I said, “Sure. If I’m allowed to go …”
“Great.” He smiled, still standing there, hands in his pockets. I stood up and pushed my hair out of my eyes. I was wearing these big gardener gloves, and my face was sweaty and squinty.
I said, “You’re not asking me because I’m a total pariah you feel sorry for or anything. Are you?”
Mark Elliott shook his head. I felt various parts of my body, not limited to my knees, go weak. “I’m asking because I like you,” he said.
Here’s the problem with hormones. Every night as I lay in the dark trying to sleep, it was hard to think about anything besides Mark Elliott. I mean, homework, my possible expulsion — they all slowly worked their way around to Mark Elliott. Barnaby Charon, Jessie, and the coin seemed like a bad dream. I’d be worried, but then everything would get fuzzy. And then it would get kissy.
I’d squint at the alarm clock, and it’d be two forty-five in the morning. Stop thinking about Mark Elliott and get some freaking sleep, I’d tell myself. After all, tomorrow was another day. And I had to be on good behavior forever so I could stay at the same school as him.
“Come with me.” Nora was in my room before I was sure she had knocked.
“Let’s stay here,” I countered. It was four thirty in the afternoon — that magical free time between the end of sports and the start of dinner. We could go anywhere on campus. But the thing was, daylight savings had ended, and it was almost sunset already. I was busy with homework. And fantasizing that Mark Elliott might stop by to say hello. You know, on a white steed with a couple of roses.
“Come with me,” she said again. Nora was a big fan of repeated blunt-force verbal assaults for winning arguments. She grabbed my shoes out of the closet and tossed them in my lap. Luckily, they were my regular old sneakers and not those pumps with a gold coin sitting at the bottom of the left one. Even the thought of it getting lost made me break out in a shivery sweat.
“Don’t throw stuff at me,” I muttered. But the thing was, Nora didn’t look good. Her face was pinched with worry, and she wrung one wrist with long, thin fingers, making a manacle for herself. Movement was usually Nora’s friend, except when she got so tense like this. I put the shoes on and followed her out the door.
Nora led me toward the western end of campus. It was a popular place to go, because there were ocean views. The sight of all that water always made me gasp a little, out of reflex, like my body wanted me to hold my breath, even though the water was miles away.
The outlook was also conveniently located at the nexus of boys’ dorms. My hopes perked up that I might see Mark Elliott. I was getting quite good at applying the chance to meet him to any scenario. Which was pretty sad when I calculated how often I actually saw the guy. Since asking me to the dance, he hadn’t sought me out like I’d hoped. It wasn’t like we were magically dating. I wondered if the dance itself would change all that.
Nora slowed way down, like she hadn’t thought at all about where we were headed. “I think I found out something about your coin.” She studied her feet as we walked.
I thought of Barnaby Charon plinking that gold out of his pocket and down on my leg. “It’s not mine,” I told her. But even as I shivered from the memory, I knew what I’d said wasn’t exactly right. I wouldn’t pass it on to Brynn until I understood what it meant. In that small way, the coin did belong to me. Or maybe I belonged to it.
“It’s called a danake.” Nora still didn’t look up. “Persian. And old. Second-century old.”
“What’s that mean? Is it worth a lot of money?” I asked.
Nora shook her head and bit her lip. “If it’s real? It wouldn’t have a sale price. It’d be in a museum.”
We turned the corner and headed toward a bench at the edge of the mesa. The sea was a perfect band of blue beyond the first twinkle of city lights. Two guys played Frisbee on the strip of grass next to the bench. Kids roamed to and from dinner and sports. Nora and I sat down.
“Why would he give a coin like that to Brynn? What if he gave Jessie one, too?” I asked, thinking about the gold coin on her desk. If only I’d looked at it more closely. Now, of course, it was gone.
Behind us, in the alcove of Hadley House, some girl yelped, and a bunch of guys shouted. Nora said, “Here’s the thing. Most danakes are made of silver.”
The sun melted into the ocean as we sat there. The kids in Hadley House got louder. The girl shrieked one of those silly, wildly flirtatious, panicky laughs. I turned around to see who was acting so dumb.
It was Brynn, surrounded by a bunch of guys. They were joking around, halfway up the staircase to Hadley House, in front of that funny little Juliet balcony built to hold two. Shane and Alan were there. Troy “Oob Boy” Davis, too. Troy swung open the balcony doors and stepped out to look over the rail. Brynn followed him, beaming.
Troy grabbed Brynn and kissed her. He tickled her in the ribs. The other guys howled. Brynn pushed away and squealed, squirming back into the building, past the crowd of boys. It made me wary. Get out of there, I thought at her. Which was stupid, because out of where? The center of attention? Horsing around with her friends?
And then it happened. Those joking, howling, giggling boys up there moved like one person. They shoved Brynn back onto the balcony and forced the doors closed behind her. She stood alone. Then leaned over the balcony. It was too high to jump.
“Who will save me?” she called out, acting stupid. Too loud and laughing too much. Alan, Troy, and Shane bounded down the stairs and out to the lawn, leaving her trapped up there. The red light of the sunset reflected off the glass-paned doors behind her. Two or three other guys were still up there in the stairwell, holding the balcony doors shut so Brynn couldn’t get back inside.
It was just one of those annoying teenage mating rituals. What did I care? I scoffed at the sunset. Nora was ignoring them, too, still obviously thinking about the danake.
So we missed the first egg. It sounded like a shotgun. I nearly gave myself whiplash, twisting back to see what had happened. Raw egg yolk slid down the window behind Brynn. Nora turned to see, too, her face paling.
“Hey, Brynn, I can see up your skirt!” Alan yelled, weighing an egg in one hand.
“Who hasn’t?” Troy asked, his voice hoarse.
“Very funny, you guys.” Brynn laughed, her Southern accent coming out. “Let me out.”
Shane fast-pitched another egg up at Brynn. It exploded on the railing. Brynn flinched.
“OK,” she said, laughing nervously. “You got me. Now let me down from here.” I could see her considering her options. She put her hand up to shade her eyes from the setting sun. It caught her full in the face, making her skin golden. I’m not even sure she could see who was pelting the eggs. Brynn reached behind herself and jiggled the doorknob. Muffled laughter from the boys inside.
Troy threw the next egg. That one hit her high on the chest. Egg yolk splattered everywhere. I heard her gasp when it happened — it must have hurt. Guys gathered on the lawn, laughing and grabbing eggs.
“C’mon, Troy,” Brynn pleaded. She was still trying to smile, to make it a joke. It looked like she said, I need help, but quiet, like she was talking to herself. I didn’t know what to do. Steal the eggs? Go get help? Where were all the teachers? How could no teachers be around?
“Not so pretty now, are you?” Shane called out. An egg flew, smacking Brynn on the head, and yolk smeared in her hair.
“We have to help her,” I hissed. I nudged Nora. Being confident, sassy, and powerful was Nora’s territory. But my elbow didn’t get a response, and when I glanced at her, her face was slack, eyes wide and glassy.
“The door’s locked.” Fine beads of sweat stood out on her sickly gray face. Seeing Nora like that was almost as frightening as what was happening to Brynn. Loud in my head, I heard that pounding sound, a fist on a door. Let me in, Nora! Let me in! Nora swallowed hard, choking back a sob, like she heard it, too. “No — it’s blocked,” she said. “There’s
nothing anyone can do. The door …”
Right then Brynn slammed against the balcony doors. They rattled but stayed closed. More laughter from inside. Brynn stepped back to the railing and threw her whole body against the doors again. I mean, she didn’t hold anything back.
A moment later, she crumpled to the floor, holding her knee to her chest. The one she had told Mr. Graham always went out. The screams that came out of her were unreal. She curled herself over her leg. She screamed until she ran out of breath, and then she inhaled and screamed some more. An egg smacked the railing, exploding yolk.
The balcony doors flew open, cracking like thunder on their hinges. Mr. Graham stood there. His arms spread like wings to cover Brynn, who lay there sobbing at his feet.
Our teacher crouched down and picked her up. Their heads almost touching, he carried her down the stairs toward the infirmary.
“What just happened?” Nora asked, still looking dazed.
“Are you OK?” I asked her.
She gave me a shaky nod. Impulsively, I reached over and hugged her.
“Mr. Graham’s got Brynn,” I said. “He’ll take care of her.”
Nora sniffed and pulled away. Her face was already pinking up, the calm set of her eyes returning, even though there were a few tear tracks under them. “Holy wow — I don’t know what got into me.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “C’mon, let’s go see if we can help Brynn.”
I glanced back to see the pack of boys disappear in a near-silent whoosh of panic, probably fearing expulsion for their behavior. My blood boiled. But not for Alan and Shane. Those hyenas were beyond hope of being anything but mean. My rage was at the one of them who had cared about Brynn, but decided to go along with the show.
“You sure you’re all right?” When Nora nodded, I said, “Good. I gotta go.” Just then Troy resurfaced from wherever he had been hiding. He jogged toward the dining hall, putting distance between him and the scene of the crime. I ran after him.
“Wait!” Nora yelled after me.
“Hey!” I yelled, when I finally caught up with Troy. He wheeled around to face me. There were bruises on his forearms, and a cut of black blood pooled under the skin of his left eye. There was an egg clutched in his right fist. I didn’t need anyone to tell me it was Shane and Alan who’d thumped him.
“Why’d they give you a black eye?” I demanded. But I knew. They’d had to beat Troy into going along with what they’d done to Brynn. He must have really liked her. I hated him even more.
“Get away from me,” he snarled.
“You guys are monsters. What’s wrong with you?”
He walked away from me. I grabbed his arm to make him stop. Troy swung around and cocked back his arm like he was going to hit me, or fire that last egg at me, close range. I was pretty sure he meant to do one of those things, but I stood my ground. I won’t lie — I was shaking in my sneakers. But there was no way I would go back to ducking when a bully threatened me.
His face went red and his voice broke. “She was supposed to be my girlfriend. All this time, she’s been going out with half of Hadley House.” His voice spiraled up to squeaky and desperate.
“Brynn didn’t deserve that,” I said.
It was like I punched him. His angry face became unsure. His fist dropped. He studied the egg in his hand. He’s beat, I thought, suddenly giddy inside even as I stone-faced him. Now he’ll slink off.
But instead, he hung his head. “You’re right. She didn’t deserve it. Nobody deserves what we just did to her.” He swallowed. “Is she OK?”
Never in a million years had I expected him to say that. “I don’t know,” I finally managed.
A tear streaked down his face. “Tell her I’m sorry,” he demanded, staring at the egg in his hand. Suddenly, he threw it to the ground, where it smashed to bits in the green grass. I jumped back, startled.
“Tell her yourself,” I said shakily. Troy squatted down over the egg and picked something out of the yolk. When he stood, something thin and shiny was pressed between his egg-slimed fingertips, and his face was slack with surprise. He turned to go. “What …?” I started, but I didn’t get to ask him anything more because he jogged off.
I was curled up on my bed later that evening, thinking about what Troy had said, when Nora flung open the door and strode in.
“We have things to discuss,” she announced, completely ignoring Tamara, who sat at her desk doing homework.
I bolted out of bed. “How’s Brynn?” I asked.
“I think she’s in the infirmary,” Nora answered.
“I’m studying, so shut up or get out,” Tamara told us. Rolling our eyes, Nora and I headed for the patio. I was glad for the privacy, but it was cold and dark outside.
“Are you OK?” I asked her once we were alone.
“Fine.” She waved a hand dismissively, as if she hadn’t been shell-shocked earlier today. “Where’d you run off to?”
I told her about what had happened with Troy. Nora’s eyes got rounder and rounder. “Well, good for him,” she muttered. Then I told her about him picking something out of the yolk of the smashed egg. “Eww,” Nora opined. “Like a chicken part?” I shrugged, not able to express how seeing it had tickled a weird part of my brain that didn’t have words.
Nora surveyed me for a long moment and said, “Listen, you left before I could tell you the most important part of what I found out.” She lowered her voice. “The gold coin Barnaby Charon gave you? The danake? Most are silver.”
“So?” I asked.
“Archeologists find silver danakes everywhere. They weren’t worth very much back when they were made — a bowl of barley. But the one you have is gold.” She took a deep breath. “The only place excavations find gold danakes are in graveyards. They’re coins for the dead.”
I shuddered. “What do you mean? Are you saying he’s going to kill her?” I whispered. “Do you … Do you think he’s saying he killed Jessie? Or that Jessie’s dead?”
“I’m saying that the coin sounds like a message, and it’s not a good one.”
A graveyard coin. I had told myself I wouldn’t pass the coin along to Brynn until I understood what it meant. Now that I knew, I had to tell her. At best, she might know all about it herself. And at worst, at least she’d know some mummy-skinned faculty creep was sending her death coins.
“Check in!” Miss Andersen yelled, from inside the dormitory. For a split second, I considered telling Miss Andersen. But as the thought crossed my mind, I saw myself in her car, driving back to Lethe, how she’d stone-walled me. No, I decided. I couldn’t trust her to help us.
Nora said good night to me and darted back to her room. I trudged in, shut the patio doors, crawled into bed, and pulled the covers up. I was freezing and scared, but I told myself to let it go and get to sleep.
Just as I was drifting off, I thought about how once when I was seven, I cut my hand pretty bad. My dad took me to the ER. There was a lot of blood and so the orderly put us in a cubical to wait. My dad and I waited for a long time, and nobody came. Meanwhile, my finger began to feel all cold and rubbery, and my dad paced around, muttering angrily about the no-show doctor. I got scared, and I started to bawl.
“Oh. Hey, don’t cry,” my dad said, which of course made me cry more. He glanced wildly around the room, like he was thinking about running away. Instead, he grabbed a box of latex gloves and blew one up like it was a balloon, pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, and started drawing. He made a whole flock of balloon chickens with finger combs and thumb beaks for me, and made them squawk and chase one another and squeak air, until the doctor came in and gave me ten stitches. I could still remember how Dad had held my other hand and whispered, “Squeeze as tight as you need to,” when the doctor brought the needle over.
Thinking about my dad and those chickens, and how I’d held on tight, I drifted off, wishing I could call him, and knowing because of the time change, it was too late.
Brynn wasn’t in any classes the next day.
After dinner, I stopped by the infirmary. Brynn lay on a hospital bed with her knee in traction. She wiggled her toes at me. Her leg was like a broken kite in a tree, tangled up with tension strings everywhere, dangling from the ceiling. Despite the toe hello, her face was tearstained and she barely smiled.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
She shrugged and nodded to a chair next to her bed. I sat down. Neither of us said anything. Chatter floated in from the small TV in the nurse’s office. There were two empty beds in the room, both with squared corners and clean white sheets. Dividing curtains hung from metal tubing on the ceiling. Everything was shades of sterile. Brynn looked like a pressed flower inside somebody’s old dictionary.
“Is your knee going to be OK?” I asked.
A tear rolled down her cheek. “Yeah.” I wondered if she would still be a good tennis player or not.
“Those guys are worthless, Brynn,” I said.
“What’s my favorite color?” she asked out of nowhere, her voice angry.
“I dunno.”
“Favorite food? The town I came from? What kind of grades do I get?” Each question was like the slash of a knife. For the first time, Brynn didn’t look beautiful. A vein squiggling down the center of her forehead bulged out, and her lips were pulled back to show her teeth. In a way, it was the first time she seemed real, not like a girl who’d walked off a TV set. She must have seen that I saw, because she turned her face away from me. I prepared to evacuate the premises. That was standard procedure when someone startled me so bad I nearly wet myself.
“What do you know about me?” she asked the wall.
“You play tennis.”
“Yeah. I’m the tennis champion. Since I was six, after my parents divorced, that’s who I’ve been. Two hours of practice, six days a week. I played every country club circuit my mom could enter me in. You know why?”
The Last Academy Page 11