The Fallen Sequence (13 page)

“To Luce,” she toasted, giving Luce a saintly smile. “Who was obviously zoning and missed my entire welcome speech and who will
never
know how utterly fabulous it was—wasn’t it fabulous, Ro?” she leaned down to ask Roland, who patted her ankle affirmatively.

Cam slipped a plastic cup of champagne into Luce’s
hand. She blushed and tried to laugh it off as the whole rest of the party echoed, “To Luce! To Meat Loaf!”

At her side, Molly slithered up and whispered a shorter version in her ear: “To Luce, who will
never
know.”

A few days before, Luce would have flinched away. Tonight, she simply rolled her eyes, then turned her back on Molly. The girl had never said a word that didn’t leave Luce feeling bitten, but showing it seemed only to egg her on. So Luce just hunkered down to share the desk chair with Penn, who handed her a rope of black licorice.

“Can you believe it? I think I’m actually having fun,” Penn said, chewing happily.

Luce bit down on the licorice and took a tiny sip of the fizzy champagne. Not a very palatable combination. Kind of like her and Molly. “So is Molly that evil to everyone, or am I a special case?”

For a second Penn looked like she was going to give a different answer, but then she patted Luce on the back. “Just her usual charming demeanor, my dear.”

Luce looked around the room at all the free-flowing champagne, at Cam’s fancy vintage turntable, at the disco ball spinning over their heads, casting stars on everyone’s faces.

“Where do they get all this stuff?” she wondered aloud.

“People say Roland can smuggle anything into Sword & Cross,” Penn said matter-of-factly. “Not that I’ve ever asked him.”

Maybe this was what Arriane meant when she said Roland knew how to get things. The only off-limits item Luce could imagine wanting badly enough to ask about was a cell phone. But then … Cam had said not to listen to Arriane about the inner workings of the school. Which would have been fine, except so much of his party seemed to be courtesy of Roland. The more she tried to untangle her questions, the less things added up. She should probably stick to being just “in” enough to get invited to the parties.

“Okay, all you rejects,” Roland said loudly to get everyone’s attention. The record player had quieted down to the static between songs. “We’re going to start the open-mike portion of the night, and I’m taking requests for karaoke.”

“Daniel Grigori!” Arriane hooted through her hands.

“No!” Daniel hooted back without missing a beat.

“Aww, the silent Grigori sits another one out,” Roland said into the microphone. “You sure you don’t want to do your version of ‘Hellhound on My Trail’?”

“I believe that’s
your
song, Roland,” Daniel said. A faint smile spread across his lips, but Luce got the feeling it was an embarrassed smile, a someone-else-take-the-spotlight-please smile.

“He’s got a point, folks.” Roland laughed. “Though karaoke-ing Robert Johnson has been known to clear out a room.” He plucked an R. L. Burnside album from the stack and cued the record player in the corner. “Let’s go down south instead.”

As the bass notes of an electric guitar picked up, Roland took center stage, which was really just a few square feet of moonlit empty space in the middle of the room. Everyone else was clapping or stomping their feet in time, but Daniel was looking down at his watch. She kept seeing the image of him nodding at her in the lobby earlier that night, when Cam invited her to the party. Like Daniel wanted her there for some reason. Of course, now that she’d shown up, he made no move to acknowledge her existence.

If only she could get him alone …

Roland so monopolized the attention of the guests that only Luce noticed when, midway through the song, Daniel stood up, edged himself around Molly and Cam, and slipped silently out the door.

This was her chance. While everyone around her was applauding, Luce slowly got to her feet.

“Encore!” Arriane called out. Then, noticing Luce rising from her chair, she said, “Oh, snap, is that my girl stepping up to sing?”

“No!” Luce did not want to sing in front of this roomful of people any more than she wanted to admit
the real reason why she was standing up. But there she was, standing right in the middle of her first party at Sword & Cross, with Roland thrusting the mike under her chin. Now what?

“I—I just feel bad for, uh, Todd. That he’s missing out.” Luce’s voiced echoed back to her over the speakers. She was already regretting her bad lie, and the fact that there was no turning back now. “I thought I’d run down and see if he’s done with Mr. Cole.”

None of the other kids seemed to know quite what to do with this. Only Penn called out timidly, “Hurry back!”

Molly was smirking down her nose at Luce. “Geek love,” she said, fake-swooning. “So romantic.”

Wait, did they think she liked Todd? Oh, who cared—the one person Luce would really not want thinking that was the one person she’d been trying to follow outside.

Ignoring Molly, Luce scooted toward the door, where Cam met her with crossed arms. “Want company?” he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. On any other errand, she probably would have wanted Cam’s company. But not right now.

“I’ll be right back,” she said brightly. Before she could register the disappointment on his face, she slinked out into the hall. After the roar of the party, the quiet rang in her ears. It took a second before she could make out hushed voices just around the corner.

Daniel
. She’d recognize his voice anywhere. But she was less certain who he was talking to. A girl.

“Ah’m sorrrry,” whoever she was said … with a distinctive southern twang.

Gabbe? Daniel had been sneaking out to see blond and airbrushed
Gabbe?

“It won’t happen again,” Gabbe continued, “I swear to—”

“It
can’t
happen again,” Daniel whispered, but his tone practically screamed
lovers’ quarrel
. “You promised you’d be there, and you weren’t.”

Where? When? Luce was in agony. She inched along the hallway, trying not to make a sound.

But the two of them had fallen silent. Luce could picture Daniel taking Gabbe’s hands in his. Could picture him leaning in to her for a long, deep kiss. A sheet of all-consuming envy spread across Luce’s chest. Around the corner, one of them sighed.

“You’re going to have to trust me, honey,” she heard Gabbe say, in a saccharine voice that made Luce decide once and for all that she hated her. “I’m the only one you’ve got.”

SIX

NO SALVATION

B
right and early Thursday morning, a loudspeaker crackled to life in the hallway outside Luce’s room:

“Attention, Sword & Crosstians!”

Luce rolled over with a groan, but as hard as she crammed the pillow around her ears, it did little to block out Randy’s bark over the PA.

“You have exactly nine minutes to report to the gymnasium for your annual fitness examination. As you know, we take a dim view of stragglers, so be prompt and be ready for bodily assessment.”

Fitness examination? Bodily assessment? At six-thirty in the morning? Luce had already been regretting staying out so late last night … and staying up so much later lying in bed, stressing.

Right around the time she started imagining Daniel and Gabbe kissing, Luce had begun to feel queasy—that specific kind of queasiness that came from knowing she’d made a fool of herself. There was no going back to the party. There was only prying herself off the wall and slinking back to her dorm room to second-guess that strange feeling she got around Daniel, the one she’d foolishly taken as some sort of connection. She’d woken up with the bad taste of the party’s aftermath still in her mouth. The last thing she wanted to think about now was fitness.

She swung her feet off the bed and onto the cold vinyl floor. Brushing her teeth, she tried to picture what Sword & Cross might mean by “bodily assessment.” Intimidating images of her fellow students—Molly doing dozens of mean-faced chin-ups, Gabbe effortlessly ascending a thirty-foot rope toward the sky—flooded her mind. Her only shot at not making a fool of herself—again—was to try to put Daniel and Gabbe out of her mind.

She crossed the south side of campus to the gymnasium. It was a large Gothic structure with flying buttresses and fieldstone turrets that made it look more like a church than a place where one would go to break a sweat. As Luce approached the building, the layer of kudzu coating its façade rustled in the morning breeze.

“Penn,” Luce called out, spotting her tracksuit-clad friend lacing up her sneakers on a bench. Luce looked down at her regulation black clothes and black boots and suddenly panicked that she’d missed some memo about dress code. But then, some of the other students were loitering outside the building and none of them looked much different than she did.

Penn’s eyes were groggy. “So beat,” she moaned. “I karaoke’d
way
too hard last night. Thought I’d compensate by trying to at least
look
athletic.”

Luce laughed as Penn fumbled with the double knot on her shoe.

“What happened to you last night, anyway?” Penn asked. “You never came back to the party.”

“Oh,” Luce said, stalling. “I decided to—”

“Gaaahh.” Penn covered her ears. “Every sound is like a jackhammer in my brain. Tell me later?”

“Yeah,” Luce said. “Sure.” The double doors to the gym were thrust open. Randy stepped out in heavy rubber clogs, holding her ever-present clipboard. She waved the students forward, and one by one they filed past to be assigned their fitness station.

“Todd Hammond,” Randy called as the wobbly-kneed kid approached. Todd’s shoulders caved forward like parentheses, and Luce could see remnants of a serious farmer’s tan on the back of his neck.

“Weights,” Randy commanded, chucking Todd inside.

“Pennyweather Van Syckle-Lockwood,” she bellowed
next, causing Penn to cower and press her palms against her ears again. “Pool,” Randy instructed, reaching into a cardboard box behind her and tossing Penn a red one-piece Speedo racer-back.

“Lucinda Price,” Randy continued, after consulting her list. Luce stepped forward and was relieved when Randy said, “Also pool.” Luce reached up to catch the one-piece bathing suit in the air. It was stretched out and thin as a piece of parchment between her fingers. At least it smelled clean. Sort of.

“Gabrielle Givens,” Randy said next, and Luce whipped around to see her new least-favorite person sashay up in short black shorts and a thin black tank top. She’d been at this school for three days … how had she already gotten Daniel?

“Hiii, Randy,” Gabbe said, drawing out the words with a twang that made Luce want to pull a Penn and cover her own ears.

Anything but pool
, Luce willed.
Anything but pool
.

“Pool,” Randy said.

Walking next to Penn toward the girls’ locker room, Luce tried to avoid looking back at Gabbe, who twirled what seemed to be the only fashionable bathing suit in the stack around her French-manicured index finger. Instead, Luce focused on the gray stone walls and the old religious paraphernalia covering them. She walked past ornately carved wooden crosses with their bas-relief
depictions of the Passion. A series of faded triptychs hung at eye level, with only the orbs of the figures’ halos still aglow. Luce leaned forward to get a better look at a large scroll written in Latin, encased in glass.

“Uplifting décor, isn’t it?” Penn asked, throwing back a couple of aspirin with a swig of water from her bag.

“What is all this stuff?” Luce asked.

“Ancient history. The only surviving relics from when this place was still the site of Sunday Mass, back in Civil War days.”

“That explains why it looks so much like a church,” Luce said, pausing in front of a marble reproduction of Michelangelo’s pietà.

“Like everything else in this hellhole, they did a totally half-assed job of updating it. I mean, who builds a pool in the middle of an old church?”

“You’re joking,” Luce said.

“I wish.” Penn rolled her eyes. “Every summer, the headmaster gets it in his little mind to try and stick me with the task of redecorating this place. He won’t admit it, but all the God stuff really freaks him out,” she said. “Problem is, even if I did feel like pitching in, I’d have no idea what to do with all this junk, or even how to clear it out without offending, like, everyone and God.”

Luce thought back to the immaculate white walls inside Dover’s gymnasium, row after row of professionally shot varsity championship pictures, each matted with the
same navy card stock, each showcased in a matching golden frame. The only hallway more hallowed at Dover was its entryway, which was where all the alumni-turned-state-senators and Guggenheim fellowship winners and run-of-the-mill billionaires displayed their head shots.

“You could hang all the current alumni’s mug shots,” Gabbe offered from behind them.

Luce started to laugh—it
was
funny … and strange, almost like Gabbe had just read her mind—but then she remembered the girl’s voice the night before, telling Daniel
she
was the only one he had. Luce quickly swallowed any notion of a connection with her.