Evernight (5 page)

I reached my room just in time to jump under the covers
before Patrice walked in, accompanied by Mrs. Bethany. Pale light from the
hallway outlined the headmistress, so that all I could see was her silhouette.
"You know why we have rules here, Patrice." Her voice was soft, but
there was no mistaking that she was serious. It was more than a little
intimidating, and I wasn't even the one she was scolding. "You should
understand that those rules need to be obeyed. We can't go running across the
countryside at night. People would talk. Students would lose control. The
result could be tragedy. Am I clear?"
Patrice nodded, and then the door swung shut. I sat up in bed and whispered,
"Was it awful?"
"No, just a mess," Patrice grumbled as she started stripping off her
clothes. We'd been changing in the same room together for more than a week now,
but I was still kind of embarrassed by it. She wasn't. Even as she yanked off
her shirt, she was staring at me. "You're still dressed!"
"Um, yeah."
"I thought you left the party early."
"I did. But I—I couldn't get back into the school right away. They were
patrolling. Then they realized where you guys were and took off. I only got in
here about three minutes before you did."
Patrice shrugged as she reached for her nightshirt. I did my best to get
changed without turning away from my corner. The conversation was over, and I'd
successfully lied to my roommate for the first time.
Maybe I should've told Patrice why I was late. Most girls would probably be
bubbling over to tell everyone all about the gorgeous guy they'd just made a
connection with. But I liked the secret. That made it more special, somehow,
the fact that only I knew.
Lucas likes me, and I like him back. I think
maybe, soon, we're going to be together.
That last thought was probably taking it a little far, I decided as I slid
beneath the blankets again. All the same, I couldn't help myself. My mind was
racing too fast for me to sleep, and I smiled against my pillowcase.
He's mine.

* * *

"Heard there was quite a party last night," Dad
said, as he placed a hamburger and fries in front of me at my family's table.
"Mmm-hmmm," I answered through a mouthful of fries. Then I caught
myself and mumbled, "I mean, that's what I heard, too."
Mom and Dad traded looks, and I got the impression that they were more amused
than ticked off. That was a relief.
This was the first of what would be our weekly Sunday dinners. Every second I could
be back with my family in the faculty apartment instead of surrounded by
Evernight kids was good with me. Even though they were trying to act all casual
about it, I could tell that my parents had missed me almost as much as I'd
missed them. Duke Ellington was on the stereo, and despite the parental
interrogation, everything was again right with the world.
"Things didn't get out of hand, did they?" Mom had apparently decided
to ignore the fact that I'd denied being there. "From what I heard, it was
mostly beer and music."
"Not that I know of." It wasn't really a denial; I mean, I did only
attend the party for about fifteen minutes.
Dad shook his head and said to Mom, "It doesn't matter if it was just
beer. The rules have to be obeyed, Celia. I don't worry about Bianca, but some
of the others—"
"I'm not against rules. But it's natural for the older students to rebel
against them occasionally. Better to have a few minor slipups from time to time
than some major incident." Mom turned her attention back to me.
"What's your favorite class so far?"
"Yours, of course." I gave her a look, asking if she really thought I
was silly enough to answer any other way, and she laughed.
"Besides mine." Mom put her chin in her hand, ignoring the entire
elbows-on-the-table rule. "English, maybe? You've always loved that
most."
"Not with Mrs. Bethany."
This didn't earn me any sympathy. "Listen to her." Dad was stern, and
he set his glass down on the old oak table too hard, with a thunk. "She's
someone that you need to take seriously."
I thought:
Stupid, she's their
boss.
What would happen if word got
around that their kid was bad-mouthing the headmistress? Think about somebody
beside yourself for a change
.
"I'll try harder," I promised.
"I know you will." Mom covered my hand with her own.

* * *

On Monday, I went into English class determined to make a
fresh start. We had recently started mythology and folklore, both subjects I'd
always enjoyed. Surely if I could prove myself to Mrs. Bethany in any area, it
would be that.
Well, apparently I couldn't prove myself to Mrs. Bethany.
"I expect that relatively few of you will have read our next
assignment," she said, as a stack of paperbacks made its way around the
room. Mrs. Bethany always smelled slightly of lavender—feminine, yet sharp.
"However, I imagine that virtually all of you have heard of it."
The paperbacks reached my desk, and I took a copy of Bram Stoker's
Dracula
.
From the next row of desks, I heard Raquel mutter, "Vampires?"
As soon as she'd said it, a weird sort of electricity seemed to crackle through
the room. Mrs. Bethany pounced. "Do you have a problem with the
assignment, Miss Vargas?"
Her eyes glittered as she fixed her birdlike gaze on Raquel, who looked like
she would have gladly bitten off her tongue to have kept from saying anything.
Already her one uniform sweater had begun to pill and look worn around the
elbows. "No, ma'am."
"It sounded as though you did. Please, Miss Vargas, enlighten us."
Mrs. Bethany folded her arms in front of her chest, amused by whatever joke she
was playing. Her fingernails were thick and strangely grooved. "If Norse
sagas about giant monsters strike you as worthy of your notice, why not novels about
vampires?"
Whatever Raquel said would be wrong. She'd try to answer, and Mrs. Bethany
would shoot her down no matter what, and we could go on like that for most of
the class. That was the way Mrs. Bethany had amused herself during every class
period so far, finding someone to torment, usually for the amusement of the
students whose powerful families she obviously preferred. The smart thing to do
would've been for me to shut up and let Raquel be Mrs. Bethany's whipping boy
for the day, but I couldn't stand watching it.
Tentatively, I raised my hand. Mrs. Bethany barely glanced at me. "Yes,
Miss Olivier?"
"
Dracula
's not a very good book, though, is it?" Everyone
stared at me, shocked that somebody else had contradicted Mrs. Bethany.
"It has such flowery language, and all those letters within letters."
"I see that someone disapproves of the epistolary form that so many
distinguished authors employed during the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries." The click-click of Mrs. Bethany's shoes on the tile floor
seemed unnaturally loud as she walked toward me, Raquel forgotten. The scent of
lavender grew stronger. "Do you find it antiquated? Out of date?"
Why did I ever raise my hand?
"It just isn't a very fast-moving
book. That's all."
"Speed is, of course, the standard by which all literature is to be
judged." A few snickers around the room made me squirm in my seat.
"Perhaps you want your classmates to wonder why anyone would ever study
this?"
"We're studying folklore," Courtney interjected. She wasn't rescuing
me, just showing off. I wondered if that was to put me down or get Balthazar to
look at her. For days she'd been making sure her kilt showed off her legs to
their best advantage every time she sat down, but so far he seemed unmoved.
"One common element in folklore around the world is the vampire."
Mrs. Bethany simply nodded at Courtney. "In modern Western culture no
vampire myth is more famous than that of Dracula. Where better to begin?"
I surprised everyone, including myself, by saying, "
The Turn of the
Screw
."
"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Bethany raised her eyebrows. Nobody in the
room seemed to understand what I was getting at—except Balthazar, who was
obviously biting his lip to keep from laughing.
"
The Turn of the Screw
. The Henry James novella about ghosts, at
least maybe about ghosts." I wasn't going to start the old debate about
whether or not the main character was insane. I'd always found ghosts really
scary, but they were easier to face in fiction than Mrs. Bethany was in the
flesh. "Ghosts are even more universal in folklore than vampires. And
Henry James is a better writer than Bram Stoker."
"When you are designing the class, Miss Olivier, you may begin with
ghosts." My teacher's voice could have cut glass. I had to suppress a
shiver as she stood over me, more stone-faced than any gargoyle. "Here, we
will begin by studying vampires. We will learn how differently vampires have
been perceived by different cultures over the ages, from the distant past until
today. If you find it dull, take heart. We'll get to ghosts soon enough even
for you."
After that, I knew to shut up and stay quiet.
In the hallway after class, tremulous with that strange weakness that always
follows humiliation, I walked slowly through the throng of students. It seemed
as if everyone was laughing with a friend except me. Raquel and I might have
consoled each other, but she had already skulked away.
Then I heard someone say, "Another Henry James reader."
I turned to see Balthazar, who had fallen into step at my side. Maybe he was there
to offer support; maybe he was just trying to avoid Courtney. Either way, I was
grateful to see a friendly face. "Well, I've read
The Turn of the Screw
and
Daisy Miller
. That's about it."
"Try
Portrait of a Lady
sometime. I think you would like that one."
"Really? Why?" I assumed that Balthazar would say something about how
good the book was, but he surprised me.
"It's about a woman who wants to define herself, instead of letting other
people define her." He navigated easily through the crowd without ever
taking his eyes from me. The only other guy who had ever looked at me so
intently was Lucas. "I had a hunch that you might respond to that."
"You might be right," I said. "I'll check it out of the library.
And—thanks. For the recommendation."
And
, I thought,
for
thinking of me that way
.
"You're welcome." Balthazar grinned, showing off the dimple in his
chin again, but then we both heard Courtney's laugh, not far away. He gave me a
mock-scared look that made me laugh. "Gotta run."
"Hurry!" I whispered as he dodged down the nearest hallway. Although
Balthazar's encouragement had helped, I still felt wrung out after Mrs.
Bethany's interrogation. I decided to take a quick walk on the grounds for some
fresh air and quiet before I ate. Maybe I could have a few precious minutes
alone.
Unfortunately, I was far from the only one with the same idea. Several students
were milling around outside, playing music and talking. I noticed a group of
girls sitting in the shade, none of them apparently headed back to their rooms
for lunch. Probably they were dieting for the Autumn Ball, I decided as I watched
them whispering together in the shadows cast by one of the old elm trees.
There was only one person on the grounds I wanted to see. I recognized him from
the first day, and Lucas's description. "Vic?" I called.
Vic grinned at me. "Yo!"
You'd have thought we were old friends, instead of speaking for the first time.
His floppy, sandy-brown hair stuck out from the sides of the Phillies cap he
wore, and he carried an iPod emblazoned with a skin swirled with orange and
green. As he loped to my side and tugged out his earbuds, I said, "Hey.
Have you seen Lucas?"
"That guy, he's
crazy
." In Vic's world,
crazy
seemed to
be a compliment. "He cut out of study hall, and I was, like, what are you
doing? And he was all, just cover for me, right? So I did, until now, but
you're not gonna narc on him. You're cool."
Since Vic and I had never even spoken before, how could he know I was cool?
Then I wondered if Lucas told him, and that made me smile. "Do you know
where he is?"
"If a teacher asks me, I don't know anything. Since it's you, I think it
might have to do with the carriage house."
The carriage house to the north, near the lake, had been where they'd kept the
horses and buggies back in the old days. Now it had been remade into Evernight
Academy's administrative offices and Mrs. Bethany's residence. What would Lucas
be doing there?
"I think I'll take a stroll over that way," I suggested. "Just
going for a walk. Not doing anything in particular."
"Ohhhh, riiiiiiiight," Vic said, nodding his head, like I'd actually
said something really sly. "You got it."
He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer
, I decided as I casually
wandered in the general direction of the carriage house. Despite that, Vic
seemed like a nice guy. Not the Evernight type at all, thank God. Nobody
noticed me as I slipped farther away from the rest of the students. I guessed
that was the one good thing about being beneath attention: You could get away
with a lot more.
There was no forest here to shelter me, just softly rolling grounds, thick with
clover, and a few trees at regular intervals, probably planted long ago to
provide shade. In the underbrush I saw a small dead squirrel, a shriveled scrap
of its former self. The wind ruffled its tail forlornly. I wrinkled my nose and
tried to ignore it, concentrating instead on my search. I walked slower and
more quietly, hoping to hear Lucas.
The carriage house was long and white, only one story high. No point in having
a second floor if you're building for horses, I guess. More tall trees
surrounded it, shadowing everything so deeply that it was almost dark, and only
a few wavering ribbons of sunlight touched the ground. Tiptoeing toward the
back, I leaned around the corner and saw Lucas dropping out of Mrs. Bethany's
window. He landed easily and carefully shut the window behind him.
Then he turned and saw me. For a long second, we simply stared at each other.
It felt like he was the one who had caught me doing something wrong, rather
than the other way around.
"Hey," I blurted out.
Instead of offering an excuse for his behavior, Lucas smiled. "Hey. Why
aren't you at lunch?"
As he strolled to my side, I realized that he was going to pretend nothing was
wrong, that I hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. Or was I the one who
had done that by saying hello instead of asking him what he'd been up to?
"I guess I'm not that hungry."
"Not like you to avoid the subject."
"The subject of lunch?"
"I was thinking more how you're not asking me why I broke into Mrs.
Bethany's office."
I breathed out a sigh of relief, and we both started to laugh. "Okay, if
you're willing to tell me, it must not be anything too bad."
"My mom keeps saying that she'll only sign the consent form for me to go
into Riverton on our free Saturdays if I have straight A's at midterm. But I had
a hunch she'd already signed it, and I don't feel so good about chemistry, so I
decided to check. See if the consent form was in my file. Like I told you
before, I'm not good at playing by the rules."
"Of course." Even if it was wrong of him to do it, it wasn't
too
wrong, was it? Trusting Lucas came easily to me. "So, did you find
it?"
"Yep." Lucas's self-satisfaction was obviously overdone to make me smile,
which it did. "Even if I get a B, I'm in the clear."
"What's so important about the free weekends? I spent some time in town
over the summer, before you guys got here. Trust me, there's not a lot to
see."
We walked in the shade, carefully weaving our way closer to Evernight, making
our way around the side so that we could merge into the other students without
being observed. Both of us were pretty good at being sneaky. "Just thought
that might be a good place for us to spend some time together. Away from
Evernight. What do you think?"
Given our conversation at the gazebo, I shouldn't have felt so surprised or
bowled over. But I did, and it was simultaneously scary and kind of wonderful.
"Yeah. I mean, I'd like that."
"Me, too."
After that, neither of us spoke for a little while. I wished that he would take
my hand, but I wasn't quite brave enough to take his yet. Feverishly, I tried
to think of something entertaining in Riverton, a town that was larger than
Arrowwood and yet even more boring. There was a movie theater, at least, one
that showed classic films before the regular late shows, sometimes. "Do
you like old movies?" I ventured.
Lucas's eyes lit up. "I love movies—old, new, whatever. John Ford to
Quentin Tarantino, it's all good."
Relieved, I smiled back at him. Maybe everything really was about to be fine.