Haven

by Kristi Cook

  She paused by the door. “I feel terrible just leaving you here, fifteen minutes after you walk through the door. Want me to call some of my friends, ask them to come over and show you around?”

  I shook my head. “No, I swear I’ll be fine. By the time you get back, I’ll have everything all unpacked and organized.”

  She bit her lower lip, then nodded. “Okay. I guess I’ll go, then.”

  “Go,” I answered with a laugh, shooing her out.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, I looked around with a sigh, surveying the blank side of the room—my new digs, such as they were. I’d never shared a room with anyone before, much less a bathroom. It was definitely going to take some getting used to, but I had a really good feeling about Cece.

  I couldn’t resist the urge to go over to her desk and straighten the magazines, though. Vogue, Entertainment Weekly, Rolling Stone. Yeah, we were going to get along just fine.

  Across the room, my cell phone made a chirping sound. Hurrying back to my own desk, I dug around in my bag till I found it. I expected a message from Patsy, checking to make sure that I’d arrived safely and all that. Instead I found a text from Whitney, my best friend since the very first day of kindergarten, when we’d trooped into our classroom and found our cubbies, conveniently alphabetized by first name, right next to each other. We’d sort of started to drift apart lately, mostly because she’d left Windsor for a performing arts school freshman year. She had new friends, new interests, and I had gotten increasingly busy with fencing. Still, she’d always been a phone call away. She still is, I reminded myself.

  I scanned her message—asking how it was going so far—and smiled. At least someone cared. I sent her a quick text back, promising to e-mail her as soon as I got my laptop set up.

  If I could find my laptop, that is. I glanced down at the trunks that held nearly all my earthly possessions, and sighed. Time to start unpacking.

  Morning came far too quickly. Still in my pajamas, I winced at the sight of my bloodshot eyes staring back at me in the mirror.

  “You’re going to miss breakfast if you don’t hurry and get dressed,” Cece said, eyeing me from across the room as she pulled on her shoes.

  “I know. I just . . . I didn’t get much sleep last night. New bed and all.” I’d actually lain awake most of the night, only drifting off somewhere near dawn.

  “I’ll wait for you,” she offered.

  I weighed my options. I could go down now and face the crowd—get it over with. Or I could enjoy some quiet time alone and pull myself together. Ultimately I took the coward’s way out. “It’s okay, you go on ahead. I just need some coffee.”

  “There’s a coffee machine in the lounge. At least, they call it coffee. Personally, I think they’re using the term a little too loosely.”

  I had to laugh at that. “The way I feel right now, just about anything will do. What time’s first period?”

  “Eight forty-five. What’s your first class?”

  I hadn’t even glanced at my schedule yet. “Let me see.” I grabbed my bag and rummaged through it till I found the sheet Dr. Blackwell had given me. “First period, Hackley Hall, Corridor A, Room 312. Culture and Society in Nineteenth-Century Britain.” Wow, that was a sophisticated-sounding course for high school.

  “That’s an advanced-level class,” Cece said, wrinkling her nose. “You must be a brainiac or something.”

  I just shrugged. I’d been called worse.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “Hackley Hall is where all the junior- and senior-level classes are held, and it’s the building just behind us. Here, give me your schedule and I’ll show you on the map.”

  I handed it over along with a pen and watched as she scanned my class list, turned it over and circled a big rectangle on the map, then drew a line from what must be the dorms to the circled building. “There you go,” she said, handing it back to me. “After that, you’re on your own. Your classes are all more advanced than mine. But I’ll save you a seat in the dining hall at lunch, okay?”

  “That’d be great. Will I get lost trying to find my way there?”

  “Nope. Just follow the hungry crowd.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Grinning, she stuffed some notebooks into a pale pink backpack. “I just know you’re going to love it here,” she said, pausing by the doorway.

  God, I hoped she was right.

  2 ~ The Eyes Have It

  Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I stepped into the classroom, my schedule still clutched in one clammy hand. Left and right, kids elbowed past me and took their seats. I glanced down at the page I held, reminding myself that it was totally normal to be a little nervous. New school, new kids . . . it was going to take some getting used to. Corridor A, my schedule said. Room 312. This was it. My gaze shot back up, toward the rows of seats before me.

  And then I saw him. Second row, third seat back. Gorgeous eyes. He looked at me strangely, as if he were surprised to see me, a steady gaze beneath a baseball cap pulled low over his brow. Whoever he was, he was watching me so intently that I could barely breathe. For the briefest of moments I felt a flicker of fear. The hum of voices receded and all I could hear was the steady pounding of my own heart. My schedule slipped through my fingers and fluttered to the ground beside my feet in slow, swooping arcs.

  Great. I hadn’t even been at Winterhaven a full twenty-four hours and already I was making an idiot of myself. My cheeks burning, I knelt to retrieve the page. And then they were there, not inches from my face—those eyes. Not quite blue, but not quite gray, either.

  “I think you dropped this,” he said, completely derailing my train of thought. My gosh, that voice . . . deep and soft, with the hint of an accent. British, maybe? I was definitely a sucker for accents.

  My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the rumpled page he held in his outstretched hand. For some unknown reason, I took a step back, wanting to increase the distance between us. Reluctantly, I raised my gaze to meet his.

  The first thing I noticed was that his face was pale, his skin perfect except for dark smudges beneath his eyes. His lips were full, his nose slightly crooked, as if it had been broken years ago and not quite set right. Beneath the baseball cap, wavy golden-blond hair peeked out, curling against his collar. And his eyes . . . I forcibly suppressed a sigh. More blue than gray, I realized, with thick, dark eyelashes. Most girls would kill for eyelashes like that.

  My mouth went dry. I cleared my throat, afraid that if I met his stare I’d never be able to look away. “Thanks,” I managed to say, holding out one trembling hand for my schedule.

  He placed it in my palm, somehow managing to brush my fingers with his own. “I’m Aidan Gray,” he said. “Welcome to Winterhaven.”

  Before I even had a chance to reply, he was gone, slipping back through the aisles to his seat. Shaking my head, I found an empty seat in the front row and set my bag down beside the desk.

  Sliding into the molded plastic seat, I pulled out a notebook and pen from my bag, keeping my gaze fixed on my desk while the whispers buzzed around me.

  Aidan Gray. I fought the urge to say it aloud, to hear it slip off my own tongue. My God, I was losing my mind. Either that, or I’d suddenly become really shallow. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

  I looked up just as a tall, balding man in a tweed jacket strode in, carrying a briefcase and whistling to himself. The teacher. At least I hoped he was, because another few minutes of sitting there waiting for class to start and I was sure to turn around and look for him. Aidan Gray.

  The room got silent as the man in tweed took his place behind the desk, looking every bit the absentminded professor as he fumbled with a stack of papers. He pulled out a pair of glasses—wire-rimmed, of course—and put them on while he studied a small slip of paper. With a nod to himself, he looked up, his eyes quickly scanning the room before settling on me.

  I swallowed hard, nervously fiddling with my pen.

  “We have a new student,” he said
, inclining his head toward me. “You must be Violet McKenna.”

  I cleared my throat, my cheeks suddenly hot. “Yes, sir.”

  “It says here your mother was just appointed assistant secretary-general for Legal Affairs at the UN. Hmm, impressive,” he grunted. He eyed me over the top of the page, his bushy brows raised in what looked like disbelief. “And you’ve moved here from . . . ?”

  “From Atlanta,” I answered, wishing a hole would open in the floor and swallow me up.

  “Well, we’re glad to have you, Miss McKenna. I’m Dr. Penworth,” he said, removing his glasses. “Miss Patterson, will you see that Miss McKenna finds her way to her next class?”

  “Sure,” the girl sitting to my immediate right chirped out, startling me. “Hi,” she whispered, leaning across her desk toward me. “I’m Sophie.”

  I mouthed “hi” back and tried to smile.

  Apparently done humiliating me, Dr. Penworth finally got on with business. “Shall we pick up where we left off? I believe we were discussing the laws of primogeniture, were we not?”

  His voice settled into a lecture-mode steady drone, and I opened my notebook, realizing I had a lot of reading to do to catch up with the class.

  The hour passed quickly. My hand was cramped from taking so many notes, but it kept me focused.

  Suddenly what sounded like church bells ringing startled me so badly that I dropped my pen. Everyone else snapped shut their notebooks and began to stuff their things back into their bags, so I retrieved my pen and did the same. Standing up, I looked entreatingly to my neighbor, ready to follow her around like a lost puppy. But then I sensed him, standing just behind my right shoulder.

  “Mr. Gray,” Dr. Penworth called out, his voice jolly. “You’ve a firm grasp of the class material. Would you see that our new student gets caught up?”

  Oh, please, no. I almost groaned aloud. Never had a guy made me feel so flustered, so completely tongue-tied, so . . . so hyperaware and self-conscious as this one did. I didn’t want to be alone with him, afraid I would humiliate myself, afraid—

  “Of course, sir,” he answered, and I felt my stomach drop. He was so close now that I could feel his breath against my neck, and I was sure he saw me shiver in response.

  “Very good.” Dr. Penworth nodded to himself and began the task of returning his sheaf of papers to his briefcase.

  Summoning my courage, I turned around to tell him— Aidan—that I really didn’t need any help, but he was gone. I spun toward the door, my eyes quickly scanning the emptying room.

  “Amazing how he does that, isn’t it?” the girl beside me asked.

  Amazing? How about freaky? “I guess you could call it that,” I muttered.

  “It’s Violet, right?”

  “Yep.” I nodded, realizing I had no idea what her name was. It had gone in one ear and out the other.

  “I guess you’re Cece’s new roommate? She’s been moping around since Allison left.”

  “Allison was her old roommate?”

  She nodded.

  I couldn’t stanch my curiosity. “Why’d she leave?”

  She looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening.

  “Last spring, she told. Her parents, I mean. You know, about the school.”

  “Told what?” I asked.

  “Put it this way—they think she’s nuts. Locked her up somewhere, from what I heard. I mean, c’mon, everyone knows that’s why you don’t tell. Anyway, let me see your schedule or we’ll both be late.”

  Totally confused, I handed her the piece of paper. Her eyes quickly scanned it, and then she grinned. “Feminism in British Lit. Same as me. C’mon, let’s go. Ackerman’s great; you’ll like her.”

  With an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, I followed her down a long corridor, out a set of double doors, and into a wide stone courtyard. There was a fountain in the center, complete with gargoyles and a spray of water rising high in the air. Gray stone arches framed the courtyard on all four sides, and double doors just like the ones we’d come from led toward corridors in every direction.

  I whistled in appreciation, all my doubts forgotten. “Wow! It’s like . . . like something out of Harry Potter.”

  “I know. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? What was your school in Atlanta like?”

  “Nothing like this,” I answered, shaking my head in amazement. “It was just a day school, anyway.”

  “So this is your first time at boarding school?”

  “Yeah.” I followed her through the arch directly opposite the one we’d come from.

  “So, how do you feel about it? Boarding school, I mean?”

  I shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea.”

  “Well, Winterhaven has a way of finding us, doesn’t it?” She paused as the crowd pushed by.

  Sophie. That was her name. Sophie Patterson. It popped into my head, just like that. “The rules seem a little . . . outdated, though, don’t they?” I asked, trying to ignore the curious stares as I fell back into step beside Sophie. “I mean, no cell phones?”

  “Well, they like to call the rules ‘traditional.’ Have you met Dr. Blackwell yet? The headmaster?”

  “Yep, last night. He seemed okay.”

  “A little odd, yeah, but he’s cool. Everyone likes him.”

  I couldn’t resist. “Speaking of odd, what’s the deal with Aidan Gray?”

  Sophie sighed dramatically. “He’s pretty hot, isn’t he?”

  That was an understatement. “I guess,” I lied, not wanting to be too obvious. “What’s he, like, the star quarterback or something?”

  “No way! Aidan’s an intellectual—the smartest kid at Winterhaven, and that’s saying a lot. He was definitely checking you out, though, wasn’t he? Weird.”

  I shrugged, trying not to look too offended.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that!” she said, reaching out to give my hand a friendly squeeze. “It’s only . . . well, he doesn’t really pay much attention to anyone. Kind of a loner, you know? Some people think he’s gay, but I’m not sure. . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head.

  “He’s definitely not gay,” I said with absolute assurance, though I couldn’t say how I knew.

  “You think?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

  “Pretty sure,” I murmured. Because freak that I was, my instincts were usually right.

  “Here,” Sophie said, motioning to her left. “It’s right down this hall. So, what is it you do?”

  That same question again. I guess extracurriculars were pretty important at Winterhaven. “I, uh, I’m a fencer. You know, fencing team and all that.”

  For a moment Sophie looked puzzled. “I think we have a pretty good fencing program here,” she finally said with a shrug.

  “That’s what they keep telling me. I guess I’ll find out sixth period.”

  “It doesn’t bother your shoulder?”

  “My . . . my shoulder?” I stuttered. How did she know about my shoulder? Had I been rubbing it?

  “Yeah, when I touched your hand . . . well, never mind. At least it’s healing nicely.”

  I could only nod. It was healing pretty well, but how did she know that? My nerves on edge, I silently followed Sophie into a classroom similar to the one we were in before. Everyone turned to stare as we walked in and made our way to two empty seats in the third row.

  Steeling myself with a deep breath, I followed the crowd into the cafeteria—the dining hall, they called it—and scanned the room for a familiar face. Cece had promised to save me a seat, and so had Sophie, before we’d parted after second period. I figured I’d take up whomever I happened to see first.

  I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder and stood on tiptoe, my palms dampening nervously. Sitting alone in the cafeteria would just scream “I’m the new girl. Everyone stare at me while I eat.”

  After what felt like an hour but was probably only a minute or two, I spied Sophie’s strawberry-blond head poke up above the crowd as she waved me over.
I let out my breath in a rush and hurried over to the table. As I drew near, I saw that Cece was also there, sitting across from Sophie. Good, they were friends. That spared me from having to choose who to sit with.

  “Hey,” Cece called out cheerily. “You found us. I was about to send out a search party.” She pulled out the chair next to her. “So, how’s it going?”

  “Not bad, I guess,” I said, sinking gratefully into the chair. “Seems like the same kids are in most of my classes, so the initial curiosity is beginning to wear off.”

  “Yeah, the brainiacs,” Cece said.

  “Hey, I resemble that remark,” Sophie launched back.

  “You said it, not me. Anyway, shut up and let me make the introductions. Everyone,” Cece said, “this is Violet McKenna, my new roommate.”

  Two girls I’d never seen before stared at me.

  “This is Kate Spencer,” Cece said, pointing to a perky-looking blonde. “Kate is Sophie’s roommate. And this is Marissa Tate.” An exotic-looking girl with long, straight black hair eyed me warily. “Marissa somehow got one of the single rooms. No roommate, so we let her hang with us.”

  “Hey, I can’t help it if I like my privacy,” Marissa shot back.

  “It’s great to meet you both,” I said, sounding way more confident than I felt.

  Marissa reached out to touch my bag. “Ooh, Prada. Nice.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured. I’d gotten it last year at Patsy’s Junior League tag sale.

  “So . . . Sophie says Aidan Gray was checking you out,” Kate said, her chin propped in the palm of one hand.

  “Really?” Cece asked, her eyes widening. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Sophie shook her head. “I kid you not. His head snapped up the second she walked in the room, and next thing you know, he was over there whispering sweet nothings in her ear.”

  “He was just picking up my schedule, that’s all,” I countered.

  “And now, get this,” Sophie continued on, completely ignoring me. “Dr. Penworth asked him to tutor her, and he actually agreed.”

  I swallowed hard. “Well, not really tutor me. Just help me catch up is all.”