Moby Clique

by Cara Lockwood

  “It’s getting dark,” Samir points out, as if we all hadn’t noticed the dwindling daylight.

  “Looks like your little detour took longer than it should’ve,” Ryan says. “If we’d headed east, we would’ve been there by now.”

  Heathcliff frowns at Ryan. “We would’ve been eaten alive by the dogs first,” he says. “Or worse.”

  “What’s the worse?” Samir asks, but seeing the scowl on Heathcliff’s face, backtracks. “Um, never mind. Forget I asked.”

  “Ryan, let’s go back,” Parker says. “We can’t afford to break curfew.”

  Ryan looks at me and then back at Parker. He seems conflicted.

  “But we promised we’d help,” Ryan says.

  “Help, not kill ourselves trying.” Parker hugs her arms around herself as if suddenly very cold.

  “How much farther, Heathcliff? Can we make it before dark?” I ask.

  Heathcliff looks down at the mud and then up at me. He shakes his head. “We’d be better off camping here for the night and waiting until daylight.”

  “This is insane,” Ryan says.

  “Agreed,” Samir says. “Camping near an Indian burial ground? Doesn’t anyone else think that’s a bad idea?”

  “Not to mention the kidnappers are on the loose,” Hana points out. The sun seems to have set in record time and it’s so dark that I can barely make out the expressions on the others’ faces. There’s a pause in conversation and we all listen to the steady beat of the drums in the distance. They go thud, thud, thud.

  “I’m not camping anywhere,” Parker says, her voice high and squeaky. She mentioned ghost stories. Do they have something to do with this? I need to find out what she knows.

  “Parker, just tell me what you know. What stories did you hear?”

  “Forget it,” she says, brushing me off. “I’m going. I mean it.”

  She’s scared. I don’t blame her. The drums are pretty unnerving. She looks over at Ryan. When he doesn’t immediately jump to attention, Parker whirls around and starts off without him. “Fine if you stay, but I’m going.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Heathcliff says.

  “Well, I don’t really care what you think,” Parker huffs, and then starts off back the way we came.

  “Parker, wait!” Ryan exclaims, bounding after her.

  “She’s crazy to try to walk in the dark,” Heathcliff tells me, as he clears off some nearby brush to make the fire. In the distance, the drums abruptly stop.

  And then, through the darkness, in the direction Parker ran, comes a high-pitched scream.

  Seventeen

  Hana, Blade, and I take off toward the sound of the scream. Heathcliff and Samir lag behind. About fifty feet from the Indian graveyard, we find Ryan peering down into a large hole.

  “Careful,” he says, holding his hand up as we approach.

  It’s a trap—a big hole that was covered up with leaves and sticks—and down in the muddy depths below is Parker, who is curled up in a ball and holding her ankle.

  “I’m going to sue you,” she hisses at us as we lean over to take a look. “My dad will sue this whole damn school for everything it’s worth.”

  “Parker, just try to stay calm,” Ryan says. “We’ll get you out somehow.”

  “She’s lucky she didn’t break her neck,” Blade says, although she sounds a little disappointed.

  Hana whips out a flashlight from her backpack and shines it down on Parker, who blinks back the light and shades her face from it. Ryan tries to reach a stick down to Parker, who lunges at it, but can’t quite reach.

  “Maybe if you hold my legs,” Ryan asks us, looking from me to Blade and then to Hana.

  “We need someone stronger,” Hana points out.

  “Like Heathcliff,” Blade says. “Otherwise, you’ll end up in the hole with Parker. Of course, if you want some time alone with Princess Psycho, then that’s fine.”

  “I can hear you, you freak!” Parker shouts from the hole.

  Ryan just frowns at Blade.

  “I’ll get Heathcliff,” I say.

  “We’ll both go.”

  Heathcliff has managed to get a little fire started and he’s gathering more wood to put into it.

  “We need some help,” Ryan says, but Heathcliff ignores him. “Parker is trapped.”

  Heathcliff barely pauses in his wood gathering.

  “Are you just going to ignore us?” Ryan asks.

  “I warned her,” Heathcliff mutters.

  Heathcliff doesn’t even look at Ryan. He just pokes at the fire. I put my hand on his arm, and he looks up at me.

  “I don’t like her, either, but we can’t leave her there,” I say.

  He blinks at me and then scowls. “You want me to help her?” he asks me, his eyes darker and more brooding than usual. He doesn’t like Parker. Helping her would go against every instinct he has.

  I nod.

  Heathcliff sighs, but straightens, looking resigned. “Anything you ask of me, I’ll do.”

  Back at the sinkhole, Heathcliff has Ryan hold his feet. Within a matter of minutes, he’s pulled Parker out. Typical of Parker, she doesn’t bother to thank him.

  “Hey, watch it!” she cries as he tugs on her wrists. He glances up at me and I give him a warning look. I can tell he wants to drop her straight back down in the pit. I know how he feels.

  As soon as Parker is on safe ground again, Ryan immediately starts to help her hobble back to the camp that Heathcliff has set up for us. There’s now a small fire, which we huddle around because it’s starting to get cold.

  “So what do you think they’ll do to us when we get back?” Samir asks.

  “Dish duty?” Hana offers.

  “Pffft. Only if we’re lucky,” Blade says. “Toilet duty is more likely. Or maybe figurative expulsion.”

  Everybody looks at me after she says this. It’s because last semester I got this punishment when the faculty wrongly thought I’d caused the disappearance of two teachers. Figurative expulsion means that basically everybody ignores you, as if you don’t exist.

  “Being a social pariah is the worst by far,” I say.

  “Of course, you were one of those even before you got ex-communicated,” Parker snaps. Her hurt ankle is making her even ruder than usual. “Anyway, I’m not getting anything because I didn’t want to spend the night out here in the first place.”

  I have the distinct impression that the minute we get back to campus she’s going to blame everything on me, even though she was the one who volunteered to tag along. Maybe she and Lindsay do have something in common, after all.

  “No one’s going to get in trouble,” Ryan says. “All we do is say that we got lost, and then Parker hurt her ankle, and we couldn’t go back before curfew. They can’t punish us for trying to help Parker.”

  Parker sniffs, but doesn’t say anything. She just cuddles up to Ryan for warmth. Ryan lets her. Fine, I think. If that’s the way he’s going to play it. First, he crushes on my sister, and then he lets Parker fawn all over him? Two can play that game.

  I scoot closer to Heathcliff. He’s momentarily surprised, given that public displays of affection are strictly verboten since the faculty forbade us to get together. After a second, Heathcliff rolls with it, though, and lays a hand softly on my back. Absently, he starts rubbing my neck. It feels good, too good.

  I notice curious stares from Hana. She knows Heathcliff is off limits. Everyone does. But then again, there aren’t any teachers here. And my neck hurts. Not to mention my pride. If I have to watch Parker throw herself at my ex, then the least I can do is show them both I’ve moved on.

  Parker glances at Heathcliff and Ryan takes notice, too. He stiffens a little. Well, let him stew, I think. He’s the one who volunteered for this little adventure.

  “So, Heathcliff,” Ryan says, “I don’t think I know where you’re from.”

  Heathcliff looks up sharply and glares at Ryan. He has no interest in talking to Ryan, n
ow or ever. He stares, mute.

  “Somebody said ‘Wuthering Heights,’” Parker says, snickering a little. “But everyone knows that’s not a real place.”

  Heathcliff’s body tenses. He doesn’t like being laughed at. Especially by people like Parker. I can feel the anger in him welling. I put a hand on his arm to try to calm him down. I send Parker a warning look, but she ignores it. I cover Heathcliff’s hand with my own, willing him to be calm.

  “Come on, Miranda, what do you say?” Parker says. “Looks like you know Heathcliff pretty well. Just where does he come from?”

  “England,” I say. This isn’t a lie.

  “Everybody knows that—his accent, duh,” Parker says, kicking out one foot to underline her point, but she actually makes contact with a twig in the fire and sends it flipping in my direction. The flame lands on my blanket and sparks fly. Everything happens so quickly, I don’t even have time to react. Heathcliff is there, though, quick as a flash, using his jacket to suffocate the fire before it even starts. I look up and notice that Parker is grinning. Even if it wasn’t on purpose, she’s still enjoying the fact that she nearly burned me alive.

  “Apologize,” Heathcliff growls at Parker now. He’s got his fist clenched at his sides. He means business, and he doesn’t care if Parker is a girl or not, he might just use force. Across the fire, Blade smirks. She’s enjoying this.

  “I didn’t mean to,” Parker says.

  “That’s not an apology.” Heathcliff’s voice is like steel. It’s times like these that I remember reading about his temper in Wuthering Heights. Parker had better do what he says.

  Parker pales a little, but she’s stubborn and she doesn’t want to give in.

  “She wasn’t even hurt,” Parker says, her voice weaker, though.

  Heathcliff makes a move toward her and she flinches.

  “Hey, dude, it was an accident,” Ryan says, standing, too. What is he doing? Getting in Heathcliff’s face is a suicide mission and why is he defending Parker? She did almost light me on fire. And accident or not, she enjoyed it.

  “You know a lot about accidents,” Heathcliff says, the flames from the fire casting dancing shadows on his face. I look at him sharply. Does he know about Ryan’s car accident?

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Ryan asks, suddenly defensive.

  “You know what it means,” Heathcliff says. So he does know. Interesting. Where did he hear that? I never told him. “Maybe you should spend less time trying to protect girls like Parker and more time thinking about what you did.”

  “Do you have a problem with me?” Ryan sputters, his face flushed and angry, as he steps in closer, nose to nose with Heathcliff. I suspect this is going to get very ugly very quickly. Ryan is built like a basketball player; Heathcliff like a linebacker. If the two of them actually got into a fight, Heathcliff would win hands down, and Heathcliff knows it, too. Ryan, however, seems to be oblivious to this fact.

  “What? Is someone a little too sensitive?” Heathcliff smiles, slowly and methodically, deliberately baiting Ryan, and Ryan rises to the bait. He whirls and punches Heathcliff in the mouth, taking Heathcliff by surprise. It’s an awkward punch, though, and doesn’t even cause Heathcliff to take a step backward. Heathcliff rubs his jaw, at first looking surprised, as if he can’t believe Ryan touched him. Then, angry, his eyes go cold. Ryan should get out of the way, but he doesn’t, he braces for impact. Heathcliff is also faster than he looks. Ryan probably couldn’t have ducked even if he wanted to. Heathcliff’s fist smashes into Ryan’s jaw, and Ryan wheels backward, flying almost like a boxer in a cartoon, straight off his feet, landing flat on his back, blood springing from his lip and nose. Heathcliff hit him so hard, he’s momentarily dazed, lying completely still.

  “You killed him!” screams Parker.

  Heathcliff isn’t finished then, even, and marches toward Ryan as if he actually plans to finish the job. Before I know what I’m doing, I step in between, shielding Ryan with my own body.

  “That’s enough,” I say, believing that however mad he is, Heathcliff won’t hurt me. I’m right, because he stops in his tracks. His face deepens into a bitter scowl.

  “You choose him over me?”

  Before I have a chance to answer, Parker pipes in.

  “You might as well give up now, Heathcliff.” Parker smirks. “It’s clear she doesn’t want you.”

  Heathcliff’s face turns deep red and then white, his lips set in a thin line. Without saying a word, he just turns and stomps off into the woods, whipping branches away from his face.

  “Shut up, Parker,” Blade says, but I don’t wait to see if she does. I head after Heathcliff. He’s walking so quickly that I only manage to catch up with him after about twenty paces.

  “Heathcliff! Wait! Heathcliff…” I call after him. I finally get close enough to touch his shoulder, and that’s when he whirls on me, his face a mask of anger and hurt. He grabs my wrist and suddenly thrusts me against a tree, his eyes dark and angry. I have a flash of sudden worry. Is he going to hit me?

  Was Ms. W right? Is Heathcliff simply bad to the core? I suddenly think I might be playing with fire, thinking that I can control him, when he’s not controllable. My hands are over my head, held there tightly by Heathcliff, and I’m helpless.

  I must look a little scared, because he releases his grip on my wrists. Our faces are close now.

  “You must know that we belong together,” he tells me. Then suddenly he’s kissing me, hard and fierce, his lips covering mine, nearly suffocating me. Just as quickly as it began, it ends as he pulls away. This time, I’m too stunned to follow after him as he thrashes his way through the woods.

  Eighteen

  A little dazed, I walk back to camp. When I get there, I find them all talking about Heathcliff.

  “That guy is a menace,” Parker is telling Ryan. She’s hovering over him, naturally, trying to take care of him. Parker as the Nurse Nightingale type, though, is a little far-fetched. I can’t imagine she actually has a maternal instinct. It’s got to all be for show. Ryan, for his part, is waving off her attentions. He catches my eye.

  “You still think you can trust him?” he asks me, a challenge.

  “We don’t have a choice,” I tell him, sidestepping his question. Part of me does trust Heathcliff, unconditionally. But another part is worried that his temper is something that even he can’t control. Still, Ryan has been in his face. It’s no wonder he snapped. Not to mention, it was Ryan who hit Heathcliff first, I remind myself.

  “We should go back to campus now,” Parker whispers.

  “I don’t know,” Hana says.

  “We can’t go,” I say, ducking beneath a low-lying branch and plopping down beside Hana. “Heathcliff knows the best route. Without him we’d be lost.”

  Ryan snorts. “Which is why he’s taking us everywhere on this island except Whale Cove.”

  “We had to avoid the dogs, remember?”

  “I don’t know why you stick up for him,” Parker says. “He’s a bully. Maybe he’s even responsible for Lindsay.”

  “We both know who’s responsible for Lindsay coming out here,” I grind out. “And it’s not Heathcliff.”

  “You still on that trip?” Parker scoffs. “I thought you’d eventually get rid of your paranoid delusions.”

  “They’re not—” I start, but Hana interrupts me.

  “Maybe Parker is right,” Hana says. “I mean, we don’t actually know if we can trust Heathcliff.”

  “Not you, too,” I say, feeling a little betrayed. “Heathcliff has saved us more than once.”

  “Saved you? How?” Ryan asks. His eyes flash in the firelight. Is he jealous?

  “He also kidnapped us,” Samir reminds me. That was back during my first semester at Bard, when Heathcliff was working for Emily Brontë. The same Brontë of Wuthering Heights fame, the one who tried to destroy the school because she couldn’t stand another day of purgatory. Back then, Heathcliff had been under her influence,
and a pretty powerful influence it was. She was his creator, after all. Now, he was free to make his own decisions.

  “Kidnapped?” Ryan echoes, lips settling into a thin line. “See? You can’t trust him. I knew it.”

  “Guys, it doesn’t matter,” Blade points out. “It’s too dark to find our way out now anyway, even if we did want to leave without him.”

  This is true. It’s pitch-black, and somewhere out in the distance there are more drum beats. I shiver. I suddenly wish Heathcliff would come back. Absently, I touch my chin where his stubble rubbed it a little raw.

  “Samir is right,” Hana says.

  Everyone seems to agree on this. The idea of heading into the woods in total darkness doesn’t appeal to anyone. The safest place seems by the fire Heathcliff built.

  We sit in silence, each of us staring into the fire.

  Now’s my chance to try to figure out what Parker knows about pirates. Maybe she heard or saw something that could help us. I decide to swallow my anger and try to ask her again.

  “Parker,” I say, catching her eye, “you said you heard rumors about pirates. What did you mean?”

  Parker shrugs. “It’s just a ghost story I heard,” she says.

  “Ghost story?” Samir asks, his voice wavering a little. Samir is no fan of ghost stories.

  “What? You afraid?”

  “No,” Samir lies. “I’ve just heard them all. Are you going to tell me about the hook in the car door? Or saying Bloody Mary’s name in front of a mirror? Or—no, wait—the people who steal your kidneys and leave a note that says ‘go to a hospital—you’re missing a kidney’?”

  “No. This one is about a pirate ghost, on this very island.”

  “Pirates aren’t scary,” Blade says, unimpressed.

  I think back to the ones I saw in the forest. The ones that kidnapped the Bard student. Pirates definitely can be scary.

  “Lindsay was the one who heard the story, she said a teacher told it to her,” Parker says.