The Nightingale Files : The Rook and Queen

by Megan Meredith

  “Come on in. He’s up in his room.”

  I looked around the foyer, which looked more like a hotel than a house. “Um…,” I began, “I don’t know where that is.”

  Tanner was halfway in the other room when he turned. “Oh! Sorry, I assumed you guys were friends. He talks about you sometimes. My bad. I’ll show you.”

  “No. We’re not friends,” I protested, probably too much. He talks about me? Great, he probably makes fun of me to his family, too, I thought bitterly. “Could you just tell him I’m here to work on our project? Maybe he’s not up for it.” I suddenly realized I hadn’t thought this through enough. I wish he was laid up on the couch. Maybe he’ll refuse to see me, and I can leave.

  “Oh, you’re here to work on a project? I doubt you’ll get much out of him.” Tanner laughed. “He’s hopped up on pain killers. And he’s laid up in bed; he can’t really come down.”

  “Oh,” I said, following Tanner up the stairs. Great, just great.

  Tanner knocked on the door and waited for an answer before he stuck his head in the door, “You decent?”

  Nate simply grunted from across the room.

  “Avery is here. To see you,” he added at the last second. I attempted to open my mouth to object, but nothing came out.

  “Oh,” was all Nate said. Tanner told me that he’d just taken another dose and wouldn’t last long and then disappeared down the hall, leaving me standing in the doorway to Nate Reinhart’s bedroom.

  He was propped up on at least four pillows with another three under his casted ankle. His room was pale gray with navy bedspread and navy curtains. There were framed and signed jerseys on the walls alongside movie posters. His head fell to the side, and he looked at me as if he was drunk. “You coming or going?”

  I sighed. This was worse than talking to mean Nate. “Coming, I guess.”

  He patted the bed next to him. “Have a seat, then.”

  I am not sitting on the bed next to him, I thought. But, looking around the room, I saw there was nowhere else to sit except for his game chair, which looked more like a crescent moon than a chair. I picked the farthest corner of the bed and sat down gingerly.

  “So, you’ve come to check on me?” he said as his eyes drooped closed.

  “No,” I corrected, “I came to—uh—” I corrected myself, “I came to tell you not to worry about the article. Obviously, I can write it myself.”

  “I have notes, though…about at least the rally.” His eyes opened again, and he reached a hand towards me as the words jumbled. He squinted his eyes. I did not reach back. “I’m about the other day sorry.” He slurred the mixed-up words as they came out.

  I smirked. He was out of his mind. No doubt he wouldn’t remember any of this later. “You’re sorry?”

  “I was a jerk of all jerks to you.” He paused, finally dropping his outstretched hand. “But I usually am, aren’t I?”

  Well, at least he’s honest when he’s out of his mind.

  “Wasn’t I?” he insisted.

  I nodded.

  He clutched his chest. “Oh, Avery Brave!”

  I looked around the room in embarrassment, expecting a camera crew to jump out and tell me I was being punked. This is just the painkillers, I reminded myself.

  “Please! Please-please-please forgive me.”

  “Okay, okay—be quiet. I forgive you,” I hushed him, completely uncomfortable and embarrassed.

  “Avery—come here.” He patted the bed beside him.

  “No,” I said.

  “Avery, come here. I need to tell you something.”

  “No. I’m not coming over there. You can tell me from here.”

  “I was a jerk because…Sylvie broke—I broke up…we broke up.”

  No wonder she didn’t seem concerned at the game.

  “I told you to meet me there because I wanted her to piss-off,” he said, slurring the last part.

  “I think you mean…never mind.” I stopped. There was no point in correcting him.

  “But then, she wasn’t even at practice. I thought it would make her jealous, but she didn’t even see.”

  “It’s fine. I’m sorry you guys broke up.”

  “No!” he practically shouted. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said about Ace.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about Ace.”

  Nate held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t want to talk about him either. I want to talk about you.”

  But before he could say anything more, I blurted, “You said you had notes for me? I can just write the article.”

  “Over there,” he slurred, closing his eyes again as he pointed to his backpack on the hook on the wall. He started snoring, and I sighed, realizing I was going to have to go through it myself to find the notes. But at least he forgot about talking about me.

  I unzipped the biggest zipper only to find a black folder with my name on it right in the front of the pocket. I opened it to find detailed notes of the rally and thoughts he had written down ahead of time about the game; quotes from the coach, information about the opposing team, and strengths/weakness that our team had against them.

  I dawned on me as I retrieved the folder and looked back over at the boy who was propped up and snoring that I may have misjudged him completely. Though I quickly reminded myself of the snide jab he’d made. I couldn’t make sense of it.

  “Don’t look now, but look who’s venturing into the dark corner…,” Felix whispered as he closed his locker. I looked down the hall to see Nate crutching his way toward us. Felix stood to leave. I grabbed his shirt-tail to try and hold him there, but he escaped me.

  “Felix!” I whispered. “Don’t you dare.”

  He turned and flashed me a mischievous grin. “Oh, I do dare,” he said and practically jogged away from me down the hallway.

  Nate slowly made his way toward me, nodding to Felix as he passed him but looking sheepish as he approached. I thought maybe I could hide behind my locker door, but that was ridiculous, because it only hid my face. Then, I thought I could pretend I didn’t see him, but that would be the equivalent of running away from a lame man on the side of the road—cruel and completely unfair. So, I closed my locker and faced him.

  “The article was good,” he said as he finally reached me, slightly out of breath. I was aware of his woodsy cologne and freshly cut hair that was not as dark as Felix’s but a glossy shade of chocolate. I cataloged his dark, impossibly long lashes that blinked over his striking blue eyes. He wasn’t as tall as Felix either, but he had an intimidating muscular presence that Felix did not have.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, trying not to really look at him directly anymore.

  “How did you get my notes?”

  My mouth fell open, and I practically dropped my English Lit book.

  “Um, I got them from your house…?” I reminded him, wondering if he was being serious. Does he not remember me being there at all? It had been almost a week since I had been in his room, and it was the first day I’d seen him at school.

  His deep blue eyes widened in horror, and the half-smile he’d had while complimenting the article faded. “You came to my house?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “No—I—Well, I thought…I assumed,” he stammered, “I thought it was the pain killers. I assumed I dreamed it.”

  Would that be a normal dream? I wondered. Me at his house? Nothing seems out of place about that even in a dream, Nate? He talked about me to Tanner, and he also dreams about me. No wonder I can’t figure this guy out.

  “So, I really said all those things?” He squinted, clearly hoping he hadn’t.

  “I promise they are already in the vault,” I assured him. Don’t tell him there’s a vault! I scolded myself.

  He let his head fall back in exasperation and leaned harder on the right crutch, taking the weight off the left ankle and shoulder. “I cannot believe you came to my house to get my notes while I was on pain killers.” He sounded more ir
ritated now than embarrassed. He dreams about me, okay, Avery—he did actually say he dreams about me…but now he’s irritated with me?

  “How did you get in? Was my mom there?”

  “I don’t know. Tanner let me in.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t there long.”

  “Of course Tanner let you in. He was loving all the blackmail videos he was getting of me.”

  “Seriously, Nate nothing happened that’s worth talking about.” I tried to deflect him, feeling uncomfortable.

  “No, I acted like an idiot.” He covered his face with his hand. “At one point, didn’t I pat the bed and tell you to come over?” He asked, wincing again.

  “Nate. It’s nothing,” I dismissed him, wishing he would just go away so we could both forget. What does he care anyway?

  “But I did apologize, though, didn’t I?”

  “I’ll take it to my grave. No one has to know,” I said, putting him off, hoping he’d let it go.

  “Gosh, Avery!” he huffed. I stopped halfway through zipping my backpack and stared at him. He was mad. “I came over here to apologize for the other day and try to make it up to you. But you’re making it impossible! I wanted to tell you thanks for making the article great even though I couldn’t help.”

  “It wasn’t my idea, and I’m just glad it’s over,” I said, muttering under my breath. He’d come to be nice, and I was the one trying to avoid him. I hated it when Mother was right.

  “And I meant that apology. Drugs or no drugs. The other day, I shouldn’t have brought Ace into it. It was cruel. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you in the gym.” He paused, resituating the crutches like he was about to leave. “But you kinda do now.”

  And he crutched off down the hall. Half of my body wanted to call out after him, maybe even run after him and apologize, but the other half wanted to slam my locker and storm off.

  I did the latter.

  5.

  I doodled in my notebook while I waited on Mr. Knight to arrive in the newspaper room. I thought back to the day that I had stormed out on Nate in the gym and possibly witnessed something in the front office. I wrote down the words MR. HICKHAM and STUDENT followed by a question mark. I wrote down the question WHO WOULD KNOW? Then, I listed everyone who might be a potential lead—cheerleaders, the guidance counselor, and someone on the paper.

  Three good places to start, but that would have to wait. Mr. Knight had arrived, setting his messenger bag down on his desk, and was coming over to sit beside me. He’d asked me to meet him after school to talk about a new assignment he was putting me on. I’d never met him after school by myself, much less in his classroom alone, which I knew was against school policy as well as just plain improper (Mother would say), so I asked, “Shouldn’t we meet in a more public space, Mr. Knight?”

  He laughed through his nose and shook his head. “Avery Brave, I appreciate your tenacity and also your propriety. We won’t be alone in a minute. I’ve asked someone else to join us; they are right outside the door. So, technically, we’re not alone. But thank you for caring.”

  I nodded and looked curiously toward the door, wondering who was outside.

  “I wanted to talk to you privately about what I want to do for the rest of this semester.”

  I was intrigued. Mr. Knight had never given me any assignments that were longer than one article.

  “I, as well as most of the other staff, really loved the article that you and Nate wrote this weekend.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And, in light of his recent injury, he’s most likely out for the rest of the season, so coach and I thought maybe he could write more. Cover a variety of topics. Seeing two different perspectives could be really good for everyone.”

  I didn’t like where this was headed. There was a lump forming in my throat that tasted like selfishness and anger.

  “You guys wrote so well together, I’d like to make you a team. A writing team.”

  Fabulous, I thought, regretting my words to him earlier, wishing I could just forget the whole thing and work alone and hating the way my selfishness tasted.

  “Now, you don’t really have a choice, because I’m the teacher. But I wanted to have a conversation about it, because you’re a good student, and we work really well together on the paper.”

  And I do appreciate that, really, I do, but come on, Knight! How could you put me with Nate Reinhart for the whole semester?!

  “Does he already know? I doubt he’ll be thrilled either.”

  “He does know. He said the same about you. I’m afraid you’ll have to work through your differences, history, or whatever is going on and learn to work together—or you’ll just funnel that into your writing. Either way, it’s up to you.” He stood and walked toward the door. “I’m going to let him in now, and we can all talk about how this will work, okay?”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine, Mr. Knight.” I raised my eyebrows, trying to assure him I wasn’t angry. Or mostly myself. Either way.

  He smiled as if he was proud of me and opened the door. Nate hobbled through the door without looking at me and sat down across from me by Mr. Knight. Mr. Knight explained how he wanted our research, coverage, and writing to go, and we both sat there quietly without looking at each other. I could tell Nate was still mad at me.

  This isn’t going to work, Lord. You have to get me out of this. I bargained again and begged a little.

  There was no answer, and I knew why. God wanted me to learn to be nice, and he was completely okay with this scenario.

  Fine. But I don’t have to like him. Or trust him.

  “Can you both handle that?” I came back in at the end of Mr. Knight’s sentence.

  I nodded, wondering what it was I was saying I could handle.

  Nate said, “Fine by me.”

  “Great. The Back to School dance is this week. That can be your first event to cover together. You’ll need to get pictures as well as find a unique angle to report on.”

  “So, we have to go…together?” I asked, confused. Surely, he didn’t mean that we had to go to the dance as a couple.

  “You don’t have to be each other’s date, if that’s what you’re asking, Avery. But you will need to work together while you’re there and write the article together. However that works best is up to you two.”

  I groaned inside.

  Nate crutched out of the classroom, and I gathered my stuff to follow. As I walked out, Mr. Knight said, “Avery, you’re fighting this; I can tell. You can’t always be the lone ranger, you know.”

  I nodded. I did know, but I had my reasons, and changing was a whole different thing.

  I dodged Nate after that by saying I had to go to the bathroom and hoping he wouldn’t wait on me. Since he was clearly mad at me, I didn’t think he would.

  I didn’t have to go to the bathroom, so I just sat in the stall long enough that I thought Nate would leave or Felix would come looking for me. Either one would be okay. I grabbed my bag and was about to open the stall door when several female voices came in the room. I drew my legs up so they couldn’t see me from underneath.

  The first voice sounded borderline hysterical. “I have to! He said if I didn’t come forward that he would.”

  The second voice was demanding yet feminine. “He wouldn’t dare!”

  The third voice was slightly mousy but equally as dramatic as the first two. “I think he would. I think he’d dare to do a lot of things. You know what he did to…”

  “Don’t say it. Don’t talk about that!” the second voice interjected.

  “But Sylvie, what are you going to do?” said the mousy voice, dialing down the dramatics and getting solemn.

  Sylvie? Okay, one voice identified. The first voice was Sylvie. But who is she talking about?

  “I don’t know. This could ruin everything.”

  “Too true,” said the mousy voice, “for both of you.”

  “Well, don’t go near him until you decide. I don’t want him bullying you into doing somet
hing you can’t take back.”

  “I kinda have to, Whitney. He’s my lab partner.”

  Ok, Whitney is the stern one, Sylvie is the one in trouble, so that makes the mousy one Brooklynn. I’d have to find out who Sylvie’s lab partner was. And what they were so concerned about. And whether there are things a person can actually take back, I added sarcastically.

  “Come on, guys, we’re going to be late for practice. And Sylvie already missed too many…because of him,” Brooklynn said, pushing them out the door.

  “I know—and the other day, it went way too far,” Sylvie groaned.

  “And that’s saying something,” Brooklynn giggled just before the door squeaked close. Soon, it was quiet again, and I slowly let me legs down and let the blood flow back into them, which caused prickles all the way down. As soon as I could stand, I exited the bathroom slowly, making sure they weren’t gathered just beyond the door.

  They weren’t—but Nate and Felix were. It was strange to see them talking. Did they have a class together? They both turned and looked at me at the same time. Felix’s eyes smiled, and he laughed. Nate’s did not.

  “What have you been doing in there? Redecorating?”

  “No!” I scolded him with me eyes sarcastically. “I got stuck in a stall while three cheerleaders divulged some cryptic and possibly incriminating secrets.”

  Nate looked toward the gym, where the girls had walked past them and go in. Sylvie. Does Nate know anything about this?

  “Really? Pray-tell Nancy!”

  I shoved Felix. “Stop calling me Nancy.”

  “Well! You seem to have a knack for walking into strange situations and finding clues, that’s all.”

  I ignored him and looked cautiously to Nate. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

  “Just needed to talk to you about Friday.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was anything to talk about,” I said sincerely. “I didn’t mean for you to wait on me.”

  He shot me a glare from under his brows. “I didn’t wait on you. We need to talk about the assignment.” He stood his crutched up and huffed, “Whatever. I’ll call you later.” And he stormed off the best that someone on crutches can storm. Felix was left wide-eyed in front of me. I shook my head in failure.