Dear Abbey,
I feel that this letter has been a long time coming, mostly because I feel that you should know something very important about me. The irony that it seems like recent boy troubles have been on your mind is not lost on me, especially in light of this news.
I am not one to judge, so please do not feel that this is me judging you, or passing my opinions or thoughts on to you. You are my great-niece, whom I adore and cherish with all of my heart. Whatever choices you have made in life, and will continue to make in life, I fully support. Wherever that may lead you.
In the long run, however, I feel that you deserve to know this because I fear I may have given you the wrong idea of how smoothly life went for your uncle and me. Even though we haven’t discussed your uncle in great detail, please know that I loved that man with everything I had. With everything I was. In fact, I still do. He was kind and patient and wonderful. There will never be another person on this earth who is the kindred soul to me that Gerald was.
Our love was strong. And fierce. As I’ve told you before, when it hit me, I knew. I knew beyond anything else that he was the one for me. There were happy times, and sad times, because such is the way of life, but above all, there were good times. Always, always good times.
I could fill these pages with memories of all the good times, Abbey. Pages and pages of good times. But what I think is most important for you to know, what something deep in my soul tells me you need to know, is about the bad times.
Gerald and I were married right after he joined the Navy. He was a scientist. A fixer and builder of things. After he’d returned home from his tour of duty, he told me a story once. About how his platoon had been sent on a top secret mission to spy on a new project that the enemy was developing. On the night they were supposed to go in, someone tipped off the other side, and Gerald and his platoon walked straight into a trap. He was so scared that he started to recite elements of the periodic table. The “scientist’s prayer,” he always called it.
One of the guards recognized what he was saying and put him and the platoon members into a different cell. A safer cell. Every day, until they were rescued three weeks later, the guard came in to talk to Gerald, and even snuck him in extra food. It was because of those extra rations that the platoon managed to stay alive.
The guard who snuck in the extra food used a woman to do it. A woman who got to know Gerald. Who fell in love with Gerald, and he with her.
I tell you this, Abbey, not to besmirch the man I loved. He admitted what he had done, which was the unforgivable. He’d had an affair. But in the end, though it took me some time, I forgave him.
The reason why I’m telling you this is because of what he did. He betrayed my trust. Yet in the end, I was the one made stronger by it. I was the one to overcome adversity, as you have so recently done.
The day that your uncle Gerald told me of his affair was the day I started taking classes for my pilot’s license. In some ways his admission freed me to follow that part of my soul that longed for something more, and I will always be grateful to him for that. And yet … And yet I regret that I waited so long. That I waited for him to free that piece of me. I wish I had done it for myself.
You’ve been through a lot, Abbey, and it breaks my heart to know that you have gone through such trying times alone. Losing your best friend, and in a sense part of yourself (for who are we, really, when our dearest friendships suddenly end?), is something that I wish you would have never had to experience. Although I know that it has made you a stronger person, I’m still your auntie, and I don’t want you to have pain. Ever.
All I want for you, Abbey, is to live. Live and love like nothing has ever broken your heart before. And choose.
Choose wisely. Choose freely. Choose for you.
All my love,
Aunt Marjorie
I sat there for a long time, rereading the letter and thinking about what she was saying. Even though she didn’t know what was truly going on, in the end her advice to me was that it was really all about my choice to be with Caspian.
Choose wisely. Choose freely.
I knew what choice I would make.
Chapter Thirteen
AN OPPORTUNITY
He came clattering up to the school door with an invitation to Ichabod to attend a merry-making or “quilting frolic …”
—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
The first week of October came and went before I even knew it, while I was on a strange buddy system with the Revenants. One of them was pretty much always nearby. When Caspian dropped me off at school in the morning, I’d see Cacey there, talking to the other seniors. Sometimes it would be Sophie, stopping in to discuss real estate with the school secretary in the afternoons.
It wasn’t so bad at first. And it seemed to be working. There wasn’t a peep out of Vincent. But after the second full week of being trailed by bodyguards, I was starting to feel caged in.
“We need to tell them to relax,” I whispered to Caspian. We had scooted in the side door to school early one morning before classes started, and we were hanging out by my locker. Kame was walking the halls. “Can you say something to them?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
The bell rang, and the outside doors opened up.
“Please?” I pulled out the big guns; I pouted a little.
“What if Vincent is waiting for them to stop hanging around before he does something again?” he replied. “I don’t want to take that chance.”
The hallways filled with students coming in from outside, and lockers started opening. I kept my voice low. “Okay, fine. They don’t have to stop their protective-detail thing. But can it be toned down? Like, can you and I actually go somewhere just to hang out without feeling like they’re watching our every move?”
Even in my bedroom it didn’t really feel like we were alone anymore, knowing that one of the Revs was always downstairs, or outside watching the house.
“I’ll talk to Uri about it,” he said. “But no promises, okay?”
My pout turned into a grin. “Okay!”
Caspian groaned. “I mean it. I’m not promising anything. If they think it’s best to keep doing what they’re doing, then it’s going to stay that way.”
“But you will talk to them?”
“Yes. I will talk to them.”
“That’s all I ask.” I stuffed my book bag into the bottom of my locker and pulled out the first set of books I’d need. “Okay. Gotta run. See you after.”
“Have fun,” he said. He grinned at me, and I blew him a quick kiss before he turned to leave. I was just about to shut my locker door when I realized I forgot to grab a pencil.
“Shoot.”
“What’s up?” Cyn’s voice drifted over the top of her locker, startling me.
How long has she been there? “I, uh, just forgot to grab something.” After reaching for a pencil, I slammed the locker door shut. “Got it now. Catch ya on the flip side.”
I gave her a quick wave, but she just stood there and watched me go, wearing an odd expression on her face.
Ben caught up with me at lunch and slid his orange plastic cafeteria tray next to mine. Beth joined us a moment later. She’d been eating lunch with me since the first day of school.
“Meatloaf surprise,” Ben said, staring down at the quivering blob of gray mush in front of him. “Surprise! No meat.”
Beth laughed. “And yet, you’re still going to eat it. Aren’t you?” She had a small tub of wilted lettuce in front of her and was steadfastly picking out all of the brown bits.
I pushed my spork around in my meatloaf. “It’s not too bad if you cover it with gravy. Then you can’t tell what it is.”
“I’ll stick to my salad, thanks.” Beth picked up a tiny forkful of lettuce and chewed. “Did you guys see the new posters the cheerleaders put up for the Hollow Ball this year? It’s supposed to be some art-deco thing, but it looks like crap.”
Ben snorted so
me of his meatloaf surprise.
“It’s true!” she said. “It looks like someone took twelve buckets of paint and just splashed it all around. And I think that someone was blind.”
“Hey,” I said. “Blind people can create amazing art. I saw this exhibit in the city once that was just incredible.”
“Let me rephrase.” Beth tilted her head to one side and thought about it, lettuce dangling limply from her fork. “A blind someone who isn’t a professional artist and doesn’t have an ounce of creativity in their body. Better?”
Not really, but okay. “I can’t believe that it’s October already.” I changed the subject. “Where did the last two weeks go? I never even saw them putting the posters up.”
“You didn’t?” Beth looked shocked. “They’ve been putting them up, like, every two feet around the whole school. And the bathroom walls are plastered with ’em.”
I shrugged. I’d been too busy thinking about the Revs and Caspian to pay any attention. “Who are you taking to the ball?” I asked her. “Lewis? Or someone new?”
“Depends on what day of the week it is. If you ask me on a Monday, I’m going with Lewis. But if you ask me on Thursday? I’m thinking Grant, a cute junior I have computer class with.”
“Does it matter what day of the week the Hollow Ball falls on?” Ben asked.
I nudged him with my knee. “Ooooh, good question.”
“I don’t get it,” Beth said.
“Well, if you tell Grant on a Thursday that you’ll go with him, but the Ho’ Ball falls on a Saturday, does that change things?”
Beth stuck her middle finger up at him, and Ben just laughed.
“I’m sure whoever you go with, you’ll have a great time together,” I said.
“Thanks, Abbey,” Beth said sweetly. “I think so too.”
I moved my sludge-masquerading-as-food around a bit more. No amount of gravy was going to help it. “Ugh, I’m so done.”
“Me too.” Beth pushed away her salad and then downed a carton of milk. “I have to—” Her phone buzzed, interrupting her. She looked down at it. “Aaaand, it’s Monday.”
She punched a couple of buttons, then looked up and glared at the table two rows away from us. “He’s sitting right over there. But does he come to me? No. I have to go to him. Gah!” Gathering her tray, she shot us an aggravated look. “Bye, guys. Time to go make Monday happy. Thursday’s looking better and better.”
I gave her a pitying smile. “See ya. Good luck.”
Ben just shoveled in another mouthful of meatloaf and grunted.
“Well, that was fun,” I said, watching her go.
“Hey, how well do you know the new girl?” Ben said suddenly. “Cyn.”
“Okay, random much?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” Ben gave me a cheesy grin. “But still, how well do you know her?”
“Why? Are you hoping I’ll play matchmaker? Do you want to ask her to the Hollow Ball?”
He looked uncomfortable. “I thought about it, but now I’m not sure.”
“Why? What is it?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, okay? But she was asking me about you.”
“Asking what?”
“Like if you talk to yourself, or talked to Kristen, or anything like that.”
She must have heard me talking to Caspian this morning.
“What did you tell her?” I demanded.
He put up both hands in surrender. “Nothing. I just wanted to let you know. She said that it was cool, no big if you do,” he said quickly.
“She probably just heard me singing along with my iPod,” I muttered.
Ben nodded and looked like he wasn’t even giving it a second thought. “Anyway, I just wanted to know if you guys had, like, a history or something.”
“Nope. She’s cool, I think.”
But I wasn’t very sure about that.
“So, then, you don’t mind if I ask her out?”
His grin was obscenely flirtatious, and I flicked a piece of leftover salad at him. “Hornball.”
On Friday, Ben met me at my locker again and danced his way down the hall to see me.
“Cute,” I said. “Trying to impress all the single ladies?”
“Nope. Just you.”
“Color me impressed.”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled something out, using one hand to shield it like a magician drawing cards. “This is what should impress you.”
He held out two tickets.
Silently I groaned as soon as I saw what they were. “That’s supposed to impress me? Paper?”
“Not just any paper but two magical tickets to a fantasy land called the Hollow Ball.” He dangled them in front of me. “There are only two weeks left. These babies are a hot commodity.”
“So why are you showing them to me?”
“Because I’m asking you if you want to go.”
“Ben …”
“Abbey …”
“I don’t know.” I groaned out loud this time.
He brandished the tickets again. “Come on. May I please have the honor of your company at the Hollow Ball? Or something like that. I showed you all of my best dance moves.”
“Why me?”
“Because when I heard Beth talking about who she was taking at lunch the other day, and didn’t hear you talking about who you were taking, I knew who I wanted to spend the evening with.”
“A friendly evening?” I said.
“I can’t promise that once you see me in my studmuffin tux you won’t want to rip the clothes right off my body. But if that happens, I’m sure we can find a nice, quiet place.”
“I’m sure I’ll have a hard time controlling myself,” I said dryly.
His face perked up. “Is that a yes? What time should I pick you up?”
“That’s an I-don’t-know. Let me think about it.”
He opened up the front page of the Spanish book I was holding and stuck the tickets inside. “Here. Now you can make your choice. And if you choose not to go with me, you can take someone else. I’ll understand.”
My mouth dropped open and I shook my head at him. “Ben. Why are you such a nice guy?”
He turned to dance back down the hall. “It’s just my nature.”
“I think you should reconsider,” Caspian said again as we walked home from school that afternoon. I’d told him about the tickets Ben had given me, and Caspian had made the same argument the entire way home.
“No. I don’t want to go.”
“This is the only chance you’ll get to have a senior prom. Do you really want to miss out on that?”
“It’s just a stupid dance. Besides, I can’t go with the person I really want to go with, so why go at all?”
“Lots of people take dates who are just friends to dances. It doesn’t mean anything, and at least you won’t miss the opportunity.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “So you’re saying that you want me to go on a date with Ben?”
“Not a date-date. And he better keep his hands to himself.”
“Or you’ll what?” I teased.
“I can throw things, you know.” His smile disappeared. “This is important, Abbey. It’s a rite of passage that I don’t want you to look back on and regret missing.”
“Do you really think I’ll regret missing a rubbery chicken dinner in bad mood lighting?” I laughed. “That won’t happen.”
“Please, Astrid?” he said quietly. “Please go? For me.”
Caspian knew how to pull out the big guns too. Sexy eyes, and lips, and hair that he kept brushing away … “I’ll think about it,” I said. “That’s what I told Ben, so that’s what I’ll tell you, too. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I can’t believe my boyfriend is trying to talk me into going to the prom with another boy,” I grumbled. “On what planet does that even make any sense?”
“I’m doing this for your own good, you know,” he replied.
I snorted. “So if I go, d
o you think that means the Revs will go too? That would be kind of funny, seeing them try to blend in. I can just imagine their outdated formal wear.” Then I cocked my head. “Speaking of, I haven’t seen them around as much. Were you able to convince them to give us some space?”
“Yeah, I talked to Uri. He agreed to tone it down. They’re still hanging around, but I think now they definitely take longer lunch breaks.” He shot me a grin. “Trust me, though. One day you’ll thank me for pushing you to go to your senior prom. Dances are a lot of fun.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”
He looked sheepish. “I’ve been to my fair share.”
“Mmm-hmm. Really.”
He ran a hand through his hair and looked embarrassed. “What can I say? I was the mysterious, quiet guy. Girls wanted to get to know me.”
I moved closer to him, feeling a surprising stab of jealousy spike through me. “And how many girls did you want to get to know?”
“There were quite a few dances …” A mischievous smile tugged at his lips.
“And?”
“And … I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Ooooooohhh.” I narrowed my eyes.
Caspian laughed. “I love when you get all grumpy, Astrid. It’s quite adorable.” He held a finger next to my cheek. “This number right here is the number of girls I’ve danced with that I wanted to get to know. One.”
My heart melted a little. “Me?” I said hopefully.
He nodded. “You.”
I thought about what Caspian had said about the prom all weekend but was still undecided, and I found Beth and Ben standing next to the flagpole before school Monday morning, having a heated discussion about the best way to rig the pulley if you wanted to send something heavy up. Like a body.
“You guys have the weirdest ideas,” I said, joining in. “Like, seriously weird.”
“Do you think it could be done?” Beth asked.
“It’s totally possible,” Ben replied. He launched into some long explanation that involved physics and weight and mass versus matter, as my eyes glazed over.
The Hidden Page 13
