A Tale of Two Proms (Bard Academy) (2 page)

“Miranda…” Heathcliff’s voice held a note of frustration. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“Of course I do,” I said. And I did—even if my friends didn’t. Even if they told me that falling in love with a fictional character known for being ruthless was about the dumbest thing I could do next to falling for a vampire. Lucky for me, I guess, that vampires were actually one thing Bard Academy didn’t have very many of. I’d only met one and that was enough. Seeing Dracula face-to-face in the library sophomore year was enough to turn me off bloodsuckers for the rest of my life. They really weren’t that hot when they were trying to kill you. Trust me on that one. 

Heathcliff stood, and pulled me to my feet. He led me wordlessly away from the pond, where the reflection of the moon was a shimmer of white silver.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

But Heathcliff just squeezed my hand tighter, moving me deeper into the forest. He ducked between two large oak trees, leading me further into the shadowy brush. I could feel Heathcliff’s determination, his will, in every step. We walked in silence for several minutes, the trees forming a dark canopy above us, blocking out most of the moon’s light. It grew so dark that I could hardly see Heathcliff right in front of me. But I wasn’t afraid. Heathcliff made me feel safe, even here.

This island held many secrets. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know them all, especially since most of them could kill you.

I wasn’t sure where we were, but Heathcliff knew this island better than anyone. He led me to a moss-covered wall. For a second, I wondered if he wanted me to climb it, but then, he put his hands through the vines in front of me and pushed them aside. They hid a small cave, a passage to a secret glen on the other side. I could just make out a beam of moonlight shining on the grass in the distance. Heathcliff ducked his head to fit through and I trailed behind him, clutching tighter to his hand as the cave walls closed in. When we emerged, the moonlight seemed nearly as bright as day. And there, sitting in the small clearing, was an old cottage with a thatched roof and a door made of bound straw.

There was a small light beaming from one window and my first thought was
someone’s in there.
I froze. Getting caught with Heathcliff off campus and holding his hand would be grounds for suspension. Maybe even dismissal.

“It’s okay,” Heathcliff reassured me.  He bounded ahead of me three steps and pushed open the door. There was a single electric lamp sitting on the table, bathing the room in artificial light. Next to the table, sat a small shelf lined with books Heathcliff must’ve taken from the school library. Those were for me, I thought instinctively, because he knew how much I loved to read. He also had stolen quite a bit of food from the cafeteria. There were cans stacked in the corner and boxes of crackers. On the single table there stood an old typewriter. I don’t know where he’d found it, but there it was, one so old that it didn’t even need electricity. It had a case with a handle. A stack of blank paper lay in a neat pile next to it.

At Bard, computers were forbidden. As were iPhones and most every other form of modern technology. They were said to distract us from our purpose—to learn. But the reality was that you probably wouldn’t be able to use them very well anyway, since the electricity was always a bit iffy here. Power outages were common. You’d need the mother of all surge protectors to protect your hard drive. Here in the cottage, I saw, there was no electricity at all.

Inside the small room, Heathcliff’s shoulders were so broad they seemed to take up all available space.

“I thought you might want to write,” he said, nodding at the typewriter. “I know how much you like to write in your journal.”

I thought about the old leather book I kept with me. Ms. W, my old teacher, had suggested I should keep a diary my first year at Bard. I had thought that would be a waste of time, but that was before I knew what Bard really was. As it turned out, I had plenty of interesting material for a diary. These days, I took my journal with me wherever I went. The old, camel-colored leather bound book was always either in my hands or my backpack. I scribbled in it all day long. I thought maybe one day I’d write a memoir. Or, probably more likely, a novel. Nobody would believe the things that had happened to me here were real. 

Glancing around me, I realized Heathcliff had done all this for me. It must’ve taken him months to gather it all, to sneak it out, piece by piece. He’d tried to think of everything I wanted, everything I would need. He’d probably been working on restoring this cottage all semester. It smelled faintly of new paint and I saw new gleaming wooden planks on the floor. Where had he gotten the lumber? I wondered. It’s not like there was a Home Depot just around the corner.  It was obvious he’d put a lot of thought and work into this.

The acceptance letter in my pocket suddenly felt heavy and hot. How could I tell him about this now? I glanced around the room looking for an answer—or a distraction—and I saw the gleam of the lantern light catch one of the book’s spines on the shelf. I recognized several books there.
The Great Gatsby
,
Jane Eyre
and
Wuthering Heights
.

Immediately I knew those were no ordinary books. They had come from the vault, the secret room beneath the library. They were the key to everything, these books, and the faculty would do anything to protect them. These books had powers I couldn’t even begin to explain.

“How did you… ” I managed, my voice a croak. How did he get into the vault? How did he take these most prized of possessions from the faculty?

These books could bring fictional characters to life and they could also banish them from this world. They were also the only thing anchoring the ghost faculty to this place.

Heathcliff shrugged, but said nothing. He would give away no secrets.

I crossed the room and I picked up
Wuthering Heights
.

Holding the book in my hands, I could almost feel the magic in it. It was heavier than it looked, and when I touched it, the binding hummed beneath my fingers. An old and ancient spell powered this book, one that I didn’t think I’d ever really understand.

“If I have this book, the faculty has no power over me,” Heathcliff said, lifting the book gently from my hands. “Without this book, they will not be able to banish me. They have no hold on me.”

He was right. The faculty would need the book to send him back into its pages. Without the book, they could not send him away.

I looked up at him, and for a minute, I believed that it could happen. That we could be free to be together. That we could make it work. Maybe I wouldn’t go to college. Maybe I would just stay here. Be with Heathcliff forever.

“So you… don’t want to go back to…?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the last words. My eyes found
Wuthering Heights
that Heathcliff held in his hand instead. It was the question I hadn’t wanted to ask him for the last year. After all, Heathcliff came complete with a full eight-piece set of emotional baggage. He had a true love back home in those pages, and her name was Catherine Earnshaw. She was the woman made for him, even if they never actually got to be together. Heathcliff and Catherine. They were probably the most famous star-crossed lovers since Romeo and Juliet.

Heathcliff never talked about Catherine. I’d never met her in person, but I’d come close when their creator, Emily Bronte, had tried to take over Bard by bringing her to this world my sophomore year. Emily had killed her then to show Heathcliff her power over both of them.  

But, since that day in the vault with Emily, he’d never mentioned Catherine, and I hadn’t brought her up either. It was said I looked something like her, and sometimes I thought that maybe I was a nice consolation prize. But as soon as that little insecurity popped up, I tried to squash it. I looked at Heathcliff’s face and wanted to believe he loved me for
me
.

 “My life is here,” Heathcliff said, giving me that intense look he sometimes wore that made my stomach jump. Looking at him, I couldn’t help but believe him. He pulled me into his arms and I went, and I stood there, feeling warm and protected. If only life could be this simple. If only I could stay here forever and not worry about the future.

Because, part of me knew that the faculty would not let Heathcliff keep this book. They would come for it and for him. Maybe they’d come for me, too. And they’d do it because they would think it was the right thing to do.

And even if they didn’t, could I live with him in this tiny cottage for the rest of my life? Would I have to say goodbye to my family? To my friends? I had parents. I had a sister. Heathcliff was an orphan and he was separated from everyone he once knew in his life already. Could I willfully do the same?

The truth was I didn’t know.

And how long would it be before the faculty found us? One week? A month? Two? This could not be forever.

“Miranda,” Heathcliff pulled away from me and met my eyes. “Stay here with me.”

He pulled a small velvet pouch from his pocket. Inside, there was a gleaming silver locket, a necklace I’d thought was lost forever. 

 “Where did you find this?”I asked him of the necklace he’d given me two years before. “I thought…”  It had been lost aboard the Pequod, Ahab’s famous whaling vessel, a year ago. Junior year, Sylvia Plath had decided to bring Moby Dick to life. It had been an adventure that had nearly gotten me killed, and I was glad to say that the only real casualty was my necklace.

I had been sad to lose it, but I also knew I was lucky that’s the only thing I’d lost that day.

 “I have my ways,” Heathcliff said and smiled at me. “Go on, open it.”

I pried open the small silver oval with one thumbnail. Inside, I saw a new piece of notebook paper with Heathcliff’s handwriting on it.

Be my present and my future. Yours in this world and the next, H.

I glanced up at Heathcliff and saw hope flicker in his eyes. I could see how badly he wanted me to say yes. And part of me really wanted to.

Yet, this was happening so fast. Words crowded together in my throat, but none actually came out.

I should be telling him yes. My heart was screaming yes, but my mind wasn’t so sure. Could I be happy with
only
Heathcliff? Alone together here? Forever?

Then again, he had already given up everything he knew to be with me. Shouldn’t I be willing to do the same?

The locket felt cool and smooth in my hand, as I snapped it shut.  

“Miranda Tate,” Heathcliff said, suddenly sounding formal. “With this locket, I would like to ask you to be mine.”

“What?” I couldn’t have heard him quite right.

“Miranda Tate, do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

“I can’t marry you,” I sputtered, before I even knew what I was saying.

“Why not?”

“I’m eighteen, for starters.” 

“That is a perfectly acceptable age to marry.” Heathcliff’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“In 1836,” I said.
His
time, not mine.

“In any year. Because I love you.” Heathcliff’s words hung there for a long time. His eyes told me he spoke the truth. He was as serious as I’d ever seen him. “Stay with me. Be my wife.” 

“Heathcliff.” The doubt came through in my voice even as I tried to keep it out. A sharp look flashed in his eyes.

“Do you not love me?” he challenged. 

“Yes, of course, but what you’re asking is…”

“Is to be with you. In all ways. If that is not what you want, then perhaps it is not love you feel for me.” Heathcliff glanced down at his hands. Then, when I didn’t answer him right away, he turned from me. The coolness that had settled around him made me feel like he was taking part of me with him.

“Heathcliff—wait.” I put my hand on his arm and he paused, meeting my eye once more. “Let me have some time to think about it.”

“You may have whatever I can give you. If you need time, I’ll give you time,” Heathcliff said. “But you should know I didn’t have to think about this. Not for a second.” Then he shrugged my hand off his arm and left me standing in the empty cottage holding his locket and wondering what I was going to do. 

C
HAPTER
T
WO

“Has he asked you yet?” This was Hana, my best friend. We were sitting in the Bard cafeteria eating what passed for breakfast. On my tray was some kind of gray mushy stuff that might be oatmeal or wall paper glue. Honestly, there was no telling which one.

I pushed it around my bowl, hoping it would disappear without me actually having to eat any of it.

“Asked what?” For a horrifying second, I thought she knew about Heathcliff’s proposal. “What do you mean?”

Confusion flashed across Hana’s face. “Uh… senior prom? Everybody is talking about it.”

Right. So, she wasn’t talking about Heathcliff asking me to marry him. Of course, she wasn’t. She didn’t know. Why would she? No one knew but Heathcliff and me, and I doubted Heathcliff would run off and tell anyone. He was the epitome of the strong and silent type. I took a breath and told myself that I needed to calm down. Ever since last night, I’d been feeling jumpy.

 “Prom! Uh… No. No, he hasn’t.” My voice sounded a little bit too relieved, which I realized was the wrong reaction. Hana gave me a puzzled look but I just shrugged and stuffed another bite of gruel in my mouth hoping by the time I finished swallowing that I’d come up with a nice way to divert this conversation to a different topic far, far away from Heathcliff.

I slid my hand into the pocket of my navy blue Bard uniform blazer and felt the coolness of the metal locket he’d given me. I was wearing the sleeves pushed up per usual and my arms were covered with a couple of wide plastic bangles. We were all required to wear the uniform, but there weren’t any regulations against accessorizing.  

The locket was one accessory, however, I wasn’t prepared to wear just yet. There had been a time when I would’ve never taken the necklace off, but now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to put it on at all.

Why was I hesitating?