“By the way, Ryan is still into you, you know,” Lindsay says. She’s trying to look like this doesn’t bother her, but I know it does.
“I know. He told me.”
“And so is Heathcliff,” Lindsay points out.
“I know that, too.”
“So which one are you into?”
“Well…”
“I’d totally go for Ryan,” Lindsay continues, flipping her hair out of her face. Lindsay looks at me, to gauge my reaction.
“I’m just not that into him,” I say. Lindsay looks visibly relieved.
“So it’s okay if I date him, right?”
I look at her and roll my eyes.
“As if…” I say.
“As if, what? I am totally hot,” Lindsay says, striking a ridiculous pose that looks a little like she ate something sour.
“Is that supposed to be your sexy face? ’Cause it needs some work.”
“Shut up,” she says, elbowing me. “You’re one to talk. You’re the one who’s in love with a fictional character.”
“So?”
“Speak of the devil!” Lindsay cries, looking off across the commons. “It’s Heathcliff.”
I look up and see him striding purposefully toward us. He’s got his telltale scowl on his face.
“Why doesn’t he ever smile?” Lindsay asks me.
“He does. Sometimes.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Lindsay says.
“Miranda!” Heathcliff says. “Do you have a minute?”
“Um, hello—are you going to even acknowledge my presence?” Lindsay pipes in. Heathcliff gives her a sidelong glance. “Um, right. Hello, Lindsay.”
“Hello to you, too, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”
I can’t believe she just called Heathcliff “Mr. Grumpy Pants.” How mortifying.
“Ignore her,” I tell him.
“Whatever!” Lindsay sighs. “You guys totally need to loosen up. Anyway, I was just leaving.”
She heads off toward the direction of her dorm, leaving me alone with Heathcliff.
He takes my hand and starts leading me off across the commons in the direction of the library.
“Wait, where are we going?” I ask him.
“Someplace private,” he says.
“I wanted to talk to you, actually,” I say. “Maybe we don’t need to hide from the faculty anymore. I mean, your book was destroyed, and you’re still here, aren’t you? I don’t know how. I mean, maybe it’s just because you wanted to be, or because I helped you stay or something. Maybe I’ve got the power to keep you here forever?”
Heathcliff says nothing, he just looks at me.
“The faculty can’t hurt you now, so we can, uh…well, I mean, if you want…we can, you know, go public, or something…”
This isn’t going like I pictured it. For some reason, I can’t say “date.” It’s like I’m physically incapable of saying that word. I’m starting to sound like a babbling idiot. Heathcliff saves me.
“There’s something you need to see,” Heathcliff says.
I let him lead me to the library. Once there, he promptly heads down the book aisle where the vault is located.
The vault is the special storeroom where all the magic books are kept—like the copy of Moby-Dick that Ms. P used—first editions of classics that can bring fictional characters to life. I found the vault last year and, ever since, the faculty has forbidden me to go near it.
We’re standing at the entrance to the vault, a rarely used row in the back of the library. The vault entrance is invisible to the naked eye. Heathcliff reaches up on a shelf and grabs a copy of Crime and Punishment. After tipping the book, a door in the floor slides open, revealing a stone staircase leading down.
“But I’m not supposed to—” I start.
“Shhhh,” he tells me, looking about for any sign of the librarian. Seeing none, he pulls me down with him.
“If you’re just doing this to make out with me, I swear…”
Heathcliff says nothing as the vault door slides shut above my head. We descend downstairs and I notice the vault looks much the same as it did last year. Eerie blue flames flicker in torches strung up along the walls. There’s shelf after shelf of dusty old books. They don’t look like they could bring fictional characters to life, but they can, even though some of them seem to be falling apart. The room smells musty and old.
I can’t help but feel a little wigged-out down here. There’s a scratching noise in the corner. We both jump and Heathcliff pushes me into a nearby row of shelves, putting his body in front of mine, as if to protect me.
“What is it?” I whisper, holding my breath. I ask this even though I know it could be anything. Last time I was in the vault I ran into Dracula. You never know who might be lurking around the corner down here.
Heathcliff waits a second or two and then, near our feet, a rat runs by.
“Ewwww,” I sigh. “I think I’d rather see Dracula.”
Heathcliff gives me a stern look. “Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration,” I admit.
We’re still chest to chest and I can feel Heathcliff’s body pressed into mine. The next joke I was about to make dies on my tongue. Heathcliff is staring at me with those dark eyes of his that are so hard to read. His scowl is replaced by something softer as he traces my face with his forefinger.
“Miranda…” he starts.
My heart speeds up. “Yes?” I half close my eyes, expecting him to kiss me. But when I’m hanging there for a long second and nothing happens, I open my eyes again. He’s looking at me sadly.
“That last piece of Wuthering Heights isn’t the last piece,” he says.
“What do you mean? I saw Ms. P light it on fire. And the rest of the book burned last year. We all saw it. When Emily Brontë disappeared.”
That’s when Heathcliff slides a book off the shelf in front of me. The title on the spine is Wuthering Heights.
“But that’s not right. That can’t be right. I saw this book burn.” I turn it over in my hands. It feels real enough.
“Well, somehow it’s back here,” Heathcliff says. “Don’t ask me how.”
“So the faculty could banish you. If they wanted to.”
Heathcliff nods.
My shoulders slump. Guess there’s no way we can go public with our relationship.
Heathcliff puts one finger underneath my chin and pulls it up. I’m staring into his deep, dark eyes. They’re even softer now, kind even. I can feel mine well up with tears. I thought he was here to stay, but this book means that he could go at any time. Without warning. Without even a good-bye.
“We knew this wouldn’t be permanent,” Heathcliff says, wiping a tear from my cheek. “But that doesn’t change anything. You know how I feel about you, Miranda.”
I nod.
“And I know how you feel about me,” he says.
My eyes dart up to meet his. He does? Then again, I guess I’ve been a little obvious on that score.
“There’s nothing I can do about this,” he says, taking the book out of my hands and placing it back on the shelf. Then he takes both my hands in his and puts them on his chest. It’s hard and broad and warm. He stares at me intently.
“But we can make the most of the time we do have. However long that may be.”
“You’re right,” I say, blinking back tears and swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know you’re right.”
“It’s not all bad,” Heathcliff says, pulling me closer, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now, how about you kiss me?”
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
> Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Moby Clique Page 19
