by Lori Wilde
Orchestral music swelled to life below us, cutting off any further conversation, but not any further thinking, because all I could think of was what he meant by that. Considering what exactly? That we’d only just met a few weeks before? That I was a virgin? Or, and this was my worst fear, that he knew more about my history. That the school therapist was trying to help me get over a guy who wasn’t even real. Please God, don’t let it be that one.
“Ready?” He flashed a dimpled smile.
“Not really. Are you?”
“You have no idea. Haven’t done this in a while.”
I gawked at him, doubt all over my expression. “But you studied puppetry, didn’t you?”
“Sure. But I haven’t actually operated one in ages, so I’m a little rusty. Too busy running things at ground zero.” He nodded toward the ground so far below us.
“Ah. Then I guess neither of us knows what we’re doing.” I couldn’t decide if that was reassuring or not.
He strolled forward until he was positioned above center stage, taking his place. I scrambled after him.
“These are the operating cross bars.” He instructed, sliding me my marionette’s controls, a girl dressed like a Dutch milkmaid. “Once the music stops, just follow the dialogue. Got it?”
I most definitely hadn’t got it. I glanced down at the audience below us and swayed. My dizziness was compounded by a sudden case of stage fright.
“Relax, Nora. It’s like dancing. All you need is a strong male lead.”
“I know nothing about dancing either,” I whispered in a panic.
The red velvet curtains parted, and the lights dimmed. It was only a quick show for the new kids arriving, just a way to give them an idea of how all the elements came together to make a whole production. The music, lighting, voice acting, and of course the marionettes.
“Just keep moving your hands, and don’t let your strings get caught,” Troy whispered.
So that’s what I did. Or what I tried to do. I held my marionette up next to his. He danced his in a two-step, then nodded for me to do the same. I wiggled the sticks like I’d been shown. Immediately, my puppet tripped over both feet and hurled uncontrollably into Troy’s. It was as if I was dancing on stage next to him myself. Equally uncoordinated and totally embarrassing. The snickers and giggles grew into an uproar. Laughter drifted up into the rafters.
Troy groaned. “Thought you said you could do this.” He slid behind me, the full length of his body pressing against me as he did. A tingle rippled down my spine.
I looked over my shoulder at him. “No, you said I could do it. I said I was all thumbs.”
He glanced down at me, my face a mere inch from his. “How is your thumb?”
“Fine.”
“And”—he scanned me from head to toe—“the rest of you?”
“Also fine.” I blushed again, remembering the way he’d pulled my bruised thumb to his lips. Before he pulled my lips to his lips. And then—
He tugged. I tugged. Until all that remained was a tangled mess of strings, and our marionettes twisted in a pose from the Karma Sutra.
“You didn’t want strings. Well, we’re entangled now, aren’t we? How ironic.”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious or kidding. Either way, he was right. We were entangled. And there were most definitely strings attached.
Despite my botched efforts, the show had its intended effect. The kids were all excited to begin creating their own puppets, so mission accomplished.
They were dismissed, and the crew headed out, leaving Troy and me to untangle our mess.
“Maybe we should just scrap the whole puppet idea. Go for a reality show instead.” I sighed.
His expression softened. “So, am I to understand you’re not a fan of drama?”
“Not in the least. It’s more Kenzie’s thing. But I get why it’s popular. I mean who doesn’t want to escape real life for a while.” I unwrapped a string coiled around my puppet’s neck like a noose. Strings definitely came with dangers.
His eyes lifted. “You, apparently.”
I swallowed. If only he knew how far from true that was. I didn’t say anything.
We worked in uncomfortable silence for another few minutes until he set everything down. Loudly.
I glanced up. “Something wrong?”
“Do you want to get out of here? Escape.” He smiled. “Just for a while.”
I answered with a smile and mentally dropped everything I was planning—which wasn’t much—along with my tangled mess.
“You totally had me at escape.”
Chapter Seventeen
I stared up at the fading daylight and the approaching dusk as Troy and I hiked the trail to his cottage. The colors were breathtaking. The air was crisp and fresh, free from the stench of month-old trash and mildew of my neighborhood. And not a backfiring car to be heard for miles. I missed Granddad, but it was awesome to step out of what had become my reality, for a while.
Troy was just as lost in the moment as I was. He inhaled deeply and shook his head. “The Board doesn’t get why I insisted on teaching here for the summer,” he said as we headed up the path to his house.
“Why did you? You could run things from home base, wherever that is. Hire out everything else. Miss Franken-strange, I mean, Grace, already does a pretty convincing one-woman show.”
He chuckled. “She’d be thrilled you think so. But I couldn’t do that.” He stared out into the distance. “This place is special. It meant a lot to me as a kid and now.” He shrugged, his gaze returning to mine. “It just feels right being here. I remember what it was like, feeling afraid and disconnected a lot of the time. Like you didn’t belong. This place gives everyone a chance to change that.”
“No, I get it. I was never much of a nature lover, but this place... There is something mystical about it.”
“Like time stands still here. You can catch your breath and find—” He paused.
I looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish. But instead, he took my hand.
“Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”
“Does it involve chocolate and marshmallows by any chance? Because I’m so in.”
He took me to the far side of the house, a section of the yard invisible from where we were. We stepped into the space, and my feet stopped at the sight of a towering screen. Then I saw the turquoise Mustang Convertible with the top down. Circa 1960 and the days of black-and-white films.
I peered at him over my shoulder. “You have a drive-in theater in your yard.” I shook my head, marveling at the decadence.
“Some of my favorite memories were sitting in the back seat of an old Mustang, watching whatever western or sci-fi happened to be playing at the drive-in. I always fell asleep.” He laughed. “Still do.”
He opened the door for me to climb in. I ran my fingers over the door before climbing into the passenger seat. It was in fantastic shape; he must have spent a mint on restorations. I leaned back against the supple worn leather that had seen years of life. “So the puppet boy owns a muscle car. Never woulda guessed it. Was it your foster parents?”
Troy averted his gaze. “Not exactly,” he said, then he vaulted over the driver’s door into the seat next to me.
“Does it run?”
“Yeah, but I never drive it. It’s a bear on gas.”
I had to laugh, well, because he could probably just up and buy himself a whole gas station if he wanted to.
“When I read that a woman still owned the first ever sold 1964 Mustang Convertible, I knew I had to have it. It wasn’t for sale, but I bought it. That’s kind of when I learned the power money had, and I knew I had to use it to create change.”
He patted the wheel fondly. “This was the first and only insanely extravagant purchase I’ve ever made. Aside from this school,” he added.
“Not sure this place qualifies as insane. You’re doing great things here. For everyone.” I played with the knobs on the dash. “Thi
s is awesome. Seriously.” I laughed, leaning my head back. “And I love the color. My bike was this exact shade of turquoise.”
Troy looked pensive for a moment, but I couldn’t tell why.
“You should take it out sometime. You know, cruise the strip for dames, sodas, and milkshakes.” I made steering motions.
“Think you’ve got your eras twisted,” he teased. “Anyway, for now, it’s perfect for moonless nights at the drive-in.”
He watched as I tilted my head back to gaze up at the massive screen.
“You need to recline the seat for the full effect.”
I gave him a side glance. Now that was a line if I’d ever heard one. I fished around under the seat. “Where’s the thingy?”
He didn’t answer, but his arm reached across me to find the lever, at which point I nearly stopped breathing entirely. His face was inches from mine. He paused midway, and I had to force myself not to lean in. My lips swelled with anticipation, despite my inner battle for restraint. I felt the deep steadying breath he took before he straightened in his seat.
“Maybe another time,” he rasped, leaning back against his seat.
I gasped some much-needed air into my lungs and slid my hands along my thighs.
He watched me, his mouth still parted and inviting, and oh God, I wanted to accept that invitation. But this was probably not the best time. Not when we were still here at the camp. To the eyes of anyone who suspected we had a thing—but had no real proof, a kiss would change that. A real kiss, something more than the one he gave me when I’d hurt my thumb. It would become impossible not to touch his hair when he was next to me on set. And it would give them all irrefutable proof of something I wasn’t even sure was real.
“Oh, wait. I found it.” I jerked the lever, and my seat reclined. He lowered his to match mine.
I turned to him, my brows raised. “So, are we going to watch a movie?” The skies were almost pitch-dark now, with only the light of a few stars to break up the blackened night.
“I thought we’d watch something even better,” he said. “Just wait.”
We sat in the car, seats reclined, waiting in silence for I have no idea what. But then it started. And suddenly we were watching the most amazing show imaginable. A meteor shower of stars streaked through the sky, lighting up the night with a soft and brilliant sea of sparkles. Within minutes there were billions of stars dotting the night. I’d never seen anything like it. It was like flying though the galaxy. I stretched my hand up toward them, almost certain I could catch a falling star. Then liquid waves of rainbow hues rippled past, brushing the tops of the trees with their display.
I sucked in a low gasp. “Aurora Borealis, are you for real? I could stay here all night. It’s beautiful. Like take-your-breath-away beautiful.”
“Yes,” he said in a low voice. “I know.”
I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Mother Nature’s performance, but as a warmth spread across my skin, I realized he wasn’t watching the sky. He was watching me.
I marveled that with so much beauty surrounding us…surrounding him, that he was focused on me. We stayed there, engulfed in the best show I’d seen in a very long time. Time stood still and swept by with each brilliant wave of color that danced across the sky. Eventually it faded to black, leaving nothing but the starry sky to watch.
“Are you ready to go back?” he finally asked.
I wasn’t. I didn’t ever want to go back. Why would I when I could stay here with him. But the feelings I had for him overwhelmed me, considering I’d only known him for a short time. In truth, I barely knew him at all. Before falling head over heels for a guy, didn’t you at least, I don’t know, need to know his favorite color or something?
He was staring at me again the way he often did, like he was studying me. He licked his lips when I caught him. “Sorry. I sometimes forget that we don’t really know each other that well.”
“We moved fast last year, and now it’s like we’re backtracking, trying to re-get to know one another more slowly this time,” I said. I held up a hand. “I’m not trying to hyper-analyze things the way most girls do; I’m just trying to figure out what this is.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what this is, Nora; all I know is how it feels.”
I looked up at him from under my lashes, taken aback by the rawness in his voice. “How does it feel?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“Like it makes sense. Like I finally found you. Like I never want to let you go.”
My heart thumped a frantic beat as my lips curved in a smile. “Finally found me? It’s only been a year.”
He looked the most serious he had all evening. His hands cupped my face, and he tilted my head back. “It’s been most of my damn life.” His brows furrowed together, and he leaned in to kiss me, hard. My hands clenched his hair just as he pulled away, breathing heavily.
“So what does this mean? Are we like together together now? Or…” I guess my need to define things stemmed from a place of insecurity, but he didn’t flinch at the questions.
“As together as we can be, while we’re here.” His voice was throaty, but his expression was pained.
I put my hand over his in a lingering touch. “Hey. I understand.”
“You shouldn’t have to. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. But there was some speculation after Celeste disappeared, not long after we broke up. The board felt it best to put these rules in place as a protective measure.”
“Protecting you from what exactly?”
“Scandal. Accusations. And…retribution.”
My eyes narrowed. “Retribution?”
Troy shook his head, dispelling the heaviness. “All theories. Not important, but damn inconvenient, when all I want is to hold on to you and never let you go.”
I mulled over his words, flipping them over and over in my mind. None of it made sense, the powerful connection between us, but maybe I was overthinking things. Kenzie would just dive in and say to hell with the consequences. Maybe that’s what we needed. Less thought, more action.
“You’re quiet,” he said when I didn’t respond. “At least tell me if you enjoyed yourself. Was it as good for you as it was for me?” He flashed a sexy half-grin.
I squeezed my legs together. God, he was crazy-beautiful. I had so many conflicting emotions it was difficult to figure out how I really felt. No. I knew how I felt. Disappointed. As though a part of me would miss him when this was over. Like we were more to one another than a near miss, and I didn’t like the idea of being separated from him because of it.
“Oh, very good.” My head nodded vigorously. “Best I ever had. Your talents could drive a girl right out of this world,” I teased.
His smile faded, and his flirty, sexy look was replaced by a distant anguish. He opened the car door and climbed out. Circling to my side, he extended his hand. “I should probably get you back to the camp before anyone comes looking for us.”
No one ever came looking for us. Taking his hand, I stepped out of the car, feeling a bit confused. The moment I was on my feet, he let go of my hand as though he couldn’t bear my touch.
What was up with the sudden mood shift? He wanted to keep our whatever-this-was under wraps, I got that, but this was different. Something heavy weighed on his mind as we headed back down the path that led to my cabin.
This time he was the one silent, lost in his own thoughts.
“Thanks for this. It really was nice. Even without the s’mores,” I said, my voice speeding up. “I’ve always believed the full camp experience requires s’mores. I don’t camp, and even I know it’s tradition. The healthy food rule is great, but that’s why Kenzie snuck in her booze and candy stash. Better for the kids and the staff, sure, but has the occasional Pop-Tart ever killed anyone, I ask you?” I was nervous and blathering. They tended to go hand in hand.
The night air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts, campfires, and regret. We clomped along the darkened path, lit by starlight and
the occasional solar lantern, with Troy uttering the occasional response out of politeness more than engaging in conversation. I wasn’t sure what changed, but I wished we could change it back to just after he’d wanted to kiss me, and I’d so desperately wanted him to, and he had.
“Culinary arts. That’s what’s missing from this school,” I prattled on. “Or maybe that’s not really creative enough?” I glanced at him sideways. “What do you think? Is food art?”
He shrugged stiffly. “I think creativity is a way to express what you’re going through. The medium doesn’t matter. It’s freedom, for those who’ll take it. Some people won’t. Some can’t, but you...you’re different. You have fears that run so deep you have to let them out before they consume you.”
Woah. Again, I was hit by the sharp curve in the conversation. I was keeping things light and loose; he was delving into my psyche. “If you mean imaginary fears, then yeah, I have loads of them,” I replied.
“Fears aren’t imaginary, Nora; they’re real. Like dreams. They’re messages and experiences from the other side.”
“The other side?”
He frowned a little. “Well, that’s not the technical term.”
“So what is the technical term? I have a decent GPA; I can keep up.”
“Parallel universes that run concurrently with ours. This life is only a fraction of what we are living. A sliver of what is possible for us to live. And every thought, wish, dream, and nightmare is merely a reflection of one of those other lives.”
I stopped walking. It took a few steps for him to realize and look back at me, a question in his expression.
Boasting about my intellect fell short now that my mouth gaped open like a fool.
He watched my reaction closely for a beat, then he chuckled. “Just one of the wild theories I studied in London.”
Slowly I nodded. “At the witchcraft school.”