I turned back to look at Noel but he was gone. I was by myself on the path. I glanced around, up the trail and down, into the forest on the other side, but he had disappeared.
“What?” Geoff asked again, joining me.
I hesitated. “I just wanted to see if you needed any help.”
He gave me a puzzled look. “Why didn’t you just come join me?”
I felt like an idiot. “Forget it.” I felt my cheeks starting to blush.
Geoff mumbled something under his breath. Then he said, “I think we’ve got enough. Let’s head back.” He strode forward, the tip of his tennis shoe catching on a rock at the edge of the path. He stumbled and the tote fell to the ground. Branches tumbled out and spilled across the path.
He swore softly and bent down to reload them. I crouched down to help. As I did, another flash of white caught my eye. There, next to the fallen tree, a blond boy in a white t-shirt and jeans stood watching me, his golden hair radiant in the sunlight. He smiled at me and offered a small wave. I turned away for just a second before looking back. The golden-haired boy was still there staring at me, but this time Noel stood with him, his arms crossed loosely against his chest. The blond boy leaned over to whisper something in Noel’s ear and he scowled.
“Geoff.” I jostled him with my elbow and the canvas tote slipped out of his hands, sending the sticks to the ground again.
He glared at me. “What?”
I pointed. “Down there, by the tree…do you see them?”
He craned his neck and a grin spread across his face. “Cool!”
I turned to look. Two deer nosed around the fallen tree, their small white tails twitching, their ears pricked forward and alert. Noel and his friend had vanished.
“That was almost worth having you knock me over.” Geoff straightened.
I must be losing my mind, I thought. Not one boy, but two, were lurking in the woods? Why on earth would Noel and his friend be following me? And why—how?—would they have disappeared so quickly? They weren’t there, I decided. They couldn’t have been. The lack of sleep was getting to me, I told myself firmly. I didn’t say a word to Geoff as we made our way back to camp.
Chapter 5
Monday morning. I slept through three snooze-alarms before I managed to drag myself out of bed. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I tried to push all events—real and imagined—from the weekend out of my mind as I steeled myself for the inevitable return to school. I hurried through my shower in record time, then brushed my teeth and laced my hair into a loose, sloppy braid. I dug a pair of jeans out of my bottom dresser drawer and slipped into an olive-green t-shirt. Once again, I offered a silent thank you that St. John’s had a lenient dress code. I didn’t know what I would have done if I’d been forced to wear a uniform. The stone rested on the bathroom counter and I picked it up, rubbing my thumb lightly across its smooth surface. It fluctuated from warm to cold, its dormant light flickering to life. This was physical proof that I’d encountered something tangible this weekend, something mysterious, something I couldn’t quite explain. I might have imagined the two beautiful boys in the wood but this was real. I put it in my pocket.
Mom perched on one of the ladder-backed stools at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, sipping coffee while she thumbed through the Style section of the Washington Post. The blue, floral halter-top she wore showcased her salon tan.
She glanced at the microwave clock. “You have five minutes before we need to leave.”
I rummaged in the pantry and found a box of strawberry Pop Tarts. I pulled out a foil packet.
Mom shook her head. “Really, Val. Those are pure sugar. Empty calories. Why don’t you have a yogurt? Something healthy.”
I tore open the package. “Why do you buy these if you don’t want me eating them?”
“Your dad likes them.” She spooned a final bite of yogurt into her mouth. “He doesn’t have to worry about his figure” She gave me a pointed once-over. “You do.”
I ignored her and took a huge bite, savoring the flaky pastry and sweet berry filling. I was not fat.
Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe not now, but some day, Val…you are going to regret the choices you make.”
One pastry was my usual breakfast, but, spurred on by Mom’s disapproving stare, I bit into the second one and chewed.
“Let’s go.” I stuffed the last bite into my mouth.
A disgusted look crossed her face but she said nothing. She grabbed her keys and black Chanel bag and opened the door to the garage.
We drove to school without speaking. The radio in Mom’s newly leased white Mercedes was tuned to her favorite country station. A twangy, male voice crooned about his lost love and I wondered if any country singers ever sang about unrequited love between desperate daughters and their distant mothers. I doubted it.
St. John’s was five miles from our house, a ten-minute drive if Mom ignored the speed limit and timed the two lights right. The school was tucked away at the end of a dead-end street in one of Alexandria’s toniest neighborhoods. The tree-lined streets and stately brick homes ended abruptly at St. John’s entrance. A towering wrought-iron fence marked the beginning of the school’s property. Luxury cars driven by overachieving parents streamed through the open gates, inching along past the groomed hedgerows and expansive front lawns. The road ended at a roundabout in front of the massive brick building that housed the school’s administration—the Head of School, the counseling and admission departments, and faculty rooms equipped with small teacher cubicles. Beyond this imposing structure were the meat and bones of the campus, smaller but equally impressive brick buildings that housed classrooms, the gymnasium and the school’s most recent addition, a stunning new chapel/auditorium.
“You’ll need to see if Peter can give you a ride home,” Mom said as I stepped out of the car.
I grimaced. Peter Wadsworth was another family friend. Unlike Geoff, he actually attended the same school as me. We were not friends.
“Why?”
“I have an appointment this afternoon.”
“Where?”
Mom’s white sunglasses hid her eyes but I knew she’d averted her gaze. “Salina’s.”
“Oh.”
She studied me. “You really should let me make an appointment for you. Do something with your hair.”
“I like my hair.” I resisted the urge to reach back and touch my messy braid.
“You never do anything with it,” she scoffed. “You have great hair and a pretty face, Valerie. You could be beautiful if you tried.”
I frowned. I didn’t want to be beautiful, just another pretty face in the crowd at my school. I didn’t want to be like her.
I leaned closer to the car, inspecting her. “Is it time for a touch-up already?” I asked. “I don’t see any gray.”
“Valerie.” Her voice was even, controlled.
But I was an expert at getting under her skin. “A wax? Oh, I know—it must be time for another Botox.”
“That’s enough!”
The small slice of satisfaction I felt quickly gave way to guilt as I sensed success. The score was even but there was no thrill of victory. Only the same hollow sadness I so often felt after spending time with my mother.
Chapter 6
I approached Peter at lunch to ask about a ride home. I scanned the tables of laughing and talking classmates as I searched for my afternoon chauffeur. A few kids from my classes smiled at me but most looked through me, unseeing, as they chatted with friends.
“Hi Peter.”
He looked up and grinned, his chipped front teeth—a casualty of last week’s basketball game—capped by gleaming white veneers.
“Val. Valley Girl.” He faked an accent.
I tried not to cringe. I hated that stupid nickname.
“Can you give me a ride home today?”
“Aww, Mommy can’t pick you up?” he asked with mock sincerity. The boy next to him—was his name Ben?—laughed.
I visualized dumping m
y Coke—no, the entire contents of my lunch tray—over his curly blond hair, the spaghetti sauce splattering his gray Abercrombie t-shirt. I smiled and, ignoring his comment, said, “Can you?”
He shrugged. The game was over if I wouldn’t play. “I’m outta here when the bell rings. With or without you.”
In my mind, a thick glob of noodles slid down his forehead as I said a hasty thanks. I retreated to my regular spot—a two-seat table Jess and I had shared before she’d moved. I pulled my history book out of my backpack and spent the rest of the lunch hour reading. My body was at St. John’s, picking at the noodles on my plate, tearing off tiny pieces of baguette, but my mind had traveled back in time to the beginning of the First World War. It seemed a far better place.
The first bell sounded and I closed my book and tossed it into my backpack. I left my tray on the top of the trashcan before moving out the door and on to the brick-lined path. A crisp breeze blew and thin, white clouds stretched across the sky like pulled taffy.
One of the school’s landscape workers, an older Hispanic man, dug holes in the mulched beds by the new chapel. A wagon of flowers, massive clusters of white and pink petunias, waited next to him. Our eyes met as I walked by and he smiled at me, revealing a shiny, gold front tooth. Mr. Connor, my history teacher, passed me on his way to class and said hello. The students ignored me.
To the left of me, just outside the Administration building, Mrs. Doyle, the Admissions Director, walked with a dark-haired student, gesturing toward the new chapel building, talking animatedly. Probably giving a tour to a new or prospective student, I thought. Jess and I had both received that tour the summer before our freshmen year. I continued walking but something made me turn and look again at that new student across the lawn. I studied the boy’s white, button-down shirt and khakis, the sunglasses shielding his eyes from the brilliant sun, the thick jet-black hair blowing across his forehead. And I knew then, even from a distance, that the new student touring my school was Noel.
I stiffened, my heart hammering. I fought the urge to run and instead moved quickly, head down, hoping to avoid drawing attention to myself. Thoughts raced through my mind and I glanced up again, doubting myself. There was no mistake. It was him.
I reached the chapel entrance and pulled the heavy, glass door open. Hurrying inside, I leaned against the wall and peeked through the door. He was several yards away, chatting with Mrs. Doyle as they walked. What was he doing here?
They moved closer to me and I knew I should leave. I should walk down the hallway and disappear; past the entrance to the chapel itself, down the stairs and past the music room, past the Little Theater where the drama students practiced. I should follow the hallway to the end, where the basement of the building morphed back into ground level, where the three art classrooms lined up against a long wall of windows, natural light pouring in to these state-of-the-art studios. I should slip quietly into my visual arts class and force myself to forget who I’d just seen. But I could not get my feet to move; it was as if my shoes were cemented to the floor.
So I stood there and watched. I watched the breeze play with his hair, tossing several locks on to his sunglasses, obscuring his view. I watched his hand casually push those stray strands off his forehead where they would rest, obediently, until the next gust of wind blew them back. I watched as he talked with Mrs. Doyle, the way he turned to her when he spoke, inclining his head toward her intimately. And I watched her response, the way she clutched her clipboard to her chest, hugging it as she looked up at Noel through her mascaraed lashes, as smitten as a school girl.
They moved closer still and I finally found the will to move. I hurried away from the door and was just about to turn the corner when Mrs. Doyle’s voice stopped me.
“Valerie Ramsey.”
I turned slowly, defeated.
“Hello, Mrs. Doyle.” I kept my eyes on her. Her signature chignon was mussed from the breeze. Silvery-blond strands of hair streaked across her forehead and clung to her rouged cheeks.
“Aren’t you late for class?” Her voice was stern.
Had the second bell rang? I hadn’t heard it.
“Yes.”
She sighed. “Where are you supposed to be?”
“Visual Art.”
“Walk with us.” It was not a request. “This is Noel Flannery. He’s just starting today. He has art with Mr. Pinkney, too.”
It was my turn to sigh. Of course he was in my art class.
“Hi Valerie.” Noel spoke to me and I knew I couldn’t ignore him.
“Hello,” I mumbled. Mrs. Doyle said nothing about my less than enthusiastic response.
We filed into the classroom and I skirted past Mrs. Doyle and Noel and found my seat. A large bowl of fruit stood in the center of each table and the other students were already sketching these, experimenting with light and shading. I grabbed a piece of paper and a small box of charcoal pencils. I stared at the bowl of bananas and apples for a minute, determined to focus on the project at hand. Putting pencil to paper, I began to sketch. I tried to concentrate but my thoughts drifted back to the boy from the campground who was now standing in my classroom. A boy I’d first seen a hundred miles from here in the darkened shadows of night, a gorgeous, mysterious boy who, up to this point, I wasn’t so sure I hadn’t imagined into existence. Why was he here?
I looked at the bowl of fruit again, taking the opportunity to steal a glance in Noel’s direction. He was still standing with Mrs. Doyle and Mr. Pinkney. He’d taken off his sunglasses and perched these atop his head. Most of the other students were watching him, too, I noticed. Especially the girls. Ashley Fontaine had perked up immediately when we walked in, flipping and smoothing her long, blond mane. She reminded me of my mother. I peeked at Noel again. This time his eyes were on me and he smiled as I met his gaze. He started towards me.
Chapter 7
“Is this seat taken?” Noel gestured to the empty seat next to me.
It had been, when Jess was around. I shook my head no and he slid into the seat.
“So…what are you working on?”
I didn’t think I could feign a normal conversation with him.
I decided not to try. “What are you doing here?” I asked in a low voice.
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m going to school. Same as you.” To illustrate, he grabbed a piece of paper and picked up one of the pencils I had been using.
“No.” I frowned. “What are you doing here, at St. John’s? In Alexandria?”
Noel smiled. “My family just moved here. Rather recently, actually.”
I wasn’t deterred. “And the camping? Don’t you think it’s a little strange—us meeting at the campground and then you showing up here?”
“An extraordinary coincidence,” he said, offering nothing more.
Inside I seethed but I said nothing. Two could play that game, I thought. I picked up my pencil and, turning slightly away from him, continued with my drawing. Minutes ticked by, an uneasy silence filling the space between us as I sketched and erased, then sketched and erased again.
“You should shade there, right in the corner.” The point of a pencil appeared on my paper, indicating a spot on the lopsided apple I’d drawn.
I ignored him.
“You’re not speaking to me?”
I wasn’t about to engage in polite conversation about my art project. “I want an answer.”
He leaned closer to me, his voice low. “I already told you. I just moved here. Our meeting this weekend and then meeting here…rather serendipitous, don’t you think?”
Serendipitous? I furrowed my brow as I struggled to remember the definition.
“Lucky. Fortuitous,” he said helpfully.
I scowled at him. “Lucky, huh?”
Noel grinned and inclined his head even closer. “Very lucky,” he whispered. His eyes were as deep and blue as the ocean and I found myself drowning in them.
The bell sounded then but I made no move to stand. Neither did he.
/>
“Valerie.” An unfamiliar voice spoke my name. A girl’s voice. I tore my gaze away from Noel and looked up. Ashley Fontaine stood in front of our table sporting an unusually friendly smile. She was dressed in a low-cut, long-sleeved tee and an eye-popping short, black miniskirt. Both were definite violations of the school’s dress code.
“Who’s your new friend?” she practically purred.
“Um, this is Noel. Noel Flannery.”
She flashed her brilliant smile at Noel and flipped her long hair off her shoulders. “Noel. What a great name,” she gushed. “I’m Ashley. Ashley Fontaine. You’re new right? Where are you from?”
He held his hand out to her. A little flustered, she took it and shook.
“I’m from here,” he said smoothly.
She played with her hair as she studied him, a coy smile on her face. “What class do you have next?” she asked. “I’d be happy to show you around.”
Noel pulled his schedule from his pocket. “Physics.”
Ashley’s face fell. “I have history. Different building.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks for the offer.” He turned to me. “Where are you going now?”
“Chemistry.”
“Science, too.” He seemed pleased. “Would you mind showing me the way?”
Ashley’s eyes shot daggers at me as she waited for my response.
“I guess,” I mumbled.
She turned back to Noel with a sweet smile. “It was really great to meet you. Let me know if you need anything. We want to make sure every student feels welcome here at St. John’s.”
I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure that courtesy hadn’t been extended to me when I’d started last year.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “You ready, Valerie?” He reached out and grabbed my hand. His was smooth and cool, comforting and disconcerting at the same time. I pulled free.
“Where to?” he asked, unaware of the furious expression on Ashley’s face.
The science building was adjacent to the chapel and I led the way. Noel was oblivious to the stares he received as we walked, but I noticed, mostly because people were staring at me, too. I didn’t blame them. Why would this gorgeous new student be walking with me?
Set In Stone Page 3