Second Thoughts

by Cara Bertrand

  “Is he in the bathroom?” I asked. For possibly the first time ever, Amy blushed as deeply as I usually did, which answered my question for me. I didn’t even wait for a response. “Caleb,” I called, “if you’re not wearing pants either, please stay where you are.” I heard him chuckle from the other side of the bathroom door.

  “Sorry,” Amy said, pulling out her underthings and holding them behind her back. She eagerly shared all of the details with me after the fact, but apparently being almost-caught in the act wasn’t as fun.

  I looked at the clock and did some mental math. Classes had ended not even ten minutes ago. “Did you guys skip final hour?” I asked, even more surprised about that than finding the two of them in our room. Amy was on her way to being Valedictorian. It wasn’t at all like her to skip classes, not because she was totally against the idea once in a while, but because she actually enjoyed going to them.

  “It was just test review,” she muttered.

  I finally let out the laugh I’d been holding in and turned around so she could get dressed. “Right. Now could you please put some pants on? And we seriously need to get a ribbon-on-the-door system or something, so this doesn’t happen again.”

  “If you’d gone to your study group like you’re supposed to, we wouldn’t need a ribbon!” Caleb shouted from the bathroom and Amy giggled. “And Lane, are you staying? ‘Cause I really need to get out of here…”

  I laughed again. “Only long enough to change my shoes. Keep your pants on…”—I spied his jeans half-hidden under Amy’s bed—“or not for a minute.”

  “Where are you going?” a now fully clothed Amy asked as I sat on my desk chair to put on my sneakers.

  Shit. I had no excuse, because I hadn’t thought I’d need one. “A walk,” I finally said. It was the truth and, also, the only thing I could come up with.

  She eyed me speculatively, but all she said was, “Okay, then. And I am sorry, Lainey.” For some reason, she was more embarrassed about this than she should have been. I’d ponder that later.

  “It’s okay,” I assured her. I grabbed my keys, phone, and earphones. “See you at dinner. You too, Caleb.”

  “Bye,” I heard her say, with a muffled, “Later!” coming from the boy hiding in the bathroom, as the door closed behind me.

  SINCE IT WAS the middle of the afternoon on a regular school day, I had to be extra careful sneaking off campus. I’d already been wearing leggings and an Academy sweatshirt—not my best fashion day—so I took off at a light jog, as if I were just going for a run. Being on the track team in the spring, and dating Carter, it was something I did with enough regularity that it wouldn’t seem strange to see me trotting past the ponds and through the gates.

  I turned left on Main Street and continued running past the bookstore on the other side of the street, hoping no one would notice me. “No one” mostly meaning my boyfriend. The bookstore was usually empty this time of day, and it would be just my luck that he’d look out the front windows as I ran past. When I reached a particular spot in the trees that lined the street, I stopped as if to stretch but really just to make sure I was alone. Seeing no one, I darted into the woods.

  On a day I didn’t care to remember for other reasons, Carter had shown me this shortcut into the seemingly endless trails that zigzagged through the vast forest bordering campus. Carter knew them all like the back of his hand, but even after my summer of exploring them, I could still get lost. I did, however, easily know my way to the trail that led even farther off campus, into the cemetery where Carter’s parents were buried. Where Jill had tried to kill me, but I’d killed her instead.

  It was a good mile and a half from where I’d entered the woods to the Penroses’ grave, but I didn’t mind the walk. And I did walk, dropping the facade of my jog as soon as I was hidden in the trees. The fresh air and moving slow were good for me, helping me clear my head for what I planned to do next. Instead of dwell on Mark Penrose’s death while I walked, I thought about my roommate.

  I was confused about what was up with her. Amy was always so happy and solid, much like Carter. The two of them really had a shocking number of things in common; it was no wonder they made such good friends. But her behavior today—her embarrassment and skipping class, not to mention her suspicious inquisition the other day—was so out of character, I couldn’t help but be concerned.

  It definitely had something to do with Caleb, but as far as I could tell, he seemed perfectly normal. Something was going on, possibly only in Amy’s mind, and I determined I’d get to the bottom of it. Right after I figured out who killed my boyfriend’s father.

  I paused where the trail opened into the large St. Cecilia’s cemetery, with its acres of neat graves amidst manicured, park-like grounds. It was undeniably beautiful, in a melancholy way, and I was surprised how reluctant I was to enter. There was nothing sinister about the place, except for my memories. I fought the urge to turn and run, instead taking a deep breath and stepping out of the forest.

  It was sunny out and the grounds were lovely in the fall. I suddenly wished I’d brought flowers, but all I had were my own regrets. They would have to do. I picked my way over to the Penroses’ grave slowly. I’d only been once, but it wasn’t hard to find. I imagined I could find it blindfolded, it was so indelibly etched in my mind. Sometimes I swore I could still feel where it dug into my back as Jill had kicked me again and again.

  Their headstone was a smooth, pearlescent gray marble, simple and elegant. PENROSE was carved in the center, with BELOVED WIFE and

  BELOVED HUSBAND the only other inscriptions below their names and the dates of their too-short lives. Geneviève Marie Gosselin was buried on the left. Markham Loughran on the right. I made a silent apology and sank to the ground on his side of the grave.

  I had no idea what to do, or even if this had a remote chance of working, but I had to try. I had no other plan. Without asking, I didn’t know of anything else in Carter’s apartment that would have a connection to his father’s death. So, I closed my eyes, put my hands to the ground, and opened my mind, praying my Diviner sense could reach the thread of Mark’s past.

  Nothing happened. Not even a tingle or a hint of dizziness. I moved my hands and tried again. I touched the headstone. I even laid down on the cool grass over the length of the grave. Nothing. Clearly, I was not close enough to Mark Penrose, and I certainly couldn’t get closer.

  With a resigned sigh, I got up. I touched the headstone again in a brief goodbye and started back to campus.

  ABOUT HALFWAY BACK to school, without warning, someone grabbed me around my waist. I was so surprised, I didn’t even scream.

  Finally—-finally!—my instincts kicked in and my years of martial arts classes paid off. I used my elbow and foot simultaneously, to break the hold, sending us off balance. But I was rusty, and the arms around my waist only loosened as we fell toward the ground.

  We hit with a thud and I tried to roll away. During the fall, the headphones pulled from my ears, and I thought I heard a familiar voice, cursing roundly. I landed on top of my attacker and hands grabbed my wrists from behind. I kicked out with my foot once, twice more, connecting solidly with a knee.

  The person groaned again, before a definitely familiar voice, in a mix of pain and exasperation, shouted, “Fuck, Lainey! It’s me. Stop kicking me!”

  I whipped my head around. Sure enough, it was Carter beneath me, still holding my wrists and pulling me tight against him. I struggled once more, just out of instinct, as I waited for my heart to slow and my brain to recognize that I wasn’t really in danger.

  And just like that, it did. All of a sudden, fighting didn’t feel so much like fighting anymore. If anything, my breathing quickened. Carter’s did too. I felt it, puffing faster across my bare neck, along with the increasing beat of his pulse and the heat of his long, solid body.

  In seconds, and without my even realizing how it happened, I was facing the other way. Carter grasped my wrists again and pulled me toward him, k
issing me deeply, almost desperately. Like he might never get another chance. Before long my wrists were freed, letting my arms twine around his neck and his hands slide down my back to grip my hips.

  For a minute or two, kissing Carter there, in the forest and with the sense of danger still sparking in my veins, felt like the sexiest moments we’d ever had. But then reality seeped in along with the cold, damp dirt at my knees. I broke away, reluctantly, and sat up to catch my breath. After a moment, Carter followed suit, pulling me up to stand.

  Once we were upright, I shoved him, demanding, “What the hell were you doing?!”

  With a sly, sexy grin, he tugged me close and said, “I was kissing you.” Then he did it again.

  I refused to be distracted. Much. Finally, I pushed him away again, though not as roughly this time. “I understand that part,” I said. “I was talking about your grabbing me in the first place. What are you even doing out here?”

  His good humor left abruptly and he raked his fingers through his hair. “Waiting for you,” he said. “And I could have been anyone, including someone who actually wanted to hurt you.”

  “Well, but you weren’t.” I grabbed his hand and started walking back toward campus. He came along willingly, but I still felt tension radiating from him. “You were you and there’s no one else around. But…how did you even end up out here?”

  “Last time you disappeared and I couldn’t reach you, this is where you were. And your roommate told me you’d ‘gone for a walk.’” Damn it. I hated doing it, but I probably should have lied to Amy outright. Then she couldn’t have informed on me. Through my irritation, I realized Carter was still talking. “…trying to scare the shit out of me? Why would you even come out here, in the middle of the afternoon no less, after what happened last time?”

  It was a valid question, one I couldn’t answer truthfully. I hadn’t planned on answering it at all. Thankfully, a plausible lie presented itself. I ducked my eyes and lowered my voice. This lie worked because it was partially true.

  “I think about ‘what happened last time’ all the time,” I whispered. “And with meeting your uncle…that made it worse. Probably it wasn’t healthy to go there; I don’t know. But it did make me feel better to walk away and know we’re both still alive.”

  Carter was silent for a long minute before he came to an abrupt halt and pulled me into a bruising hug. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

  I am too, I thought. I felt like shit for lying to him.

  We were nearly to campus when Carter finally got around to the questions I’d been waiting for. The slight change of pressure in his grip on my hand warned me it was coming. “You didn’t really burn your stomach with that tea, did you?” he asked. I shook my head. There was no point in denying it. “So is this all about my uncle?”

  “Yes,” I said. Mostly.

  “He really liked you.”

  That really wasn’t the problem. “I know he did. And I…liked him too,” I said, and I was pretty sure it was true.

  “But?” Carter asked, even though I knew he didn’t have to. He just wanted me to say it.

  “He tried to recruit me, Carter.”

  He nodded. “I know. He didn’t tell me what you said, though I suppose I can guess it.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  That brought him to a standstill. We were about twenty steps from the edge of the tree line; I could see campus, and freedom from this discussion, just paces away. Carter stood in front of me, a wary hopefulness in his voice that pained me. “You’re considering it?”

  I wasn’t. Was I? I thought I hated the Perceptum. But maybe it wasn’t that I didn’t want to work with them at all; I just didn’t want to do…what they wanted me to do. I didn’t even like to think it was necessary. But most of all, I didn’t want anything to hurt Carter, including me.

  “I don’t want to disappoint you,” I told him and he hugged me again.

  “I love you,” he said into my ear, kissing just below where he’d spoken to punctuate it. “There’s no way you could.”

  I very much doubted that was true.

  Chapter Nine

  Thank God for coffee, I thought as I waited in line with my classmates in front of a folding table manned by one of the lower grade teachers. She was not a Sententia, I noted, but she did look bored and tired, much like the rest of us. Amy shifted restlessly in front of me. I sipped from my travel cup and pictured the thousands of other kids standing in similar lines in similar hallways across the country. This forced waiting was as much a rite of passage as taking the SATs, the reason why I was there. The reason for my already-accepted-at-freaking-MIT roommate’s presence was another matter.

  “You’re here again, why?” I asked her, though I knew the answer. I just liked to goad her.

  She made an exasperated noise and tapped her pencil on her calculator. She had to be the only person in line eager for the test to start, not just to be over with. “I told you; I have to try.” By which, she meant she had to try for a perfect score. To avenge the whole one question she got wrong the first time. “I swear I just filled in the wrong bubble,” she muttered and I laughed.

  “You probably should have had Penrose tutor you first. He got them all right,” Caleb said from behind her, giving her hip a playful squeeze. Amy shoved him without even turning around and I laughed even harder. The one wrong answer was made even sorer for Amy by her unofficial rivalry with Carter. His score was perfect the first time.

  Speaking of rivals, my official one was laughing a few places back from us. There was no reason for her to be so loud, or sound so smug, for that matter, so I knew it was on purpose. Sometimes I forgot that Alexis and Amy had a little rivalry of their own. “…just here for the hell of it,” she said. “Georgetown’s already waiting for me. I’m so relaxed this time, I’m going to ace this.”

  Amy’s face was murderous, and I could tell it was taking all her control not to turn around and glare at Alex, or worse. It might have been okay for Caleb and me to make fun of her little neuroses, but not Alexis. I imagined myself saying something like, Ace this, bitch, and slapping her again, but all Amy ever needed was words.

  “The only test she’s ever aced was the quiz in Cosmo last month on the A to Z of blow jobs,” she said, in the same smug, too-loud voice Alex used. She started to tick them off on her fingers. “In an Airplane, on a Boat, behind the Chapel,” she added with a little extra emphasis.

  Alexis’s laughing immediately cut off, and I dared a glance over my shoulder. Her face looked as murderous as Amy’s had a few moments ago and I wondered what I was missing. I only had time to catch Amy’s smirk before the teacher up front called us to attention. It was time for the tests. She made me leave my coffee at the door.

  Several hours and one fried brain later, I joined the line to hand in my test booklet. I flexed my aching fingers as I inched closer to freedom, watching my classmates leave one by one before me. We’d been sorted alphabetically, so I got the lucky last chair in the last testing room. Caleb grinned at me and said, “Later, Lane,” over his shoulder as he left.

  I knew I hadn’t really needed to be here either. My first scores from the spring had been pretty decent, and might be moot in a matter of days or weeks anyway, but I still wanted to have as normal a senior year as I possibly could, however much of it I managed to get. So, I’d dutifully taken the test again along with everyone else, and I really did hope my scores improved. I’d never come close to perfect like my roommate, but grades still mattered to me too.

  “Thank you,” I told the proctor as I handed over my materials and practically bolted for the door.

  “Oh, wait!” she said to my back, halting my escape. I spun around to see her frowning at my booklet. “You’re Elaine Young.”

  “Um, yes? Is something wrong with my test?”

  She shook her head. I thought she looked sheepish, for some reason I couldn’t imagine. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. I was supposed to give you
this before,” she said and held out an envelope with my name on it.

  “Thanks,” I told her again and finally made it out of the room, opening the envelope as I went. Of course, I stopped in my tracks as soon as I pulled out the note.

  It was from Daniel Astor.

  Lainey, he wrote,

  My wishes for good luck today, though I understand you don’t need it. I have on good authority that a certain university in Baltimore is expecting your application with approved stamp in hand. In fact, I’ve taken the liberty of setting up dinner for us and your aunt with the university president next week during your visit. I so look forward to seeing you then.

  Yours, D.A.

  Whoa. I didn’t know how to take this. Was I flattered? Bothered? I was standing in the middle of the hall, staring at his words, when I thought I heard my name.

  “Lainey? You okay?” Brooke Barros was right in front of me, waving a hand in front of my face. Her arms were full of testing materials.

  I shook my head, but said, “Yeah, sorry. Hey, Brooke. You at work hours?”

  “Yeah. Mr. Wislowski sent me to help the test proctors,” she confirmed. “Though seriously, I almost took the test myself just to get out of this. So. Boring. Anyway, what’s got you all statue in the hallway? You’re the last one in the building, you know.”

  “It’s a note from Senator Astor,” I told her. I couldn’t see any reason to lie.

  “Wow, you really are a rock star! Personal notes from the senator.” She studied me for a beat, her eyes flashing a tell-tale amber. “And you want him to like you.” It wasn’t a question, not from Brooke, a Sensor with a handy gift for reading what people wanted. I guess it answered how I felt about the note.