Dark Companion (7 page)

“I know that, Jane.” His somber tone gave me the strangest feeling that he actually did understand.

But I didn’t want Jack’s sympathy, so I changed the subject. “I’d like to get in touch with my friends, but I didn’t see the computer lab on the school map.”

“You mean my mom didn’t tell you?” He tossed his head, sending his long curly hair swinging. “Birch Grove has a no-computer policy for schoolwork.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it totally does. There’s research that shows that writing out information by hand helps you process it. At least that’s what my mom says, and she’s usually right. Read your handbook, because I’m sure it’s in there with the million other insane rules.”

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking I couldn’t handle the work, and I could find a place in town with Internet access. “Fine. I’ll write out my work. Let them try to decipher it.”

“Evergreen Prep is almost as bad. Now you know why I went to public school.” He leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms out, and rolled his shoulders. “Do you like living by yourself here?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“You’re very taciturn, Jane. Cagey and taciturn and unpredictably sparky and possibly evil pixieish.”

I sighed. “Of course, it’s great having my own place, but it’s an adjustment. I’m used to more noise, city noise, cars and people. And at night, when the wind blows, the trees make sounds. I’ll become habituated to it.”

“
Habituated?
Really?” A smile played on his lips. “Well, look who’s been studying for the SATs.”

“Jacob, why should I want to talk to you when you throw things in my face and act all superior?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I do think you’re my equal—even before we’ve both decomposed into our chemical components—or I wouldn’t have come here to talk to you.”

“Why
did
you come here?”

“I thought you might want company, but it didn’t occur to me that you might not want
my
company.” After a minute, he said, “There are lots of folktales about birches. Do you know what they say about them? They say they lift their roots from the earth and walk at night.”

I had that unidentifiable sensation again of almost remembering something. Then one corner of Jack’s mouth lifted in amusement.

“Oooh, spooky, Jack. I’m so scared.”
They’re only trees,
I kept telling myself.

“No, I don’t suppose it’s easy to scare you.” The last of the evening light coming through the kitchen window caught Jack’s face as his expression grew more serious. “There’s something in your eyes, Halfling, and I’m not teasing about this, but it’s like you’ve seen things that we aren’t meant to see.”

“You’re imagining that.”

“Maybe I am, because I imagined that you appeared the other day on the path. It was clear and then I saw a shimmer and then you were standing right in my way.”

“That’s impossible. You were going too fast to see anything anyway. Isn’t that why you keep getting sprayed by skunks?” I looked anxiously at the leftover slices in the pizza box. Some people threw good food away.

“Skunks don’t make the air around them shimmer.” Jack finished eating and stood up. “Keep the rest. Don’t wander around the grove at night and make sure you lock the door when I leave.”

“I thought this place was safe.”

“It is, but sometimes people party in the amphitheater before the school year starts. Besides, it’s easy to lose your way on the side paths and fall in a creek or a gully. See you around, Halfling.”

I followed Jack to the front door and locked it. I looked out the window and saw him straddle his bike and take off into the dusky wood. He’d made the evening pass quickly. I thought of the feel of his leg against mine and the way his hand had warmed my shoulder when we’d first met. I thought of how his teasing made me let down my guard and say things I shouldn’t say when I’d spent years training myself to control my behavior.

I’d have to be careful around Jacob Radcliffe.

Strange and various were her conjectures respecting the lights she had seen, and the accountable noises she had heard … she did not suffer her mind to dwell on the causes being supernatural, she conceived there must be some mystery which, on the following day, if her health permitted, she resolved, if possible, to explore.

Eliza Parsons,
The Castle of Wolfenbach
(1793)

Chapter 6

Mid-morning the next day, Friday, Mrs. Radcliffe stopped by to drop off my uniforms and a round box. “These are your school hats. Our founder’s wife had the good sense to protect our girls from sun damage.”

I imagined Mrs. Radcliffe trying to wrestle Jack into a sailor suit and hat, and I almost laughed. “Thank you, ma’am. For everything. Um, I know I should have asked before—but is there a computer around that I can use, not for schoolwork, but so I can contact my friends?”

“The Greenwood Library has public computers. Once you settle in, we can certainly evaluate getting a laptop for you, Jane. I know it seems like a hardship, but people did exist for millennia without electronic communication.” She smiled, so I guessed this was her idea of a joke, and I returned her smile. “Well, I’ll be off. See you Monday, Jane. Blazers and skirts are worn on registration day.”

After I had lunch, I got the shopping bag with all the clothes I didn’t need, walked down the hill into town, and located the library. I applied for a card and was issued one labeled
Birch Grove Academy
.

I got on a computer and logged into a private group shared by my Helmsdale City Central pals. I wasn’t that close to them because Mrs. Prichard rarely allowed me to visit anyone, and I wondered if they’d miss me. I wanted to tell them about the incredible campus, gorgeous Lucky, my amazing cottage, and weird Jack, but I didn’t want to sound boastful about Birch Grove when they were still stuck in Hellsdale. I sent them a general “thinking of you” update.

When I went to my e-mail, I was excited to see that Wilde had sent me a message. “I got a nu website, Mousie. Check it!” When I clicked on the link, an X-rated page blazed on the screen, and I immediately closed the browser. I opened up a new session and sent a reply: “You’re hilarious. What’s your phone number?”

I checked out a chemistry tutoring book and imagined sitting side by side with Lucky. I thought of how we’d lean together to read a lesson, and I wondered if he’d come to see me as someone special, not merely a mousy geek girl.

My next stop was the women’s clothing shop. The clerk didn’t want to give me a cash refund without a receipt, but then one of the other women recognized me. “I’m sure it’s fine to give her cash back. Mrs. Radcliffe brought her in the other day. She’s a new Birch Grove student.”

I was so pleased with the money in my pocket that I didn’t mind just missing the shuttle. I plopped onto the bench to wait for the next one, and I was thinking about Lucky when an older gray Nissan stopped in front of me.

“Hey! Hey!” It was the girl from the grocery store. She was leaning across the front seat so she could yell out the open passenger window. “Where ya headed?”

“Up to Birch Grove. I missed the shuttle.”

“It’ll be another hour ’cause it’s still on the summer schedule. I’ll give you a lift.”

“Thanks.” I got in the car, which had fuzzy pink seat covers. “I’m Jane.”

“Hey, Jane. I’m Orneta, but you can call me Ornery, ’cause I’m kinda cranky.” She told me she lived in Millerton, close to the local community college.

I asked, “Is there decent shopping there? Because everything is crazy expensive here.”

“Yeah, but you have to get there by car because there’s no bus lines. Greenwood people try to keep outsiders away. Where you from?”

“Helmsdale, and they don’t like outsiders, either.”

She let out a hoot. “I dated someone from there and he told me about
Hellsdale
City Central.”

After she relayed a few stories, I admitted, “It’s all true. At least it’s safe here.”

“
Too
safe. It’s not natural. Everyone is always up in your business. I’m getting out as soon as I find another job.”

“I’ll take this over Hellsdale any day. It’s so different, though. Like all the greenery and space here. I was jumping each time the wind blew.”

“If it was just wind, heck, that’s nothing. But the old buildings and the trees at Bitch Grave freak me out. People say the place is haunted.”

“Bitch Grave, that’s what it’s called?” She nodded and I said, “Well, City Central was called Mandatory-Sentencing Prep. You can’t take that stuff serious.”

“Maybe, but there was that lady that killed herself last year.”

“Who died?”

“A teacher or maybe a counselor? It didn’t happen here though. Her car was by a cliff near the ocean, so maybe it doesn’t count. Why are you up at the school so early?”

“I’m living there. They gave me a place to stay.”

Orneta rolled to the main gate and squinted up at the ironwork of leaves and branches. “Is it okay to leave you here? Because this place gives me the creeps.”

“Sure. Thanks for the lift.” I followed her sightline, trying to see what she was seeing. Thick fog draped over the trees. “There’s nothing scary.”

Ornery pursed her lips and drummed black fingernails on the steering wheel. “Not the same kind of scary as Hellsdale, but my feminine intuition says something’s wrong.”

“There’s no such thing as feminine intuition.”

“Knowing things isn’t only in books. All I’m saying is, be careful.”

“Hey, Hellsdale girls are
always
careful.” I grinned to show her that we were cool.

Students are expected to behave in a manner that honors Birch Grove’s standards: to treat their peers with respect, kindness, and understanding. Students should support one another academically and socially.

Birch Grove Academy Student Handbook

Chapter 7

On Monday, I was so nervous that I couldn’t eat breakfast. After years of wearing oversized hand-me-downs, my uniform felt uncomfortably snug. At 8:15, I walked along the drive to the school and watched a stream of expensive cars dropping off students dressed exactly like me, in blue blazers and skirts. By the time I got close to the main entrance, I could hear high-pitched voices.

A herd of girls moved through the main entrance of the school. I didn’t see any extreme piercings, wild hairstyles, doorknocker earrings, or protruding bellies. The “discreet makeup” permitted in the handbook seemed to be mascara and lip gloss, although some girls wore more and some wore none at all. Most of the girls had their hair long and loose.

They struck me as exceptionally attractive, and I tried not to panic as I followed them into the building and to the gymnasium, which was set up for registration. I stood in line at the W-X-Y-Z table. When I got to the front, the woman at the table smiled. “You’re Jane Williams, right? Good morning, Jane!”

“How did you know my name?”

“We study all the new girls’ files and photos so we can make them feel welcome.” The woman shuffled through a file box and pulled out a navy folder with the school crest on the cover and a sticker with my name. “Williams, Jane, no middle name. These are your classes and here’s today’s schedule and a map. After you sign up for your extracurriculars, you need to have your photo taken for your student ID. The Refreshment Break is in the cafeteria, and the headmistress will give her welcome speech in the auditorium.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Certainly, dear. Next!”

I moved to a clear space by one wall and read the contents of the folder. My schedule listed Honors Chemistry, Trigonometry, Western Classical Literature, Latin IV, and Western Culture and Civilization. There was also something called Z Block that I could fill from a variety of courses. I decided to take Expository Writing as my elective so I could improve my essay writing. I wove through the crowd to the sign-up table. A poster board displayed the school newspaper,
The Birch Grove Weekly,
and cheesy photos of students busy in a classroom.

“Hello, Joan, right?” The teacher at the table was almost as small as me, dressed in navy slacks and a blue button-down shirt. She wore a daring slash of ruby-red lipstick and had a short, spiky haircut.

“Jane Williams, ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you, Jane. I’m Ms. Chu, the journalism teacher. Are you interested in our newspaper?”

“I thought this was expository writing.”

“Yes, that’s what journalism is: expository writing.” Ms. Chu handed me a pen and a clipboard with a sign-up sheet. “What are your career plans?”

“I’m thinking about going into forensic science.” I tapped the pen against the clipboard.

“Really?” Ms. Chu brightened. “Which field of forensic science? Are you interested in being a medical examiner?”

“No, I would like to be a crime lab analyst. It would all be lab work, but I’d have to write reports, too. I wanted a course that would help me write essays for college applications.”

“Then you’ve
got
to take this, because journalism can help train you to write lab reports. You’ll learn to be objective and accurate, and meet deadlines,” she said. “It’s exciting to put the paper to bed. That’s what we call it when we meet our deadline and go to press.”

Although I wasn’t completely convinced, Ms. Chu seemed nice enough, and I signed the sheet and then had my photo taken for my school ID. I went to the restroom and washed my hands for too long, then smoothed down the unruly waves of my hair. When I could no longer avoid the inevitable, I headed to the refreshment break.