Red's Untold Tale (15 page)

A breeze stirs the air, and on it drifts the voice of my dreams. “Only when you refuse to be a victim of fear will you know your true power.”

The wind picks up, freeing my hair of its braids, lifting my cloak like wings. Raising my eyes skyward, I see the dark gray clouds part, revealing the full moon in all of its silvery-white
brilliance.

“I don't know what you mean.” It's my voice saying this, yet I am not speaking out loud. “Please, tell me.”

I listen for a response; instead, I hear angry shouts. And they're getting louder, nearer. Too close.

They're coming for me.

Tuesday, May 15

“Wake up, sleepyhead! Didn't you hear the rooster?” After yanking the pillow out from under my head, Granny unlocked and opened my window. I squeezed my eyes shut, but still I
heard her breathing in the morning air, making a horrible wheezing sound. “I thought you'd like hearing the rooster crow. It means the wolves stayed out of our chicken coop last night.
Sure is nice having chickens again. I'm not sure how you did it, but—”

“I bartered and bargained, just like you taught me.” I groaned and burrowed deep into the covers. “Now, please go away.”

“Why so grumpy, child? Did you not get enough winks last night?”

My Wolfstime dream had been particularly disturbing. The darkness had been so intense; it clung to my skin and seeped into my mouth and eyes.

Now that I was awake, I feared that another horrible nightmare awaited me. This one had long ebony curls, shiny boots, and a slippery grip on my secret.

“I think I'm coming down with something,” I said, and though I knew it wasn't a traditional ailment, I truly did feel sick to my stomach. “I shouldn't go to
school.”

I heard Granny stomp back to my bedside. She flipped the blankets off me and pressed her hand to my forehead. A moment later, she exclaimed, “Rubbish! You're as fit as a fiddle.
You're going to school, and you're going to learn. It's bad enough that school's held only three times a week nowadays. I won't have people say I'm raising the
village idiot. Now, get up and get going. Your porridge is getting cold.”

“Well, perhaps I should skip school today and try to sell some extra baked goods,” I said, hoisting myself up onto my elbows. “While I was at market, a dreadful man called
Hershel Worthington told me that you didn't pay your taxes when he came by to collect. Is that true?”

The furrows in Granny's forehead deepened. “Now why in the land would he say that to you?”

“He told a whole crowd of folks who were setting up at market.”

Slit-eyed, she stared out my window. I couldn't read if she was angry or mortified—maybe both.

“So, is it true, Granny?” I repeated.

She blinked and adjusted her glasses on her nose. “He offered me an extension. I gave him a two-day-old pie—told him I'd taken it out of the oven that morning, but he's
just a fool so he didn't know the difference—and he said he'd come back on Thursday for the money.”

“You have the money, right?”

“We haven't been working this hard for nothing. Everything will work out just fine. Always does. Nothing to worry about. Not that it's any of your business, anyhow. Going to
school is your business, you hear me? So get up out of this bed right now. Your breakfast is probably cold by now.”

Cold porridge didn't matter to me, because after I dressed and braided my hair, my stomach was still not faring well enough to eat. If anything, it felt worse.

As soon as I set foot in the school yard, a brigade of little boys made squeaky kissing noises from up in the climbing tree. One went so far as to face the tree, wrap his arms
around himself, and rub his hands up and down his back, pretending to be getting frisky with someone. Whether they'd heard about me kissing Tucker Williamson, or they were just teasing me the
way they did all the girls, I couldn't be certain. I figured that bypassing the tree—even if it meant cutting too close to the girls skipping rope—wouldn't hurt.

Violet, Florence, and Beatrice sat on the front steps, talking and laughing as usual. The pair of younger girls next to them stopped their game of ringers. One whispered in the other's
ear, and both pairs of eyes were glued on me.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for my golden cross and held it between my thumb and finger. Violet smiled at me as I approached. It wasn't a friendly smile—yet it wasn't evil,
either. It was more of a secretive smile. Then she waved. Not only the marble girls, but Florence and Beatrice looked up at me, so I reluctantly waggled my fingers.

Then I heard someone clear his throat and peered over my shoulder. Tucker Williamson stood behind me wearing a dingy gray shirt and a smug expression. I clenched my jaw at the realization that
Violet's greeting had actually been for Tucker, not me. It took everything I had to keep my head held high as I stepped out of his path.

He breezed past me and brazenly sidled up to the girls on the steps. It had been a long time since the big, spotty-faced boy had come to school. And when he did, he never sat with anyone, let
alone Violet Roberts. Everybody in the school yard seemed as curious and riveted as I was. Even the eldest boys, Peter and his chums, came out from behind the schoolhouse to see what was going on.
All I could gather was that Violet was preparing for a puppet show, and Tucker was her latest marionette. I had the sinking feeling that I was about to have my strings pulled, as well.

After a brief moment of banter that appeared pleasant enough, Violet raised her voice and prompted, “What's that, Tucker? You were telling me what happened at market…”

Tucker's eyes twitched as though he'd swallowed a fly. “Red kissed me.”

My knees buckled, and I wished my riding hood had been enchanted with a vanishing spell rather than a protection-from-wolves one. I knew that seeing or hearing anyone's reaction would be
pure agony, especially Peter's—so why I rashly sought him out, I couldn't say. It was as if the darkest shadow had fallen on Peter's handsome face. He looked like a
stranger, which crushed my heart. Shaking his head, he walked away, and his buddies followed him back around the schoolhouse.

I wanted to tell him to come back—it wasn't true! I wanted to tell myself it wasn't. But of course I couldn't, because although Violet was the one exposing it to the
whole school, I only had myself to blame for having kissed Tucker in the first place.

“Red, I take it you and Tucker are courting now?” Violet asked, and I clenched my fists.

“No,” I said softly.

She tapped her chin and pursed her lips together. “So when you kissed him, it meant nothing?”

“That's right.” I swallowed, wishing she'd make her point already, and let me get on with my miserable life.

“It's a good thing your name is Red, rather than Chastity,” she said, and the school yard burst into exclamations of shock and amusement. I hazarded a glance at Tucker, whose
ruddy face twisted into an odd expression—like he wanted to laugh along with the others, but he feared that at any moment he might throw up. I knew how he felt with the throwing-up part. When
our eyes met, a lump formed in my throat. Perhaps what I'd done to him was even crueler than what he'd done on the sledding hill so long ago.

As soon as Miss Cates dismissed us for the day, I tethered my books and hurried to the road without talking to anyone. I couldn't get away from the schoolhouse fast enough, and I was
relieved I didn't have to go tomorrow. Against all odds, I hoped the story about me kissing Tucker would die down before Thursday.

I hadn't made it far down the road before Peter caught up with me. “
Hallo
, Red. Mind if I walk you home?” he asked.

“If it makes you happy.”

“Of course it makes me happy. That's why I do it.” We walked to the swale in silence, and then he jumped in front of me and asked, “Are you all right? You barely looked
up from your desk all day.”

“I've never been better,” I lied. “Listen, about Tucker. I…” I had no idea what to say, but I knew better than to pretend nothing had happened.

“I hoped he was lying,” Peter said after a moment. “I hoped Violet was blackmailing him or something. But I could tell by the look in your eyes that what he said was
true.” Peter twisted a dead twig off a tree and broke it in two. “I don't get it, Red. You can do so much better than Tucker Williamson. He's a bastard.” He tossed one
piece of the twig behind me, and the other he flung to the side of the road.

I felt as if my emotions were being torn in two separate directions, too. My eyes burned, and I feared that at any second I'd start sobbing. But I didn't want to cry in front of
Peter. I wouldn't allow myself to be sad. Instead, I focused on my growing anger.

I was cross with everyone: myself for getting into this humiliating and horrible mess in the first place; Granny for leaving me at market with an impossible shopping list; Violet for somehow
persuading Tucker to tell the whole school that I'd kissed him; Tucker for giving in to Violet,
and
for suspecting that I'd stolen the flour,
and
for choosing today of
all days to come to school; and even the little pirate boy for ratting me out to Tucker. Not even Peter, whom I was usually quite fond of, was safe from my wrath at that moment.

“While we're sharing opinions,” I said, sidestepping Peter and continuing down the road, “I think you can do better than Violet Roberts, as well.”

“It's not what it seems,” he said.

“Oh, really?” I whirled around and put my hands on my hips. “Then please tell me how it
is
, Peter. What exactly happened between Violet and you on the night of your
birthday?”

“Your grandmother came to the bonfire, searching for you. I wanted to go with her to help find you, but she said I'd only slow her down.” He took a deep breath and kicked at
some pebbles. “Then Violet took me aside and told me she knew which direction you'd taken off in, and she'd tell me for a price.”

“Let me guess. The price was dancing with her at the ball?”

“Not at first. In the beginning, she wanted me to dance with her right then and there at the bonfire. I kept trying to get her to tell me where you'd gone, but Gregory kept on
fiddling, and she still hadn't held up her side of the bargain. I told her I'd dance with her at the ball if she'd tell me that very minute. It was rash on my part, but I
couldn't think of a better plan, and I knew the longer I was stuck dancing with her at the party, the farther you'd have traveled. I know you're afraid of the wolves, Red, and I
couldn't bear to think of you wandering around the dark woods without so much as a torch. I wanted to be there for you.”

I blinked. “You wanted to protect me?” Suddenly, all the anger that had been building up inside of me started to ebb.

“Of course I did. I
do
.” He held out his arms, and I pressed my entire body into his warm embrace. I closed my eyes and rested my head against his shoulder. He smelled like
the first rays of sunshine after a spring shower.