Wicked (3 page)

“That's a great idea!” Angela beamed at Scott. “We could watch it tonight, after we read our pages.”

“I'll get started making some snacks,” Cheryl said. “I want to try out a couple of recipes for my cookbook. My grandmother used to make wonderful caramel corn, and she had a great recipe for peanut butter fudge.”

“Cut it out, Cheryl. You're making me hungry.” Marc groaned. “Is anyone else hungry?”

Everyone nodded, and Angela spoke up. “Does everybody like take-out Chinese?”

“My favorite!” Tracie sighed. “I just love egg rolls! And the fortune cookies are so much fun. The last time I went out for Chinese, my fortune said I was going to be lucky in love.”

Angela laughed. “I'm sure you will be, Tracie. I'll treat you all to an early dinner.”

“I'll come with you,” Ryan volunteered. “You'll need help carrying all those cartons.”

Angela turned to smile at Ryan. “Thanks. The rest of you can start in on your projects, and Ryan and I'll be back just as soon as we can.”

Eve frowned as Ryan and Angela went out the door. She'd been planning to discuss her project with Ryan, but Angela had stolen him away. Of course, that wasn't completely accurate. Ryan had volunteered to go. To make matters even worse, he'd left without even bothering to say good-bye to her.

CHAPTER TWO

There was no way she could write, not when she was this upset. Eve frowned at her computer screen, and then she glanced at the clock on her desk. She had another hour to finish her required pages, but she'd only gotten as far as the title. After typing and deleting at least seven, she'd finally settled for
The Vampire's Vacation
.

Angela and Ryan had been gone for over an hour. When they'd come back, they'd been laughing and talking as if they were old friends. Eve had fumed as everyone else had raved about the take-out Chinese. It had been good, Eve had to admit that, but the whole group had acted as if Angela had spent hours and hours over a hot stove, cooking it herself.

When the last fortune cookie had been opened, everyone had gone back up to their rooms to work on their projects. Eve had gone to her room, and here she was, an hour later, still struggling with the opening sentence of her book. Why hadn't she told Professor Hellman she was writing about fashion? It would have been a lot easier. At least she knew something about fashion.

Eve took a deep breath and started to type. She'd fill up her pages even if they weren't very good. It was like homework. You had to do it. And maybe she'd feel more inspired tomorrow.

There was a frown on Eve's face as she described the setting and introduced her main character. A beachfront hotel, very exclusive, resort of the rich and famous. A beautiful woman, Rochelle Dubois, who'd gone on vacation to search for romance and excitement. It should have been fine, but it wasn't. Rochelle wasn't very interesting at all, and Eve couldn't figure out how to make her more appealing.

Describing Rochelle's clothes filled up most of the pages, and listing what she'd ordered for dinner took another whole page. Painting a verbal portrait of her hotel room took another three pages, and Eve smiled as she stopped in the middle of a paragraph. She was finished. She'd done the required number of pages, and she wasn't going to write another word. Rochelle Dubois could just hang there, half in and half out of her bubble bath, until tomorrow!

Eve gave a sigh of relief and pressed the button that would print her work. She was done, and it wasn't a moment too soon! Now all she had to do was collect her pages from the fourth-floor printer and she'd be finished with her assignment for the first day.

As Eve walked down the hallway, she noticed that everyone else was still working. Beth was staring out her window, her forehead furrowed in concentration, and Eve wondered just how hard it was to write a poem. She could do one right now, but she doubted that Beth would want to use it. It would be about the workshop and the students who were here.

Eve grinned as she thought of one.
Roses are red, fuchsia is pink. Angela Adams makes this workshop stink!
She could write a poem about Ryan, too, one that he wouldn't appreciate.
Ryan Young is really dumb if he thinks Angela Adams is such a plum.

Tracie was working, her fingers typing busily at her keyboard. There was a soft, almost longing expression on her face, and Eve knew she was writing about the hero of her romance. He'd be rich, and handsome, and powerful. And the woman in Tracie's story would fall head over heels in love with him.

Cheryl was working, too. As she wrote, she munched on a plate of cookies next to her keyboard. Eve watched while Cheryl ate one and then reached for another. Perhaps writing a cookbook wasn't good for Cheryl. She was bound to gain weight if she kept sampling her recipes.

Angela's door was open and Eve peeked in. The room was deserted, the desk was tidy, and the bed was neatly made. Angela must have finished her work and gone downstairs.

When Eve pulled open the door to the stairwell, she paused. She'd planned to go up to the fourth floor to retrieve her pages from the printer, but she didn't really want to go up there alone. She was still a little nervous about the creaking noises she'd heard and the idea of going up to the fourth floor after dark made her shiver.

Ryan would go with her. He had to pick up his pages, too. Eve headed down to the second floor and opened the door to the hallway. Jeremy was still working at his computer. As Eve passed by his open door, he laughed at something he'd written. Eve hoped it was as funny as his laughter indicated. They'd all have to listen to it tonight.

Scott's room was across the hall and he was working, too. So was Marc, although he'd already printed out and was proofreading his pages. Dean was playing his keyboard, earphones on his head. He looked strange, moving to the music he was playing, when Eve could hear nothing but silence.

Ryan's door was closed and Eve knocked softly. When Ryan didn't answer, she knocked again. After several more attempts, Eve opened the door and peered in to find that Ryan's room was empty.

Where was Ryan? And where was Angela? Eve frowned. Could they be together?

Quickly, Eve went down the steps to the first floor. There was no one in the kitchen or the laundry room. The dining room was deserted and so was the library, although someone had filled a cooler with soft drinks and set it on the table. Eve walked to the lace curtains and pulled them back slightly to peer out into the courtyard.

There they were, sitting on the bench, turned toward each other. As Eve watched, Angela threw back her head and laughed at something Ryan had said. Ryan laughed, too, and he looked very pleased that Angela had found his comment so amusing.

Eve's eyes narrowed and her blood began to boil. Ryan had that same look on his face, that same sappy, adoring expression she'd noticed when she'd first seen him with Angela. But Ryan was supposed to be her boyfriend, not Angela's. If he looked at anyone that way, it should have been her. And if Angela thought she could get away with stealing Eve's boyfriend, she was dead wrong.

Eve turned away from the window with a determined expression on her face. Her green eyes glittered with icy displeasure, and her lips were set in a straight, disapproving line. Angela wouldn't play games with Ryan for very long.

Eve would make sure of that....

* * *

There was total silence when Eve finished reading her pages. The silence lasted for almost a minute, and then Cheryl spoke up. “I like the beachfront hotel, Eve. It's a great setting.”

“Me, too,” Tracie agreed. “And Rochelle's clothes are incredibly romantic. I especially like the gown she wore to dinner.”

Ryan looked a little disturbed, but he nodded. “You did a great job with the clothes, Eve. When is the vampire going to appear?”

“I'm not sure.” Eve shrugged. “Whenever he wants to, I guess. Does anyone know where a vampire sleeps?”

Scott spoke up. “In a coffin. It's usually in a basement or underground, so that the light can't reach him. Legend has it he'll turn into dust if he's in direct sunlight.”

“Nope.” Eve giggled and shook her head. “Any other guesses?”

Scott looked puzzle, but he shook his head. “Where do you think he sleeps, Eve?”

“Anywhere he wants to!” Eve laughed, and so did everyone except Angela. She was frowning, and Eve turned to her. “What's the matter, Angela? Didn't you get the joke?”

“I got it. But I am a little concerned, Eve.”

“About what?” Eve faced her squarely.

“About your attitude. You don't seem to be very serious about the workshop, and that disturbs me. Take your main character, Rochelle Dubois. What's her motivation?”

“Motivation? Come on, Angela. Rochelle's on vacation and she's out for a good time. She doesn't really
have
any motivation.”

“That could be the problem. You haven't spent enough time fleshing out your main character. We have to know her, to understand her, to care about her. We need to know her dreams, her hopes, her fears. Don't you see, Eve? We have to be able to identify with Rochelle. If we don't, it won't be frightening when she encounters the vampire.”

“Really, Angela!” Eve couldn't help laughing. “I'm not going for the Nobel Prize in Literature here. I'm just trying to write some chapters of a book . . . for a class.”

Now it was Ryan's turn to frown. “I can't believe you said that, Eve. Don't you want your work to be good?”

“Of course I do!” Eve backtracked quickly. She'd forgotten that students in the workshop were supposed to be very dedicated to the art of writing. “But I think my chapters have to be fun, too. I'm not writing serious literature. I'm writing a novel.”

“That's a good point, Eve,” Angela said. “You're right, in a way. Novels should be fun, and we sometimes lose sight of that. But you do have to figure out your character and her motivation before you start. Why don't you give this some thought tonight and rewrite your first chapter? I'm sure it'll be much better when you read it to us tomorrow night.”

Eve waited for someone to say something. Angela was acting like their teacher, and she wasn't. But everyone just nodded, including Ryan, and Eve felt her temper flare again.

“How about your chapter, Angela?” Eve hoped her grin wasn't too nasty. “Are you going to read it to us?”

“Of course. I'll be happy to read it. But remember, Eve . . . I'm a beginning writer, just like the rest of you. I'm just lucky I had the chance to pick up a lot of pointers from my parents.”

Eve managed to keep a pleasant smile on her face as Angela began to read her pages. And despite herself, she began to get interested in the words that Angela was reading. Angela was a good writer, a very good writer. Even Eve had to give her that much. Eve wanted to find something she could criticize, but she listened and listened as Angela read, and she couldn't find anything wrong.

When Angela had finished, Tracie started to clap. “That's fantastic, Angela! I can hardly wait to hear the next chapter.”

“Thank you, Tracie. “Angela smiled at her. “How about the rest of you? What did you think?”

Everyone was full of praise for Angela's writing, but Angela turned to Eve. “How about you, Eve? I criticized you, and turnabout's fair play. Now it's your turn to criticize me.”

Eve winced. And then she decided to be honest. “I don't know enough about writing to criticize you. I thought it was really good, Angela.”

“Thank you, Eve!” Angela looked perfectly delighted. “I just hope I can keep it up. A novel patterned after
Ten Little Indians
isn't easy to write. It's a complicated plot and you have to deal with ten different characters. You'll see what I mean when we watch the movie.”

“We've all read our chapters,” Ryan said. “Let's go into the living room and watch it right now.”

“I'll get the snacks.” Cheryl jumped to her feet. “Remember the section I read you tonight about Grandpa Al and the homemade pretzels? I made caramel corn and peanut butter fudge, but I also made pretzels!”

Angela laughed. “It's a good thing none of us have false teeth. Your grandmother revised that recipe, didn't she Cheryl?”

“Sure, right after they paid off the dentist. They're
soft
pretzels now.”

* * *

Eve was slightly mollified as Ryan walked her up to her room. He'd sat next to her and held her hand, all through
Ten Little Indians
. Eve could understand why Ryan was so fascinated with Angela. Her father was one of his idols. But that didn't mean that Eve had to like her.

“Good night, Eve. I'm really glad you're here.” Ryan placed a light kiss on Eve's forehead. And then he looked at her with something bordering on admiration. “You know, Eve . . . I was really happy about what you did tonight.”

“What did I do?”

“I thought you were going to rip Angela apart, after she'd read her chapter. But you didn't. You told her you liked it.”

“I did like it. Angela's a good writer, but that doesn't mean I have to like
her
.”

Ryan laughed. “That's true. But I think you'll like her if you get to know her. Give her a chance, Eve . . . please?”

“Don't worry, Ryan. I'll give her a chance.” Eve smiled sweetly and turned away, so Ryan couldn't see her face. She'd give Angela a chance. A chance to hang herself.

Ryan pulled Eve into his arms. “She had a rough childhood, Eve. She told me all about it, and maybe we're lucky we don't have world-famous parents.”

“Maybe.” Eve snuggled up to Ryan. “Let's not talk about Angela. Let's concentrate on us. Do you want to come to my room and listen to some music?”

Ryan looked tempted, but he shook his head. “I can't. I promised Angela I'd write another five pages tonight. My next chapter's really going to be exciting, Eve. My main character's all set to meet George Washington. It happens during the French and Indian War, when Washington was serving in the British army.”

“That sounds fascinating.” Eve smiled, even though she felt more like frowning. At any other time, Ryan would have jumped at the chance to spend time alone with her. Now he was more interested in going back to his computer, and that was all Angela Adams' fault!

“Is Angela going to work with you?” Eve's eyes narrowed as she pictured Angela and Ryan, alone in his room.

“No. She's helping Tracie tonight. They're down in the library, doing character sketches for Tracie's romance. After that, she's going to listen to some of Jeremy's jokes to help him decide which ones he should use in his book.”

“So she's working late?” Eve felt a little better. If Angela was that busy, she wouldn't have time to spend with Ryan.

“I guess!” Ryan looked impressed. “She told me she wouldn't be free until breakfast tomorrow morning. That's when she's going to read my pages.”