Pure (Book 1, Pure Series)

by Mesick, Catherine

  The class laughed.

  Mr. Hightower wheeled the TV and DVD player to the front of the room in one swift, fluid movement. Then he flicked on the play and glided to the back of the room to turn out the lights.

  I braced myself for what I might see in the screen.

  I could feel my heart pounding as the action resumed, and the actors recited their lines.

  I waited, on edge, and watched. But no shadow appeared, and there were no faces that did not belong.

  As time passed, I began to relax. Before I knew it, the play was over, and Mr. Hightower had turned the lights on again.

  I blinked in the sudden brightness and took a deep breath. I hadn't seen a single thing in the TV screen that shouldn't have been there. I was unbelievably relieved. I had even been able to enjoy the end of the play.

  Mr. Hightower addressed the class. "Folks, we still have some time remaining together, but I have no specific instructions for the rest of this class. So, I propose that we make the rest of the period a free period. But you guys have to promise to keep the noise level down to a dull roar."

  A ripple of laughter ran through the class.

  I got out my Social Studies book and began to read. I had a feeling we wouldn't be doing much work in English class for the next few days.

  At long last the bell rang, and I jumped up and swept my stuff into my backpack.

  Mr. Hightower's voice rose above the clamor of the class as everyone packed up. "Katie Wickliff, can I see you for a moment?"

  I froze. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to the unctuous Mr. Hightower. I pulled on my backpack, fixed a polite smile on my face, and approached his desk.

  "You wanted to see me, Mr. Hightower?"

  Mr. Hightower gave me another of his blinding smiles. "Don't worry, Katie. It's something good. Mr. Del Gatto told me that you're one of his favorite students."

  Inwardly, I doubted it. If Mr. Del Gatto were sick enough that he was going to be out for several days, I wouldn't think his students would be on his mind much.

  Mr. Hightower went on. "You're one of his favorite students because you're one of the best." He leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on the desk, lowering his voice confidentially. "In fact, he said you're one of his best ever. Since we'll have a few days without Mr. Del Gatto, how would you like to do some extra credit?"

  I eyed the man in front of me carefully. His voice was friendly, flattering, but there was something watchful about him. I folded my arms in front of me. "What kind of extra credit?"

  Mr. Hightower turned his red-stone ring on his finger in a complete revolution. I watched as the red stone disappeared from view and then made its reappearance.

  "You live with your grandmother, right?" Mr. Hightower asked.

  I nodded, but the question made me feel uneasy. How did he know that?

  "Anna Rost?"

  I nodded again. I really didn't want to answer the questions. Nodding was easier than speaking.

  "Well, everyone knows your lovely grandmother is from Russia. Since your class is doing a unit on local writers and stories, why don't you ask her if there are any old stories from her hometown that she remembers. You could write an essay on that. Does that sound like fun?"

  Mr. Hightower was staring at me without blinking.

  I was growing more uncomfortable by the second. "I don't think so, Mr. Hightower."

  Mr. Hightower nodded and smiled – this time concealing his dazzling teeth. "A great student like you must have a pretty packed schedule. Let me know if you change your mind. The offer's open all week."

  I nodded again, and Mr. Hightower unleashed his brilliant grin. "I always like to encourage the brightest students, kiddo."

  I turned to go. Charisse was waiting for me by my desk. Irina was standing just behind her, glaring at me.

  As I walked toward Charisse, Irina sailed past me, flinging her scarf over her shoulder.

  "Oh, Mr. Hightower," Irina said. "I have a question for you."

  "Shoot, kiddo," he replied amiably.

  "What did Mr. Hightower want?" Charisse asked.

  "Let's just get out of here," I said, walking toward the door. Charisse followed.

  Feeling someone's eyes on me, I glanced over my shoulder.

  Mr. Hightower was watching me as he listened to Irina.

  I walked faster.

  As we moved out into the hall, Charisse touched my arm. "Katie, you seem freaked out. What happened with Mr. Hightower?"

  Now that we were out with the chattering mass of students, I began to feel a bit silly. "Nothing really. Mr. Hightower offered me some extra credit. He just seems a little creepy to me."

  Charisse giggled. "He is a little over-gelled, isn't he?" She gave me a playful tap on the arm. "Why did he offer you extra credit? Why not me? I'm the one who could use it."

  "I don't know. It was weird," I replied. Suddenly I realized what was bothering me, and I drew in my breath sharply. "How did Mr. Hightower know my name? I've never seen him in my life. How did he even know who I was?"

  Charisse blinked in surprise. "What do you mean, 'how did he know'? He's a teacher. You're a student in his class. Of course he knows who you are."

  My uneasiness was growing. "But Mr. Hightower never called roll. He said we were too cool for it or something – so he doesn't know who any of us are. He also said Mr. Del Gatto told him what a great student I am."

  "That must be how he knew you, then."

  I shook my head. "Can you imagine Mr. Del Gatto bragging about any of us?"

  "Hmmmmm. Now that you mention it, not really, no."

  I went on in a rush. "And Mr. Hightower knew I lived with my grandmother."

  "A lot of people know that," Charisse said. "Maybe he knows her. Maybe she told him about you."

  "I-I. Maybe. I don't know."

  Charisse gave me a concerned look. "What is it that worries you about Mr. Hightower?"

  I sighed. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I was just tired from seeing strange men all over the place. "I'm not sure. It's probably nothing. Things have just been weird lately. Sorry I've been rambling on about this. How are you? When are you going to tell me what your big secret is?"

  Charisse gave me a conspirator's smile. "I'll tell you tomorrow. I promise. Branden will be ready for everyone to know by then."

  I glanced behind us. "Speaking of Branden, where is he? I haven't seen either one of you without the other in ages."

  Charisse grinned, showing her dimples. "Branden had to see a guy about a thing."

  I nodded. "Very enlightening. I must say, so far you've been good at keeping your secret. But then, you've always been good at keeping secrets."

  Charisse seemed pleased. "Thank you."

  I gave her a serious look. "That may not always be a good thing."

  "Katie, there is no way you are tricking me into giving away my secret early. It'll be worth the wait."

  "That's not what I'm getting at," I said. "I’m worried about you. You haven't breathed a word about your parents' divorce since you first mentioned it. And it must have been brewing for some time, and you never brought it up until it finally bubbled over."

  Charisse laughed. "Is that all? You really had me going there. My parents have always argued. You know that."

  "But Charisse, things must have escalated to lead to the break-up of a nearly twenty-year marriage."

  "Honestly, I've been expecting this my whole life. And I’m okay with the divorce. I did think it was weird that I reacted so well at first, but I realized that's just the way I am. I accept things and move on."

  As I looked at her, Charisse's eyes softened into sympathy. "I can understand how hard family things must be for you. You barely had any time to spend with your parents before they were gone. Divorce probably reminds you of that loss. It's not so bad for me. Besides, I've got it covered."

  Something in Charisse's tone caught my attention. "What do you mean, you've got it covered?"

  Charisse smiled b
rightly and stopped at the hallway that led to her next class. "I've got to run or I'll be late. Everything will be fine. I have got it covered."

  She walked off and I stood staring after her. Something wasn't right about the way Charisse was acting. She glanced back at me and must have seen the expression on my face.

  "Katie!" she shouted. "I know what I'm doing!"

  I watched her disappear into the crowd.

  I wasn't so sure that she did.

  Chapter 4.

  As I got ready for school on Wednesday morning, I was feeling very strange. I hadn't been bothered by the night calling at all on the previous evening, and I had been able to sleep without trouble again. And once again, I had not seen anyone in the mirror who should not have been there. All the same, I felt like something was wrong. After all, I had imagined seeing the guy from the mirror in the schoolyard on Tuesday. What if the night calling had stopped because it had turned into full-blown hallucinations? I figured I had better be careful at school. If I happened to hallucinate again, I had to be sure to keep acting normal.

  At the same time I was concerned about Charisse. I had a bad feeling about that secret she kept talking about.

  GM was in a good mood at breakfast and talked enthusiastically about a new project she was working on. She'd been uncharacteristically subdued since the visitors on Sunday night, and I was happy to see her acting more like herself.

  I walked to school, avoiding the mirror of GM's car on the way out of the house, just in case. The air was crisp, but not too cold, and I couldn't help admiring the red and gold leaves that still clung to the trees. Out in the fresh air everything seemed brighter. Maybe today would be a good day.

  At school, I spotted Charisse and Branden at the picnic table again. This time, they were both sitting on the table, holding hands and laughing. Simon was standing nearby.

  As I walked toward them, Simon broke into a grin. He looked so happy that I felt a now-familiar wave of guilt wash over me. I was happy to see Simon, but I wasn't quite as happy to see him as he was to see me.

  "Hey, Katie," he said as I walked up to join him.

  "Hey," I replied. I glanced over at Charisse and Branden, who were now whispering to each other. It was clear there would be no conversation from them this morning. I supposed I would have to wait till later to find out what Charisse's big secret was.

  I turned back to Simon. "So, how was everything at home last night? The police didn't come by looking for James again, did they?"

  Simon shook his head. "Luckily, no. It was pretty quiet."

  He paused and gave me a serious look. "And how are you? Lately, you've seemed different – kind of faraway. But today you seem a bit more like yourself."

  I looked down at my feet. I hadn't realized that Simon had noticed my strange moods. I could hardly tell him, though, that I'd been seeing odd things and feeling the night calling to me. I was struck by a thought. Was that all it was that was creating the distance between Simon and me – my temporary insanity? Maybe I actually liked him better than I realized.

  "I didn't mean to be distant," I said. "I've just been feeling weird. But I'm better now." Or at least I've decided I'm going to learn to live with all the weirdness, I amended silently to myself.

  Simon's brow creased with concern. "Were you sick?"

  "No," I said. "It was just a funny feeling I couldn't shake off."

  "You're sure you weren't sick?" Simon asked.

  I couldn't help smiling. Simon sounded so concerned. "I'm sure."

  "You weren't worried about Irina and me and the fact that I've been meeting up with her for our project, were you?"

  "No."

  Simon smiled then, too. "I'm glad you're better." He glanced over at Charisse and Branden. "It's kind of cold out here, and I doubt those two will miss us if we leave. Do you want to go inside? I think the Future Business Owner's Association is running a coffee and tea cart. Maybe we could get something to drink."

  "Sure."

  I walked into the school with Simon. I should have felt like things were back to normal, but my uneasiness from earlier in the morning had returned. Why did I feel like something was terribly wrong?

  As I waited in line with Simon at the cart, I started to feel overheated, so I took off my coat and draped it over my arm. We were almost at the head of the line, and the guy ahead of us was just turning to leave, when he tripped and sent coffee spraying all over the place.

  I looked down and watched as several dark brown spots bloomed on my cream-colored sweater and began to spread out.

  "Are you okay?" Simon asked me. "You're not burned are you?"

  "No, I'm fine," I said. "I'd better go rinse these stains out before they set in. I'll see you at lunch."

  I hurried to the girls' bathroom. I briefly considered taking my sweater off to get at the stains better, and with that in mind, I checked all the stalls. I was alone in the bathroom.

  But someone else could come in at any moment, so I decided to keep my sweater on and just do the best I could.

  I tore off several paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and went to a sink. I turned on the tap and began to blot at the stains on my sleeve. To my relief, the stains began to fade.

  I was just starting to work on the stain on my collar, when I heard a click from the door. The door was hidden by a tiled wall, so I couldn't see who had come in, but I was definitely glad I hadn't taken off my sweater now. What if it was Irina? I didn't know if taking off my sweater to clean it was against school rules, but I had a feeling that Irina would tell on me anyway.

  No one came around the wall, so I figured I must have imagined the sound. I realized that the bathroom door didn't click anyway – it creaked, so it probably wasn't the door. I turned back to the stain on my collar.

  It suddenly flashed into my mind that there was a lock on the bathroom door – a crescent shaped tab at the top of the door. I'd never been in the bathroom when it was locked, though, so I didn't know what locking the door would sound like. I shrugged the thought off. Who would want to lock the door to the girls' bathroom?

  I leaned toward the mirror to continue dabbing at my collar. As I did so, I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up into the mirror and saw the dark-haired, blue-eyed guy standing behind me once again.

  I turned around. This time, he didn't disappear.

  I felt a flash of panic. The strange guy I kept seeing in weird places was actually standing in front of me. He was staring at me steadily – the look in his eyes was dark, suspicious, and angry.

  Yet, he was strangely beautiful. There was something perfect about the shape of his face and the long, lean lines of his body.

  Behind me, the water kept running. For a long moment there was no other sound in the room.

  "Who are you?" he asked. His voice was harsh, and he had an accent I couldn't quite identify.

  "Are you real?" I asked.

  He moved closer in one swift movement. Suddenly, he was only a few inches from me.

  I began to feel light-headed. Was he making me feel that way, or was I simply hallucinating?

  "Who are you?" he demanded.

  I could feel the warmth from his body, and I reached out a hand to touch his shoulder.

  "You feel solid enough," I said. He did indeed feel solid, and I found I was reluctant to move my hand.

  So I wasn't hallucinating. Somehow an image in a mirror had become real. "How did you get out?" I asked.

  Puzzlement flickered over his face. "How did I get out of what?"

  "Out of the mirror," I said. "That's where I first saw you."

  His anger returned. "How do you know that woman Galina Golovnin?"

  "Galina Golovnin? Is that her full name? Is that the woman who came to my house on Sunday?"

  There was more confusion in his eyes. He'd clearly met with something he hadn't expected.

  His brows drew together. "What do you know of Gleb Mstislav?"

  I caught at the na
me. "Mstislav! Galina mentioned a Mstislav mansion. She said the lights were on – she seemed to think there was some kind of danger. Does Gleb Mstislav have something to do with that?"

  His eyes ranged over my face. "You really don't know, do you?"

  He stared at me for a moment. Then he backed up a few steps and turned to go.

  "Wait!" I said. "Are you a student here? How will I find you again?"

  He stopped and looked at me.

  "I’m sorry if I scared you," he said. "You should forget you saw me."

  He turned away again.

  "Wait!" I said, feeling panic rising in me. "If you know something about Galina and this Gleb Mstislav, then I need to talk to you."

  "No," he said firmly.

  "I need to talk to you," I said stubbornly.

  "It's better if you don't."

  "But what if I need to?" I said in a rush. "What if the danger that Galina hinted at comes? What if I need to talk to you then?"

  Something flickered in his eyes that I couldn't quite read.

  "What is your name?" he asked.

  "Katie Wickliff," I replied.

  "Finally you answer a question," he said. "If you need to talk to me say 'Katie Wickliff summons you.' I will find you."

  He turned and disappeared around the wall. I heard the lock on the door click again. I rushed around the wall and out into the hall. I looked both ways through the crowd of students. The strange guy had vanished.

  I glanced back at the door to the girls' bathroom. Something that wasn't quite right had been tugging at my mind. As I looked at the door now I realized what it was. The lock was on the outside of the door. It was designed to keep people out, not lock them in. There was no way he could have locked the door once he was inside. And if he'd locked it from the outside, then he wouldn't have been able to get in. How had the door come to be locked?

  I was in something of a daze after that. And in first period I began to have doubts. Had I really spoken to the strange guy, or were my hallucinations getting stronger? Then I remembered the feel of his shoulder under my fingers. He was definitely real. So who was he? And what did he know about the past that my grandmother refused to discuss?