Fracture ns-3

by C. J. Daugherty

  Without warning, her door sprang open and Rachel stood there, her hair wild from sleep, her face pale with fear that quickly transmuted into concern.

  ‘Allie? What happened? I heard you scream.’ Seeing Allie’s face, she ran across the room, kneeling beside her bed and pulling her into a rough hug. ‘Are you OK? Was it another one of those dreams?’

  Still sobbing, Allie nodded against her shoulder. ‘I’m so sad, Rach. So sad. And I’ve done everything wrong and you can’t undo it. Once you’ve done it you can’t make it go away and I hate that.’

  ‘Oh, sweetie,’ Rachel’s tone was soothing. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise. You haven’t. There’s nothing you need to undo.’

  But that wasn’t true at all.

  ‘I didn’t save Jo,’ Allie whispered. ‘And now I kissed Carter.’

  For just a second, Rachel’s hand stopped stroking her back then she resumed the calming motion.

  ‘OK, first, you did everything you could to save Jo. Nobody could’ve saved her. Even God couldn’t save her. What happened to her was not your fault.’

  Allie didn’t believe her at all but she wanted to.

  ‘Now.’ Rachel pulled tissues from a box on a nearby shelf and handed them to her. ‘Why don’t I get you some water and then you can tell me about kissing Carter.’

  After she returned with a glass, they sat on the bed together, Allie clutching a handful of damp tissues in one hand and the water in the other, hiccupping as the tears slowed and then stopped. Brokenly, she told her what had happened that night in the forest.

  ‘And how did he react?’ Rachel asked, pulling a blanket over her knees.

  ‘Like it was a mistake.’ Allie held up her tissue hand as if to say What else?

  ‘Do you think it was a mistake? I mean, do you still fancy him?’

  ‘No… I don’t know.’ Allie sighed. ‘I’m just confused. I mean, when you were with someone and you thought that you… loved him, I guess… how do you just say, “Oh, I don’t love you any more.” Just like that? I miss being with him, and being friends with him, and I wish we didn’t have all this “formerly loving each other” thing hanging over our heads. But I can’t make it go away and when I’m alone with him it all gets muddled up sometimes.’

  ‘So… I think what you’re saying is you want to be his friend again.’

  Allie paused to consider this. ‘I… guess so.’

  ‘Because I’ve got this theory.’ Rachel smiled and it seemed to warm the room. ‘Do you want to hear my theory?’

  Nodding, Allie snuggled closer to her. She was beginning to believe Rachel could actually make this better.

  ‘I think that when we have a friend we love – like you and I love each other, right? Well, if that friend is the same gender, it’s super simple. You and I are not gay, and we love each other so… boom. We’re best friends.’ Allie agreed cautiously as Rachel continued. ‘But what if I was a bloke and you were my friend and we loved each other? It might get all confused. And if there was a lot going on and things were really emotional and dangerous, maybe your feelings of love for me could be misconstrued as romantic love. Then you might want to be my girlfriend and then it’s all tangled up.’ She leaned back to see Allie’s face more clearly. ‘I think what I’m saying is, it’s easy to confuse friendship love for romance love when your friend is a guy. And that’s why you’re confused.’

  Allie shredded a tissue into tiny pieces as she thought this through. If true, it could explain how torn she’d always been between Carter and Sylvain. Maybe she had friendship love for Carter and romantic love for Sylvain. But how could she tell?

  ‘So you think I have friendship love for Carter?’ she asked, with a hopeful look.

  Rachel hesitated. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t know that. Only you can know that. But I know that you can love Carter and not be in love with him. And maybe, especially while he’s with Jules, you need to consider that.’

  At the mention of Jules, Allie winced. She didn’t like the prefect, but cheating with her boyfriend was not anything she’d ever intended to do.

  ‘What should I do now?’ she asked with dull resignation. ‘I have to make this right somehow. I didn’t mean to be a cheater. And I can’t lose Carter again. I just can’t.’

  ‘Well…’ Rachel yawned and glanced at the clock on Allie’s desk. It was nearly five in the morning. ‘I think you need to talk this through with him and clear the air between you. And tell him that. Tell him you just want to be his friend, at least as long as he has a girlfriend. Then you have some time to figure out which kind of love you feel for him.’

  ‘But how will I know?’ Allie’s voice was plaintive. ‘How do you know which kind of love it is?’

  ‘Oh yeah. That?’ Rachel lay down next to her on the bed and pulled the duvet up over them both. ‘That’s the tricky part.’

  School the next day was torturous. Classes seemed to drag on beyond any reasonable linear timespan. Allie, whose sleep had been shallow after her nightmare, even with Rachel beside her to keep her steady, struggled to stay awake as the dull replacement teachers droned through the day’s text.

  In English and history – the two classes they had together – Carter kept his distance, never once meeting her gaze.

  Once, when she passed Jules in the hallway, guilt made her panic and she turned into the nearest classroom, colliding so violently with a teacher coming the other way that his papers went flying.

  At lunchtime the group gathered to whisper through their plans. Although she sat between Rachel and Zoe, just being at the same table with both Carter and Sylvain made Allie’s stomach flip, and she couldn’t bring herself to eat. Instead she methodically vivisected a sandwich.

  Jules sat at a nearby table with Lucas and some of her friends. Allie tried not to look at her, but her conscience drew her gaze inexorably in that direction and she kept catching glimpses of the blonde prefect talking and eating her soup.

  Across the table, Carter talked intently with Nicole and Rachel. The shadows under his eyes were the only indication that he hadn’t slept well last night either.

  Two seats over, Sylvain was also listening to their conversation, his brow knitted with concentration. His long fingers toyed absently with his knife, flipping it end over end. Allie found it hard to take her eyes off it – his hands were gentle and skilful; the silver caught the afternoon light and flashed.

  Abruptly, the knife stopped moving. Allie looked up to find him watching her. His expression was enigmatic – his eyes the cool blue of still water.

  Her heart skipped a beat and she wrenched her gaze away.

  Only then did she realise the others were looking at her expectantly.

  ‘What?’ Her tone was more defensive than she’d intended and she tried to lower it. ‘I mean, did someone… say something?’

  ‘I said –’ Rachel gave her an odd look – ‘what do you think?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the plan.’ Nicole looked from Allie to Sylvain and back again, as if she suspected something had transpired between them. ‘Do you think it’s a good idea?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Allie said, flushing. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. My head’s not in the game. Please go over it again; I promise to focus.’

  Carter gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Right. I’ll explain it again.’ For the first time in nearly twelve hours he met her gaze directly. But his eyes weren’t warm. ‘Tonight we need to divide up the work. Nicole and I will search Eloise’s room. Zoe and Rachel will search Zelazny’s classroom.’ He glanced from her to Sylvain, a small frown creasing his brow. ‘You and Sylvain will search Zelazny’s room – Sylvain knows where it is.’

  Her throat tightening, Allie forced herself to nod calmly, but her heart was racing.

  Some teachers lived in cottages on the grounds, but most lived in a separate wing of the main building. Allie had never been in it. Entering the teachers’ wing was absolutely forbidden – only pr
efects were allowed, and even then they had to have a very good reason.

  The others were all looking at her expectantly, waiting to hear what she thought of their plan, which fairly thoroughly broke any of The Rules they’d forgotten to break last night.

  She squared her shoulders.

  ‘Sounds great. I’m in.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  That night, in the shadows at the back of the library, Allie paced impatiently. Sylvain was ten minutes late.

  She was sure she was in the right place – he’d been quite specific, and the nine-foot-tall bookcases surrounding her held only old, leather-bound books written in French. Bored, she let her fingertips glide over the thick bindings with their gold-embossed names of writers like Laclos and Langelois.

  Then, with a sigh, she glanced at her watch again.

  ‘Come on, Sylvain,’ she muttered.

  A rolling ladder leaned against the tall bookcases so readers could reach the higher shelves and she climbed up a few steps to perch on a rung, letting one foot swing.

  Even though worry was making her tense, the lack of sleep last night was taking a toll on her. Her eyes felt heavy. Resting her chin on her hand she let them drift shut. The darkness was welcome and soon she was dozing, her dreams filled with incoherent flashes of running and forests and a voice.

  Wake up, Allie.

  It was a familiar voice – one she liked. And for a second she kept her eyes shut, wishing it would say more. But it didn’t.

  Slowly, her eyes fluttered open.

  Sylvain was on the ladder now, too, balancing on one foot so that his face was even with hers. She blinked sleepily into his eyes, sapphire blue in the dim light.

  ‘Hey,’ she murmured. Her thoughts were still fuzzy – the moment felt unreal; dream-like. She hadn’t been this close to him since the winter ball. She could feel the warmth of his leg against hers, smell his distinctive cologne. ‘I must have fallen asleep.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ he said. For a second he stayed where he was, his face so close she could see flecks of violet in the blue of his eyes. Then he jumped down to the floor in a graceful, athletic move. ‘I was delayed by one of the guards who wanted to ask me a million questions about whether I knew if someone had left the school building after curfew last night.’

  ‘What?’ Instantly wide awake, Allie leaned forward to see him better. ‘Do they know it was us?’

  Sylvain shook his head. ‘They don’t know who it was. But they know someone was there. We must be very careful now.’

  The prospect of danger seemed to excite him – the colour was high in his cheeks and he bounced on the balls of his feet as if he had too much energy to simply stand still. A curl had escaped from his wavy hair and tumbled forward over his brow.

  Seeing it reminded Allie of how she’d felt the first time she’d run her fingers through Sylvain’s hair – the thrill of the forbidden. And the effect it had had on him. The way his arms had tightened around her waist; how he’d pressed his lips more firmly against hers.

  It had all felt so different from kissing Carter.

  So was that romantic love? She asked herself now, hopelessly. Or the other kind?

  Climbing down from the ladder, she stretched her arms above her head trying to wake up her muscles. ‘Cool. I’m ready when you are.’

  Watching her, he gave a bittersweet smile. ‘I wish that were true.’ Then he pivoted and headed down the aisle of books. ‘Come on. We should go.’

  Dropping her arms, Allie rushed after him so hurriedly she stumbled over a stack of books someone had left at the end of the aisle.

  ‘Here’s your hat; what’s your hurry…’ she muttered.

  ‘What did you say?’ Sylvain shot her an inquisitive look.

  ‘Nothing.’ Allie shrugged. ‘I was just quoting a line from a film I like.’

  ‘Do you like films?’ He looked genuinely pleased at the idea. ‘Which is your favourite?’

  As always happened whenever someone asked her favourite book or film, Allie’s mind went blank – it was as if she’d never seen a film in her life. Everyone was always trying to impress everyone else with their great taste. So it took her a second to realise she’d just quoted a line from one of her favourite movies.

  ‘I like It’s a Wonderful Life,’ she said. ‘I mean, I used to watch it with my family every Christmas before… I mean… It’s pretty good, I guess.’

  What she meant was, she used to watch the film back when she was happy. Before Christopher ran away and her world fell apart.

  He looked at her seriously. ‘I think it is an amazing film – one of my favourites. I love Jimmy Stewart.’ His accent made the name sound adorable – ‘Jeemee’. They’d made it to the door and he held it open for her as he warmed to the topic. ‘I love films – when I’m at home I’m constantly watching movies – I particularly like old movies in black and white. They seem better than modern films, although I don’t know why.’ He cast a sideways glance at her. ‘Have you seen Jules et Jim?’

  Mutely, Allie shook her head. It sounded French and sophisticated. Of course her parents wouldn’t have had that around.

  ‘It is by François Truffaut, a great French filmmaker – I think perhaps the best ever,’ Sylvain said as they stepped into the grand hallway. It was quiet at this hour and the polished oak panelling shone in the low light. ‘You remind me, sometimes, of the actress in it. Your hair… other things…’

  His words made warmth bloom in Allie’s chest, uninvited. It was nice being compared to a French actress who was probably beautiful and mysterious as French actresses always were. The casual conversation served to distract her from worrying about the work ahead of them and she wondered if Sylvain had brought it up on purpose. It struck her that no one at Cimmeria ever talked about ordinary things any more. It was always Nathaniel, Jo, Isabelle, Lucinda, death. It felt almost odd to discuss something normal people talked about.

  ‘I’ll have to watch it,’ she said. ‘If you love it so much, it must be good.’

  Jules et Jim, Allie said to herself, trying to memorise it. Jules et Jim, Jules et Jim, Jules…

  ‘Maybe we will watch it together some day,’ he said and gave her one of those Sylvain smiles that made her feel like no one else existed in the world except the two of them.

  ‘Now, we should go this way.’ Reaching for her hand, Sylvain pulled her with him to where the hall broadened to hold several classical marble statues. They ducked behind a wide plinth where they couldn’t be seen by anyone passing through. The entrance to the staff residence wing was just a few feet away.

  Crouched behind Sylvain, Allie studied him curiously. His breathing was even but his muscles were tense – she could see the tendons in his neck, raised in relief under the smoothness of his tawny skin. His tension was contagious, and she could feel her own breaths shorten. As if he’d noticed this, he glanced over his shoulder at her.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  Allie nodded. ‘Yes.’

  He stood, and she stood with him. ‘Now.’

  Moving silently, they ran across the empty hall to the door. Unlocking it with a key, he let Allie slip through first, running in after her and closing the door behind them.

  On the other side, the corridor was dark. As Allie’s eyes adjusted she could just make out heavy oak beams and carved wood. This must be the older part of the building. On either side, the hallway was lined with widely spaced doors, each with a number on it. These were the teachers’ apartments.

  They moved quickly down the hallway, walking in sync. Out of the corner of her eye, Allie noticed Sylvain was holding himself oddly. His biceps bulged as if he expected a fight; his hands were in fists at his sides. He was nervous.

  The realisation sent adrenaline rushing into her veins. Sylvain was never nervous.

  They were nearly at the end of the corridor when he held out his hand to stop her. Looking up and down the hall to make sure no one saw them, he stepped to the door marked with the numbe
rs ‘181’.

  He caught her eye. Each of them knew how much was at risk.

  Allie kept her expression calm. She nodded her head.

  Sylvain turned the handle.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The door wasn’t locked. As it swung open, Allie could see only darkness ahead – hear only silence.

  Holding up his hand to indicate that she should wait, Sylvain slipped inside.

  Seconds later he returned and silently motioned for her to follow. Taking a steadying breath, she walked into Zelazny’s room.

  When the door closed the room was utterly dark. Allie stood still, afraid to move.

  ‘Sylvain?’ she whispered after a moment.

  ‘I’m here.’ His reply was muffled. She could hear the soft swish of his hands against the walls and realised he must be feeling for a light switch. Almost as soon as she thought it, the room was flooded with light. After the dimness, Allie had to shield her eyes.

  ‘Blinding,’ she said.

  ‘Only for a second.’

  Through the cracks between her fingers, she squinted into the glare. Sylvain stood near the door, watching her with a quizzical half-smile, as if she’d done something amusing. His earlier tension had disappeared.

  They were in an orderly room with a leather sofa and a low chair with a padded seat and wooden arms. A television and DVD player stood in the corner near a fireplace. The walls were painted a matte, masculine shade of grey with a clean white trim. Turning a slow circle she took in the bookcases lining one wall and a door leading into another room, which must be the bedroom.

  ‘It’s so small.’

  ‘It’s not so bad.’ Sylvain still stood with his back against the wall, looking around as if deciding where to start. ‘Why don’t you start with the bookshelves,’ he said. ‘I’ll take the desk.’

  Zelazny’s bookshelves stood above low wooden cabinets and stretched all the way to the ceiling. Most of the books they held seemed to be about the military – Battles of Britain, The Gathering Storm, something that looked philosophical called The Seven Pillars of Wisdom.