by Claudia Gray
Her vehemence startled me. "You sound like you know what you're talking about."
"What, you never watched a Lifetime Original Movie?" Raquel didn't meet my eyes, just fiddled with the braided leather bracelet on her wrist. "Everybody knows that. Men who hit are bad men."
"I know he overreacted. But there's no way Lucas could ever hurt me."
Raquel shrugged and pulled her school blazer more tightly around her, as if she felt a chill, though it wasn't that cold out. For the first time, I wondered how much of her quiet demeanor and boyish appearance were a means of hiding herself from attention she didn't want. "Nobody ever thinks that something bad can happen until it happens. Besides, he kept telling you how much everybody here sucked and how you shouldn't be friends with your roommate or just about anybody else, right?"
"Well…yeah, but—"
"But nothing. Lucas was trying to isolate you from everyone else so he'd have more power over you." Raquel shook her head. "You're better off without him."
I knew she was wrong about Lucas, but I also knew that I hadn't come close to figuring him out.
Why had Lucas started criticizing my parents? The only time he'd ever seen us all together was at the movie theater, and they'd been friendly and welcoming. He'd claimed that it was about my halfhearted attempt to run away on the first day of school, but I didn't know if I entirely believed that. If he had a problem with Mom and Dad, he'd obviously dreamed it up for some bizarre paranoid reason that I was better off not having to deal with.
Explanations invented themselves in my head. Perhaps he'd had some girlfriend before me—probably chic and sophisticated, a girl who had traveled all around the world—and her parents had been snobbish and unfair. They'd shut Lucas out, maybe had forbidden him to ever see their daughter again, and so now he was scarred and distrustful.
This imagined story did me absolutely no good whatsoever. First of all, it made me feel sorry for Lucas, like I understood why he'd behaved so strangely, when really I didn't. Also, I felt insecure compared to this theoretical sophisticated previous girlfriend—and how sad is it if you feel threatened by a person who doesn't even exist?
I don't think I'd realized just how important Lucas had become to me until then—until we were separated and I had real reasons for staying away from him. Chemistry class, the only one we shared, was an hour of torture every day; I could almost feel him near me, the way you can feel a fire's presence in a cold room. Yet I never spoke to him, and he never spoke to me, respecting the silence I had demanded and maintained. I didn't see how he could be in more pain than I was. Logic said I was better off walking away, but logic didn't matter to me. I missed Lucas all the time, and it seemed like the more I told myself to leave him alone, the more I longed to be with him.
Did he feel the same way? I couldn't be sure. All I knew for certain was that he was wrong about my parents.
"How are you feeling, Bianca?" Mom asked softly as we cleared away my dishes from our Sunday dinner.
I hadn't slept well, hadn't eaten much, and mostly just wanted to pull a blanket over my head for the next two years or so. But for virtually the first time in my life, I didn't want to confide in them. They were Lucas's teachers; it wouldn't be fair to Lucas to tell them about his suspicions. Besides, talking about the fact that Lucas and I were apparently over before we'd even started would have made the loss more real. "I'm fine."
Mom and Dad exchanged glances. They could tell I was lying, but they weren't going to press me. "Tell you what," Dad said, heading toward the record player. "Don't go back downstairs just yet."
"Really?" Normally, the Sunday dinner rules dictated that I return to the dorms for studying not long after dinner had ended.
"It's a clear night, and I thought you might want to get in some telescope time. Besides, I was about to put Frank Sinatra on. I know how you love Ol' Blue Eyes."
"'Fly Me to the Moon,'" I requested, and within a few seconds, Frank was singing it to us all. I showed them both the Andromeda galaxy, directing them to look up from Pegasus, then go northeast until they saw it, the soft fuzzy glow of a billion stars far away. After that, I spent a long time combing through the cosmos, each familiar star like a long-lost friend.
* * *
The next day, on my way to history class, I glimpsed Lucas in the hallway at the very same moment he spotted me. Sunlight from the stained glass windows painted him the colors of autumn, and it seemed to me that he had never been more handsome.
When our gazes met, though, the moment lost all its beauty. Lucas looked hurt, as bewildered and lost as I'd been feeling ever since the argument in the restaurant—and for a terrible second I felt guilty, because I knew that I'd hurt him. I could see guilt in his eyes, too. Then he clenched his jaw and turned from me, shoulders slightly hunched. Within seconds, he was lost in the crowd of uniforms, one more invisible person at Evernight.
Maybe he was telling himself, once again, that it was best to keep his distance from people. I remembered how he had acted when we were together—so much happier and looser, more free—and I hated the idea that I might have forced him to shut himself off from the world again.
"Lucas's totally dragging ass around the dorm room," Vic informed me later that day when we ran into each other on the stairwell. For once, Vic was dressed normally—at least, from the ankles up, because the red Chucks he had on his feet were definitely not part of the uniform. "He's kind of a moody guy anyway, but this is beyond moody. This is supermoody. Megamoody. X-treme moodiness." He made an X with his arms to spell out the last.
"Did he send you here to plead his case?" I tried to make it sound light. I don't think I did very well; my voice was so ragged that anybody could tell I'd been crying earlier that day—even someone as oblivious as Vic.
"He didn't send me. He's not like that." Vic shrugged. "Just wondering about the source of the drama."
"There's no drama."
"There's totally drama, and you're not going to tell me about it, but, hey, that's okay. Because it's not my business."
I felt so disappointed. I would have been angry if Lucas had sent Vic to argue on his behalf, but it was depressing to realize that Lucas was going to let me go without a fight. "Okay."
Vic nudged my elbow with his. "You and me are still friends, right? You guys get joint custody in the divorce. Generous visitation rights."
"Divorce?" Despite myself, I laughed. Only Vic could call the aftermath of a bad first date a divorce. We hadn't exactly been friends beforehand, so "still" was an exaggeration, but it would've been mean to point that out. Besides, I liked Vic. "We're still friends."
"Excellent. The weirdos have to stick together around here."
"Are you calling me a weirdo?"
"Highest honor I can bestow." He held out his hands as we walked through the corridors, taking it all in with one gesture: the high ceilings, the dark, scrolling woodwork that framed every hall and door, the shaded light that filtered through old windows and streaked long, irregular shadows on the floor. "This place is the capital of weird. So what's weird here is what's normal anywhere else. That's how I look at it, anyway."
I sighed. "You know, I think you've got a point."
He was definitely right about needing as many friends as I could get in a place like Evernight Academy. It wasn't as if I'd ever liked it here, but my brief time with Lucas had taught me how it felt not to be so desperately alone. Now that he was gone, my isolation stood out in sharper relief. Realizing how much better it could have been only made it harder to bear how unfriendly and intimidating this place actually was.
The change in seasons didn't help. The school's Gothic architecture had been softened slightly by the lush ivy and the sloping green lawn. The narrow windows and strangely tinted light hadn't been able to fully mask the brightness of the late-summer sun. Now, however, dusk came earlier, making Evernight seem more isolated than ever before. As the temperatures cooled, a lasting chill crept into the classrooms and dormitories, and sometimes
it seemed that the featherings of frost on the windowpanes were etching themselves permanently into the glass. Even the beautiful autumn leaves rustled in the wind, a lonely, shivery sort of sound. They'd already started falling, leaving the first few branches bare, like naked claws scrabbling at the gray-clouded sky.
I wondered if perhaps the founders of the school had created an Autumn Ball to cheer the students up at such a melancholy time of year.
"I don't think so," Balthazar said. We were at the same table in the library; he'd first invited me to study with him a couple of days after the ill-fated Riverton trip. At my old school, I hadn't studied with anyone, because "studying" usually turned into "talking and goofing off," and then the assignments stretched out even longer. I preferred to get my homework over and done with. But Balthazar turned out to feel the same way, and we'd spent a lot of time together in the two weeks since, working side by side, hardly saying a word for hours. The conversation didn't start until we were packing up our books. "I suspect the school's founders loved autumn. It brings out Evernight's true nature, I think."
"That's why they'd need cheering up."
He grinned and slung his leather satchel over one shoulder. "This is not the most terrible school on the face of the earth, Bianca." Balthazar was teasing me, but I could tell that he was genuinely concerned. "I wish you were having more fun here."
"That makes two of us," I said, glancing at the corner where I'd seen Lucas reading a few minutes before. He was still there, lamplight making his bronze hair shine, but he didn't so much as turn his eyes in our direction.
"You could like it if you gave it a fair chance." Balthazar held the library door for me as we went out. "You ought to explore a little more. Try harder to get to know people."
I shot him a look. "Like Courtney?"
"Correction: Try harder to get to know the right people." When Balthazar said "the right people," he didn't mean the richest or the most popular; he meant the ones that might be worth getting to know. Thus far, the only member of the in crowd who seemed remotely worth knowing was Balthazar himself, so I thought I wasn't doing too badly on that score.
"I don't think Evernight is right for everybody," I confessed. "I'm positive it's not right for me. I know it serves a purpose, but I'll be glad when I graduate."
"I will, too, but not for the same reason." Balthazar walked slowly by my side, carefully measuring his long stride so that I wouldn't fall behind. Sometimes it hit me how big he was—tall and broad, powerfully built—and a weird little tingle would start in my belly. "Evernight always makes me feel like I can understand the whole world. Like I can master it. Every new subject I study, every innovation I learn about—it's like I can't wait to get out there and try everything for myself."
His enthusiasm wasn't enough to make me like the school, but it did make me smile for what felt like the first time in ages. "Well, at least one of us is happy."
"I hope we'll both be happy before too long," Balthazar said softly. His dark eyes were studying me intently, and that warm tingly feeling started again.
We'd reached the archway that led to the girls' dormitory wing, and he stopped right at the boundary. I could imagine him in the nineteenth century, all courtly manners, and a smile tugged at my lips as I envisioned him bowing from the waist.
Balthazar looked like he might be about to say something, but at that moment Patrice walked up, apparently done with her own schoolwork. "Oh, Bianca, there you are." Easily, she took my arm as if we were best friends. "You must explain our latest assignment in Modern Technology to me. I can't make any sense of it."
"Um—okay." As I was being towed down the hallway, I looked back at Balthazar and waved. He looked more amused than disappointed. I muttered to Patrice, "We were talking."
"I realize that," she whispered. "This way he'll keep wishing he'd gotten a chance to talk to you more. That means he'll return to you more quickly."
"Really?"
"In my experience, it works rather well. Besides, I really do need you to explain."
This wasn't the first time I'd had to shepherd Patrice through that particular course, or the first time I'd wondered why I bothered signing up for it at all. "Not a problem." I sighed.
Patrice giggled, and for a moment she was almost girlish. "Balthazar's the most attractive man here, if you ask me. Not precisely my type, but those shoulders? Those dark eyes? You've done rather well for yourself."
"We're just friends," I protested as we returned to our room.
"Just friends. Hmmm." Patrice's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I wonder if Courtney would agree."
I held up my hands, trying to cut this conversation off before it got even more uncomfortable than it already was. "Don't tell Courtney about this, okay? I don't need the hassle."
She arched one eyebrow. "Don't tell her about what? I thought you said there was nothing to tell."
"If you want help with your homework, you're going to drop the subject. Now."
Slightly offended, Patrice shrugged. "Suit yourself. If I were you, I'd be excited about attracting the attention of a guy like Balthazar. But, by all means, let's talk about homework instead."
Honestly, I was a little proud that Balthazar liked me. I wasn't convinced that he wanted to be anything more than a friend, but he definitely flirted with me sometimes. After the mess with Lucas, it felt good to be flirted with—as if I really were beautiful and fascinating instead of the shy, awkward girl in the corner.
Balthazar was kind, smart, and he had a sly sense of humor. Everyone liked him, probably because he seemed to like most people in return. Even Raquel, who detested virtually all the in crowd, said hello to him in the hallway, and he always said hello back. He wasn't snobbish or cold. And he really was devastatingly good-looking.
He was everything a girl could ask for, basically. But he wasn't Lucas.
* * *
Back at my old school, the teachers always decorated for Halloween. Orange plastic pumpkins were set in the windows, waiting to be filled with Tootsie Rolls and Butterfingers, and construction paper witches flew across every wall. Last year, the principal hung candy-corn lights around her office door, which also had a sign that said, in green shaky letters, Boo! I always thought it was cheesy and fake, and it never occurred to me that I might someday miss it.
Nobody hung decorations at Evernight.
"Maybe they think the gargoyles are scary enough," Raquel suggested over our lunch in her dorm room.
I remembered the one outside my bedroom window and tried to imagine him draped in candy-corn lights. "Yeah, I see what you mean. If your school actually is a dank, scary dungeon from hell, Halloween decorations are sort of beside the point."
"Too bad we don't run a haunted house. You know, for little kids from Riverton? We could dress up, make it really scary. Play devils and demons for a weekend. Some of these jerks wouldn't have to act that much. We could raise money for the school."
"I don't think Evernight Academy needs more money."
"Good point," she admitted. "But we could raise money for charity, maybe. Like a help hotline or suicide prevention or something. I don't think many of these people care about charity, but they'd probably do it just for their college applications. None of these rich bitches even talk about college, probably because they're all legacies at Harvard or Yale or something, but still, they've got to apply. So they might go for the idea, right?"
The images flickered in my mind: cobwebs on the staircases, students laughing maniacally and the sound echoing throughout the great hall, and innocent little kids, wide-eyed with terror as Courtney or Vidette waved long black fingernails above their heads. "We're too late, though—Halloween's only two weeks away. Maybe next year."
"If I come back here next year, please shoot me." Raquel groaned, flopping backward onto her bed. "My parents say I should stick it out, because I got a scholarship to come here and otherwise it's just my old public school, with the metal detectors and no honors program. But I hate this. I h
ate it."
My stomach rumbled. The tuna salad and crackers Raquel and I had shared wasn't nearly enough to satisfy my hunger; I'd need to eat again in my room. I didn't want her to realize that, though. "It's got to get better."
"Do you really believe that?"
"No." We both looked at each other, expressions bleak, and then burst out laughing.
As our laughter died down, I realized that I could hear shouting—not close by but farther down the hall. Raquel lived not far from the central archway that connected the girls' dorms to the classroom areas; to me, it sounded like the noise was coming from there. "Hey, do you hear—"
"Yeah." Raquel pushed herself up on her elbows, listening. "I think it's a fight."
"A fight?"
"Trust somebody who used to go to the meanest public school in Boston. I know a fight when I hear one."
