I shake my head, trying to convince her and that staring guard that I know what she’s talking about. But the truth is, I’m more confused than I was before. What do chambermaids and best friends have to do with this school?
“Sit, Nova,” Dad says, gesturing at the couch.
I plop down and pull my favorite red-and-cream-plaid blanket over my legs.
Dad sits next to me. He rubs the palm of his callused hand with his thumb and is silent for a few long seconds. “I don’t have enough time to explain everything if you’re going to get on that plane tonight. Besides, there’s nothing you need to know right now. I’ll take care of everything here. In the meantime, you go learn some new knife skills and survival tactics.”
I frown at him. It’s not unlike him to speak around things. But there’s something in his voice that unsettles me, a crack in his confidence. “Did something happen to Aunt Jo that you’re not telling me?”
He looks tired. “I don’t know all the details. Which is part of the reason I need to go and help sort things out and make sure everything and everyone is safe.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “But you told me she had a break-in. That’s not the worst, is it? I mean, even if it has something to do with your old CIA life, do you really think it warrants sending me off to some—”
“Nova, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” His expression doesn’t give anything away, but there is a gravity to his tone.
“Of course,” I say, and I want to push the issue, but every time he’s ever told me to trust him, he’s done it for a reason. And every time he’s been right.
He nods and some of the tension seems to leave his eyes.
We’re quiet for a few seconds, all the unanswered questions hanging between us like thick fog.
He watches me. “I understand that it must feel sudden, but I don’t have a lot of good choices at present. I just know I can’t take any chances where you’re concerned. If your aunt is in any kind of danger, then we very well might be, too. I want to clear up whatever is going on and be certain it doesn’t spill into our lives here.”
I don’t bother asking him what would happen if it did. Because I know. He would do whatever he needed to protect me, including move us. He told me that once when I was little and I’ve never forgotten it. There are few things I love more than living in Pembrook, and if I have to go to some remote school for a few weeks while he sorts things out to keep us from having to move away, I most certainly will.
He laughs suddenly and catches me off guard. “Do you remember the time that man kicked his dog and Aunt Jo kicked him? He threatened to call the police on her and she said, ‘Do it. I hope they send me to jail. It’ll give me lots of time to contemplate how I’m going to kill you when I get out.’ ”
I grin. “Tiny and vicious. Believe me, I know exactly why you want to go to Providence. Who knows what she’ll do left to her own devices.”
And just like that, we’re back on the same page. No more fog. No more answers, either. But it’s always kind of been that way with him. And it doesn’t matter. Because even if I don’t know exactly what’s going on, I know him.
I exhale. “I guess a few weeks isn’t the end of the world.”
He nods like he knew I would come to this conclusion. “Good. We’re agreed. And Nova, I know you’ve got a lot of questions. And I know how much self-restraint it’s taking for you not to fight me tooth and nail on this. But I promise you that you know exactly as much as will keep you safe. And I will take care of whatever is going on.”
I frown at the shields. No, I don’t know what will keep me safe. And how did he hear about this school, anyway? I assumed it was some kind of wicked crazy program he knew about from his CIA days. But the students aren’t American, as far as I can tell; they’re from all over the world. And the figures on the shields that Layla named are from vastly different historical periods. I don’t see how they could have any connection to American intelligence.
A girl and a guy enter the foyer, speaking in hushed voices. But instead of passing by, they stop.
“Aarya,” the girl says, introducing herself, and does a curtsy. She’s got a similar complexion to Layla’s and loose wavy hair. Aarya is…Sanskrit, I’m pretty sure. However, it’s also a name that’s used by a variety of cultures all over the world.
“And this is Felix,” Aarya continues, and I catch a British accent. The guy next to her bows. Where she’s relaxed, he’s stiff. And he has a scar across his cheekbone that reaches all the way to his ear.
“November,” I say, placing my hand on my chest. “I’m not much of a curtsier.”
Aarya laughs, even though what I said wasn’t funny.
“If you don’t already have plans for lunch, please feel free to join us,” Felix says, also with a British accent. But his facial expression remains stiff, almost awkward. He and Aarya appear to have such different demeanors, it’s hard to imagine them as friends.
“Oh, thanks,” I say. Finally a normal welcome. “That’d be great.”
And just like that Aarya and Felix give me a quick nod and move on without another word. Well, maybe it wasn’t a super-normal welcome, but it’s definitely among the friendliest interactions I’ve had so far.
I turn to Layla, but her expression has gone colder than before.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask her, and the guard’s head moves ever so slightly in our direction.
She speed-walks out of the high-ceilinged room and into the hallway. About halfway down, she stops and looks both ways to make sure we’re alone. “Aarya’s…She’s a Jackal,” she says in a hushed voice.
I look at her like she’s lost me. “But she’s British, right?”
Layla shakes her head. “No one knows where she grew up. She’s impeccable with accents. The best in the school.”
I stare at Layla. “Did you just tell me something personal about someone?” I can’t help but smile.
“What I told you is that Aarya’s from the Jackal Family, and by your reaction to my analysis of you earlier, I can now say that you’re Italian.”
“I—” I catch myself before I tell her that she’s only half correct—my mom was Italian and my dad’s American. Jackal Family? Something about that feels oddly familiar. “What does that mean, that she’s a Jackal?”
What looks like genuine shock appears on her face. “I told you to stop that.”
I close my mouth, pretty sure that whatever response I give next will be wrong.
“You’re not good enough to go up against Aarya,” Layla says, “and you’ll hurt all of us with your stupidity.”
I exhale audibly. “I honestly don’t know what to say to you right now. You won’t let me ask questions. And you yell at me when I say I don’t know what’s going on. I get that maybe you don’t like Aarya, but if she wants me to have lunch with her, I don’t see what’s so bad about that. Unless you’ve changed your mind and suddenly want to explain it.”
Layla looks at me long and hard. It almost seems like she wants to ask me a question. Then without a word she turns and starts walking faster than before.
“Layla?” I call after her.
“I need to think,” she says, and I have to practically run to catch up with her.
For the next hour, Layla doesn’t say one word to me that she doesn’t have to.
LAYLA WALKS ONE step ahead of me into the cafeteria, which looks like it was modeled after a royal banquet hall. There are three tables. The one at the front of the room seats about twenty and is arranged on a raised platform. And two long tables, seating at least fifty each, run perpendicular to it. All the tables have maroon velvet chairs in neat rows and crisp white tablecloths that are super impractical for a herd of teenagers. There are centerpieces made from sprigs of spruce and white flowers, and from the ceiling hang wrought-iron chandeliers with real c
andles.
Teachers take their seats at the elevated table and the students politely and quietly find theirs. There is a low buzz of conversation, but nothing like the chaos of my cafeteria.
I follow Layla down the middle of the tables. Each place is set with china plates and silverware that looks freshly polished, something I thought belonged exclusively to movies. As I’m gawking at the fancy place settings, I hear my name. I look up and find Aarya smiling at me from across the table.
“Sit, sit,” Aarya says, and Felix pulls out a chair.
“Layla,” I say. “Do you want to—”
“No,” she says, and keeps walking.
I watch Layla’s back as she gets farther away from me.
“Don’t worry so much. Layla worries enough for all of us,” Aarya says.
I accept the chair Felix pulled out for me. Although I can’t help but feel weird that I didn’t follow Layla, even though I’m pretty sure we could use a minute apart.
“Thanks,” I say to Felix, who sits down next to me.
“You’re quite the hot topic around here.” Aarya pushes bowls of roasted cauliflower and carrots and a pan of lasagna in my direction, and I gladly accept them. “Not that anyone will tell you that.”
A girl with long red dreads, braided down the center of her head like a Mohawk, turns and looks at Aarya.
“What?” Aarya says. “Problem?”
The girl shakes her head and returns her eyes to her meal, but she doesn’t seem the least bit put off. In fact, if I had to guess, I would say she and Aarya are friends. Interesting that Aarya, who’s obviously bold and fluid, would have one friend who’s so reserved and another who’s so stiff.
Felix pours me a glass of water, and now that I’m so close to him, I notice that the scar on his face is a clean line, like a cut from a knife or a sword, the type you would imagine belonged to a knight or a pirate in a children’s book. And by the way it’s faded, it looks like he’s had it for a long time. Did someone really slice him in the face when he was a kid?
“It’s funny,” I say, “barely anyone here has even looked in my direction, much less spoken to me.”
“We’re not the most openly friendly bunch,” Felix says, like he prefers it that way.
“Speak for yourself,” Aarya says. “I’m a hoot.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I bet most of this room would disagree.”
“Says the gloomy Gus from the moors of gray and rainy,” she says with her mouth full, which makes me think Felix’s British accent is real even if Aarya’s isn’t.
He gives her a warning look.
“Okay, okay,” she says in a dramatic surrendering voice. “You’re not gloomy. Barrel of laughs, you are. No one can stop when they’re around you. You must take after your—”
“Aarya,” he says in a sharper tone, and his back straightens further.
She laughs. “You should really see your face, mate.”
I look back and forth between them as I grab a piece of garlic bread. This school might be seriously questionable, but the food is outrageously good.
“Now, November,” Aarya says. “Tell us all about you.”
I smile. “I thought that was the first rule of this place, not to say.”
“Did you really think for a second that we don’t share personal things?” Aarya asks. “You know what else is a rule that no one follows? No dating.”
I almost choke on my cider and Aarya laughs, a big relaxed laugh, which earns her looks from some of the nearby students. She glares at them until they look away.
“Well then, I’m glad I’m going home soon,” I say.
“Home?” Felix asks.
“For the holidays,” I say.
Aarya and Felix share a subtle look, and I get the feeling they’ve just made some sort of assessment. I glance down the long table at Layla and wonder if I should leave them and join her.
“It’s hard when you first arrive here,” Aarya says. “It was an adjustment for all of us. Granted, we’ve all been here awhile now. But you, you’re what, seventeen?”
I brush off her question with a shrug. “Which for here seems to be wicked old.”
Felix dips a piece of bread in tomato sauce and shakes his head. “It’s not that, it’s that you’re the first student we’ve ever heard of who came in this late. How did you swing it? Must have been enormously expensive.” His intonation and posture make me examine him more closely. I’ve never met anyone with all the awkwardness of a debate club nerd and yet the physical appearance of an attractive pirate.
Aarya nods.
“I…” If I tell them that we never had much money, I’ll be telling them something about my family. And if I say I don’t know, then I’m revealing how truly ignorant I am of my situation. Damn it. Conversation in this place is like navigating around land mines.
I laugh to distract them from my silence. “Secrets are secrets,” I say. From the corner of my eye I catch an almost imperceptible smile from the girl with the dreads. “But enough about me. What about you, Felix? By the way you emphasize the e in your name, I’m guessing you’re British?” I pause. “Did you know your name means ‘lucky’ or ‘successful’? And Aarya, your name is actually Sanskrit for the goddess Durga, but it’s a common name in lots of countries.” I drum my fingers on the table as I dredge up what I recall about her name’s etymology. “But Sanskrit is a dead language, not to mention that Aarya is a name given to both boys and girls. It’s funny how your name is changeable, almost like your accent. Maybe it’s even an alias?”
Aarya claps her hands together with exaggerated slowness and guffaws, earning her more hard looks from nearby students. “Game on! I like this girl.”
I take a bite of lasagna.
“November,” a male voice says behind me. I turn around to find Ash, whose posture is relaxed but whose eyes are focused. His black hair is neat and his eyelashes are longer than mine.
“Oh, go away, Ash,” Aarya says. “We were just starting to have some fun.” She smacks her hands on the tablecloth, rattling a few plates. The girl with the dreads looks up. “If you take November away, I’ll be stuck with this church mouse”—she waves her hand at the girl—“and Eeyore,” she adds, inclining her head toward Felix.
“As much as I regret spoiling your game—I mean fun,” Ash says in a voice that would be charming if his demeanor weren’t so piercing, “November has a lot to cover on her tour and it would be better to get a head start before lunch is over.”
Aarya scoffs, but neither she nor Ash seems tense. Felix and I, on the other hand, radiate nervous energy.
“Why don’t we ask November what she wants to do? Eh?” Aarya says, and looks at me. “Would you rather walk these isolated halls with this smooth-talking thief, who will be assessing your every move, or stay here and eat and laugh with us?”
“Oh, Aarya, you’re not still sulking over losing your knife, are you?” Ash says, and a chill runs down my spine. The nicer his tone, the more intense he sounds.
Aarya stands up so fast that her chair screeches backward. “Oh, Ashai,” she says slowly, “how is that studious twin of yours—so scheduled, so predictable? If there is one person I can always find, it’s that darling Layla.” She uses a perfect Egyptian accent, and I can see the threat in her eyes.
I put my white cloth napkin on the table. “And you know who’s always with Layla? Me. Her roommate. The one who can get into this school after the cutoff age, midsemester. Wonder what else I can do that you all can’t.”
I move to push my chair away from the table, but Felix grabs it and pulls it out for me, jerking me backward. He whispers near my ear, “I know.”
My heart pounds. “Excuse me?”
But Felix acts like he didn’t say a word.
I start to walk away, but Ash stops me.
�
�Check your pockets, November,” Ash says, and I do.
I pull a salad fork from my cloak pocket. I don’t know what it means, but I get the feeling it’s nothing good. Ash takes it from my hand and tosses it onto the table with a clang.
Aarya blows me a kiss.
I turn away from them and follow Ash out of the cafeteria, deeply regretting the fact that I didn’t listen to Layla in the first place. The moment the door closes behind us, I start talking. “What the hell was that?”
“It’s against the rules to take anything from the dining hall, especially silverware that could be used as a weapon,” Ash says, and gives me a pointed look. “The kitchen staff counts it after every meal. A missing fork would trigger a search.”
“But when—”
“When Felix pulled out your chair,” Ash replies before I can finish the question.
“So they set me up?”
Ash watches me process the information, and it suddenly occurs to me that I’m alone with him.
I look both ways down the hall. “Isn’t Layla coming?”
“No. She’s finishing her meal.”
“Shouldn’t we…,” I start. “Didn’t she want to be the one to show me around?”
Ash smiles and I reflexively take a step back toward the cafeteria. “You just chose to sit with Aarya when she told you not to.”
“Maybe we…” I can’t think of any reason not to go with him.
“Layla is a very capable girl,” he says with an emphasis on capable, and I’m not sure if he’s telling me not to worry about Aarya’s threat or that it wasn’t my place to stand up for Layla.
“I don’t doubt it,” I say.
Ash begins to make his way down the hall at a leisurely pace like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as we walk. Even if he doesn’t think I should have stood up for Layla, the fact that I did has to count for something, right?
“If you want to ask me something, just ask,” he says with a voice like silk.
Killing November Page 5
