The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series) (5 page)

“You sure y
ou’re okay? You look
kinda
flushed
. We can go sit down if you want…”

I shook my head.
My
bangs shifted down to hide my eyes (and hopefully the red
glows
that decided to flourish on my cheeks). Jack chuckled before reaching out and brushing
my hair back
. “You’ve got no reason to hide from the world,
Em
. I’m not
that
bad of company, am I?”

I giggled (and Emery Miller does
not
giggle), “Well, m
aybe you’re not as bad of company as I thought.”

He laughed. It was
a warm, silky kind of laugh that made my toes curl, like being wrapped up in a warm blanket,
while
cradling a cup of hot apple cider as you watching the snow drift outside the window. It was that kind of warmth that continued to show whenever Jack looked, talked, walked…well,
whatever
he did, it made my insides turn into warm mush. “It’s nice to see you aren’t too upset about…you know, what had happened earlier. Geez, I really should have done more, but you know how the Headmistress is. Rules with an iron fist and an iron rod stuck up her—”

“Aha, yeah, I get it,” I waved it off, “It does bother me, but there wasn’t anything you can do about it.” Actually, I was pissed. I was really pissed just thinking about the unfairness of it all. She didn’t even give me a chance to defend myself—but what was there to defend, besides a girl just taking a walk through the woods and getting sidetracked by discovering two strange people fighting with weapons? Anyone would have believed that, given the chance!

Yeah…no.
Even
I
couldn’t believe it.

Jack paused in front of a lamppost and leaned against it, hands in pocket. I noticed that there was a silver chain around his neck that flashed in the light, the end of it hidden under his shirt. It reminded me of the dog tags that my Granddaddy wore in the old pictures that Grandma would show me. “Let’s start over then. I’m Jackson Alexander; Jack for short. 17. A junior. Also on cross country and track team. I plan to study government when I graduate.
You?”

Wow. That was a lot. I coughed before starting, “I’m Emery Miller. Well, you already know that. You can just call me
Em
if you want,
yeah,
everyone kind of calls me that, although it’s hard not to get in confused with Emily or something.” I coughed again.
“16. A sophomore.
Haven’t joined any sports or clubs yet.
I don’t know what I’m going to be when I graduate yet, but it might have something to do with historical preservation…or s-something like that…”

Shoot,
Em
. You’re babbling again! Shut up!
I shuffled my feet, kicking a loose stone onto the grass. A small group of girls passed by in tennis outfits,
oogling
at Jack and whispering excitedly behind their hands and tennis rackets. They squealed a little when he waved back.

“S-So you must really like running!” I blurted,
then
mentally slapped myself, wishing I had my own tennis racket to hide behind.

He grinned, “Oh yeah, it really gets the blood pumping. You never know what you can find when you run.
Especially in the woods.
I hear the woods have an abundance of damsels in distress just wai
ting for their Prince
Charmings
to come carry them to safety.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, even though it hurt
a little.

“Speaking of woods…”

I stiffened, feeling my heart race a little. Damn, the more my heart pounded the more pressure I felt—like it was a piece of plump fruit being squeezed by a giant’s hand.

Jack shifted his weight from one foot, looking uncomfortable, “I know it’s none of my business, but what were you
really
doing all alone in the woods next to some huge ass hole in the fence? You weren’t really planning on running off, were you? Or…”

“No!” I said, my voice raising an octave, “No, I wasn’t going to skip, or ditch, or run off with a gang of
delinquents
, or—God forbid—meet up with some g-guy like that!” I quickly explained the real reason I was there, the small bit of truth where I just wanted to kill some time by exploring the grounds (and of course leaving out the part about the beautiful blonde girl and the sword wielding guy with intent to kill), and he nodded, believing my story.

“It sounds legit to me. Maybe you saw something you shouldn’t have and you’re suffering from some sort of…memory trauma.”

“Memory trauma?”

“
Y’know
, like when you witness something really bad and you go into shock, so you don’t remember anything.”

I pondered this. Could I have actually seen something much worse and my brain, overloaded with the shock, made up everything else I saw? But who makes up a girl who can pull swords out of her hands, or guys with
deep bluish green eyes like the
ocean? And that still leaved the biggest question so far: what about the tattoo on my chest? Should I tell Jack about all this—hoping that it would sound crazy or that he can confidently say nothing like that could really happen.

Was the tattoo just some crazy figment of my imagination too, trying to play tricks on my brain to help me forget whatever I had witnessed in the woods?

“Hey…Jack?” I started.

“Yes,
Em
?”

I swallowed hard, feeling a bead of sweat slide down the back of my neck. I wiped it off. “This will sound so crazy, and crazy is definitely
not
what I want to be right now, but I’m starting to think I
am
crazy—well, what if I saw something happen in the woods
,
but it sounds so…so….”

“Crazy?”

“Yeah.
Crazy.” I tried to laugh, but it came out like a high pitched cry. “Look, I think what I saw in the woods—near the fence—you won’t believe, heck I don’t even think I believe, but I saw two people. Fighting…with swords.”

His eyes widened just a bit.
“Swords?
Are you sure you—”

“I know it sounds crazy!” I said, trying to suppress this sudden anger and humiliation bubbling inside me. A swelling of pressure in my chest seemed to expand the more I spoke. “But it’s true. I saw them fighting with swords—there was all of this strange light and it was like something you see out of a Sci-Fi movie. One of them even pulled a sword out of her hand
s
—”

TICK.
TICK.
TICK
.

I let out a surprised gasp as my heart just felt like it was being stabbed. I clutched my chest, feeling the sharp throbbing and pulsing of my racing heart. My knees suddenly gave out
, but
Jack managed to reach out and grab my arm before my kneecaps collided with the hard pavement.

I doubled over in pain. I coul
dn’t breathe; every sharp gasp
felt like a million tiny shards of glass stabbing my lungs. I heard Jack shouting my name over and over but I couldn’t lift my
head, or gasp out any words. The stones of the sidewalk started to dance and blend together in a swirl of gray and white.

With every tiny breath I tried to take, my heart beat faster, and harder. It hurt. It hurt so damn much I couldn’t take it!

Tick, tick, tick.

Huh? That noise again? A very, very faint ticking noise….like from a clock. I know that my wristwatch was shoved in my bag (the nurse had apparently taken it off to make me more comfortable, as well as my shoes and jacket), but there was no way I could hear the tiny hands moving through the bag. Did Jack have a watch on him? But what about in the bathroom—no, there was probably a clock on the wall in there. Just like the nurse’s office.

“
Em
, its okay,
Em
, just breathe,” Jack’s voice was soothing, like warm honey and it flowed through me. One of his large hands massaged my back while the other gripped my upper arm, probably afraid that I would tumble over again. Minutes passed. I counted how many exactly while I was hunched over trying to gain my breath and dull this pain in my chest. Four minutes and seven seconds.

I lifted my head, slowly, hair brushing over my shoulder. I took another breath—a good, deep one, before I met Jack’s eyes. I could see how amazing his eyes were—gray, like storm clouds but with tiny specs of white, like snow. His eyes bore into mine, glazed with concern and confusion.

“Are you alright
?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“C’mon, let’s
go back to the
nurse—”

“No!” the words were out before I could think. I didn’t want to go back there—what if the Headmistress found some other stupid reason to make me look like a fool? God, I wanted to slap myself. It wasn’t a good reason at all, but…

He said nothing, but helped me up. His hand tightened around my arm and I could feel the warmth from his palms seep through my jacket. “Fine,” he said, holding me in place, “Let’s get you back to your room then.”

He didn’t ask why I refused to go to the nurse. He never really pried the real reasons I was in the woods. He didn’t even know me, yet he carried me to safety, and stayed by my side, even now.

His grip was firm, but gentle as he led me in the direction of the girl’s dorm. The clock tower of St. Mary’s chimed out five long, reverberating rings that glided through the grounds. His grip tightened ever so slightly as we walked.

Maybe he really was a Prince Charming character.

My
Prince
Charming…
maybe?

CHAPTER 5

The junior and senior girl’s dorm loomed over head. A simple four story brick building that was in much worse shape than the other dorms. Unlike Campbell
Hall
, the freshman and sophomore girl’s dormitory, plus Jordon and Presley, the dorms for the boys; this dorm was one of the original buildings on St. Mary’s grounds. It was used to house many of the orphans during that time.

Despite the gloomy outer appearance—ivy vines creeping along the
outer
walls
(looking so thick and sturdy that someone could even use them as makeshift ladders)
, creaking window panes that needed a fresh coat of paint, and an entire floor that was completely cut off from the rest of the house (the second and third floors were boarding, while the first was a lounge area with a small kitchen. The basement held laundry rooms and the baths
—
the inside was pretty sweet. Sure, the stairs creaked a lot and the building would shake and moan during the night; but it was renovated a few years ago with new rooms and even an elevator and the inside was a lot cozier and warmer th
an most
people thought. The entire building was just like one huge book—you couldn’t judge it by its appearance.
Plus, there were many mysteries
about it to solve. Each nook and cranny was its own chapter.

My room happened to be a single at the very end of the third floor, and despite the light, it looked pitch black. But I could see the pale blue curtains flap in the wind from the half open window.

I—wait. Did I leave that window cracked open? True, the dorm room could get a bit stuffy and dusty, but I would have remembered if I left it open…

“Here’s your stop,” Jack said brightly, stopping at the end of the stairs that led up to the double door entrance. He whistled, “Damn, stuck in Moore, huh? I hear it’s haunted.” He nudged my side playfully and I grinned a little, trying hard not to blush at his touch. “But I thought you said you were a sophomore. Not trying to lie about your age to impress me, are you
Em
? I can handle a sophomore just as easily as a junior.”

I flushed crimson, failing to hide my sm
ile, which Jack took notice of.
“My transfer was really last minute. They had to put me in the only spare room left, which is in Moore Hall.” It wasn’t really easy trying to get around all of the babbling upperclassman, who eyed me with
distain when I first entered their doors. But I soon learned that if you keep to yourself they won’t bother you.

“I love it,” I said, changing the topic. But I meant it about Moore Hall. What luck to be able to stay in one of the oldest buildings on campus! Maybe it was just me, but I loved being near anything old and historical. It was like this campus and this entire city itself—you just walk and breathe and feel the history flow through your veins and seep into your bones. There’s no escaping it.