joy gave me a puzzled look. "I thought you liked that store. I thought you were into the whole Ouija board thing."
"I am. Well, maybe not Ouija boards. But I didn't know you liked that sort of thing."
"I don't, really. But I've been doing a paper on séances."
"Your teacher let you write about séances?"
"Well, it's really about frauds in history. Mediums would hold séances and they could really get over on people trying to contact dead relatives and stuff. Anyway, everyone got a different topic."
So that was the type of stuff people in honors history classes got to do. It sounded interesting. More interesting, at least, than my government class.
"I'm just going there for additional research," Joy emphasized. "I'm not actually going to buy anything."
Oceanview Drive was a street that ran along a cliff above the ocean. With its long row of shops facing the water, it was the most popular street in Victoria, especially in the summer. Tourists could park in the overlooks and snap pictures of sea lions sunbathing on offshore rocks and spend enough money to keep the town's economy strong. But, like everywhere else in town, the street was quiet this time of year.
After parking, Joy and I walked past the quaintly, carefully lettered windows of a mermaid-themed tavern, charming cafés, overpriced gift shops, an ice cream parlor where Chris worked in the summer, and a clothing store that appeared to specialize in stuck-on jewels. Finally we arrived at the psychic shop, greeted by the spicy burn of incense as we ente
red. A middle-aged woman with long, curly orange hair looked up from a book she had been reading at the counter to smile serenely at us.
Joy headed straight for a city of colored candles. I found myself browsing the fringe of colorful purses hanging from the ceiling. I thought about buying one, then remembered I didn't have any money. It would be a good idea, I decided, to get a job. I might even be able to save some money for whatever my bleak future held. This store would be a good place to start applying.
I walked confidently to where the orange-haired woman sat behind the register. "I'd like an application, please," I announced.
She handed me one with a wordless smile, along with a pen. I busied myself filling it out while Joy continued to browse, taking notes on a little pad. I wondered if I'd ever feel as passionate about something as she did about research.
After I'd finished with the application, I waited for Joy by a display of crystal necklaces. Soon she joined me and we left for my house. I asked her if she wanted to come inside, not really thinking she'd accept, but she did.
We settled into my family's comfortable but overly brown living room. Joy hoisted her messenger bag onto the couch and began to sort through her many notebooks.
"So what were you doing in the library today?" she asked.
"You saw me?"
She rolled her watery blue eyes. "Yeah. I saw you go in."
"Oh. I was . . . doing research," I said. The words felt odd but good on my tongue. I smiled proudly.
"On what?" Joy asked dubiously.
"Havelock Point."
"Havelock Point?" she repeated, her excitement evident.
"Uh-huh."
"I want to show you something." She dug with renewed vigor through her notebooks and finally handed me one. It was folded back to a page somewhere in the middle. I took it and looked at what she had written.
Havelock Point
-deaths
-isolated, abandoned
-old
-tragic history (fire)
I glanced back up at her. "What's this?"
"I was writing about Victoria's local history once. These are just some leftover notes. So you're interested in the local stuff, too?"
My brows drew together as my gaze wandered down to the page. "Well . . . I'm sort of interested in Havelock Point," I said slowly, wondering how much to reveal. I couldn't tell her about how I'd gone to the house without also telling her about Ahaziel, and I wasn't close enough to her yet to share that secret.
"It's a few miles outside town, by the old lighthouse," she informed me. "There's a house there, where a lightkeeper used to live."
I know. I've been there.
"A lot of people don't know that because no one goes to the old lighthouse anymore," Joy continued. "It's been abandoned for about a hundred years. But a lightkeeper's family used to live there when the lighthouse was still in use. There are a lot of places like that along the coast, you know. Anyway, there was a fire in the house in nineteen-oh-four. The daughter of the family died in it."
Shivers raced up my spine. "How did you find out about that?"
Now Joy narrowed her eyes at me. "I'm going to be a historian, remember?" She flipped her hair. "Besides, anyone can look at this stuff. It's all in the library's basement."
As she packed up her bag, I rose from the couch and walked to the window. It had grown dark outside and the flower-patterned curtains were wide open, showing me a muted reflection of the living room behind me. Brandt was probably on his way home from wherever he'd been. I wondered if he'd bring Chris over for dinner. I wondered if my mom would be too tired to make dinner once she got home from work.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Joy said. "When I was researching this stuff I came across this old photograph of a girl who looked just like you."
"Really?" I said, barely hearing her.
A tap on the window startled me. I faced the black glass, one hand clutching the curtain. I knew the sound was probably only from the branches of the elm tree in the front yard, but I was overcome with the sensation that someone was out there, looking in at me. I felt enshrined by the warm interior light. I was on display for whomever or whatever lurked out there. I imagined a person hiding across the street beneath a neighbor's tree, or perhaps crouched right below the window, less than a foot from me, separated only by glass.
Struck with sudden fright, I yanked the curtains closed and moved quickly away from the window. My skin tingled. Joy didn't seem to notice my odd behavior.
I heard a key in the door and turned from the window to see my mom, graying blonde hair slipping from her bun. It was all I could do not to laugh with relief as she walked in and kicked off her sensible beige heels.
"Hey, Lil," she said, brushing wisps of hair off her face. She turned to Joy. "Oh, hello."
"Hello," Joy chirped pleasantly.
"You're home early," I said. My mom normally didn't show up until well after six.
"I've been working such long hours. I thought I deserved an evening to relax."
"Yeah . . ." I watched as she meandered into the kitchen, where she dropped her purse and started looking in the cabinets for dinner. We'd probably end up having pasta with butter again.
I saw Joy to the door a few minutes later, my smile falsely cheerful. After my experience at the window, I still felt uneasy about something. I wanted to warn her to be careful, that there might have been something lurking in the shadows, but I knew how silly that would have sounded and so I said nothing.
~
I stared at my reflection in the dark glass of my bedroom window. My face looked almost normal, as if there wasn't a stain on my skin. It looked . . . soft. I wasn't used to seeing myself like that. Self-conscious of my glaringly obvious birthmark, I'd learned a natural defensiveness, a kind of lofty reserve, which made me seem unfriendly. People tended to assume I was a snob, or so Joy had once informed me, and I couldn't help but hate them for it. I silently judged them as I imagined they judged me. But I really just wanted to protect myself.
This was how I would draw myself, I decided, adjusting the sketchbook in my lap. I'd exclude the birthmark altogether. I drew only the right side of my face, filling in the nose and mouth and only one eye. The left side of my face would be only partially defined. If Miss Bell didn't like it, she could give me a bad grade. It wasn't like I cared.
Glancing at my bedside clock after I'd finished my portrait, I saw it was late. I had to be up for school in a few hours but I didn't want to go to sleep. I wasn't sure what I wanted. Many things, to be sure. A clear face. A boyfriend. A lot of money. A clue. An idea.
My mind wandered to Ahaziel and a shiver of delicious fear raced up my spine. Thinking back, I couldn't believe I'd almost gone to meet him at the caves. I must have lost my mind that day at the lightkeeper's house. I wasn't overly cautious, but I'd always thought I had more sense than to go anywhere alone with a mysterious stranger. Even one who compelled me as much as Ahaziel did.
So stupid, I chided myself. Don't do it again.
As I put away my sketchbook and climbed into bed, I promised myself I wouldn't.
~
On Friday I was exhausted, having spent half the night awakened by inexplicable terror. I'd never had a nightmare before in my life, so the sudden appearance of them was unsettling. I sat numbly through the critique in art class, not contributing my opinions of my classmates' artwork and barely listening to the opinions of others. I hated crit days. It pained me to talk about my work in front of everyone.
"Lilly?" Miss Bell prompted when it was my turn, much too soon.
I squirmed on my stool and tried to remember the words I had rehearsed in my head before class, but I couldn't make them come out properly. "Um . . ." I began lamely. "I used technical pens . . . on bristol paper . . . Instead of a mirror I used a window, and that's how my reflection looked." I drew a deep breath. That had been unpleasant.
"Hmm," Miss Bell said, contemplating my drawing. "Do you think it's missing something?"
> "No," I replied immediately.
"What does everyone else think?"
"It doesn't really look like you," one boy commented.
I could feel my face burning. He meant I hadn't included my birthmark in the drawing, and everyone knew it.
"It doesn't capture your essence," someone else said.
I nodded silently, pretending to agree. Usually when someone attempted to defend their own drawing, they ended up sounding upset about the criticism.
"I think it's kind of nice," one girl said. I turned to look at her. She had shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes. I couldn't remember her name. "It's very spare," she continued, "and the lines are sophisticated. If you get up close, you can see how delicate the line work really is."
"Thank you, Mirain," Miss Bell said. "Lilly, this is a very good effort. In the future, however, I would like to see some emotion in your work. I would like for us to see you in your drawings."
I stewed about that until the end of class, which couldn't have come soon enough. I barely kept from dozing off in English, revived myself for lunch, then zoned out in government. After I'd successfully made it through the day without slipping into a coma, all I wanted to do was go home and nap, dreaming about not having class again until January. However, I found my brother, Chris, Austin, and Joy waiting for me in the parking lot. They wanted to go to the Blue Shrimp, a sleepy diner downtown where we occasionally convened. I decided to go along despite my lethargic state, thinking a cup of hot tea sounded nice on such a cold day.
"Lilly's coming!" Chris cheered. She placed a hand on my shoulder, perhaps in an attempt to make up for the time we'd lost as friends the past few weeks.
"Austin's the only one who wanted to wait for you," Joy informed me snarkily as we crowded into the Oldsmobile. So much for our newfound friendship.
The Blue Shrimp didn't seem like the kind of place that would ever attract high school students, which explained why we hardly ever saw anyone we knew there. A small café soaked in muddy mustard light, it looked like it might appeal to people who wanted to avoid drawing attention. Like me. The booths were ugly chocolate brown, the walls a dense red ochre. The speakers whispered indistinct, boring music, but the food was good so no one really minded. How the place had ever come by its name was a mystery to everyone.
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