* * *
Later
that week, the seasons shifted overnight. The cold awakened me first thing in
the morning, and I could feel the change down in my bones.
I pulled the blankets more tightly around me, but that didn't do much good.
Fall had laced the windowpanes with frost. I'd need to pull down the heavy
comforter from the top shelf of my closet later; from now on, it would be
harder to stay warm.
The light was still soft and pink, and I knew it was just past dawn. Groaning,
I sat up and resigned myself to being awake. I could've fetched the comforter
and tried to snatch a few more hours of sleep, but I needed to get in some work
on my English paper on
Dracula
or face yet more of the wrath of Mrs.
Bethany. So I slipped into my robe and tiptoed past Patrice, who slept soundly,
as if the cold couldn't penetrate the thin sheet over her.
Evernight's bathrooms had been built in an earlier era, one in which students
were probably so grateful to have an indoor toilet that they weren't picky
about things like plumbing. Too few stalls, no conveniences like electrical
outlets or even mirrors, and separate faucets for hot and cold water in the
tiny sinks—I'd hated them from the start. At least by now I had learned to
scoop a handful of icy water in my palm before letting the steaming-hot water
pour into that. This way, I could wash my face without scalding my fingers. The
tile was so chilly against my bare feet that I made a mental note to wear socks
to bed until spring.
As soon as I turned off the faucets, I heard something else—crying, soft and
quiet. I patted my face dry with my washcloth as I walked toward the sound.
"Hello? Is somebody there?"
The sniffling stopped. Just when I thought I was intruding, Raquel's face
peeked out of one of the stalls. She wore pajamas and the tan-leather braided
bracelet that she always seemed to have on. Her eyes were red.
"Bianca?" she whispered.
"Yeah. Are you okay?"
She shook her head and wiped at her cheeks. "I'm freaking out. I can't
sleep."
"It got cold all of a sudden, didn't it?" I felt stupid even saying
that. I knew as well as Raquel did that she wasn't sobbing in the bathroom at
dawn because the weather was frosty.
"I have to tell you something." Raquel's hand closed over my wrist,
her grip stronger than I would've thought. Her face was pale, her nose reddened
from crying. "I need you to tell me if you think I'm going insane."
This is a weird question to be asked, no matter who's asking, no matter when or
where or how. Carefully, I asked, "Do
you
think you're going
insane?"
"Maybe?" Raquel laughed unevenly, and that reassured me. If she could
see the funny side of this, then probably she was basically okay.
I glanced around behind us, but the bathroom was empty. At that hour, we were
sure to have the place to ourselves for quite a while. "Are you having bad
dreams or something?"
"Vampires. Black capes, fangs, the works." She tried to laugh.
"You wouldn't think anybody out of kindergarten could still be scared of
vampires, but in my dreams—Bianca, they're terrible."
"I had a nightmare about a dying flower the night before classes
started," I said. I wanted to distract her from her own nightmares; maybe
sharing mine would help, even if I did feel sort of stupid talking about it out
loud. "An orchid or a lily or something, wilting in the middle of a storm.
It scared me so badly I couldn't shake it from my mind the whole next
day."
"I can't get them out of my head, though. These dead hands, grabbing at me—"
"You're only thinking about that because of the
Dracula
assignment," I said. "We'll be done with Bram Stoker in another week.
You'll see."
"I know that; I'm not stupid. But the nightmares will just change into
something else. I don't ever feel safe. It's like there's this person—this
presence—someone,
something
that's getting too close. Something
terrible." Raquel leaned closer and whispered, "Don't you ever feel
like there's something at this school that's…evil?"
"Courtney, sometimes." I tried to turn it into a joke.
"Not that kind of evil. Real evil." Her voice shook. "Do you
believe in real evil?"
Nobody had ever asked me that, but I knew the answer. "Yeah. I do."
Raquel swallowed so hard I could hear it, and we stared at each other for a few
moments, unsure what to say next. I knew that I ought to keep reassuring her,
but the intensity of her fear forced me to listen.
"I always feel like I'm being watched here," she said. "Always.
Even when I'm alone. I know it sounds crazy, but it's real. Sometimes I feel
like my nightmares last even after I wake up. Late at night I hear
things—scrapes and thumps on the roof. When I look out the window, I swear
sometimes I see a shadow running into the forest. And the squirrels—you've seen
them, right? How they're dying?"
"A couple." Maybe it was the autumn chill in the drafty old bathroom
making me shiver, but maybe it was Raquel's fear.
"Do you ever feel safe here? Ever?"
I stammered, "I don't feel safe, but I don't think it's anything
weird." Then again,
weird
meant different things to different
people. "It's just this school. This place. The gargoyles and the stone
and the cold—and the attitudes—it makes me feel so out of place. Alone. And
scared."
"Evernight sucks the life out of you." Raquel laughed weakly.
"Listen to me. Life sucking. Still with the vampires."
"You just need some rest," I said firmly, sounding too much like my
mother. "Some rest, and something different to read."
"Rest sounds good. Do you think the school nurse would give out sleeping pills?"
"I'm not sure there is a school nurse." When Raquel's nose wrinkled
in consternation, I suggested, "You could probably grab something over the
counter at the drugstore when we go into Riverton."
"I guess. It's a good idea, anyway." She paused, then gave me a
watery smile. "Thanks for listening to me. I know that I sound nuts."
I shook my head. "Not at all. Like I said, Evernight just gets to
people."
"The drugstore," Raquel said quietly as she gathered her things to go
back to her room. "Sleeping pills. That way, I'll sleep through it."
"Sleep through what?"
"The sounds on the roof." Her face was grave now, that of someone
older than her years. "Because somebody
is
up there at night. I can
hear it. That part isn't a nightmare, Bianca. It's real."
For a long time after she had gone back to bed, I stood alone in the bathroom,
still shivering.
Normally, you'd think the girl going out on her first date
ever would have dibs on the mirror. But when the Friday night of the Riverton
trip came, Patrice was so busy looking at herself that I might as well have
been dressing in the dark. She kept studying her face and figure in the
full-length mirror, squinting and turning, unable to find whatever she was
searching for, whether imperfections or beauty. "You look fine," I said.
"Eat something, will you? You're practically invisible."
"The Autumn Ball isn't even a month away. I want to look my best."
"What good is going to the Autumn Ball if you can't enjoy it?"
"I'll enjoy it even more this way." Patrice smiled at me. She had a
way of being both patronizing and completely sincere. "Someday you'll
understand."
I didn't like it when she talked down to me like that, but she was on my good
side. For my date, Patrice had let me borrow a soft, ivory-colored sweater she
owned, acting as if this was the biggest favor anyone had ever done for anyone.
Maybe she was right. In that sweater, my figure—well, you could tell that I had
one, something the dowdy Evernight plaids and blazers never revealed.
"None of you guys are going?" I asked as I tried pulling my hair back
into a high ponytail. I didn't have to explain who "you guys" meant.
"Erich's throwing another party by the lake." Patrice shrugged. She
still wore her pink satin robe, and her hair was covered with a lacy scarf.
Probably the party wouldn't start until after midnight, not if she hadn't even
started getting ready. "Most of the teachers will be in town chaperoning.
That makes it a prime night here."
"I don't admit that Evernight Academy has prime nights."
"It's not as though they keep us in a cage, Bianca. Also, that hairstyle
is not working for you."
I sighed. "I know. I can see for myself."
"Hold still." Patrice came up behind me, shook out the uneven braids
I'd painstakingly woven, and ruffled her fingers through the strands. Then she
gathered my hair back in a soft knot just at the nape of my neck. A few
tendrils slipped loose to frame my face—messy but beautiful, just the way I always
wanted my hair to look. Watching this transformation in the mirror, I thought
it looked almost as if my hair had been fixed by magic.
"How did you do that?"
"You learn over time." She smiled, prouder of her handiwork than of
me. "Your hair's a wonderful color, you know. When it falls over the ivory
of this sweater, you get to show it off more. See?"
When did this shade of red become a "wonderful color" for hair? I smiled
at my reflection, thinking that as long as Lucas and I were going out, any
miracle was possible.
"Beautiful," Patrice said, and this time, somehow, I realized that
she meant it. The compliment was still impersonal—I thought that the idea of
beauty meant more to her than I did. But she wouldn't say I looked beautiful if
she didn't think so.
Bashful and delighted, I stared at my reflection a little while longer. If
Patrice could see something beautiful in me, then maybe Lucas could, too.
* * *
"You
look great!" Lucas called.
F, trying to maintain eye contact as we each pushed through the students squeezing
into the bus that would take us into town. Evernight Academy didn't have
anything as ordinary as a normal yellow school bus; this was a small luxury
shuttle, the kind of thing a swanky hotel might operate, which had probably
been rented for the occasion. I'd been shoved on in the first wave, and Lucas
was still struggling to get near the door. At least I could see his smile
through the window.
"Dee-luxe." Vic laughed, flopping down into the seat next to me. He
was wearing a fedora that looked like something from the 1940s, and he actually
was pretty cute—but he still wasn't who I wanted to ride with. My face must
have fallen, because he nudged my shoulder. "No worries. I'm just keeping
the seat warm for Lucas."
"Thanks."
If it hadn't been for Vic, I wouldn't have gotten to sit with Lucas at all.
People couldn't get onto that bus fast enough, and it seemed like about two
dozen students—in fact, virtually all the kids who weren't the "Evernight
type"—were determined to get into Riverton. Given how boring Riverton was,
probably they just wanted to get away from school, and anyplace else would do.
I knew how they felt.
Vic gallantly surrendered his seat when Lucas finally made his way to my side,
but I wouldn't say the date started then. We were completely surrounded by
other students, all of whom were laughing, talking, and shouting, relieved to
be off the claustrophobic school grounds at last. Raquel was a few rows away,
talking animatedly to her roommate; I must have put her fears at ease, at least
for now. A few people cast curious glances in my direction that weren't exactly
friendly. Apparently I was still suspected of being part of the in crowd, which
was so wrong it was funny. Vic knelt on the seat in front of us, determined to
tell us all about the amp he was going to buy at a music store that was open
late in town.
"What are you going to do with an amp?" I shouted over the din as we
bounced along the road to town. "They're not going to let you play
electric guitar in our rooms."
Vic shrugged, a grin still splashed across his face. "It's enough just to
look at it, man! To know I have something so excellent. Gonna make me smile
every day."
"You never stop smiling. You smile in your sleep." Despite the
teasing way Lucas said this, I could tell that, down deep, he liked Vic.
"Only way to live, you know?"
Vic was the exact opposite of the Evernight type, and I decided I liked him,
too. "So what are you going to do while we're at the movies?"
"Explore. Wander. Feel the earth beneath my feet." Vic waggled his
eyebrows. "Maybe meet some hotties in town."
"Better buy the amp later, then," Lucas pointed out. "It's going
to cut into your action if you have to lug that thing around with you."
Vic nodded seriously, and I hid my smile behind my hand.
So Lucas and I weren't really alone together until we were walking along
Riverton's main street, just a block from the theater. We both brightened when
we saw what was on the marquee.
"
Suspicion
," he said. "Directed by Alfred Hitchcock. He's
a genius."
"Starring Cary Grant." When Lucas gave me a look, I added, "You
have your priorities, I have mine."
Several other students milled around in the lobby. This probably had less to do
with a sudden revival in Cary Grant's popularity than it did with the fact that
Riverton didn't offer much in the way of amusement. We were genuinely looking
forward to it, though—at least, until we saw who the chaperones for the theater
were.
"Believe me," Mom said, "we're as appalled as you are."
"We thought for sure you'd get something to eat." Dad had his arm
around her shoulders, as though this were their date, not ours. We were all
standing in front of the poster-board in the lobby, Joan Fontaine staring out
at us in alarm, as though she were facing my dilemma instead of her own. "That's
the reason we decided to take positions here. Somebody else is covering the
diner."
Encouragingly, Mom added, "Not too late for pancakes. We won't be
offended."
"It's okay." It was so not okay to spend my first date with my
parents, but what was I supposed to say? "Turns out Lucas loves old
movies, so—we're good, right?"
"Right." Lucas didn't look like we were good. Somehow he looked even
more freaked-out than I felt.
"Unless you like pancakes," I said.
"No. I mean, yes, I like pancakes, but I like old movies more." He
lifted his chin, and it was almost as though he were challenging my parents to
intimidate him. "We'll stay."
My parents, instead of becoming intimidating, grinned.
I'd told them last Sunday at dinner that Lucas and I were going into Riverton
together. I didn't really spell it out any more than that, for fear of
paralyzing them with shock, but they definitely got the gist. To my surprise
and relief, they hadn't interrogated me; in fact, they'd glanced at each other
first, weighing their own reactions even before mine. It was probably strange
to have your "miracle baby" become old enough to go out with someone.
Dad mentioned calmly that Lucas seemed like a good guy, then asked me if I wanted
more macaroni and cheese.
In short, whatever crazy overprotective reaction Lucas was expecting didn't
materialize. Mom said only, "In case you're trying to avoid us—and I would
guess that you are—we're headed to the balcony, because that's where most of
the students are going to go."
Dad nodded. "Balconies are powerful temptations, and they exert a strong
gravitational pull on fountain drinks in the hands of teenagers. I've seen it
happen."
Straight-faced, Lucas said, "I think I remember that from junior high
science."
My parents laughed. I basked in the warm rush of relief. They liked Lucas, and
maybe someday soon they'd invite him to Sunday dinner. Already I could see
Lucas beside me all the time, all the places in my life where he would fit.
Lucas didn't look as certain—his eyes were wary as he led me into the theater
lobby—but I figured that was pretty much the standard guy response to parents.
We chose seats beneath the balcony, where Mom and Dad would have no chance of
seeing us. Lucas and I sat close to each other, our bodies sort of angled
together, and my shoulder and knee brushed against his.
"Never done this," he said.
"Been to an old-style movie house?" I glanced appreciatively at the
gilded scrollwork that decorated the walls and balcony, and the dark red velvet
curtain. "They really are beautiful."
"That's not what I meant." For all his aggressiveness, Lucas could
seem almost bashful at times; that only happened when he talked to me. "I
never got to just—go out with a girl before."
"This is your first date, too?"
"'Date'—people still use that word?" I would've felt embarrassed if
he hadn't playfully nudged my elbow with his. "I just mean, I never got to
be with anybody like this. Hang out without any pressure or knowing that I'd
have to move on in another week or two."
"You make it sound like you never felt at home anywhere."
"Not until now."
I shot him a skeptical look. "Evernight feels like
home
? Give me a
break."
Lucas's slow grin crept across his face. "I didn't mean Evernight."
At that moment, the houselights were dimmed, and thank goodness. Otherwise I probably
would've said something stupid instead of reveling in the moment.
Suspicion
was one of the Cary Grant movies I hadn't seen before. This
woman, Joan Fontaine, married Cary even though he was sort of reckless and
spent too much money. She did this because he's Cary freakin' Grant, which
makes him worth losing a few bucks. Lucas wasn't convinced by this reasoning.
"You don't think it's weird that he's researching poisons?" he
whispered. "Who researches poisons as a hobby? At least admit that's a
weird hobby."
"No man who looks like that can be a murderer," I insisted.
"Has anybody ever suggested that you might be too quick to trust
people?"
"Shut up." I elbowed Lucas in the side, which jostled a few kernels
of popcorn from our bag.
I enjoyed the movie, but I enjoyed being close to Lucas even more. It was
amazing how much we could communicate without saying anything—a sidelong glance
of amusement or the easy way our hands brushed against each other and he twined
his fingers with mine. The pad of his thumb traced small circles in my palm,
and that alone was enough to make my heart race. What would it be like to be
held by him?
In the end, I was proved right. Cary turned out to have been researching the
poisons so he could commit suicide and save poor Joan Fontaine from his many
debts. She insisted they would work it out, and they drove off together. Lucas
shook his head as the last shot faded. "That ending is fake, you know.
Hitchcock meant for him to be guilty. The studio made him redeem Cary Grant in
the end so audiences would like it."
"The ending isn't fake if it's the ending." I insisted. The lights
came up for the brief intermission before the late show began. "Let's go
someplace else, okay? We've got a while before the bus."
Lucas glanced upward, and I could tell he wouldn't mind getting farther from
the parental chaperones. "Come on."
We made our way along Riverton's small main street, where it seemed like every
single open store or restaurant was crowded with refugees from Evernight
Academy. Lucas and I silently passed each of them, searching for what we really
wanted—a place to be alone. The idea that Lucas wanted some privacy for us made
me feel both thrilled and a little bit intimidated. The night was cool, and the
autumn leaves were rustling as we went down the sidewalk, stealing glances at
each other as we made small talk.
At last, once we'd walked beyond the bus station that marked the end of the
main street, we found an old pizza place just past the corner that looked like
it hadn't been redecorated since about 1961. Instead of ordering a whole pie,
we just grabbed some plain cheese slices and sodas and slid into a booth. We
faced each other across a table with a red-and-white checked cloth and a Chianti
bottle thickly covered with candle wax. A jukebox in the corner was playing
some Elton John song from before we were born.
"I like places like this," Lucas said. "They feel real. Not like
some corporate focus group designed every inch of it."
"Me, too." I would've told Lucas that I liked eating eggplant on the
moon, if he liked it, too. At the moment, though, I was telling the truth.
"You can relax and be yourself here."
"Be myself." Lucas's smile was sort of faraway, like he had a private
joke. "That ought to be easier than it is."
I knew what he meant.
We were all but alone in the pizza parlor; the only other occupied table had
about four guys who seemed to have come from a construction site, with plaster
dust clinging to their T-shirts and a couple of empty pitchers testifying to
the beer they'd already drunk. They were laughing loudly at their own jokes,
but I didn't mind. That gave me an excuse to lean across the table and be a
little closer to Lucas.
"So, Cary Grant," Lucas began, shaking red pepper flakes onto his
slice. "That's pretty much your dream guy, huh?"
"He's sort of the king of dream guys, isn't he? I've had a crush on him
ever since I first saw
Holiday
when I was about five or six."
You would think Lucas the movie buff would agree with that, but he didn't.
"Most girls in high school would be crushed out on movie stars who, you
know, are making movies now. Or somebody on TV."
I took a bite of pizza and had a very awkward cheese-strand situation to deal
with for a second. Once I finally had a mouthful, I mumbled, "I like a
whole lot of actors, but who doesn't love Cary Grant the most?"
"Even though I totally agree that this fact is tragic, let's face it: A
lot of people our age haven't even heard of Cary Grant."
"Criminal." I tried to imagine what Mrs. Bethany's face would look
like if I suggested a Cinema History elective. "My parents always
introduced me to the movies and books that they loved back before I was
born."
"Cary Grant was big in the 1940s, Bianca. He was making movies seventy
years ago."
"And his movies have been on TV ever since. It's easy to catch up on old
movies if you just try."
Lucas hesitated, and I felt a tug of dread, a swift, urgent need to change the
subject to something else, anything else. I was one second too late, because
Lucas said, "You said your parents brought you to Evernight so you could
meet more people, get a bigger view of the world. But it seems to me like
they've spent a whole lot of time making sure your world stays as small as
possible."
"Excuse me?"
"Forget I said it." He sighed heavily as he dropped his pizza crust
onto his plate. "I shouldn't have brought this up now. This should be
fun."
Probably I should have let it go. The last thing I wanted to do on my first
night out with Lucas was argue. But I couldn't. "No, I want to understand.
What do you even know about my parents?"
"I know that they packed you off to Evernight, which is basically the last
place on earth the twenty-first century hasn't reached. No cell phones; no
wireless; cable Internet service only in a computer lab that has, like, four
machines; no televisions; almost no contact with the outside world—"
"It's a boarding school! It's supposed to be separate from the rest of the
world!"
"They want
you
separate from the rest of the world. So they've
taught you to love the things they love, not what girls your age are supposed
to love."
"I make up my own mind about what I like and what I don't." I could
feel my cheeks flushing hot with anger. Usually when I got this mad, I ended up
bursting into tears, but I was determined not to. "Besides, you're the
Hitchcock fan. You like old movies, too. Does that mean your parents run your
life?"
He leaned across the table, and his dark green eyes were intense, holding me
fast. I'd wanted him to look at me like this all night, but this wasn't the way
I'd wanted it to happen. "You tried to run away from your family once. You
brush it off like some stupid stunt you were trying to pull."