Haven (8 page)

I glanced down at my clothes, a black short-sleeved cable-knit sweater and jeans, and shrugged. Just a little lip gloss and I was ready to go.

Sitting down at my desk, I reached for the shiny pink tube and took off the cap. Just as I touched it to my lips, my vision began to tunnel, the eerie hum in my head growing louder and louder. The tube of gloss clattered to the desk.
No, not again.

But I was gone, no longer in my cozy little dorm room, but somewhere outside instead.

Back in Manhattan, that same dark, foggy street as before. Following Aidan. He turned down a dark alley, and I could sense the danger. I called out his name, just as before, and this time I saw him turn toward me—and there was blood on his face, his mouth. I screamed, an ear-piercing scream, terrified that he was hurt, that . . .

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. I was back at my desk, staring at my own ashen face in the mirror above my desk.

“No,” I said aloud, surprised to find my voice hoarse, my throat tight and scratchy. As if I’d really screamed in terror, and I realized that maybe I had. Thank God no one had been around to witness it.

Two visions in such a short time—and both of them about Aidan. It was odd. Usually my visions were months apart, and
they always—
always
—involved people I knew well, people I really cared about. Which mostly limited my visions to my dad, Patsy, Gran, Lupe, and Whitney.

When I was younger I’d do really stupid things, like attempt to warn them. “Don’t ride your bike anymore,” I told Whitney once, trying not to cry. She was going to fall and break her wrist. I didn’t know when, just knew it was going to happen at some point. She’d ignored me, of course, and broken her wrist two weeks later.

It weirded people out when I tried to warn them about stuff. Not because they truly
believed
that I knew things before they happened, but because it made me seem like a freak—a crazy, hysterical freak—even when my predictions came true. People were uncomfortable with things they didn’t understand, and no one understood me. So I’d learned to keep my mouth shut—most of the time, at least. Until my dad . . .

Forget lunch, I had to get over to the gym now. It was the only way I knew to clear my head, to push away the unpleasant thoughts and memories and concentrate on the foil instead.

In minutes I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail. Rising on unsteady legs, I grabbed my bag and dashed out. Only when I’d gotten halfway down the hall did I realize I hadn’t even locked the door, and I ran back and fumbled with the key until I heard the bolt click into place.

Hurrying through the East Hall lounge, I kept my head down, focusing on the floor as I made my way past the tables and chairs toward the far side of the room.
Please don’t let me run into anyone I know,
I thought, increasing my pace. The last thing I wanted was to have to stop and chat. But just when I thought I’d made it through safely, I heard someone call out my name. A hand reached for my shoulder and I spun around, surprised to find Aidan standing there.

“We need to talk,” he said.

A shudder ran through me. “Not right now.”

“Yes, right now. Come on, follow me,” he commanded, and I didn’t even think to refuse. Instead I simply followed him, down a flight of stairs and into a long hallway.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To a study room. Here, come on.” He opened a door to our right, and I followed him inside. The light flickered on, humming noisily, and it occurred to me that he hadn’t even touched the switch.

“How did you—”

“What happened?” he asked brusquely, interrupting me.

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“I sensed your fear, heard you call out my name.”

“I . . . no, I didn’t.”
Stone wall,
I told myself. Great Wall of China, around my thoughts.

“The Great Wall of China isn’t going to do it, Violet. Come on, tell me what happened.”

Feeling slightly woozy, I dropped my bag to the floor beside my feet. No way was I telling him what I’d seen—not till I had more to go on. The vision had been too quick, too vague. I needed specifics before I could consider warning him. “Why were you listening to my thoughts?” I finally asked.

“I wasn’t. You called my name—telepathically,” he clarified. “Several times, actually, and you sounded terrified. Tell me what you saw.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, hedging.

“You know about things before they happen, don’t you?”

I felt the blood drain from my face, and my heart skipped a beat. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Call it whatever you want—premonitions, dreams, flashes of the future. Somehow you
see
. And you just saw something—something about
me
.”

“No.” I shook my head wildly. “No, it’s just intuition, that’s all.” My vision began to narrow, and for a split second I thought I was going to faint—or even worse, have another episode. I took several gulping breaths of air, and before I knew it, Aidan had crossed the small space and taken me into his arms, my face pressed against his chest.

“Hey, it’s okay. Shhh. Just tell me what you saw.”

“It was you, in some dark alley, and there was blood,” I said, my voice breaking pathetically. “That’s all.”

“Blood?” he asked, his voice rising. “On you?”

“No, on you. I think. Anyway, it’s not like it means anything.”

“I know you don’t believe that.”

“Maybe I want to believe that. Can’t you understand? I don’t want to be a . . . a freak. A sideshow act,” I said, choking on the words.
Oh no, not the tears
. I pulled away from him in humiliation as my eyes began to spill over.

He reached for my hand and pulled me back toward him. “You’re not a freak, Violet. Hasn’t this place taught you that? The true freaks are the ones who don’t believe, the narrow-minded people who have no faith, who can’t see what’s right in front of their eyes.”

I sniffled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “You have no idea how much I wish that were true,” I murmured, hoping I hadn’t gotten snot on the front of his shirt.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said. “I heard you scream, and I ran right over.”

Well, that’s one way to get a guy’s attention, I thought.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement, “you don’t need to go to such extremes. I have a tough enough time as it is, trying to figure out what it all means.”

I swallowed hard before raising my gaze to his. Big mistake, because as soon as our eyes met, every rational thought flew out of my head. I was frozen, almost paralyzed.

“Your eyes are beautiful—the color of emeralds.” His voice was a husky whisper.

My heart began to race. No one had
ever
said anything like that to me before, and it made my knees a little weak, my insides gooey.

And then I remembered that he could hear what I was thinking. Averting my gaze, I stepped away from him in embarrassment.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked, retrieving my bag from the floor.

I cleared my throat before I answered. “Um, nothing really.”

“Good. I’d like to show you something. Will you meet me in the East Hall lounge after dinner? Around eight? Actually, you better make it nine.”

“Sure,” I murmured. Was he asking me out? On a date?

You could call it a date.
His voice, in my head.

Would I ever get used to all the weird stuff here at Winterhaven?

“You’ll get used to it soon enough,” he answered aloud. “Everyone does. Come on, I’ll walk you to the gym.”

O
h. My. God. Aidan Gray asked you out?” Cece didn’t even attempt to hide her surprise as she plopped down on the bed across from me. “On, like, a
date
?”

“I don’t know. I guess. He said he wanted to show me something.”

Cece’s eyes suddenly twinkled with mischief. “Hmm, now
that
could be interesting.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I chastised.

“Wait till I tell everyone. They’re not going to believe it, especially Marissa.”

“I wish you wouldn’t. It’s kind of . . . I don’t know. Embarrassing.”

“You’re only here a week and the hottest guy at Winterhaven asks you out, and you want to keep it a secret? Are you crazy?” She tugged off her boots and tossed them toward the closet.

“You really think he’s the hottest guy here?”

“Well, yeah. Duh. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I guess he’s not, you know, good-looking in the normal way. I mean, he’s so pale and his nose is a little crooked. His eyes are gorgeous, but there’s something . . . I don’t know, something kind of strange about them, don’t you think?”

“Hah! I can’t think
anything
when he’s around.”

“Me either.” At least, not when I got too close to him.

“What time are you meeting him?” Cece asked.

I glanced down at my watch. “Not till nine.”

“And?” she prodded. “What are you going to wear?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. I don’t know what we’re going to be doing. Jeans, I guess? And a sweater.”

Cece nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, that green cashmere one in the closet.”

Patsy had gotten it for me at a little boutique in SoHo. I think it still had the tags on. “Boots?” I asked her.

“Yeah, but not those sheepskin ones. Do you have any knee boots, maybe?”

I jumped off the bed and hurried to the closet. In seconds I returned carrying a black leather pair with high wedge heels and silver buckles.

Sitting there cross-legged on the bed, Cece squealed. “Oooh, perfect! God, why have you been hiding these?” She stroked the leather appreciatively. “Now, what about your hair?”

“What about it?” I asked with a shrug.

“Well, it’s just that maybe you could, you know, try something a little more . . . um, sophisticated?”

Okay, so my hair wasn’t the height of fashion. I kept it long, since it was easier to put into a ponytail. “Unless there’s a salon here at school, I’m pretty much screwed,” I said.

“Oh, no, you’re not!” Cece jumped up and reached for her cell.

“Wait! Who are you calling?” She was already pressing buttons.

“Kate. She’s great with hair! I mean it, you’ll look like you stepped out of a magazine and—oh, hey, Kate. What’re you doing right now? Oh, good. Yeah, maybe. Hey, can you come over and bring your hair scissors? Violet has a date tonight and she desperately needs you to do something with her hair. Nah,
I’ll let her tell you. Trust me, you’re not going to believe it.” She flashed me a grin. “And bring Sophie—we’ll give Violet a makeover. Sure, call Marissa. I know . . . that’s exactly what I was thinking. Okay, bye.”

I let my breath out in a rush. Well, there went my privacy. I didn’t know why it mattered; they’d have found out anyway. I knew Cece and her friends well enough by now to know that there were no secrets between them.

And a makeover sounded kind of fun. It was one of those things that normal girlfriends did together—if they weren’t busy with fencing tournaments, or generally avoiding large groups of people who might become friends and therefore star in their depressing visions.

Hanging out with the girls, going on a date . . . a week at Winterhaven, and already my life was changing—for the better, I hoped. Not bad, I thought, smiling happily to myself.

Not bad at all.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

I did, and just sat there blinking at my own reflection. Sophie had lined my eyes with some dark, smoky liner and brushed my lids with plum-colored shadow. My eyes had never looked so bright green, so exotic. I don’t know what else she did to my face, but my cheeks shimmered and my lips looked
almost pouty. I could have easily passed for nineteen.

And my hair . . . it was still the same boring light brown, but now angled bangs hung across one eye and the bottom of my hair flipped up and out just below my shoulders.

“Wow!” Marissa said, behind me.

“Wow is right,” Cece agreed. “So, what do you think?”

Everyone looked at me anxiously. A slow smile spread across my face. “I like it.”

Kate’s eyes met mine in the mirror. “I can’t wait to see everyone’s expression when you walk into the dining hall!” she said with a grin.

Sophie nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have to touch up everything after dinner, though. Before you go out. Where are you going, anyway? There’s a movie tonight, a seven and a nine fifteen. Or maybe to the café?”

I shrugged, unable to look away from my own reflection. “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“But he told her he wants to show her something,” Cece said with a giggle.

“Hey, no fair. I want to see too.” Marissa actually smiled at me. Thank God. I was finally breaking down that barrier of hers. “You think he’ll at least buy you a coffee before he whips it out?” she added, wiggling her dark eyebrows suggestively, and everyone burst out laughing.

“Hey, have you heard from Allison?” Kate asked Cece once the laugher died down. “Can she write from wherever they’re keeping her?”

The playful mood in the room sobered at once. “I haven’t heard from her at all,” Cece said. “Not once. Not a letter, not a phone call. It’s like she dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Well, have you considered, you know”—Kate waved a hand in the air—“going to her? Just to see if she’s okay?”

Cece wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. I guess I could. What do you guys think?”

“Do you even know where she is?” I asked, sitting down on my bed and reaching for my boots. It was almost time for dinner. Nine o’clock seemed forever away.

“I don’t have to know where she is,” Cece answered, shaking her head. “I just have to will myself to her. That’s the way it works.”

It took me a minute to catch on, to realize that they weren’t suggesting that Cece actually
visit
her; they were suggesting that her astral self do it.

“I think you should,” Marissa said, putting on her own shoes. “Why not?”

“Yeah, I guess I could. I’d feel better knowing exactly what happened to her. I just always feel so bad, like I’m invading someone’s privacy or something.”