Valley of the Moon

by Bronwyn Archer

  ***

  The next day Caleb sent me a selfie of him, Wyatt, and Evan on a ski lift.

  Then four days went by.

  No messages.

  No calls.

  By the morning of the first day back to school, I was furious. Not at him—at myself. For liking a boy I barely knew who was not that into me. As soon as I woke up I deleted his number from my phone and started bracing myself for Piper’s questions.

  My dad was in the kitchen. He had bits of toilet paper stuck to his cheek and he barely looked up at me from his coffee. When his cell phone buzzed, he spilled some on his shirt. He looked at the phone, pursed his lips, and didn’t answer it.

  “Dad?” He looked up at me. “Is everything okay?” The home phone hanging on the kitchen wall rang. I reached across the counter to answer it.

  “No!” he yelled. I yanked my hand away from the receiver like it was on fire. “I mean, I’ll get it.”

  He ambled slowly over to the phone as it rang and rang.

  The ringing stopped before he got to it. He looked up at me. “They’ll call back.” He took his bottle of high blood pressure medicine out of his shirt pocket, twisted open the cap, and knocked two tablets into his hand. He clapped his palm to his mouth and washed the pills down with a swig of black coffee.

  ***

  I parked my Golf and walked up the steps up to the main entrance. The usual sound of hundreds of loafers shuffling across the Saltillo tiles in the entry hall was curiously absent. Where was everyone?

  Then I remembered—Monday assembly.

  I ducked into the auditorium just as Miss Grimm was closing the doors. She scowled at me.

  Mr. Wimbish stood at the podium intoning to the assembled girls. I spotted Piper in the last row in the senior section. She waved me over.

  When I sat down, Piper hissed, “Did you see her?”

  “Who?”

  A teacher shushed us. Piper rolled her eyes.

  Wimbish droned on. “So in this New Year, let us all to resolve to be better citizens—to each other and to the world.” He cleared his throat. “And now, girls, I have a sad announcement. Our upper school English teacher Louis Quarry will be leaving Briar. In fact, today is his last day. He has been offered an opportunity to teach at a private boy’s school in Connecticut.”

  A stunned buzz rose up. Every head in the room swiveled in Mr. Quarry’s direction. He stood leaning against the auditorium wall opposite us. His face was like stone and he gazed into the distance. She had done it. She had gotten him fired. I guess she didn’t like being dumped, Mr. Quarry.

  I glanced over at the stage and jumped. Ramona Crawford stood half-hidden in the wings, but her mirthless black eyes found mine. Goose bumps broke out on my arms. I let out a sharp intake of breath and dropped my gaze, tucking my skirt tight around my legs. She rarely made an appearance at Briar. Was she here to gloat on her boyfriend’s last day? I wondered what excuse they had given him. I imagined Mr. Wimbish, long fingers pressed together, delivering the bad news. Louis, it has come to my attention that you have refused Mrs. Crawford’s sexual advances. I’m afraid we have no choice but to let you go.

  Ramona wasn’t beautiful, but she was striking. She wore her jet-black hair in straight, glossy sheets to the tops of her shoulders. Her body was lean and boyish like Cressida’s, with small breasts and sculpted shoulders and arms, thanks to daily Pilates classes and weekly low-impact cardio classes and monthly cleanses and sips from the black cauldron where she stewed human limbs and gnawed the flesh off bones with her fangs.

  Okay, not that last one, but she looked like she could have.

  My father and Ramona met at a charity car race in Sonoma when I was eleven. Six weeks later they were married in a small ceremony at her palatial estate. I remember being so happy on their wedding day. I was getting not one but two new sisters—including one less than a year older than me. I couldn’t wait to start seventh grade with Cressida, my new sister and best friend for life.

  It was going to be the fresh start my dad promised me.

  Another broken promise.

  It didn’t take long me long to see the real Ramona Crawford. Once, a few weeks after my dad and I moved into their house, Cressida dared me to go in her closet and peek inside her underwear drawer. We crept into the massive walk-in closet, giggling. She showed me the drawer filled with forbidden things: mysterious things made of black lace and silk, corsets with straps and satin masks and even something covered in feathers. I plunged my hands in, the sensation of illicit silk thrilling on my bare eleven-year-old forearms.

  When she caught me, I was elbow-deep in her underwear. I spent the next five hours in the naughty room.

  One more thing I learned living with the Crawfords: tears sting when they roll down freshly slapped cheeks.

  ***

  The Mr. Quarry bombshell was not the big news going around the senior lounge after assembly.

  “Did you see her?” We had snagged the red velvet club chairs in the far corner. The dark green walls of the lounge were hung with the photographs of every senior class president since the school was founded.

  The current class president watched us from her portrait on the wall above our heads. She also happened to be the topic of conversation that morning.

  “Did she grow a new wart or something?”

  “Uh, yeah. Two of them.” Piper cackled. Her eyes shined with the joy of being the first to tell me.

  Bernadette sauntered into the lounge and beelined over. She plopped into the chair next to mine and flung her backpack to the floor like she wanted it dead. She pulled a diet Coke out of her sweater pocket and cracked it open.

  “Bernie, thank God,” Piper said. “Please tell me you saw her.”

  “Saw who?” She cracked open her soda and took a slurp. “How was break? Sucks to be back, right?”

  “Our break was freaking awesome,” Piper gushed. “We pretty much all got boyfriends—me, Lana, and Maya.”

  Pretty much. Except for the Lana part. “Piper—”

  Bernadette cut me off and nodded. “Nice timing. They’re going to announce prom any minute. Wait, I have to tell you about the ski trip. There was this one instructor—”

  The last thing I wanted to hear was a ski trip story.

  Piper sighed loudly. “Can’t we please first discuss Cressida and her new boobs?”

  Bernadette raised an eyebrow and looked at me. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had yet to behold New Cressida.

  “Good for her,” Bernadette said, shrugging. “If I had her grape tits, I’d get mine done, too. Lucky for us, we were born with great racks.”

  Piper cocked her head toward the doors. Cressida, flanked by Ginger and Valentina, headed for the cluster of chairs in front of the fireplace. There was an unwritten rule that no one else could sit in those chairs.

  Every girl in the senior lounge stared. Cressida’s white-blonde curls were newly straightened. Her snug uniform sweater showed off her other enhancements.

  “Are those Ds?” Bernadette asked, craning her neck for a better view.

  “I think they’re Cs.” Piper said. “C for Cressida.” Bernadette choked on her soda. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. It was one thing to hate Cressida for the way she treated us. It was another to mock her looks. Don’t be like this. Don’t be like her. After all the school’s hard work indoctrinating us about the “importance of sisterhood” and “female empowerment,” and we were sitting around ripping a classmate to shreds. But maybe there was an exception when it came to Cressida.

  Maybe not.

  The bell blared. We hoisted our backpacks and paraded to the door.

  As I walked past her, she looked up at me.

  We accidentally made eye contact.

  Well, now you have to say something.

  “Hey Cressida, I like your hair. It looks good.”

  “Yeah,” Piper muttered under her breath. “Like lipstick on a pig.”

  Cressida’s mouth twisted i
nto a thin smile. She turned to her friends. “Did I hear someone say pig, you guys? Or Piper?”

  I could feel Piper’s rage coming on. “Okay, girls,” I said, pulling at Piper’s elbow. “Time for class.”

  Cressida’s eyes swiveled to mine. “What’s the rush, Lana? Going to get another teacher fired?” I stood blinking dumbly. What was she talking about? That wasn’t true—was it?

  I started to dissolve under her withering stare, like a tablet in a glass of water. Bernadette finally shoved me toward the door.

  What had Ramona done?

  Mare Imbrium ~ Sea of Showers

  It was like a funeral in English class. A box filled with his personal belongings sat on the floor. The only thing left was his wall calendar. Theme: Great American Poets. January featured a photo of Edgar Allen Poe.

  When I took my seat, Mr. Quarry was deep in conversation with Hannah Pritzker, who always sat in the front row. She was a huge Mr. Quarry fan.

  He didn’t even glance at me as I sat down.

  “But Mr. Quarry, why Connecticut?” she whined. “Why a boys’ school? I thought you liked teaching us.” Her voice trembled.

  “Ha, oh no, Hannah, I love girls,” he said. “I mean, I like teaching girls very much.” He glanced up at me. I blushed and pretended to review my notes.

  When Cressida walked in, the class hushed. Piper pinched my thigh.

  During the class discussion, I raised my hand several times, but he never called on me. I desperately needed class to be over so I could talk to him in private.

  When the bell rang, every girl went up to his desk to give him a hug.

  Except me.

  I told Piper I’d see her tomorrow and took my time packing my backpack.

  Finally, the last girl left the classroom.

  I fidgeted in my seat and smoothed my skirt down. He leaned against his desk staring at me with a dark expression on his handsome face. The pleasant demeanor from the last hour had vanished.

  “What happened, Mr. Quarry?” My voice echoed in the empty room.

  He shrugged and crossed his arms. “Well, I did it. I broke it off with her. So she had me fired.”

  “They can’t fire you for that! Can they?”

  “Inappropriate contact with a student. That’s the official reason Wimbish gave me. Ramona must have made up some crazy story.”

  I gasped and stared, blinking. “What? Inappropriate contact with who?”

  Thick winter clouds outside the window obscured the late afternoon sun. His face fell into shadow.

  “With you, my dear.”

  “But,” I stammered, “it’s a total lie!” My face flushed at the thought of “inappropriate contact” with Mr. Quarry.

  “True. I draw the line at inappropriate contact with my students’ mothers.” He smirked and shook his head.

  My eyes welled. “So am I in trouble now, too? Does Mr. Wimbish think that I…that you and I…?”

  He picked up the jacket hanging on the back of his chair. “Ramona made you out to be the innocent victim of my appalling advances. According to Wimbish, Ramona plans to contact you to see if you need any counseling.” Oh, great. That’s going to be fun.

  “But don’t you want to fight it? It’s so unfair!”

  He shrugged. “It’s not worth it. You can only fight for things you can’t live without. I can live without Briar.”

  We had that in common.

  He walked to the door. I was losing the only teacher who cared about me. The only one who dared to give Cressida Crawford a grade below a B.

  “Wait!” I ran over to him and he wrapped me a tight hug.

  “Be careful here, Lana.” He whispered it close to my ear.

  “What do you mean?”

  His jaw clenched. “Remember I told you Ramona tried to force me to change someone’s grade?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It was yours. She wanted me to fail you.” I couldn’t breathe. “You have a few enemies here. Promise me you’ll be careful, okay?” Careful how? Ramona couldn’t do anything to me. Not anymore. Except fire my teachers. I nodded. He kissed me softly on the forehead. He gave me a wistful smile.

  “You know, if I was going to fall in love with a Briar girl, maybe it would have been you.” My jaw dropped. “Good-bye, Lana.” He winked at me and walked out.

  I needed a few minutes to compose myself in the silent classroom.

  The brooding photo of Edgar Allen Poe stared murderously at me from the wall calendar.

  Nevermore.

  ***

  When I peeked into the corridor a few minutes later, there were no signs of life. I tiptoed through the doorway.

  “Hello, Miss Goodwin.” I almost jumped out of my loafers. That low, icy voice. My adrenaline took off running.

  Ramona was in her usual at-school outfit: slim pencil skirt, silk blouse, cashmere cardigan, and four-inch blood-red heels.

  I tried to keep my voice steady. “Oh! I didn’t see you there.”

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She smiled like a benevolent queen. One about to order up a few beheadings. “We haven’t had a chance to talk in a while.” Because I avoid you like a rat infected with bubonic plague, Ramona. “How’s your father?”

  “Uh, he’s doing well,” I lied. She nodded thoughtfully.

  “That’s good to hear. I’d heard his business was in a bit of trouble.”

  I blanched. “No, everything’s fine. Selling tons of cars.”

  “Hm,” she purred. “Well, if there’s ever anything I can ever do.” Her thin red lips stretched tight into a smile. “Sad, isn’t it? I hate to see a talented teacher go. Especially one so popular with you girls.” Her eyes burned with a naked, gloating pleasure. “I know you had a special affection for Mr. Quarry, Lana. You were one of his favorites, after all. Cressida told me how he favored you.”

  Alarms bells rang in my head. Mr. Quarry’s parting words to me echoed in my head.

  “I trust you had a moment to say your good-byes?” She leaned towards me. “Was it all you dreamed it would be, Lana?” I heard a new, fierce tone in her voice. Her eyes bored into me, black and penetrating.

  “He did not favor me! He was totally fair. He was the best teacher at this school.”

  An old, familiar panic threatened to descend on me. I looked around. Where was everyone?

  She smiled cryptically. Her eyes filled with hard pleasure and her thin nostrils flared. She eyed me up and down and her smile fled.

  “Mr. Quarry was an unhealthy presence around young girls. He stepped out of line. Fortunately, I’ve seen to it that he’ll never teach at a school like this again.” She delivered the words like an executioner swinging his ax.

  A quiet rage replaced my fear. Don’t just stand there like her terrified little stepdaughter! She can’t do anything to you now!

  I took a deep breath. “You’re right, Ramona. He did step out of line. But not with a student.”

  Her sharp intake of breath told me my words hit their mark. I didn’t wait to hear a reply as I rushed to the stairs. I had an intense vision of her running up behind me and pushing me over the railing, my body tumbling to the tiles below.

  When I made it to the safety of my car, my hands were shaking so hard I could barely turn the key.

  ***

  I was in my room reading when I heard my dad’s car roll up late that night. He knocked on my door ten minutes later.

  “Hey honey, how was school?”

  “Fine, Dad. Dinner’s on the stove. You just have to heat it up.”

  “Sounds great, thanks.” He started to close the door.

  “Wait, Dad!” He paused in the doorway. “Is your business in any kind of trouble? Real trouble?” Maybe Ramona knew more than I did.

  His eyes widened and his shoulders tensed. “Sales have been a little slow, but that’s behind us now. I found a new investor. With deep pockets.” His face strained to smile.

  “Who?” He sagged against the doorframe. He looked around
my bedroom.

  “You know I would do anything for you, right?”

  “I know.”

  “Then quit asking so many questions!” He turned to go. “Hey, whatever happened to that boy you went out with over New Years? Kevin? The one with the Porsche.”

  “Caleb. He’s back at college.”

  He nodded distractedly. “Well, it’s probably for the best. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

  Caleb. I hadn’t heard a thing from him since that stupid selfie he sent me. Either he got swept away in an avalanche, or he’s just not that into you. But what was another heartbreak? Was there even anything left to break?

  One of these days my heart was going to shatter for good.

  Like a snow globe pushed off a shelf.

  ***

  “We’re going out Friday night with the boys,” Piper said at lunch the next day. “You’re welcome to come, too.”

  “I’m working an event for Justine tomorrow. You guys have fun.” Actually, I wasn’t. I had hardly worked since before Christmas. But I was doing my best to avoid odd-numbered dates, like third-wheel dates with Piper and Wyatt and fifth-wheel dates when Maya and Evan joined them. Yeah, no thanks.

  Caleb was 418 miles away in L.A.

  I had Google-mapped it.

  Piper squirmed on the bench. “Heard from Caleb recently?”

  “We text,” I said. I didn’t want to get into the details. Like the little detail that there were no details. Three texts in a month? One call since our date? The bell rang and we packed up to head to class.

  “Have you told him about Cressida yet?” Piper asked.

  “Why would I do that?” She gnawed on her pinkie finger.

  “I don’t know. Because he’s your boyfriend?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Yet.”

  “Piper, why would I want to pollute my Caleb time with Cressida talk?” I asked.

  Piper shrugged. “True. Less said about her, the better.”

  ***

  When the home phone rang that night, I picked it up. Anything to avoid studying for a French quiz.