[Phoebe Pope 01.0] The Year of Four

by Nya Jade

  Phoebe shook her head. “There are only six names on this list. I thought you said . . .”

  The skin between Cyn’s eyes creased. “The last person I have in mind isn’t technically an alum yet and is proving difficult to land, but I—”

  Before Cyn could finish, someone knocked on the door and she pranced over to answer it.

  “You sexy beast!” came an excited voice from the hallway. “You ready?”

  “Almost.” Cyn stepped back, and a slim girl Phoebe knew by sight but couldn’t remember where from, sauntered in. Medium height, she wore the same pink shirt as Cyn’s over a pair of black chinos. The girl gave Cyn a hug and then her eyes flicked to Phoebe.

  “Karli, this is Phoebe,” Cyn said, running over to her mirrored closet to apply a layer of lip gloss.

  Phoebe said, “Hi,” smiled and waited for Karli to respond in kind, but she didn’t. Instead her eyes roamed, taking in the space around Phoebe as though assessing her very existence. Phoebe smoothed her comforter self-consciously under Karli’s appraising stare. She knew that her and Cyn’s sides couldn’t be more different. Cyn’s walls hung with shiny, metal framed pictures of her and her friends—that’s why Phoebe recognized Karli—and her bed was set with a nest of colorful pillows. Only three things hung on Phoebe’s wall: autographed posters of her two favorite bands, Vampire Weekend and Adele, and a landscape print by Robert Doisneau.

  Karli’s eyes lingered at Phoebe’s desk for longer than necessary, and Phoebe made a face trying to figure out what among her possessions—dictionaries, notebooks, and cameras—could possibly hold Karli’s attention like that.

  “So what do you think of our shirts, Phoebe?” Cyn said, stepping away from her mirror and breaking the silence she seemed oblivious to.

  “What does CC mean?” Phoebe asked.

  “Karli got permission to start a new club,” she said excitedly. “And the CC stands for—”

  “Colten’s Cuties!” both girls said at the same time before breaking into a fit of giggles.

  Phoebe covered a reflexive snort with a cough and quickly said, “So it’s a fan club?”

  “Sort of, since we meet to discuss all things Colten Chase,” Cyn said.

  “But not just trivia,” Karli said, having caught Phoebe’s unimpressed expression. “Important things, too. For example, he’s big on environmental issues and tonight we’re brainstorming ways our group can raise money and awareness for his causes.”

  “Want to come?” Cyn asked.

  “I’m sure Phoebe has better things to do with her time than be silly with us,” Karli said, an unwelcome tenor plain in her voice.

  Phoebe waved them away. “I have a steamy date with the library,” she lied as coolly as she could.

  “Oh—could you do me a favor while you’re there?” Cyn said.

  Phoebe bit back a groan. It looked like she had no choice now but to actually go to the library. She’d been hoping to sneak in a quick photo shoot. “What’s the favor?”

  “The Gazette’s past issues are in the basement of the library and I need an old article for some research,” Cyn said. “It would be great if you could photocopy it for me.”

  Phoebe wanted to say that she couldn’t believe it wasn’t all online yet, but instead said, “Sure,” hoping it would get her out the door faster.

  “Thanks!” Cyn wrote something quickly on a Post-it note and handed it to Phoebe on her way out.

  The moment the door shut behind Cyn and Karli, Phoebe reached for her cell, fell back, and stretched herself across her twin bed. She closed her eyes for a moment, but opened them again when she caught Karli’s voice say bitterly, “—didn’t tell me your roommate was the girl Colten walked to the dorm.”

  “She was?” Cyn said, clearly surprised. “I wasn’t here . . .”

  Phoebe sat upright with a start. She glanced over at her desk, suddenly realizing what Karli had been fixated on. Colten’s jacket hung on the back of her swivel chair. Phoebe crossed to her desk, reached for the jacket, brought it to her face, and inhaled. The scent she remembered still clung to it. Phoebe sat down and began to twirl in her chair, smiling at the thought that had just popped into her head: the jacket gave her a reason to find Colten Chase. But that would have to wait. Right now, she had to deliver on her favor to Cyn. Phoebe sent Hayley a text message asking her to meet her at the Above library. Seconds later, her phone buzzed with Hayley’s response: “Sure.”

  Phoebe was curled up in an armchair in a far back corner of the library, her nose behind a book, when Hayley arrived dressed in a tracksuit. Her hair was tucked into a baseball cap that had “Jay-Z” written across it.

  “Sorry I’m late, I—are you reading a dictionary?” Hayley said.

  Phoebe flashed a shameless smile, closed the book and stretched out her legs. “I love words,” she said simply. It was true. A love she’d shared with her father, Phoebe had often accompanied him on excursions to rare book stores in search of antique dictionaries.

  “You’re in touch with your inner dork; I like that,” Hayley said, smiling. She dropped her tiny frame into a leather chair next to Phoebe, her expression becoming serious. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you earlier, but I can’t stand hospitals and clinics.” Hayley paused, looking embarrassed, then began removing several books and papers from her backpack. “I know it’s silly, but they make me really uncomfortable.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Phoebe said. “Really, it’s ok,” she added, noticing the deep flush creeping up Hayley’s face.

  “I smuggled this in for you,” Hayley said, casting a careful eye around them before handing Phoebe the plastic container she’d just pulled from the bottom of her bag.

  “What is it?”

  “Cookies,” Hayley said, smiling sheepishly. “I’ve been worried about you, and when I worry, I bake. Hope you like peanut butter.”

  Phoebe was at a loss for words for a moment, then said, “Wow . . . this is . . . thanks.” She opened the container, grabbed a cookie and sank her teeth into it, savoring its buttery goodness. Then, without warning, and without knowing what triggered them, tears began to roll down her cheeks and drop off her chin.

  Hayley stared at Phoebe with alarm. “Christ, you hate them. I—”

  “No, no,” Phoebe broke in, almost laughing at Hayley’s pained expression. Wiping at her streaming eyes, she said, “The cookie’s great. I’m just a mess right now, sorry.”

  It wasn’t until that moment that Phoebe realized she hadn’t allowed herself enough of an emotional response to everything that had happened the night before; she was embarrassed to have Hayley witness it.

  The shock faded slowly from Hayley’s face. She tilted forward and placed a hand on Phoebe’s knee. “Are you kidding me right now?” she said, trying to smile. “After what you’ve been through, what are you apologizing for?”

  Phoebe puffed out her cheeks and widened her eyes, trying to keep a rein on her volatile emotions; the last thing she wanted was to push her weird cocktail of frustration and sadness into Hayley. One girl crying in the library garnered a few looks, but two sobbing helplessly would be a scene.

  “Want to talk about it?” Hayley asked. “I’m good for just listening if that’s what you need.”

  Phoebe wanted to tell somebody what was going on more than anything, but the Blackcoats had asked for discretion. Nevertheless, after years of never being able to talk about her ability, the idea of having to carry the burden of yet another secret was proving to be too much. If her father were around, she could draw strength from him. But he wasn’t. Phoebe’s instincts told her that confiding in Hayley was worth the risk. Right now, though, she felt too drained to even think about it, much less talk about it.

  “Another time, okay?” Phoebe said, wiping at the last of her tears with the back of her hand.

  “Yeah, for sure. . . . You know what you need?” Hayley said, more to herself than to Phoebe, “A Spa Sunday.”

  “Ice cream?” Pho
ebe said, confused.

  Hayley laughed. “I mean the day of the week.” She scooted forward in her chair. “I’m talking nails, hydrating masks, the whole lot. It’s something my mom and I used to do every Sunday night to take a break from the four males we live with. I figured I’d keep it going here. But if you’re not up for it,” Hayley added quickly, “that’s plenty okay too.” She looked a little nervous to have so blatantly outed her girly side.

  Phoebe waved a hand as if swatting at Hayley’s words. “Sounds great. Count me in,” she said, giving Hayley a grateful smile.

  Hayley smiled, then checked her watch and groaned, “I’m going to be late for physical fitness,” she said. “Having night classes Below sucks.” In Hayley’s mad scramble to grab her things, a few of her books slipped from the table to the floor. Phoebe stretched out a hand to help and that’s when she saw the magazine. Lying next to Hayley’s dropped calculus book was the latest issue of Dish with a caption on the cover that read: “Are Colten Chase and Tanya Brown getting serious?”

  Phoebe picked it up. The cover showed Colten kissing an olive-skinned, brunette girl who embodied the definition of glamour. They looked nauseatingly beautiful together and envy surged through Phoebe with a force that filled her with shame. Hayley snatched the magazine out of her hands, saying, “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

  “Why not?” Phoebe demanded. Her tone came out harsher than she’d intended and softening it, she added, “It’s none of my business who Colten Chase kisses.”

  Hayley paused, narrowing her eyes. “C’mon, let’s be honest. You like the guy.”

  “The entire female population on this campus likes the guy.”

  “True. But you’re the only one I’ve seen him pay any real attention to. Anyway,” she said, rolling up the magazine and waving it lazily. “It’s the Dish. They’re always printing garbage.”

  “Then why do you read it?”

  “’cause I’m not above entertaining garbage.” Hayley grabbed her backpack and on her way out called over her shoulder, “Don’t you dare brood over that cover!”

  Phoebe watched Hayley go, thinking that she didn’t have anything to brood over, whether that cover was fake or not. Colten was free to kiss whomever he wanted, even if it drove her to inexplicable distraction. She leaned back against her chair and shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pockets. It was only then, when she felt the sticky end of Cyn’s Post-it note on her fingers, that she remembered the favor she’d promised. Happy for something else to focus on, Phoebe made her way to the basement.

  The cold room was dimly lit and smelled of old forgotten manuscripts, must, and pulp. Phoebe moved between the rows of lofty metallic shelves, her fingers sliding across the folder spines. Near the end of a long aisle, she located the section dedicated to the Gazette and scanned faded labels for the year Cyn had requested.

  Phoebe was up on her toes pulling down a thick, dusty folder when the hairs along the back of her neck rose, giving her the uneasy sense of being watched. It was only paranoia after the attack that had her in this jumpy state, she told herself. But then she heard footsteps, and from the corner of her eye, caught a fast movement between the stacks. A spasm of fear seized Phoebe, and with the folder held against her chest, she edged further down the aisle, her steps hastening into a light sprint.

  “Hayley?” she called out, wondering if her friend had forgotten something and come down to look for her. But she promptly discarded that theory, remembering she hadn’t told Hayley about her errand. Phoebe quickly maneuvered her way through the stacks. Her eyes darted from side to side and she listened for footsteps. In the same second the glow of an exit sign came into view, she felt a hand touch the back of her shoulder. Phoebe whirled around, swinging her arms with such a force that she slammed the folder into a shadowy figure before dropping it to run.

  “Wow. I wasn’t expecting you to be that strong,” a familiar voice said, stopping Phoebe in mid retreat. She slowly turned around to find an astonished-looking Colten lying flat on his back, his baseball cap at his side. Her immediate impulse to go to him was halted by the horrified realization of what had just happened; for a moment, she froze. Then she snapped out of it, mortified.

  “Oh my God,” Phoebe said, running back to Colten. She could feel her face burn with color and was grateful to the dimness for providing some cover. “I am so sorry!”

  Colten lifted himself onto his elbows and reached for his baseball cap. “Remind me to hire you as a bodyguard the next time I need one,” he said, his mouth curving into a grin.

  “I thought—I thought—” Phoebe’s voice broke off. Truth be told, she didn’t know what she thought. Right now she loved the way Colten’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. She extended a hand for Colten to grip and helped him to his feet. They stood facing each other, his large hands warm on hers. Phoebe didn’t pull away, finding the touch of Colten’s fingers comforting. She almost didn’t feel him running them over the puckered skin of her bite marks or notice the dark expression creeping over his face as he did so.

  Phoebe felt her breathing stop and withdrew her hand. “What are you doing down here?” she said, hoping to distract him from asking any questions about the strange marks. She wondered if her scar had triggered a bad memory for him.

  Colten’s lips twisted into a wry grimace. “I study down here.”

  Phoebe looked at him, eyebrows half cocked. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been avoiding some junior high girls who seem to find all the places I go to study,” he said. “When I heard footsteps in the stacks, I thought they’d found me here. I got up to check it out and saw it was you.”

  Phoebe looked around. “Where is there to study down here?”

  “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Colten bent down to retrieve the Gazette folder and handed it to Phoebe. “Your weapon of choice, Madam,” he smirked.

  Phoebe rolled her eyes and followed him to a corner of the basement where a single study carrel stood against the wall. She momentarily thought it odd that a carrel would stand on its own, but then she saw the faint carving of a moon on its side and understood. This was the library narthyx point. Phoebe let her eyes wander, her expression preoccupied.

  “Is something wrong?” Colten asked, studying her curiously.

  Phoebe blinked at him. “Huh?—No.” She realized suddenly that she’d expected to see a custodian nearby and then remembered the first day announcement that the library narthyx point was closed for maintenance. “I’m studying upstairs,” she blurted, filling the awkward pause. “If you don’t want to study alone—not that there’s anything wrong with that—I study alone all the time, but—”

  “Is this an invite to join you?” Colten seemed to be fighting a smile.

  Phoebe nodded without meeting his eyes.

  “Well, now that I know you’re capable of protecting me from dangerous junior high girls,” Colten said chuckling, “I’ll have to take you up on that offer.”

  Phoebe snuck a look at him as he collected his things. He was dressed in faded blue jeans and a gray crew neck sweater unzipped to reveal a white t-shirt that hugged his torso. She caught herself musing how much better he looked in non-uniform clothes.

  Phoebe became aware of Colten staring at her. She looked up. His face was a mask of amusement. “You really weren’t kidding about being a space nerd, huh?” he said.

  “Huh?”

  Colten’s eyes flashed down to Phoebe’s sweatshirt.

  That’s when she realized that she was wearing her, “Space Camp Junior Cadet” hoodie. “Oh,” she laughed lightly. “It was a joke gift from my grandfather.”

  “So you’re not a space warrior in training?” Colten shook his head in mock disappointment.

  Phoebe tugged on the oversized garment and laughed. She could only imagine how beat up she must look, but she could do nothing about it now.

  “Shall we?” Colten asked. Phoebe nodded. Together they stepped out of the stacks and headed up
the stairs to the main floor. Acutely aware of the curious eyes that marked their movement as soon as they emerged from the stairwell, Phoebe tried her best to act comfortable around Colten. She gave him a quick sideways glance and stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Oh my God, your face!” she said. In the light of the main floor, she could now see a deep bruise running along Colten’s jaw line. She raised a hand, without thinking, to touch his face, but Colten moved his head out of her reach.

  He rubbed his jaw dismissively. “It’s from a fight—”

  “What?” she asked, incredulously.

  “I took a swift kick to the jaw when working with my stunt trainer,” Colten explained. “Occupational hazard when you do your own action stunts.”

  Phoebe’s sigh of relief came out a bit louder than she meant, and Colten, looking her over, considered her a moment, and then tipped his head back and laughed.

  “You thought you did this to me?” Colten could barely contain his amusement. “You’re strong but not that strong.”

  Phoebe let him enjoy his laugh. If he only knew, she thought. Just then, the lights began to flash, signaling library closing time.

  “So much for studying together,” Colten said. Phoebe thought she’d detected something like disappointment in his tone, but she wasn’t sure. It seemed more likely that she was projecting her own feelings.

  Phoebe gathered up her things and Colten waited for her. When they opened the library door, a gust of damp cold air met them outside. A layer of dense steel-colored clouds seemed to stretch endlessly across the dark sky, and only a faint glimmer of starlight managed to filter through. Phoebe and Colten stood a few feet from the bench where they’d first met, Colten the very picture of calm, and Phoebe’s nerves raging a war against her stomach that thankfully only she could hear.

  “I’d offer to walk you to your dorm,” Colten said, “but there are only so many times a guy can handle a beautiful girl running away from him before he starts to acquire a complex.”