Night School: Legacy

by C. J. Daugherty

  ‘I’m just going to …’ she explained vaguely before dashing out.

  When she was gone, Allie took a step closer to Sylvain, trying to read his guarded expression. ‘I’m … OK.’ Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. ‘I … just … I never got a chance. To thank you, I mean. After the fire.’ She reached towards his arm. ‘You saved my life, Sylvain.’

  When she touched him, a spark of electricity shocked them both. Yanking her hand free with a yelp, Allie jumped backwards, tripping over the rug. Sylvain grabbed her arm to steady her, but quickly let go and stepped away from her.

  This wasn’t at all the way Allie had visualised this meeting. She’d wanted to be cool. Not a clumsy oaf stumbling over rugs and electrocuting him with her skin.

  The colour rose in her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. I have to … go and …’ Without finishing her sentence she fled the room.

  When she was safely around the corner she stopped and leaned back against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Replaying the scene in her mind, she banged her head rhythmically against the wall behind her.

  ‘Hi, Sylvain,’ she muttered sarcastically between thumps. ‘I’m a complete moron. You?’

  With a sigh, she straightened and stepped out into the hallway, running straight into Carter’s arms. Laughing, he lifted her off the ground. ‘I heard a nasty rumour you were back.’

  His shirt was covered in paint spatters and his hair was a mess. A smudge of white paint marked his forehead endearingly. His hands were strong and warm on her waist. After her awkward encounter with Sylvain, just being with Carter was like a balm for her soul.

  ‘Bad news travels fast,’ she said, raising her lips up to his.

  The kiss spread warmth through her body, and she parted her lips to his, tightening her arms around his shoulders. After a moment, he leaned his forehead against hers, whispering, ‘God, I’ve missed you.’

  She smiled into his eyes, still holding on to him. ‘Right back at ya.’

  ‘You look great,’ he said, straightening. ‘Are you great? When Isabelle told me what happened in London. I was …’ His voice trailed off and a muscle worked in his jaw. ‘Well, by the time she told me about it we knew you were safe but … You’re really OK, right?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m good,’ Allie said. ‘Rachel’s dad came to my rescue. He’s … I don’t know … a rock star.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s supposed to be the real deal,’ Carter said, smiling. ‘Even Zelazny talks about him like he’s Batman.’

  At the mention of her least favourite teacher’s name, Allie made a sour face.

  Jokingly, Carter shook his finger at her. ‘You two need to learn how to get along, Allie.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ she muttered. ‘But it’s not my fault – he hated me first. I just hate him back.’

  ‘That,’ he laughed, ‘is the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.’

  She couldn’t believe she was here at last – sparring with Carter. She squeezed his hand with sudden happiness. ‘I really have missed you, you know.’

  Pulling her into a nook behind the main staircase, he kissed her again, more passionately this time. His lips trailed down her jaw to her neck, raising a Braille pattern of goosebumps. She pressed her fingertips tightly into the lean muscles of his shoulders and he gave a small gasp of pleasure, raising his lips to hers.

  ‘Oh, Carter. There you are.’

  At the sound of Isabelle’s voice, Carter spun around. Smoothing her hair, Allie tried to look innocent but Isabelle’s knowing look told her she wasn’t fooling anyone.

  ‘Eloise is looking for you. And, Allie, she would really appreciate your help, too,’ the headmistress said. ‘If you’re not busy, that is.’

  She walked away without another word.

  Allie’s face flushed at her tart tone but Carter’s shoulders shook with repressed laughter.

  ‘I don’t see how that’s so funny,’ Allie said primly, but Carter just laughed harder and pulled her gently in the direction of the library.

  ‘Come on, Al. You know Isabelle’s cool. She’s not going to give us detention for a bit of snogging.’ When she continued to pout, he tickled her until she laughed and pulled away.

  As soon as they neared the library door, though, her mood changed. Dropping his hand, she slowed her steps, finally coming to a halt.

  A step ahead of her, Carter stopped to look back, concern in his dark eyes.

  ‘Have you been back there since the fire?’

  Her eyes locked on the door, she shook her head mutely.

  ‘You want to go in there now?’

  She shook her head again. ‘Nope. Not one bit.’

  He reached for her hand.

  ‘You don’t have to do this, you know,’ he said gently. ‘You could give yourself some more time.’

  Not taking her eyes off the door, which seemed to loom before her, she nodded.

  ‘I know. But the thing is, the longer I wait, the harder it’s going to be,’ she said, her eyes flickering off his and back to the door. ‘I need to get it over with. I mean, I can’t just not go to the library. This is where they keep all the knowledge.’

  Her weak joke didn’t fool him and he held on tightly to her hand.

  ‘Well. Just keep breathing, OK?’

  Her eyes still focused on the heavy, oak wood of the door, she nodded. She knew perfectly well that it was just an ordinary door with an ordinary room behind it. But it was the room where she’d nearly died.

  Watching her expression, Carter reached for the door handle. ‘Ready?’

  Her heart thudding in her ears, she nodded.

  The door swung open.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered, covering her mouth with her hands.

  Everything at the front of the once-beautiful room had been destroyed. All that was left of the tall, old librarian’s desk that had stood near the door for decades was a scorched square on the floor. Rows of tall bookcases were gone, too, and a section of the eighteenth-century wood panelling with its elaborate carving had burnt to ash. The acrid stench of smoke hung in the air.

  ‘It looks bad, I know,’ Carter said, ‘but, trust me, it’s a lot better than it was.’

  An unexpected wave of grief washed over Allie. Before the fire, this had been one of her favourite places at Cimmeria. It was always crowded with students sitting in its deep leather chairs, resting their feet on soft Oriental rugs, reading by the light of the green-shaded lamps.

  All gone now.

  The furniture had been removed and the bare, scorched floor looked old and abandoned.

  ‘It’s ruined,’ she whispered.

  ‘I had the same reaction when I first saw it.’ Eloise Derleth’s voice was sympathetic. Her long dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her white T-shirt and jeans were as paint-stained as Carter’s. She even had paint on the frames of her glasses.

  ‘Hello, Allie,’ she said. ‘Welcome back.’

  ‘Eloise, I can’t believe it.’ Allie’s voice was thick with emotion as she turned to the young librarian. ‘Your beautiful library!’

  Eloise looked around the room, her expression stoic. ‘It isn’t as bad as it looks. In some ways we were quite lucky.’

  She walked to where her desk used to be. ‘We lost all the records that were kept here and that’s a tragedy because they dated back a century. But the older records are stored in the attic and they’re safe.’

  Gesturing at a burnt area where a row of bookcases had towered to the ceiling, she said, ‘The books here were the newest acquisitions, which meant that they had the least value. The ancient Greek, Latin and other antiquarian books were across the room, and almost all of them survived the fire, although quite a few have water or smoke damage. But we’ve hired one of the best restoration companies in the world and they’re doing all they can to save them. So you see?’ Her smile was tight with grim determination. ‘Things could have been worse.’

  All Allie could see was disaster but she wasn’t abou
t to say so. She knew the fire must have broken Eloise’s heart.

  She forced a smile.

  ‘It’s totally fixable. What can I do to help?’

  FOUR

  ‘I can’t quite get to that spot, there.’ Allie pointed to a smoke-stained section of library wall, just out of reach of her scrubbing brush. ‘Even when I stand on my toes.’

  Bob Ellison glanced at it over the top of his wire-framed glasses. ‘Just reach up as far as you can. The ladder crews will be in later and they’ll do high walls and ceilings.’

  Normally the school’s groundskeeper, Mr Ellison was now overseeing the day-to-day organisation of the repair work. He’d put Allie in among those who were scrubbing the library walls to prepare the room for painting. Wearing bulky, bright yellow rubber gloves that stretched up to her elbows, she dipped a scrubbing brush as big as a brick into a bucket and scrubbed until dirty water ran down the wall on to the dust sheet below.

  ‘This would be more fun with an iPod,’ she muttered, scrubbing fiercely. Cimmeria allowed no modern technology – no computers, mobile phones or televisions.

  ‘No it wouldn’t.’

  At the sound of the familiar voice, Allie spun around to see a slim girl with short blonde hair smiling at her with uncharacteristic shyness.

  ‘Nothing could make this fun.’

  ‘Jo!’ With a splash, Allie dropped the brush into the bucket and ran over to her. ‘I’m so glad to see you.’

  Caution in her eyes, Jo held her gaze. ‘I wondered if you would be.’

  Jo’s breakdown at the end of the summer term had thrown Allie’s already shaky world into turmoil. And it had been Jo’s boyfriend, Gabe, who killed Ruth at the summer ball. Jo had handled it all very badly, covering up for Gabe, even when she knew lives were in danger.

  But Allie had been arrested three times herself; she knew all about bad choices. ‘Of course I am.’ Noticing the bucket and brush at Jo’s feet, she quickly changed the subject – now wasn’t the time to delve into all that had happened last term. ‘You’re on bucket brigade, too?’

  Jo nodded.

  ‘You can be my iPod. Mr Ellison.’ Allie turned to the grounds-keeper who was busy with his clipboard. ‘Can Jo work with me?’

  ‘As long as you do as much working as you do talking.’ The gruffness in his voice was betrayed by the amusement in his eyes and Allie smiled broadly.

  ‘Awesome sauce.’ Jo set her bucket down a few feet from Allie’s. ‘When did you get back?’

  ‘A couple of hours ago. We took one look at the place and …’ Allie waved her scrubbing brush.

  Jo pulled on her rubber gloves with a snap. ‘Rachel’s with you?’

  ‘Yeah – she’s at the back going through books with Eloise and the guys from the restoration company.’ Allie scrubbed the wall in loose circles. ‘I think she got the better job.’

  ‘Totally,’ Jo said. ‘Hey – I heard about what happened in London. You OK?’

  ‘Hey, it takes more than four big muscly guys in suits running really fast to hurt me,’ Allie joked.

  ‘That’s what they say about you.’ Jo smiled.

  But after a moment she looked more serious. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘It wasn’t Gabe, was it? I mean, he wasn’t one of them?’

  Shocked, Allie nearly dropped her brush.

  ‘Oh, Jo, no! I promise. These guys were older – like in their twenties or even older than that. Definitely not Gabe. I’d never seen any of them before.’

  ‘Good.’ Jo returned to scrubbing, nodding to herself as if this was what she’d hoped to hear. ‘I just can’t bear to think …’ Her voice broke and she scrubbed harder, turning her head so Allie couldn’t see her face.

  Allie scrubbed the wall absently as she tried to decide what to say. ‘Have you … heard from him since that night?’

  Jo shook her head vigorously, and she looked so sad it tugged at Allie’s heart.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

  Jo’s brush stopped moving but it was a long second before she replied.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She spoke slowly. ‘When everybody left and there were just a few of us here and everything was burnt it was … bad. I felt,’ her voice was so low Allie could hardly hear it, ‘responsible, you know? Like I could have stopped it.’

  Before Allie could decide what to say to that, Jo continued, only now her voice had changed and she spoke briskly, as if she were repeating something she’d memorised. ‘But Isabelle and Eloise were great, and I’m seeing this counsellor. And it’s all helping. Everyone keeps telling me I’m not the worst person ever in the history of the world, but I still feel kind of … I don’t know … Like the worst person ever in the history of the world, I guess.’

  Her laugh was as brittle as thin ice. At that moment Allie wanted to forgive her. After all, she wasn’t the one who’d killed Ruth. Gabe did that. But she also hadn’t gone for help when she found out what Gabe had done. Even after he threatened Allie’s life.

  And that’s where it all gets a bit twisted, she thought.

  But Jo was looking at her with expectation in her crystalline blue eyes. She had been Allie’s best friend before everything went wrong. And she wasn’t a bad person, really. She was just … What had Rachel called her? Fragile.

  When she spoke, Allie chose her words carefully. ‘Listen, Jo. Gabe did this, not you. Gabe is the murderer, not you. Gabe is the worst person in the history of the world. Not you. OK?’

  Allie was talking as much to herself as to Jo, and the relief on Jo’s face was her reward. She only wished she was certain she meant it.

  *

  ‘Help,’ Jo moaned. ‘I think I’m in a coma.’

  It was seven o’clock. The library walls were scrubbed clean and Allie’s neck and shoulders ached whenever she even thought about raising her arms as she sat on the dust sheet next to Jo.

  ‘Do your arms hurt?’ Allie asked, rubbing her shoulders.

  ‘God yes.’

  ‘Then you’re not in a coma.’ Gingerly Allie stretched out her legs. ‘Jesus. What have I got myself into? Rachel has a swimming pool and horses. Horses, Jo. I could be floating in a pool and petting soft pony noses if I were still at her house.’

  ‘Here.’ Jo turned to face her. ‘My nose is soft. You can pet it.’

  Allie stroked her nose tiredly. ‘Wow. This is just like being at Rachel’s. Where’s the pool?’

  ‘No pool,’ Jo said. ‘Showers.’

  ‘Sucks.’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘Are you two just going to lie there complaining? Or are you coming to dinner?’ Allie looked up to see Carter standing above them, studying them doubtfully.

  ‘Jo’s in a coma,’ Allie informed him. ‘She no longer needs food.’

  ‘Wait. Did you say food? I think I’m actually awake.’ Jo scrambled to her feet.

  ‘My God,’ Allie said mildly. ‘It’s a miracle.’

  ‘You’ve only been doing this one day, Sheridan.’ Carter reached down to pull her up. ‘You can’t be tired already.’

  ‘Everything hurts,’ she said. ‘Shoulders, arms, back …’

  ‘Legs, feet, head …’ Jo offered helpfully.

  ‘Ankles. Shins. Name a body part,’ Allie said. ‘It hurts.’

  Carter didn’t look impressed.

  ‘Food will ease your pain.’ He steered them towards the dining hall.

  ‘He’s very wise,’ Allie told Jo.

  ‘Clearly,’ Jo replied.

  With most of the students still away, only a few tables were set up. Eloise sat at one with Jerry Cole, the science teacher, and a few others. At another, Sylvain sat alone.

  Allie felt her heart sink. She hadn’t thought about sitting at meals with both Carter and Sylvain.

  This is going to be weird.

  But Jo saved the day, sinking into the seat next to Sylvain. ‘Help me, Sylvain,’ she said piteously. ‘I hurt.’

  ‘What happened?’ Rachel appeared, pulling out the chair next to A
llie’s. ‘Why does Jo hurt?’

  ‘We worked ourselves into a coma,’ Allie explained.

  ‘Tell me about it. I’ve loved books all my life but why does this school need so many?’ Rachel groaned, stretching. ‘How much learning do we really need?’

  ‘Can we go back to your house?’ Allie asked. ‘It was nicer there.’

  ‘You are all infants.’ Carter sounded exasperated. ‘I’ve moved furniture all day. All you did was wash walls and pick up books.’

  ‘Whatever,’ the girls chorused.

  As if on cue, the doors at the end of the room opened, and staff appeared carrying trays of food. Steaming bowls of pasta were placed at every table.

  ‘Oh good,’ Carter muttered sarcastically. ‘Pasta again.’

  ‘Awesome.’ Jo brightened. ‘Is it the cheesy kind?’

  ‘Why did you say “again”?’ Allie asked as bowls of food were set on the table.

  ‘We’ve had it almost every day.’ Carter lowered his voice as the waiters passed. ‘Cooks are too busy helping out with repairs to do much else.’

  ‘Did everybody hear about Lisa?’ Jo changed the subject, as bowls of food were passed around the table and a low buzz of quiet conversation filled the room.

  ‘What about her?’ Allie asked as she served herself from a heaped bowl.

  ‘She’s not coming back.’

  Allie dropped the serving spoon with a bang.

  ‘What?’ Everybody seemed to say the same word at once. Then they talked over one another. ‘Why not?’ ‘What happened?’ ‘Is she OK?’

  Jo held up a hand for quiet. ‘Her parents decided, after all that happened last term …’ She shrugged. ‘She wants to come back but they’ve forbidden it. They’re sending her to some school in Switzerland.’

  A stunned silence followed.

  ‘Well, I can’t say I completely blame them.’ Rachel’s expression was sober. ‘I doubt she’ll be the only one who doesn’t come back.’

  ‘Maybe next year they’ll let her come back– it’s our last year,’ Jo said.

  ‘You mean,’ Rachel’s tone was wry, ‘if nobody gets killed this term maybe they’ll let her come back?’