by L. J. Smith
And that she likes you, a small, nerve-racking voice in her head added. Kaitlyn squashed the thought, tossing her head to feel the wind snapping her hair back, enjoying the motion and the sunshine.
"Is it much farther?" she asked. "I can't wait."
Joyce laughed. "No, it's not far."
They were driving through residential streets now. Kaitlyn looked around eagerly, but with a tingling in her stomach. What if the Institute was too big, too sterile, too intimidating? She'd pictured a large, squat redbrick building, something like her old high school back in Thoroughfare.
Joyce turned the convertible in to a driveway, and Kait stared.
"Is this it?"
"Yup."
"But it's purple."
It was extremely purple. The shingled sides were a cool but vivid purple, the wood trim around the windows was darker purple; the door and wraparound balcony were glaring high-gloss purple. The only things that weren't purple were the slate gray roof and the bricks in the chimney.
Kait felt as if someone had dropped her into a swimming pool full of grape juice. She didn't know if she loved the color scheme or hated it.
"We haven't had time to paint it yet," Joyce explained, parking. "We've been busy converting most of the first floor to labs-but you can have the full tour tomorrow. Why don't you go up and meet your housemates?"
Thrills of nervousness wound through Kait's stomach. The Institute was so much smaller, so much more intimate, than she'd imagined. She'd really be living with these people.
"Sure, that's fine," she said, and held her head very high as she got out of the car.
"Don't worry about the luggage yet-just go on in. Go straight past the living room and you'll see a staircase on your right. Take that upstairs-the whole
second floor is for you kids. I told Lewis and Anna that you can work out the bedroom situation for yourselves."
Kaitlyn went, trying not to either dawdle or hurry. She wouldn't let anyone see how nervous she was.
The very purple front door was unlocked. The inside of the house wasn't purple-it looked quite ordinary, with a large living room on the right and a large enough dining room on the left.
Don't look at it now. Go on up.
Kaitlyn's feet carried her down the tiled foyer that separated them, until she reached the staircase.
Take it slow. Just keep breathing.
But her heart was going quickly, and her feet wanted to leap up the steps. The stairs made a U-turn at a landing and then she was at the top.
The hallway was crowded with odds and ends of furniture, piled haphazardly. In front of Kait and to the left was an open door. She could hear voices inside.
Okay, who cares if they're nice? They're probably creeps-and I don't care. I don't need anyone. Maybe I can learn to put curses on people.
The last-minute panic made her reckless, and she plunged through the door almost belligerently.
And stopped. A girl was kneeling on a bed without sheets or blankets. A lovely girl-graceful and dark, with high cheekbones and an expression of serenity. Kaitlyn's belligerence seeped away and all the walls she normally kept around her seemed to dissolve. Peacefulness seemed to come from the other girl like a cool wind.
The girl smiled. "You're Kaitlyn."
"And you're . . . Anna?"
"Anna Eva Whiteraven."
"What a wonderful name," Kaitlyn said.
It wasn't the sort of thing people said back at Warren G. Harding High School-but Kaitlyn wasn't at Warren G. Harding High School anymore, and Anna's serene expression broke into another smile.
"You've got wonderful eyes," she said.
"Does she?" another voice said eagerly. "Hey, turn around."
Kait was already turning. On the far side of the room was an alcove with a bay window-and a boy coming out of it. He didn't look threatening. He had a cap of black hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes.
From the camera in his hands Kaitlyn guessed he'd been taking pictures out the open window.
"Smile!" A flashbulb blinded Kaitlyn.
"Ouch!"
"Sorry; I just wanted to preserve the moment." The boy let go of the camera, which bounced as the strap around his neck caught it, and stuck out a hand. "You do have kind of neat eyes. Kind of weird. I'm Lewis Chao."
He had a sweet face, Kaitlyn decided. He wasn't big and gross, but rather small and neat. His hand wasn't sweaty when she took it, and his eyes weren't hungry.
"Lewis has been taking pictures since we got here this morning," Anna said. "We've got the entire block on record."
Kaitlyn blinked away blue afterimages and looked at Lewis curiously. "Really? Where do you come from?" It must be even farther away than Ohio, she thought.
He smiled beatifically. "San Francisco."
Kaitlyn laughed, and suddenly they were all laughing together. Not malicious laughter, not laughing at anyone, but wonderful torrents of giggles together. And then Kait knew.
I'm going to be happy here, she realized. It was almost too big a concept to take in at once. She was going to be happy, and for a year. A panorama opened before her. Sitting by the fireplace she'd seen downstairs, studying, the others all doing their own projects, everyone joined by a warm sort of togetherness even while they did their own things. Each of them different, but not minding the differences.
No need for walls between them.
They began to talk, eagerly, friendship flying back and forth. It seemed quite natural to join Anna sitting on the bed.
"I'm from Ohio-" Kait started.
"Aha, a Buckeye," Lewis put in.
"I'm from Washington State," Anna said. "Near Puget Sound."
"You're Native American, aren't you?"
"Yes; Suquamish."
"She talks to animals," Lewis said.
Anna said gently, "I don't really talk to them. I can influence them to do things-sometimes. It's a kind of thought projection, Joyce says."
Thought projection with animals? A few weeks ago Kait would have said it sounded insane-but then, wasn't her own "talent" insane? If one was possible, so was the other.
"I've got PK," Lewis said. "That's psychokinesis. Mind over matter."
"Like . . spoon bending?" Kait asked uncertainly.
"Nah, spoon bending's a trick. Real PK is only for little things, like making a compass needle deflect.
What do you do?"
Despite herself, Kaitlyn's heart bumped. She'd never in her life said aloud the thing she was going to say.
"I... kind of see the future. At least, I don't, but my drawings do, and when I look back at them, I see that they did. But usually only after the thing has already happened," she finished incoherently.
Lewis and Anna looked thoughtful. "That's cool," Lewis said at last, and Anna said, "So you're an artist?"
The relief that flooded Kaitlyn was painful, and its aftermath left her jubilant. "I guess. I like to draw."
I'd like to draw right now, she thought, dying to get hold of some pastels. She'd draw Anna with burnt umber and matte black and sienna. She'd do Lewis with blue-black-his hair was that shiny-and some sort of flesh-ocher mixture for his skin.
Later, she told herself. Aloud she said, "So what about the bedrooms up here? Who goes where?"
"That's just what we've been trying to figure out," Anna said. "The problem is that there are supposed to be five of us students, and they've only got four bedrooms. There's this one and another one even bigger next door, and then two smaller ones on the back side of the house."
"And only the big ones have cable hookup. I've explained and explained," said Lewis, looking tragic,
"that I need my MTV, but she doesn't understand. And I need enough outlets for my computer and stereo and stuff. Only the big rooms have those."
"It's not fair for us to take the good rooms before the others even get here," Anna said, gently but firmly.
"But I need my MTV. I'll die."
"Well, I don't care about cable," Kaitlyn said. "But I'd like
a room with northern light-I like to draw in the mornings."
"You haven't heard the worst part-all the rooms have different things," Lewis said. "The one next door is huge, and it's got a king-size bed and a balcony and a Jacuzzi bath. This one has the alcove over there and a private bathroom-but almost no closet. And the two rooms in back have okay closets, but they share a bathroom."
"Well, obviously the biggest room should go to whoever's rooming together-because two of us are going to have to room together," Kaitlyn said.
"Great. I'll room with either of you," Lewis said promptly.
"No, no, no-look, let me go check out the light in the smaller rooms," Kaitlyn said, jumping up.
"Check out the Jacuzzi instead," Lewis called after her.
In the hallway, Kait turned to laugh at him over her shoulder-and ran directly into someone cresting the top of the stairs.
It wasn't a hard knock, but Kaitlyn automatically recoiled, and ran her leg into something hard. Pain flared just behind her knee, rendering her momentarily speechless. She clenched her teeth and glared down at the thing that had hurt her. A nightstand with one sharp-edged drawer pulled out. What was all this furniture doing in the hall, anyway?
"I'm really sorry," a soft southern voice drawled. "Are you all right?"
Kaitlyn looked at the tanned, blond boy who'd run into her. It would be a boy, of course. And a big one, not small and safe like Lewis. The kind of boy who disturbed the space around him, filling the whole hallway with his presence. A very masculine presence -if Anna was a cool wind, this boy was a golden solar flare.
Since ignoring was out of the question, Kaitlyn turned her best glare on him. He returned the look mildly and she realized with a start that his eyes were amber-colored-golden. Just a few shades darker than his hair.
"You are hurt," he said, apparently mistaking the glare for suffering. "Where?" Then he did something that dumbfounded Kaitlyn. He dropped to his knees.
He's going to apologize, she thought wildly. Oh, God, everyone in California is nuts.
But the boy didn't apologize-he didn't even look up at her. He was reaching for her leg.
"This one here, right?" he said in that southern-gentleman voice.
Kaitlyn's mouth opened, but all she could do was stare at him. She was backed against the wall-there was nowhere to escape.
"Back here-this spot?" And then, deftly and unceremoniously, he turned up the skirt of her red dress.
Kaitlyn's mind went into shock. She simply had no experience that had prepared her to deal with this situation-a perfect stranger reaching under her dress in a public place. And it was the way he did it; not like a grabby boy at all, but like . . . like ... a doctor examining a patient.
"It's not a cut. Just a knot," the boy said. He wasn't looking at her or the leg, but down the hallway. His fingers were running lightly over the painful area, as if assessing it. They felt dry but warm-unnaturally warm.
"You'll have a bad bruise if you leave it, though. Why don't you hold still and let me see if I can help?"
This, at last, catapulted Kait out of silence.
"Hold still? Hold still for what. . . ?"
He waved a hand. "Be quiet, now-please."
Kaitlyn was stupefied.
"Yes," the boy said, as if to himself. "I think I can help this some. I'll try."
Kaitlyn held still because she was paralyzed. She could feel his fingers on the back of her knee-a terribly intimate place, extremely tender and vulnerable. Kait couldn't remember anyone touching her there, not even her doctor.
Then the touch changed. It became a burning, tingling feeling. Like slow fire. It was almost like pain, but-Kait gasped. "What are you doing to me? Stop that-what are you doing?"
He spoke in a soft, measured voice, without glancing up. "Channeling energy. Trying."
"I said stop-oh."
"Work with me, now, please. Don't fight me."
Kaitlyn just stared down at the top of his head. His gold-blond hair was unruly, springing in curls and waves.
A strange sensation swept through Kait, flowing up from her knee and through her body, branching out to every blood vessel and capillary. A feeling of refreshment-of renewal. It was like getting a drink of clean, cold water when you were desperately thirsty, or being drenched with delicious icy mist when you were hot. Kaitlyn suddenly felt that until this moment, she had only been half-awake.
The boy was making odd motions now, as if he were brushing lint off the back of her knee. Touch, shake off. Touch, shake off. As if gathering something and then shaking drops of water off his fingers.
Kaitlyn suddenly realized that her pain was completely gone.
"That's it," the boy said cheerfully. "Now if I can just close this off..." He cupped a warm hand around the back of her knee. "There. It shouldn't bruise now."
The boy stood up briskly and brushed off his hands. He was breathing as if he'd just run a race.
Kaitlyn stared at him. She herself felt ready to run a race. She had never felt so refreshed-so alive. At the same time, as she got another glimpse of his face, she thought maybe she ought to sit down.
When he looked back at her, she expected . .. well, she didn't know what. But what she didn't expect was a quick, almost absentminded smile from a boy who was already turning around to leave.
"Sorry about that. Guess I'd better go down and help Joyce with the luggage-before I knock anyone else over." He started down the stairs.
"Wait a minute-who are you? And-"
"Rob." He smiled over his shoulder. "Rob Kessler." He reached the landing, turned, and was gone.
"-and how did you do that?" Kait demanded of empty air.
Rob. Rob Kessler, she thought.
"Hey, Kaitlyn!" It was Lewis's voice from the bedroom. "Are you out there? Hey, Kaitlyn, come quick!"
CHAPTER 4
Kaitlyn hesitated, still looking down the stairs. Then she gathered her self-possession and slowly walked back into the room. Lewis and Anna were in the alcove, looking out the window.
"He's here," Lewis said excitedly, and brought his camera up. "That's got to be him!"
"Who's here?" Kaitlyn asked, hoping no one would look at her too closely. She felt flushed.
"Mr. Zetes," said Lewis. "Joyce said he had a limo."
A black limousine was parked outside the house, one of its rear doors open. A white-haired man stood beside the door, dressed in a greatcoat which Kaitlyn thought must be terribly hot on this Californian afternoon. He had a gold-topped cane-a real gold-topped cane, Kaitlyn thought in fascination.
"Looks like he's brought some friends," Anna said, smiling. Two large black dogs were jumping out of the limo. They started for the bushes but came back at a word from the man and stood on either side of him.
"Cute," Kaitlyn said. "But what's that?" A white van was turning in the driveway. Lettering on its side read department of youth authority.
Lewis brought his camera down, looking awed. "Jeez. That's the California Youth Authority."
"Which is . . . ?"
"It's the last stop. It's where they put the baaaaad boys. The hard-core kids who can't make it at any of the regular juvie places."
Anna's quiet voice said, "You mean it's jail?"
"My dad says it's the place for kids who're on their way to state prison. You know, the murderers and stuff."
"Murderers?" Kait exclaimed. "Well, what's it doing here, then? You don't think . . ." She looked at Anna, who looked back, serenity a bit clouded. Clearly, Anna did think.
They both looked at Lewis, whose almond-shaped eyes were wide.
"I think we'd better get down there," Kaitlyn said.
They hurried downstairs, bursting out onto the wooden porch and trying to look inconspicuous. No one was looking at them, anyway. Mr. Zetes was talking to a khaki-uniformed officer standing by the van.
Kaitlyn could only catch a few words of what was said-"Judge Baldwin's authority" and "CYA ward"
and "rehabilitation."
/> "... your responsibility," the officer finished, and stepped away from the van's door.
A boy came out. Kaitlyn could feel her eyebrows go up.
He was startlingly handsome-but there was a cold wariness in his face and movements. His hair and eyes were dark, but his skin was rather pale. One of the few people in California without a tan, Kaitlyn thought.
"Chiaroscuro," she murmured.
"What?" Lewis whispered.
"It's an art word. It means 'light and shade'-like in a drawing where you only use black and white." As Kaitlyn finished, she suddenly felt herself shiver. There was something strange about this boy, as if-as if-As if he weren't quite canny, her mind supplied. At least, that's the phrase people back home used to use about you, isn't it?
The van was driving off. Mr. Zetes and the dark-haired boy were walking up to the door.
"Looks like we've got a new housemate," Lewis said under his breath. "Oh, boy."
Mr. Zetes gave a courtly nod to the group on the porch. "I see you're here. I believe everyone has arrived now-if you'll come inside, we can commence with the introductions." He went in, and the two dogs followed him. They were rottweilers, Kaitlyn noted, and rather fierce-looking.
Anna and Lewis stepped back silently as the new boy approached, but Kaitlyn held her ground. She knew what it was like to have people step back when you walked near them. The boy passed very close to her, and turned to give her a direct look as he did. Kaitlyn saw that his eyes weren't black, but a very dark gray. She had the distinct feeling that he wanted to unsettle her, to make her look down.
I wonder what he did to get in prison, she thought, feeling chilled again. She followed the others into the house.
"Mr. Zetes!" Joyce said happily from the living room. She caught the old man's arm, smiling and gesturing with enthusiasm as she spoke to him.
Kait's attention was caught by a blond head near the stairs. Rob Kessler had a duffel bag-her duffel bag-slung over his shoulder. He saw the group that had just come in, and started toward them . . . and then he stopped.
His entire body had stiffened. Kaitlyn followed his gaze down the foyer-to the new boy.
Who was equally stiff. His dark gray eyes were fixed on Rob with complete attention and icy hatred. His body was held as if ready for an attack as Rob came closer.