by Claudia Gray
The word goofy made me think I knew who this was. “Vic is the guy who wears Hawaiian shirts under his blazer sometimes, right?”
“That’s the one.”
“We haven’t talked, but he seems like fun.”
“He is. Maybe we can all hang out sometime.”
My heart pounding, I ventured, “That would be nice, but…I’d rather spend time with you.” Our eyes met, and I felt like I’d crossed some line. Was that a bad thing or a good one?
“We could—but—” Why was Lucas hesitating? “Bianca, I hope we’re friends. I like you. But it’s not a smart idea for you to spend a lot of time with me. You’ve seen that I’m not exactly the most popular guy on campus. I’m not here to make pals.”
“Are you here to make enemies? The way you and Erich fight, sometimes it seems like it.”
“Would you rather I was friendly with Erich?”
Erich was a class-A jerk, and we both knew it. “No, of course not. You’re just kind of, well, confrontational. I mean, do you really hate all these guys so much? I don’t like them, but you—it’s like you can’t even stand the sight of them.”
“I trust my instincts.”
I couldn’t really argue with that. “They’re people you don’t want on your bad side, not if you can help it.”
“Bianca, if you and I—if we—”
If we what? I could think of so many answers to that question, and I liked most of them. Our eyes met, locking so that it seemed impossible to look away. Lucas’s intensity was almost overpowering even when it wasn’t focused on me, and when it was—like now, as he studied every feature of my face, weighed all his words to me before he spoke them aloud—he could take my breath away.
Finally Lucas finished, “I couldn’t stand it if they took it out on you. And eventually they would.”
He was protecting me? That would have been endearing, if it hadn’t been crazy. “You know, I don’t think I have any social cred for you to damage.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Don’t be so stubborn.”
We were quiet together for a while. Moonlight filtered down between the leaves of ivy, and Lucas was close enough that I could recognize his scent—something that reminded me of cedar and pine, like the woods that surrounded us, as if he were somehow a part of this dark place.
“I’ve kinda messed things up, haven’t I?” Lucas sounded almost as bashful as I felt. “I’m not used to this.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Talking to girls?” Looking the way Lucas did, I doubted that.
However, there was no mistaking his sincerity when he nodded. The devilish glint had faded from his eyes. “I’ve spent a lot of years moving around. Traveling from place to place. Anybody I cared about—it seemed like they were gone too soon. I guess I learned to keep people at a distance.”
“You made me feel like I’d been stupid to trust you.”
“Don’t feel that way. This is my problem. I’d hate for it to be yours.”
My whole life had been spent in a small town, and I’d always thought that made me worse at meeting strangers. But now that Lucas said it, I could see that a peripatetic existence might have the same effect: isolate you, turn your thoughts inward, so that reaching out to others was the hardest thing in the world.
So perhaps his anger was a lot like my shyness. It was a sign that we were each lonely. Maybe we didn’t have to stay lonely too much longer.
Quietly, I said, “Aren’t you tired of running and hiding? I know I am.”
“I don’t run and hide,” Lucas retorted. Then he was silent for a second, considering. “Well, damn.”
“I could be wrong.”
“You’re not.” Lucas watched me for a while longer, and just when I was starting to feel like I’d been too open, he said, “I shouldn’t do this.”
“This?” My heart began to thump a little faster.
Lucas just shook his head and grinned. The devilish look was back. “When it gets complicated later on, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Maybe I’m the complicated one.”
He smiled even more broadly. “I can see it’s going to take us a while to settle this.” I loved it when he smiled at me that way, and I hoped we’d hang out at the gazebo for hours. But at that moment, Lucas cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” But then I did hear it: the faraway sound of the school’s front door opening repeatedly and footsteps on the front walk. “They’re coming out to bust the party!”
“Sucks to be Courtney,” Lucas said. “And it gives us a chance to get back inside.”
We ran across the grounds, listening to the sounds of the party being broken up, and gave each other big smiles as we sailed through the front door, home free.
“See you soon,” Lucas whispered as he let my arm go and headed toward his hall. And as I ran back to my own room and my own bed, that one word kept ringing in my ears: soon.
Chapter Four
I REACHED MY ROOM JUST IN TIME TO JUMP under the covers before Patrice walked in, accompanied by Mrs. Bethany. Pale light from the hallway outlined the headmistress, so that all I could see was her silhouette.
“You know why we have rules here, Patrice.” Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking that she was serious. It was more than a little intimidating, and I wasn’t even the one she was scolding. “You should understand that those rules need to be obeyed. We can’t go running across the countryside at night. People would talk. Students would lose control. The result could be tragedy. Am I clear?”
Patrice nodded, and then the door swung shut. I sat up in bed and whispered, “Was it awful?”
“No, just a mess,” Patrice grumbled as she started stripping off her clothes. We’d been changing in the same room together for more than a week now, but I was still kind of embarrassed by it. She wasn’t. Even as she yanked off her shirt, she was staring at me. “You’re still dressed!”
“Um, yeah.”
“I thought you left the party early.”
“I did. But I—I couldn’t get back into the school right away. They were patrolling. Then they realized where you guys were and took off. I only got in here about three minutes before you did.”
Patrice shrugged as she reached for her nightshirt. I did my best to get changed without turning away from my corner. The conversation was over, and I’d successfully lied to my roommate for the first time.
Maybe I should’ve told Patrice why I was late. Most girls would probably be bubbling over to tell everyone all about the gorgeous guy they’d just made a connection with. But I liked the secret. That made it more special, somehow, the fact that only I knew. Lucas likes me, and I like him back. I think maybe, soon, we’re going to be together.
That last thought was probably taking it a little far, I decided as I slid beneath the blankets again. All the same, I couldn’t help myself. My mind was racing too fast for me to sleep, and I smiled against my pillowcase.
He’s mine.
“Heard there was quite a party last night,” Dad said, as he placed a hamburger and fries in front of me at my family’s table.
“Mmm-hmmm,” I answered through a mouthful of fries. Then I caught myself and mumbled, “I mean, that’s what I heard, too.”
Mom and Dad traded looks, and I got the impression that they were more amused than ticked off. That was a relief.
This was the first of what would be our weekly Sunday dinners. Every second I could be back with my family in the faculty apartment instead of surrounded by Evernight kids was good with me. Even though they were trying to act all casual about it, I could tell that my parents had missed me almost as much as I’d missed them. Duke Ellington was on the stereo, and despite the parental interrogation, everything was again right with the world.
“Things didn’t get out of hand, did they?” Mom had apparently decided to ignore the fact that I’d denied being there. “From what I heard, it was mostly beer and music.”
“Not that I
know of.” It wasn’t really a denial; I mean, I did only attend the party for about fifteen minutes.
Dad shook his head and said to Mom, “It doesn’t matter if it was just beer. The rules have to be obeyed, Celia. I don’t worry about Bianca, but some of the others—”
“I’m not against rules. But it’s natural for the older students to rebel against them occasionally. Better to have a few minor slipups from time to time than some major incident.” Mom turned her attention back to me. “What’s your favorite class so far?”
“Yours, of course.” I gave her a look, asking if she really thought I was silly enough to answer any other way, and she laughed.
“Besides mine.” Mom put her chin in her hand, ignoring the entire elbows-on-the-table rule. “English, maybe? You’ve always loved that most.”
“Not with Mrs. Bethany.”
This didn’t earn me any sympathy. “Listen to her.” Dad was stern, and he set his glass down on the old oak table too hard, with a thunk. “She’s someone that you need to take seriously.”
I thought: Stupid, she’s their boss. What would happen if word got around that their kid was bad-mouthing the headmistress? Think about somebody beside yourself for a change.
“I’ll try harder,” I promised.
“I know you will.” Mom covered my hand with her own.
On Monday, I went into English class determined to make a fresh start. We had recently started mythology and folklore, both subjects I’d always enjoyed. Surely if I could prove myself to Mrs. Bethany in any area, it would be that.
Well, apparently I couldn’t prove myself to Mrs. Bethany.
“I expect that relatively few of you will have read our next assignment,” she said, as a stack of paperbacks made its way around the room. Mrs. Bethany always smelled slightly of lavender—feminine, yet sharp. “However, I imagine that virtually all of you have heard of it.”
The paperbacks reached my desk, and I took a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. From the next row of desks, I heard Raquel mutter, “Vampires?”
As soon as she’d said it, a weird sort of electricity seemed to crackle through the room. Mrs. Bethany pounced. “Do you have a problem with the assignment, Miss Vargas?”
Her eyes glittered as she fixed her birdlike gaze on Raquel, who looked like she would have gladly bitten off her tongue to have kept from saying anything. Already her one uniform sweater had begun to pill and look worn around the elbows. “No, ma’am.”
“It sounded as though you did. Please, Miss Vargas, enlighten us.” Mrs. Bethany folded her arms in front of her chest, amused by whatever joke she was playing. Her fingernails were thick and strangely grooved. “If Norse sagas about giant monsters strike you as worthy of your notice, why not novels about vampires?”
Whatever Raquel said would be wrong. She’d try to answer, and Mrs. Bethany would shoot her down no matter what, and we could go on like that for most of the class. That was the way Mrs. Bethany had amused herself during every class period so far, finding someone to torment, usually for the amusement of the students whose powerful families she obviously preferred. The smart thing to do would’ve been for me to shut up and let Raquel be Mrs. Bethany’s whipping boy for the day, but I couldn’t stand watching it.
Tentatively, I raised my hand. Mrs. Bethany barely glanced at me. “Yes, Miss Olivier?”
“Dracula’s not a very good book, though, is it?” Everyone stared at me, shocked that somebody else had contradicted Mrs. Bethany. “It has such flowery language, and all those letters within letters.”
“I see that someone disapproves of the epistolary form that so many distinguished authors employed during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.” The click-click of Mrs. Bethany’s shoes on the tile floor seemed unnaturally loud as she walked toward me, Raquel forgotten. The scent of lavender grew stronger. “Do you find it antiquated? Out of date?”
Why did I ever raise my hand? “It just isn’t a very fast-moving book. That’s all.”
“Speed is, of course, the standard by which all literature is to be judged.” A few snickers around the room made me squirm in my seat. “Perhaps you want your classmates to wonder why anyone would ever study this?”
“We’re studying folklore,” Courtney interjected. She wasn’t rescuing me, just showing off. I wondered if that was to put me down or get Balthazar to look at her. For days she’d been making sure her kilt showed off her legs to their best advantage every time she sat down, but so far he seemed unmoved. “One common element in folklore around the world is the vampire.”
Mrs. Bethany simply nodded at Courtney. “In modern Western culture no vampire myth is more famous than that of Dracula. Where better to begin?”
I surprised everyone, including myself, by saying, “The Turn of the Screw.”
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Bethany raised her eyebrows. Nobody in the room seemed to understand what I was getting at—except Balthazar, who was obviously biting his lip to keep from laughing.
“The Turn of the Screw. The Henry James novella about ghosts, at least maybe about ghosts.” I wasn’t going to start the old debate about whether or not the main character was insane. I’d always found ghosts really scary, but they were easier to face in fiction than Mrs. Bethany was in the flesh. “Ghosts are even more universal in folklore than vampires. And Henry James is a better writer than Bram Stoker.”
“When you are designing the class, Miss Olivier, you may begin with ghosts.” My teacher’s voice could have cut glass. I had to suppress a shiver as she stood over me, more stone-faced than any gargoyle. “Here, we will begin by studying vampires. We will learn how differently vampires have been perceived by different cultures over the ages, from the distant past until today. If you find it dull, take heart. We’ll get to ghosts soon enough even for you.”
After that, I knew to shut up and stay quiet.
In the hallway after class, tremulous with that strange weakness that always follows humiliation, I walked slowly through the throng of students. It seemed as if everyone was laughing with a friend except me. Raquel and I might have consoled each other, but she had already skulked away.
Then I heard someone say, “Another Henry James reader.”
I turned to see Balthazar, who had fallen into step at my side. Maybe he was there to offer support; maybe he was just trying to avoid Courtney. Either way, I was grateful to see a friendly face. “Well, I’ve read The Turn of the Screw and Daisy Miller. That’s about it.”
“Try Portrait of a Lady sometime. I think you would like that one.”
“Really? Why?” I assumed that Balthazar would say something about how good the book was, but he surprised me.
“It’s about a woman who wants to define herself, instead of letting other people define her.” He navigated easily through the crowd without ever taking his eyes from me. The only other guy who had ever looked at me so intently was Lucas. “I had a hunch that you might respond to that.”
“You might be right,” I said. “I’ll check it out of the library. And—thanks. For the recommendation.” And, I thought, for thinking of me that way.
“You’re welcome.” Balthazar grinned, showing off the dimple in his chin again, but then we both heard Courtney’s laugh, not far away. He gave me a mock-scared look that made me laugh. “Gotta run.”
“Hurry!” I whispered as he dodged down the nearest hallway. Although Balthazar’s encouragement had helped, I still felt wrung out after Mrs. Bethany’s interrogation. I decided to take a quick walk on the grounds for some fresh air and quiet before I ate. Maybe I could have a few precious minutes alone.
Unfortunately, I was far from the only one with the same idea. Several students were milling around outside, playing music and talking. I noticed a group of girls sitting in the shade, none of them apparently headed back to their rooms for lunch. Probably they were dieting for the Autumn Ball, I decided as I watched them whispering together in the shadows cast by one of the old elm trees.
There wa
s only one person on the grounds I wanted to see. I recognized him from the first day, and Lucas’s description. “Vic?” I called.
Vic grinned at me. “Yo!”
You’d have thought we were old friends, instead of speaking for the first time. His floppy, sandy-brown hair stuck out from the sides of the Phillies cap he wore, and he carried an iPod emblazoned with a skin swirled with orange and green. As he loped to my side and tugged out his earbuds, I said, “Hey. Have you seen Lucas?”
“That guy, he’s crazy.” In Vic’s world, crazy seemed to be a compliment. “He cut out of study hall, and I was, like, what are you doing? And he was all, just cover for me, right? So I did, until now, but you’re not gonna narc on him. You’re cool.”
Since Vic and I had never even spoken before, how could he know I was cool? Then I wondered if Lucas told him, and that made me smile. “Do you know where he is?”
“If a teacher asks me, I don’t know anything. Since it’s you, I think it might have to do with the carriage house.”
The carriage house to the north, near the lake, had been where they’d kept the horses and buggies back in the old days. Now it had been remade into Evernight Academy’s administrative offices and Mrs. Bethany’s residence. What would Lucas be doing there?
“I think I’ll take a stroll over that way,” I suggested. “Just going for a walk. Not doing anything in particular.”
“Ohhhh, riiiiiiiight,” Vic said, nodding his head, like I’d actually said something really sly. “You got it.”
He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I decided as I casually wandered in the general direction of the carriage house. Despite that, Vic seemed like a nice guy. Not the Evernight type at all, thank God. Nobody noticed me as I slipped farther away from the rest of the students. I guessed that was the one good thing about being beneath attention: You could get away with a lot more.
There was no forest here to shelter me, just softly rolling grounds, thick with clover, and a few trees at regular intervals, probably planted long ago to provide shade. In the underbrush I saw a small dead squirrel, a shriveled scrap of its former self. The wind ruffled its tail forlornly. I wrinkled my nose and tried to ignore it, concentrating instead on my search. I walked slower and more quietly, hoping to hear Lucas.