Winter's Shadow (9 page)

If Sam noticed the view Jasmine was offering, he was too polite to stare. He glanced down at his timetable. ‘Biology. Do you know where the labs are?’

‘Absolutely,’ Jasmine replied enthusiastically. ‘I’ll be happy to show you.’

Winter smirked to herself. Jasmine sure didn’t waste any time. The three of them began walking towards the door when Mrs Lathkey called out, ‘Jasmine, can I see you for a minute?’

Jasmine faced her teacher reluctantly. ‘I was just about to show Sam how to get to the science labs.’

Mrs Lathkey arched an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure Winter
can do that. We need to discuss your essay – or lack thereof.’

Jasmine left Sam’s side in a frustrated huff. Winter smiled sympathetically at her as she passed.

Sam turned to Winter and gestured towards the door. ‘After you.’

They left Jasmine with Mrs Lathkey and joined the throng of students making their way to the next class.

‘Jasmine seems very . . . friendly,’ Sam said.

Winter wasn’t sure whether Sam was being sarcastic or had genuinely mistaken Jasmine’s flirting for polite friendliness. He’d have to be pretty oblivious to miss the signals she’d been sending out.

‘Yeah, she is. Friendliest girl I know.’ Winter saw Sam watching her out of the corner of her eye, and tried to hide her grin. ‘So you just moved here?’

‘Yeah, from Wauchope.’

Winter frowned at the unfamiliar name. ‘Wauchope? Where’s that?’

‘It’s a small town in the mountains. Near Dale.’

‘Smaller than Hagan’s Bluff?’

‘Much.’

‘How do you find it here so far?’

‘Not too bad. It’s nice being near the water. I’m thinking I might learn to surf.’

‘It’s not as easy as it looks.’

‘You’ve tried it?’

‘Tried and failed.’ When they were fourteen, Jasmine had fallen deeply in love with Rory Cochrane, a local
surfing instructor, and dragged Winter down to the surf club to sign up for lessons with him. After nearly drowning on the first day, Winter had spent the rest of the summer sitting on the beach slathered in sunblock, reading Stephen King’s
IT
while Jasmine tried unsuccessfully to get Rory’s attention.

Sam shrugged. ‘I probably won’t get the chance. We usually don’t stay in any one place too long.’

Winter caught a trace of regret in his voice.

‘What do your parents do?’

‘My dad works for a bank, and they shift him to different branches every couple of months.’

‘That sounds pretty sucky.’ Winter wasn’t just being polite. She’d found it difficult enough to find her place here at Trinity over the past five years; the idea of having to start at a new school full of unfamiliar faces every few months was daunting.

Sam shrugged again. ‘I’m used to it.’

‘Winter!’ A familiar voice set her teeth on edge. She turned to see Harry Francis running to catch up. Ever since the principal had assigned Winter to the school newspaper, Harry seemed to enjoy asserting his authority over her. She supposed the newspaper room was the only place in Trinity where an unpopular creep like Harry Francis had any kind of power.

‘Hi, Harry,’ Winter said, forcing a smile.

‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

‘I was hiding.’ It was the truth disguised as a joke. Winter had been avoiding Harry, because she still didn’t
know if the pictures she’d taken at Pilgrim’s Lament were salvageable. She’d dropped her camera off at Fletch’s Photographics before school, but the way the service guy’s eyes had bugged out in shock as he took the Nikon from her did not fill her with confidence. She gestured towards Sam, hoping to distract Harry from the topic of the photos.

‘Harry, this is Sam. He’s new here.’

Harry glanced at Sam and Winter saw a flicker of disdain in his eyes. She supposed when Harry looked at Sam, he saw just another muscular jock readying to bully or tease him.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Sam said, holding out his hand.

‘Yeah.’ Harry ignored Sam’s hand and turned his attention back to Winter. ‘So, did you get those pictures for me on the weekend?’

‘Of course. There was an accident, though, and . . .’

‘Awesome. When can I have them?’ He didn’t seem interested in any other details.

‘Tomorrow,’ Winter answered hesitantly.

Harry frowned at her. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Absolutely.’ Winter tried to sound confident but, judging by the suspicious look on Harry’s face, failed utterly.

‘You know that we go to print tomorrow night, don’t you? If I don’t have those pictures the article will be worthless, which means I’ll have to run the paper a few pages short, which causes headaches for the printers. Sorensen wouldn’t like that.’

Winter’s stomach flipped at the prospect of being called into the principal’s office and having to explain herself to the cold-eyed Sorensen. Though ‘nearly being killed’ was a pretty reasonable excuse for not meeting a deadline, it was still a conversation she’d rather not have, especially after the big deal the principal had made about how working for the paper was Winter’s chance to prove herself. Behind her discomfort with Sorensen was another factor compelling her to have the pictures ready on time. It had nothing to do with any notion of responsibility to Sorensen, Harry, or even the
Times
itself, but came from a surprisingly strong sense of professional pride. She’d taken some good pictures on the mountain, and wanted the opportunity to be recognised for her work.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll have them, Harry.’

‘I hope so.’ Harry smiled thinly at Winter and Sam, then headed back the way he’d come.

‘Nice guy,’ Sam observed sarcastically.

‘Welcome to Trinity,’ Winter said with a shrug.

Winter poked her school-cafeteria lasagne experimentally, trying to gauge whether it was edible. She was aware that Jasmine was staring intently at her from across the table, but did her best to ignore her. But as the silent scrutiny stretched on, Winter found her friend’s behaviour too irritating to endure.

She threw down her fork and glared at Jasmine. ‘It’s not going to happen, Jas.’

Jasmine held up her hands defensively. ‘I’m not saying you should buy Blake flowers or anything . . .’

‘Good, because I’m not going to.’

‘Guys don’t like flowers. I just think that . . .’ Jasmine paused to take another bite of her salad. ‘You’re riding out there anyway to give him his jacket back, right? The least you can do is get him something nice as a
thankyou
.’

‘I’ve already said thank you. Besides – I got the impression he wasn’t too interested in forging a meaningful relationship with me.’

‘Who’s saying anything about a meaningful relationship?’

Winter’s mouth dropped open in mock outrage. ‘You’re such a tart!’

Jasmine held her hands up in defence of her comment. ‘All I’m saying is it wouldn’t hurt you to put yourself out there for once.’ Her expression softened and she lowered her voice. ‘I know you’ve had a rough year, Win, and I just think it would be good for you to have some fun. Get out of your head for a bit, you know?’

Though touched by the sentiment, Winter was a realist. She didn’t stand a chance with Blake. ‘I’m not arguing with you, Jas. I just don’t see it happening.’

Jasmine sighed. ‘Well, it won’t with that attitude. You’ve got to be proactive about this sort of thing. This isn’t the Middle Ages. Girls can ask guys out without fear of being stoned to death.’

‘I know, it’s just —’

‘What? You’re waiting for Mr Darcy to give you a call? Maybe old Redcliff from the moors will drop by.’

‘It’s Heathcliff.’

‘Whatever! You could spend the rest of your life waiting for the perfect guy to ask you out. Don’t leave it up to fate. Take some initiative.’

Chagrined, Winter toyed with her lunch. Jasmine’s words stung her, though she understood her friend
meant well. It simply wasn’t that easy for Winter, and never had been. Ever since they’d hit adolescence, and probably before that, Jasmine had been the one the boys went for. And if they didn’t go for her, she was more than willing to chase them. With her confidence and exotic looks, Jasmine hadn’t spent a single Friday night alone since she was thirteen.

Winter, on the other hand, struggled to meet guys, something her involuntary talent for being invisible only made worse. Even before her parents’ death had given her a legitimate excuse for a little isolation and introspection, she had been far more comfortable with a night in than attempting to make small talk with some guy who was probably only using her to get close to Jasmine.

She’d had the occasional crush over the years, but they’d always been short-lived and never intense enough to pull her out of the safe cocoon she’d woven around herself. It wasn’t that Winter didn’t want romance in her life; the prospect of it just seemed too big and scary. She watched the ease Jasmine had with guys in the same way she watched ballet dancers or musicians – envious of the performers’ skill, but comforted by the knowledge she could never match it. Some things were simply beyond her.

Winter noticed Jasmine look over her shoulder, and then quickly back down at her food.

‘Don’t look now, but Smotely’s coming over.’

The jingling of Smotely’s piercings and chain-covered black clothes grew louder as he shuffled into view. Up
until almost a year ago Smotely had been a glasses-wearing, card-carrying member of the maths geek squad. Over the summer break, he had transformed himself into a strange Goth-Emo-Punk-Rocker character, a transformation that both Winter and Jasmine found in equal parts fascinating and amusing.

‘Hey,’ he said in a manufactured morose tone, as though the effort to speak was almost too much for him. He avoided looking either of them in the eye.

‘Hi, Ken, why don’t you pull up a chair and share a chocolate milk with us?’ Jasmine asked, her eyes sparkling.

‘No thanks,’ Smotely answered, completely missing the fact he was being made fun of. ‘You guys wanna buy some tickets?’

‘To see who?’

‘The Urban Ninjas. They’re playing Thursday night at the surf club. Some friends dropped out so I’m trying to get rid of their tickets. Ten bucks each. They cost me twenty, so it’s a good deal.’

Winter was shocked to see Jasmine actually considering Smotely’s offer, and even more shocked when she reached for her purse.

‘I’ll take four of them.’

Smotely’s eyebrow ring twitched. ‘You know they’re pretty hardcore, right?’

Winter had to restrain herself from correcting him. The Urban Ninjas
weren’t
hardcore. A few years back, her mother had played Winter some of her old Pantera and Iron Maiden albums. Winter had been curious about
the bands after rifling through her record collection and seeing the garish cover artwork. The songs had been a little too intense for Winter’s sensibilities, but had given her some kind of understanding of what hardcore heavy metal sounded like. It certainly
didn’t
sound like the contrived posing of the Urban Ninjas she’d heard on the radio.

Jasmine put on a show of being offended by Smotely’s insinuation that she was not cool enough to enjoy the band’s music. ‘
I’m
pretty hardcore,’ she replied, handing him the money and taking the tickets.

‘Whatever,’ he said with a shrug and slouched off back to his morose friends.

Once he’d moved out of earshot, Winter asked cautiously, ‘What are you doing?’

Jasmine smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. Winter began to feel nervous. She’d seen that sly expression before and knew to dread its appearance.

‘I have an idea.’

Winter gulped. ‘Oh no . . .’

‘Hear me out. We’ve established that flowers, chocolates, big red hearts and teddy bears are no good, right? What do guys like? Music. And what a coincidence – look what I have here.’ She fanned out the four tickets. ‘Are you following me?’

Winter shook her head, though she had a sneaking suspicion of what Jasmine was about to propose.

‘After school today, you’re going to ride over to Blake’s house and give him one of these.’ Jasmine slid two tickets
across the table. ‘You tell him the ticket’s a token of your appreciation for him saving your life, blah, blah, blah.’

‘You’re insane.’