A Tale of Two Proms (Bard Academy) (12 page)

I almost hated to drag my eyes away from her. I thought the second I did she’d plunge a knife in me. I did risk a look at Heathcliff. At a time like this, it’s always best to find out who your allies are. I wanted to know if Heathcliff had my back, but I couldn’t tell at all from his expression.  I expected to find concern on his face, maybe even worry, but he looked decidedly unfazed, even a little bit amused.

Fantastic. Just the reaction I wanted from my boyfriend.

Parker just frowned at me.

“I knew it was you, Miranda, I could smell your cheap perfume.” Parker glared. She took a step closer. Catherine did, too. Heathcliff remained still. I wondered if I shouted, if anyone would hear me. We were far enough away from the main campus paths that I doubted it. Distantly, a bell rang, signally the start of the next period. Now, nobody but the tardy would be out, anyway. My chances of being rescued just dropped considerably.

Plus, there was the Heathcliff problem. Whose side was he on?

I stared at him, but he gave nothing away. A little “I got this, Miranda” nod would’ve been nice. I had hardly ever had to worry about Heathcliff’s allegiances before. I didn’t like the feeling.

“Well, since we’re all here, maybe you can tell Parker why you lied to her,” I told Catherine. Talking was good at this point, I thought. If we were talking, that meant nobody was punching me. Or kicking me. Or tying me up. Or killing me.  All of those things I figured Catherine probably wanted to do to me. And Parker wouldn’t stop her, either. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure Heathcliff would jump in and save me at this point so talking was my best option.

“What are you talking about?” snapped Parker.

I kept my eyes on Catherine. She looked a little surprised, but then she quickly swallowed the feeling. Her brows knitted in disapproval as she studied me. I figured she had lied to Parker on purpose and I could tell by the look on her face I was right.

“Are you going to tell her, or am I?” I asked Catherine.

“Someone shut her up!” Catherine growled. But Parker and Heathcliff remained completely still.

“What’s she talking about Cathy?” Parker asked.

“There’s no key to the vault,” I told Parker. “Cathy is double-crossing you.” Parker went from wanting to kill me to wanting to kill Catherine. Catherine’s eyes stayed fixed on me.

“Hey!” shouted a voice from somewhere behind Heathcliff. When he shifted slightly, I saw a big, burly Guardian standing there holding a taser in his hand. “You kids are supposed to be in class.”

I’d never been so glad to see a Guardian in my whole life. They may be just oversized mall security guards, but at this point, that guy in the blue polo might’ve just saved my life.

“Stay right there. You’ll have to come with us for detention,” a second one added, appearing near the first.

Parker, who never took direction well, didn’t even pretend to stay put. She took one look at them and just took off at a sprint, pushing Catherine against the wall. Catherine gave me a look that told me she wasn’t finished with me but then she righted herself and ran off, as well.

“Stop!” the Guardians shouted and then came lumbering after us.

Well, geez,
I
was the least evil person of our little quartet, so it wouldn’t be fair if I was the only one caught. I turned to run, and noticed Heathcliff was just standing there like a deer in headlights. This wasn’t like him. He was a boy of action. The Heathcliff I knew would’ve knocked down the Guardian and run past him, but this version of Heathcliff was unusually indecisive. It looked like it was up to me to do something, so I grabbed Heathcliff’s arm and pulled him in the direction Parker had gone, down the south side of the library. We nearly collided with a third Guardian, but we skidded right and ducked inside the library just in time.

Heathcliff knew the library better than just about anyone. I’d spent hours in here with him during the last year. Heathcliff knew every alcove, every out of the way place, every quiet spot in the library. But now, it was me and not Heathcliff leading the way into the library. It was honestly like he didn’t care if the Guardians caught us.

“Why are we running?” Heathcliff asked me, a puzzled look on his face.

“No time for jokes,” I snapped, annoyed. There was absolutely nothing funny about being caught by the Guardians. They could dole out dish duty or worse. 

Heathcliff shrugged and followed me, like I was leading him to a picnic. He was acting like someone had knocked him hard in the head with something. I’d have to worry about that later. Right now, I had my hands full with avoiding detention.

“Over here,” I hissed at him, pulling him down a row of books that would lead us to an archive room. We were steps away when two of the Guardians from the alley spilled out, blocking our path. I stopped and steered us in the opposite direction, driving us deeper into the stacks.

“Should we go upstairs? Downstairs? The study hall?” I paused at the end of the stacks, the exit door to the stairs on my right, the small row of study desks on my left. I didn’t know the best way out. “Do we hide? Do we run?”

Heathcliff just stared at me like I was speaking a different language. “I don’t know,” he said in a voice that was both his and
wasn’t
his.

“What do you mean you
don’t know
?” Heathcliff always knew what to do. He always had a plan. He was never indecisive; never hesitant. He had this knack for thinking on his feet and a strong instinct for escaping Guardians and anyone else hoping to lock him up. But today it was like he was in a fog and couldn’t find his way out.

“I see them!” cried one of the Guardians behind us. He was probably forty feet away.

“The stairs,” I said, making the decision for us. I had no idea if it was the right one, but I was almost positive doing nothing and letting the Guardians get us would definitely be the wrong choice. I slammed open the door to the stairs and pulled Heathcliff through it. On the stairs, I saw Guardians on the flight below, working their way up, so our only option was to head to the second floor. I realized as we ran that we’d be trapped upstairs. There was no way to the outside unless we jumped out a window. But we didn’t have another option at this point. I’d committed us to upstairs and that’s where we’d have to go. We’d just have to find a place to hide and hope they got tired of looking for us. We finished the climb and burst through a doorway to the second floor. The first thing I saw was the restroom door.

“There,” I said, running toward the girls’ bathroom. We were inside before Heathcliff could say another word. This would buy us some time. I pulled a trashcan in front of the door and then I checked all the stalls to make sure they were empty. It was about this time that I realized Heathcliff was standing and staring at the toilet in the first stall like he’d never seen one before.

It wasn’t like him to be overly obsessed with modern technology. Sure, he’d been pretty transfixed by indoor plumbing back when he’d first showed up in this century. But most of the novelty of life in the new millennium had worn off by now. He’d had nearly three years to get used to it.

I glanced at the back wall and realized there might be a way out. If I stood on the toilet in the back stall, I could just reach the air conditioning grate against the wall. It was just big enough for a person to climb through.

 “I need your help, Heathcliff.” I’d gotten the grate off, but I needed his help to get up there. He reluctantly left the toilet and came to my stall. “Give me a boost.”

He stared at my legs a beat too long like he was just registering the fact I was wearing a knee-length plaid skirt, the standard issue for female Bard students.  “I’m glad to help you,” he said. “If you convince me it’s the best thing to do. What’s to say it wouldn’t be smarter for me to talk to those gentlemen who were chasing us?” 

I just stood and stared at him. The Heathcliff I knew would never even consider negotiating surrender with the Guardians. And “gentlemen” is about the last word in the English language he’d call them. He hated them on sight and he certainly didn’t trust them to keep their word.

“Have you lost your
mind
?”

“A smart man weighs his options,” he said.

“Well, you’re not very smart today because your options are pretty clear. The Guardians will grab you and send you away from here. Is that what you want?”

“Would that be closer or farther from you?”

“Far, far from me. All the way to
Wuthering Heights.
”

“Like the novel?”

I stared at him. Was he kidding? If so, it wasn’t funny. “Another joke? Now is not the time.”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” Heathcliff did many things, but he rarely lightened anything.

“I don’t know what Kool-Aid you’ve been drinking, but snap out of it.” I glared at him. I didn’t like this new Heathcliff.

“Kool-Aid?” he asked, perplexed.

“Never mind. Just give me a boost, please.” He shrugged and came to me. He cupped his fingers together. I put my right foot in step he’d made for me and he launched me up into the grate. I scooted in and turned around.

“Your turn,” I said, holding out my hand. He gave me a doubtful look, but then he grabbed my hand and put one foot on the top of the toilet before throwing his leg over the top of the stall. Heathcliff was normally quick on his feet. But today he tumbled awkwardly into the air conditioning grate and knocked me backward. I wouldn’t have minded, except that the closer he got, the more he smelled like a six pack of cheap beer that had been spilled on a bar room floor and been left there to dry for three days. It was becoming a serious turn off.

“Have you been drinking again?” I hissed at Heathcliff.

“Depends on what you mean,” Heathcliff said and then hiccupped. I saw now that his eyes were a bit glassy and red. I felt anger surge through me. He’d just asked me this morning if I trusted him. And he told me he had everything covered.

“Is this your big plan to make sure no one tries to kill me? To go get
drunk
?”

“Well, a little drink always brightens a plan, I find.”

“So this is what the ‘trust me – I’ll take care of it’ was all about? Trust you to go get wasted and then get yourself captured by Guardians? This was the big secret?
THIS
is what you wouldn’t tell me?” I tried to keep my voice low, but was having trouble. I was seriously ticked off.

Heathcliff hiccupped again. “You are quite pretty when you’re angry,” he told me and grinned.

And then I heard the sound of urgent voices outside the bathroom door.

I leaned over him to reach the grate. I stuck it back in the vent to cover our tracks just as the bathroom door slammed open and the trash can knocked over spilling crumpled up paper towels all over the floor. The first Guardian tripped over the can, but the second deftly walked around it. Heathcliff opened his mouth to say something else, but that’s when I covered his lips with my hand. Drunk or not, we were in this together. And I had no intention of getting caught by the Guardians today. I had enough trouble without adding a detention to it. 

Sure, there was a chance we’d be in trouble anyway. Even if we managed to get away now, the faculty would hear about it, but by then maybe Heathcliff would be sober, which greatly improved his chances of being able to stay at Bard.

As the two of us sat still in our hiding place, I listened as the Guardian below slammed open the doors to every stall. Heathcliff didn’t seem to mind my hand on his mouth. He laid his head on my shoulder and let out a little contented-sounded sigh. At least one of us was happy.

The Guardian gave up his search sooner than I expected. He passed under the grate without looking up once, and he exited the bathroom, taking his friend with him. Before the door had even closed, Heathcliff had whipped my hand away from him. Before I could even react, he pressed his lips to mine.

I tasted alcohol and sweat and he moved in a way Heathcliff never moved. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew Heathcliff, and this was not the way he kissed. Even drunkenness couldn’t explain it.

I pulled away.

“Stop it,” I told him, even as I tried to process what had just happened.

He held up his hands and hiccupped. “Sorry, m’love,” he said. “Sorry if I give offense. I’m afraid I always do that. It’s just, you were so willing the other night…”

It hit me then that this was the Heathcliff that I’d seen outside my dorm. And I knew now what was bothering me so much about him. His forehead was just a little bit different than I remembered and his nose slightly flatter than I remembered from the Heathcliff who’d saved me from the plunging gargoyle.

And that’s when it hit me: the boy I was looking at wasn’t Heathcliff at all.

He’d never been Heathcliff.

“Who are you?” I asked him, growing surer by the second.

“Sydney Carton, miss. At your service.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

“Sydney Carton?” My mind went racing back to Coach H’s English class. Sydney Carton was a character from
A Tale of Two Cities.
“You’re sure?”

“I believe so,” he said, touching his Bard jacket. “But if you prefer Heathcliff, I’ll gladly answer to that for so pretty a lady as you, miss.”

“Charles Dickens,” I said. “He’s your creator.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard that gentleman’s name before. He’s not my father, if that’s what you mean.”

Of course, Sydney wouldn’t understand. He would only know the story set forth in the pages of
A Tale of Two Cities
. I remembered him from the book. He was the drunken lawyer in the novel, the one who looked exactly like Charles Darnay. He was the one who fell in love with Lucie, Charles’ fiancée.

Sydney Carton. And now here he was in another time and place, looking like Heathcliff. If Sydney were a superhero, his power would be to cause mistaken identity.

“First Charles Darnay and now Heathcliff. Do you always look exactly like other people? Or is this just a massive coincidence?”

“Excuse me?” Sydney wasn’t following. I didn’t expect he would.