The Concealed (The Lakewood Series Book 1)

by Sarah Kleck

  As if he had read my thoughts, Calmburry leaned a little to the side and turned his head to answer a question from his neighbor, or so it seemed. His profile was so handsome. A small straight nose, dense and dark eyelashes that framed his exceptional eyes, and perfectly smooth, pure skin. His soft, masculine face was breathtaking. Jared was neither slim nor too muscly. He had an athlete’s figure, and I wondered what kind of sports a body of such perfection might play.

  “I know he looks good, but trust me: he’s not worth the trouble!” Sally whispered in my ear. I was so focused on his appearance that I almost fell from the chair when she spoke to me.

  “And he only hangs out with his own kind. If you don’t have at least a million in your account, forget about it.”

  Feeling ashamed for gawking at Jared Calmburry so blatantly, I turned away and concentrated on the lecture. With only modest success. My gaze kept returning to him.

  When the professor finally announced the end of the lecture, Sally departed with a short “See you, bye,” and hurried out the door. I had no time to ask where she was off to in such a hurry, and a moment later my eyes were again on Jared, who was pushing through the other students to the center aisle of the lecture hall. Suddenly, someone blocked my view.

  “You really stole good old Professor Bronsen’s show,” said a kind male voice.

  “It would seem that way,” I admitted.

  “He’s not very pleased to have his hour-long monolog on libido and destrudo interrupted.” A grin spread across his face. “Let’s hope he doesn’t know you by name, or he’ll deduct a point from your exam for that little stunt.” The boy’s grin broadened even more. I nodded and shot a glance over his shoulder, looking for Jared. He had disappeared in the crowd pressing toward the exit.

  “By the way, I’m Felix,” he said and, when I didn’t react, he added, “Don’t worry, your name is safe with me. I won’t say a peep to old Bronsen.” He raised his hand as if to swear an oath and put on a playfully serious expression. “Promise!”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said, shaking my head and holding out my hand. “I’m Evelyn.”

  “Now, Evelyn,” he said tenderly, “what’s your next lecture?”

  Still somewhat surprised by this unexpected conversation, I went through my bag, pulled out my by-now-crumpled schedule and took a look at it.

  “Introduction to Psychology with Professor Harrison in hall four.”

  “May I walk you there? I know every decrepit chair in this college. One crash landing should be enough for the day, shouldn’t it?” Again, a smile spread across his face and, now that I took a real look at him, I noticed how pleasant Felix appeared. Tousled black curls framed his oval face and perfectly matched his dark eyes around which laughter lines were beginning to appear. His grin was so broad that dimples formed in his cheeks and showed off his white teeth. I noticed that his left incisor was slightly crooked and extended a bit over its right neighbor. Still, Felix was handsome. I couldn’t help but return his smile.

  “Okay,” I said, “after you.”

  We made a path through the other students leaving the lecture hall.

  “I haven’t seen you here before. Did you switch colleges? Subjects?” he asked as we stepped outside. It had started to snow again, and thick, wet flakes landed on my face. Since I didn’t have a scarf, or a hat or gloves, I settled for wrapping my coat tighter around me and drawing my head in to stay warm. Felix did the same.

  “No, today’s my first day,” I called out against the ice-cold wind. “I was accepted off the waiting list.”

  “Well, then this was a successful start,” he said, alluding to my fall with a smile.

  “You can say that again. I just arrived last night, slept in this morning and . . . well, you know the rest.” I kept silent about the redhead sending me in the wrong direction. “What year are you?” I asked when we had trudged a few steps across the snow-covered lawn away from the footpath crowded by the student herd.

  “Also my first year, but I started in October.”

  “How do you like it so far?”

  “The lectures and seminars are pretty good,” he said, “but the people here? Let’s just say it’ll take some time to get used to them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look around.” He seemed agitated. “All brats of rich parents. All members of an elite society, with bottomless bank accounts they show off at every opportunity.”

  That reminded me of what Sally had just said.

  “Are you talking about anyone in particular?” I asked because I couldn’t make sense of Felix’s sudden shift in mood.

  “Most students here are that way,” he said, “but I think the worst is that Calmburry.” I listened closely. “Always surrounded by his groupies. It’s best to avoid those society types from the start.”

  “Has he done anything to you?” I asked, eager to find out more about Jared.

  Felix smiled. “You know, someone like me has to work hard for everything—I’m here on a scholarship and worked my ass off for it. Someone like him just buys what he wants. I’m sure his grades come with a generous donation from his filthy rich inheritance.” Felix’s unexpected hostility made me shrink back, and we walked in silence beside each other until he asked, “What’s with you? Do you have money?”

  I was startled for a moment by his direct and indiscreet question, but a glance at his face told me he was not entirely serious.

  “Am I supposed to answer that?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

  “No, you don’t,” he said. “I could tell right away that you’re different from the others.”

  What was that about? Was he flirting with me? We’d only known each other a few minutes.

  “Err . . . thank you,” I said, embarrassed and amused. Felix broke out laughing.

  “Here we are,” Felix said as soon as he stopped laughing. “Lecture hall four.”

  “Thank you,” I said and slipped by him toward the entrance.

  “Evelyn,” he called after me, “do you know where the dining hall is?” That was one thing I knew only too well.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I answered without thinking and regretted my quick acceptance a second later.

  He smiled. “Okay, then let’s meet outside the dining hall during the lunch break. Later.”

  Before I could respond, he turned and went back in the direction from which we’d just come.

  I really needed to get it together. The day had gotten off to a terrible start—I slept in, fell for that redhead’s rotten trick, and then a complete stranger dazed me with a single look. And now Felix had ambushed me twice. If I didn’t watch myself, Heaven knows what might happen.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, shaking my head, breathed in deeply, and stepped through the mighty carved door. I shook the snow from my coat and dried my hair with a handkerchief before looking for a seat. My classmates sat down and Professor Harrison started his Introduction to Psychology at ten o’clock on the dot.

  Leonard Harrison was a textbook example of an Oxford professor. He wore the obligatory tweed jacket over a dark-blue sweater-vest from which a white shirt collar popped out. His outfit was completed by worn black leather slip-on shoes and pants that rode too high. To hide his bald dome, he had combed his sparse gray hair across his head. The gold-rimmed half-moon glasses sat on the tip of his nose, and when he smiled to greet the class, he revealed a row of crooked and yellowed teeth.

  Most of what he discussed in his lecture I already knew from my psychology prep course, but I still took thorough notes. After all, I was missing several months of material compared to most of the others here.

  When Harrison finished his lecture, I looked at my schedule and noted with satisfaction that both Statistics and History of Psychoanalysis were also he
ld in hall 4. So I could simply stay seated and lean back.

  Stats with Professor Sigmund Gallert made me nervous. I never was big on math and Gallert’s speech impediment—a kind of mumbling lisp—didn’t make following the complex calculations any easier since I continuously had to suppress a giggle. It didn’t seem to affect my classmates. Although I had understood reasonably well what Gallert was relaying, I needed to quickly catch up on the material I’d missed. Maybe I could join a study group. I decided to look around for one.

  Happy to hear Gallert’s liberating “Enough for today,” I leaned back and attempted to relax.

  Then, like after Introduction to Psychology, I observed how most students quickly left the hall while new ones poured in. There was one difference, though: this time it seemed more hectic. Several students pressed by those flowing out shortly after the lecture to secure themselves a seat. It proved to be really crowded a few minutes later and even the otherwise unpopular seats in the front row were soon taken. Even when all the seats had been filled, more people came in and, annoyed at not being able to get a seat, sat down on the center aisle stairs. My expectations for this lecture grew by the second. History of Psychoanalysis, Professor Karen Mayflower, I read one more time from my crumpled schedule and looked up full of anticipation when the don’s door loudly opened at the front of the hall and someone entered.

  Professor Mayflower was a well-dressed and very attractive woman in her midfifties who seemed highly intelligent. She impressed me at first sight and had me hanging on her every word. An hour later, I’d almost filled half my pad with notes. I’d written so much I was straining to look at the paper. Was I imagining this, or was it really bright in here?

  I was wondering if extra-bright fluorescent lights were being used when I felt a penetrating stare from behind me. I slowly turned and stopped midmotion. Jared Calmburry was sitting about five rows back, distinctly elevated by the slope in the hall, and he was staring at me. I turned to the front again with lightning speed. The lights began to flicker at that very moment.

  What does this mean?

  I still felt his stare on the back of my neck and fought with all my might against the urge to turn around. Had his eyes borne down on me all this time and I didn’t notice because I was so focused on Professor Mayflower? Or was I just imagining it all, and Calmburry wasn’t watching me? Why would he? After all that Sally and Felix had told me, he wouldn’t bother with someone like me. But then why did I always feel his gaze resting on me? I carefully turned my head and looked at him again. He looked directly into my eyes—and my heart skipped. So I was not mistaken: Calmburry was looking at me. Even from this distance I could almost see his deep blue eyes shining. His jaw muscles were clearly tensed and the expression on his face was curious and skeptical. But there was something else . . . Fascination maybe? I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Would you kindly pay attention to the class, my dear?”

  I froze. Did she mean me? I turned around and saw Professor Mayflower’s admonishing look. But then her expression changed. Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth in disbelief, her look alternating between me and Calmburry.

  “Nimue,” she said, confused. “That’s impossible!” For a brief moment, the professor appeared to be suffering a stroke. Then she shook her head as if to dispel a thought, muttered something that sounded like “Excuse me,” and bolted out of the hall before the lecture was over.

  “What did she say?” the girl beside me asked. Everyone watched Professor Mayflower disappear, then stared at me as if I was some animal that had escaped from the zoo. For the second time this morning, all eyes were on me. Once again, this unpleasant feeling made me want to disappear.

  What the hell does this mean?

  Looking for an explanation, I turned to Jared Calmburry, but his seat was empty. He must have escaped out the door. How had he managed to leave so fast?

  Completely dazed, I slipped my coat on and left the building with the other students, who still eyed me quizzically. It was snowing heavily outside, so I pulled my coat’s collar over my head and squinted to see in the dense white haze. The ice-cold flakes landed on my face.

  “With this weather, I thought I’d better pick you up. So you won’t get lost.” Felix said, walking beside me with a smile. He had pulled his jacket half over his head, too. How did he know where I was?

  “Hi, that’s kind of you,” I said into the storm. I was actually relieved to see him. He offered me his arm and I accepted, grateful for his support.

  “So, does everybody stare at you like that?” Felix said when he noticed the fellow students who couldn’t keep from gawking even in the snowstorm.

  “No idea,” I lied and picked up the pace through the relentless snow in an effort to escape their dreadful looks.

  “You didn’t fall again, did you?” He stopped and looked at me with concern.

  “No. Come on, let’s go,” I urged him, which he seemed to like because he was grinning and let me pull him along.

  “It would appear,” Felix noted with a mocking undertone, “that Calmburry is sliming his way into Mayflower’s favor!” Alarmed, I turned and saw Professor Mayflower, who, somewhat protected from the wind and snow, was standing in a narrow passage between two buildings talking to Jared Calmburry while gesturing wildly. By contrast, his posture was relaxed, and he appeared to be appeasing her. As if he sensed my presence, Jared looked up and stared at me with those indigo-blue eyes. First, he appeared curious, but when his gaze caught Felix, he seemed perturbed. Professor Mayflower turned when she noticed Jared’s changed behavior and cast a look that was both infuriated and desperate.

  “What’s her problem?” Felix asked and guided me toward the dining hall. I reluctantly detached myself from Jared’s look and moved on. I was starting to believe I was going crazy.

  When we entered the dining hall, I wiped the thick, cottony flakes from my coat. Felix shook his black curls so vigorously that he reminded me of a wet dog, scattering droplets of water throughout the entire entrance area. It looked so funny I had to giggle.

  When we’d climbed the stairs, Felix explained the dining hall process while I was completely occupied with the many impressions this historical hall offered. Since I wasn’t hungry but was still confused about Professor Mayflower’s strange behavior and especially about Jared Calmburry, I took the first thing I could identify—spaghetti with tomato sauce—and sat down across from Felix at one of the huge tables that extended across the entire room. Numerous paintings of famous graduates of Christ Church, some of them life-size, hung on the dark wall paneling.

  “MacMillan, you’re not already hitting on the new girl, are you?” Sally stood behind Felix with a full tray in her hands and smiled at me.

  “A word to the wise, Evelyn: you have to be careful with this guy.” She winked at me and sat down beside Felix, who looked less than thrilled.

  “Wouldn’t you rather sit somewhere else, Sally?” he asked annoyed.

  “I only want to see how my new friend’s doing,” she said, “and I find you, the worst of them all, with her!”

  I couldn’t tell how serious she was, but I figured a small warning probably resided in her playful comment.

  “I see you two know each other,” I said with a smile.

  “We’re in the same study group,” Felix explained, whereupon Sally aggressively added, “But usually of different opinions.”

  “No, you’re usually just opposed, no matter what it’s about. That’s why we’re the only two left—all the others have had it with you!” Felix said, visibly angered.

  “Is that so?” Sally asked.

  I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of how these two scared off the entire study group with endless arguments and fighting.

  “If Evelyn joins, there’ll be three again. What do you think?” she asked me.

  “Oh that would be great. I wa
nted to join a study group, anyway.” Both of them smiled, but then I had a thought and bit my lower lip. “How well . . . do you know statistics?” I asked. Hopefully, the answer wouldn’t force me to look for another study group.

  “Stats are my specialty,” Felix proudly said. “In fact, anything with numbers is no problem for me!”

  I sighed with relief.

  “Don’t be such a braggart.” Sally rolled her eyes.

  “What? I happen to be good in math,” he said and shrugged.

  “Well, you have a healthy self-image,” I said, smiling. “Still nice to hear, though. I didn’t get that much out of today’s class.”

  “Not to worry,” Sally said. “Einstein here will set you on the right track.”

  “Shut up, Sally,” he said.

  When we’d finished lunch—that is, when I was finished poking around in my noodles—we placed our dishes on a cart and went into the courtyard. It was still snowing but not nearly as intensely as before. However, it was bitterly cold when I went to the next seminar with Sally. We discovered over lunch that we had the same classes in the afternoon.

  Behavioral Psychology with Professor Marvin Fisher was really interesting. Apart from classical conditioning according to Pavlov, Fisher also discussed operant conditioning according to Skinner, something I was deeply interested in. I considered influencing human behavior by means of rewards and punishment an exciting, though dangerous, issue. Sally, on the other hand, seemed less enthusiastic and lolled distractedly in her seat. “Aren’t you going to take notes?” I asked. “This could be on the exam.”

  “I have all the notes from a second-year student,” she answered, sounding bored. She groaned a few minutes later when Fisher wrapped up his lecture. The next seminar was also today’s last. I’d made it.

  As we entered the room, Sally suddenly seemed nervous. She continuously smoothed her hair and repeatedly checked her makeup in her small pocket mirror. I couldn’t fathom the change in her behavior and, as I looked around, I noticed that most other girls were also behaving somewhat strangely, like Sally. They were all concerned with their appearance. Looking for an explanation, I peeked at my thoroughly abused schedule—I would have to rewrite it tonight.