A Novel

by V. C. Andrews

  “It’s definitely not your fault, Ryder.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not finished with him yet. He spoiled Alison’s and my night, too. I don’t care how many shutouts he pitches. He’s stupid.”

  “There were a lot more people into the drugs and alcohol down in the basement. It grew wilder after you left, so all I wanted to do was get out of there. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.” I hoped he believed me.

  He was silent, thinking. Then he said, “Maybe it’s best if we don’t mention any of this part, Fern. My dad will be upset, and someone we know will be gleeful. As far as everyone knows, we had a great time at the prom. We were crowned king and queen—”

  “Oh, our crowns! They’re in his car. And the pictures—”

  “Not important. We danced, had fun, went to the party, got bored, and left. End of story,” he said. “Right?”

  “Yes.”

  I looked toward Parker.

  “Don’t worry,” Ryder said. “Besides, I’ll get everything back from Paul tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I did have a good time, mostly,” I said.

  He reached for my hand. “You looked great, and you were definitely the best dancer out there. The band couldn’t help themselves.”

  I didn’t know if he expected it or not, but I leaned to my left and rested my head against his shoulder. I was forcing myself on him, but he put his arm around me anyway, and we were like that all the way back to Wyndemere.

  When we arrived at the mansion, Parker opened our doors and woke us up. He reached in to help me out.

  Ryder came around to my side and took my hand. “Thank you, Parker,” he said. “I’m sorry we woke you so late, but it couldn’t be helped.”

  “It’s not a problem, Mr. Davenport,” he said. He looked like his respect for Ryder had grown considerably. Ryder nodded, and we walked up to the front entrance.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “After three,” he said. “I’m not getting up until at least noon.”

  He opened the door. Wyndemere, this late, seemed asleep to me. The shadows cast by the dimmed lights looked longer than ever. There were dark shapes on the walls I had never seen. Both of us walked softly.

  “You okay?” Ryder asked in a loud whisper.

  “Yes. Thank you. I did enjoy being with you . . . and Alison,” I said.

  He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Night,” he said. “I’ll look for you sometime in the afternoon.”

  “Night.”

  He started for the stairway. I watched him for a moment, and then I made my way through the house to the hallway that led to our section. I didn’t expect my mother to be awake, but as I turned toward my bedroom, she stepped into the doorway of hers. She was in her nightgown, her hair down.

  “Enjoy yourself?” she asked.

  “I was crowned prom queen,” I said quickly, to cover up any sign of unhappiness.

  “Really?” She smiled.

  “And Ryder was crowned prom king.”

  Her smile froze and then re-formed. “How wonderful,” she said. “I bet you’re tired.”

  “Exhausted.”

  “You need any help with your clothes, anything?”

  “No, I’m okay. Thanks, Mummy.”

  “I know you’re probably very excited, but try to get some sleep,” she said.

  “I will.”

  She retreated, and I went into my bedroom. For a moment, I simply stood there, contemplating it, thinking how no matter how hard my mother and I tried, it was pathetic contrasted to Shane Cisco’s sister’s bedroom, but all the beauty in her bedroom and everything she had couldn’t wipe away the bad feelings it would conjure up every time I thought of it.

  Better to live with my own ghosts, I thought, and went about getting undressed and putting away my things. My mother need not have worried about my getting any sleep. The moment I crawled beneath my light blanket and laid my head on my pillow, I was asleep.

  All I had to do was think about Ryder’s arm around me as he and I rode alone in the limousine. I wished that ride would have never ended and we had been driven off to another world, a place where nobody knew who we were, a place where we could begin as if we had been reborn.

  I slept as late as Ryder claimed he would, and my mother didn’t wake me, although I was certain she had looked in on me a number of times. And then, suddenly, there was a knock on my door, a knock much harder and louder than my mother’s.

  I sat up quickly. When I heard my mother shout, “What is it?” I gasped. An electric feeling seemed to burn its way through my body and sizzle around my heart.

  Bea Davenport opened the door. My mother was standing at her side.

  “Get dressed,” Bea ordered, “and come immediately to Dr. Davenport’s office. Immediately, do you hear?” She turned to leave.

  “What is it?” my mother asked her.

  Bea looked at her. “You come, too,” she said, and walked off.

  My mother turned to me. I couldn’t swallow. The dark shadows I had seen when we entered Wyndemere knew something we didn’t.

  And what could keep a secret better than a shadow?

  8

  I RUSHED TO get into a blouse and jeans and slip on some flats, while my mother stood there looking very worried.

  “What is this about?” she asked.

  My mind was filling quickly with possibilities, none good. “I don’t know, Mummy.”

  “It has to be something very, very serious to bring Bea Davenport down here raging and the doctor demanding to see you, Fern. Could it be something to do with the prom? Did something happen last night?”

  I paused. I suspected that someone had revealed all that had gone on at Shane Cisco’s house concerning the drugs and alcohol, and that had gotten back to Dr. Davenport. Perhaps another parent had called him or even Shane’s parents.

  “Everything was great until we went to the after-party,” I said, running a brush through my hair. “Many people were drinking beer and other things, and some were taking a party drug.”

  “Party drug? What drug?”

  “Ecstasy. I didn’t, of course, and neither did Ryder or Alison.”

  Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “But the boy you were with?”

  “He did,” I said. “As soon as Ryder found out, he made us leave the party and had Parker pick us up and take us home.”

  “Oh. Parker must have told Dr. Davenport.”

  “Ryder didn’t think he would.”

  “He didn’t think he would? That’s ridiculous. There is nothing Parker wouldn’t tell Dr. Davenport. He’s more devoted to him than he is to himself. Dr. Davenport operated on him and saved his life. Why didn’t you tell me these things last night?”

  “I thought it could wait until morning. I was tired; you were tired. Regardless, Dr. Davenport shouldn’t be angry at Ryder. It wasn’t his fault. He was as surprised as I was that Paul drank and took a pill.”

  “Drank, too?”

  “He said just a little, but I don’t know. It was very . . . chaotic at times.”

  “Were all your other friends at this party doing these things?”

  “Not all, no.”

  She stared at me a moment and then nodded. “Let’s go,” she said. “This isn’t going to be very pleasant.”

  With my head down and my heart thumping, I walked with her to the main house. The silence only made it more frightening to me. Not a maid, not Mrs. Marlene, no one seemed to be moving or doing anything. I didn’t look at my mother until we reached Dr. Davenport’s office. The door was open.

  Bea Davenport was seated on the settee to our right, sitting up with her stiff, perfect posture, with her eyes looking forward like a judge ready to pronounce the death sentence. Ryder was in a chair in front of Dr. Davenport’s desk. He was wearing a robe over his pajamas and was leaning forward, his hands pressed against his temples.

  “Come in, please, Emma,” Dr. Davenport said.

  Ryder looked up quickly at
us. We stopped beside him, I on his right and my mother on his left. The expression on his face told me this was far more serious than parents complaining.

  “I don’t know how much you know about all that happened last night,” Dr. Davenport said.

  “Fern slept late, but after Mrs. Davenport left just now, I asked Fern what this might be about, and she told me about some unpleasant things that occurred at the after-party,” my mother said.

  Dr. Davenport nodded. He was wearing his suit jacket and tie, but he looked very tired to me. His hair looked like he had been running his fingers through it. He nodded at the chair on his right. “Have a seat, Emma,” he said. “This may take a while.”

  My mother sat, and then he turned to me. “I was called to the hospital about three thirty last night.”

  I looked at Ryder. He kept his gaze low now and seemed to be holding his breath.

  “A young man was brought into the emergency room with some serious heart issues, an arrhythmia,” Dr. Davenport said. He was looking directly at Ryder. Then he turned to my mother. “Arrhythmia in young people is often associated with a drug known as MDMA or better known to young people today as Ecstasy or just X.”

  My mother gasped and brought her right hand to the base of her throat.

  “There was some concern about heart-valve damage, but fortunately, that didn’t happen, and we were able to correct his heartbeat,” Dr. Davenport continued. “The reason we’re all meeting here right now is that the young man was the young man who took Fern to the prom and drove Ryder and his date, Alison Reuben, as well.”

  He looked back at Ryder.

  “Ryder tells me that this young man came to him first to inquire whether he should ask Fern to the prom. He admits that he convinced Fern to accept the young man’s invitation. She apparently didn’t know him well, and from what I’m gathering now, neither did Ryder, at least not as well as he should have.”

  “It was my decision to go with Paul,” I said. “Ryder didn’t have to convince me.”

  Dr. Davenport looked at me. “You knew the boy that well beforehand, did you?”

  “No, not exactly. He’s a senior and—”

  Dr. Davenport turned back to my mother. “Ryder assures me he personally did not use any drugs.” He turned his eyes on me. “Fern?”

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t. Someone offered me one, but I didn’t,” I said. “I didn’t drink anything alcoholic, either.”

  Bea Davenport blew some air through her closed lips and looked away.

  “I swear,” I said. “I didn’t.”

  “She didn’t,” Ryder added, glaring angrily at Bea.

  “Is Paul Gabriel going to be all right?” I asked Dr. Davenport.

  “He’ll recuperate, yes. He was lucky. A significant number don’t. However, one tragedy is too much for those parents to bear.”

  I nodded and glanced at my mother, who looked now like she was about to cry.

  “We had to involve the police, and they’ve informed Mr. and Mrs. Cisco about what went on at their home. It’s still an ongoing investigation. You two will probably be interviewed, as will Miss Reuben,” Dr. Davenport said, looking at Ryder. “Expect the police to come here or perhaps have you go to the police station.”

  He let that set in for a moment and then sat forward.

  “There’s more. Apparently, someone else at that after-party drove into a ditch last night. He wasn’t wearing his seat belt and sustained some head trauma. He has a concussion and will recuperate. No one else in his car was hurt, but he had a serious alcohol level and will face serious consequences.”

  Ryder looked up sharply. Apparently, all this was news to him, too. Dr. Davenport had saved it for this moment. “Who was it?” Ryder asked.

  “Joey Dunsten,” his father replied.

  “Disgusting,” Bea Davenport said. “This is what comes of this laissez-faire attitude when it comes to raising children these days, drugs and alcohol.”

  “You can’t generalize about all children these days. Our children did not participate,” my mother said.

  “So they say,” Bea responded.

  “My daughter does not lie to me,” my mother insisted.

  “Yet she didn’t tell you about what went on at the party, did she?” Bea countered.

  “It was very late.”

  “Almost too late,” Bea said sharply. “For all of us.”

  “She would have told me this morning,” my mother insisted, but more under her breath.

  Dr. Davenport looked at her and then sat back. “The would haves and could haves always pale in the light of tragedy or near tragedy,” he said, looking at Ryder and me. “For the immediate future, I think it would be best if neither of you did much more than attend school and come home.”

  “What? Why? Why are we being punished for what other people did?” Ryder responded quickly. “When I saw what the situation had become, I called Parker to come get us, and we went right home.”

  “That’s admirable. I’m not saying I don’t commend you for it, but there’s going to be a lot of commotion in the school and in the community for a while,” Dr. Davenport said. “I’d like things to calm down. It’s better that parties and dates be put off for a while. The full impact of all this hasn’t been felt yet. Your friend might lose his privilege to play baseball. In fact, I’d say that’s pretty likely.”

  “That’s freaking unfair!” Ryder’s face turned a shade of crimson I had never seen on him. “This party didn’t involve the school. It was after the prom!”

  “I believe your school has a strict policy about drug use, Ryder. MDMA is a class A drug. It’s illegal to sell it or use it, and no doctor can prescribe it. You can be sure that when the police isolate who distributed the drug at the party, that person will face some serious legal issues. Paul Gabriel might as well.”

  He turned to me.

  “If you’re asked who offered the drug to you, Fern, and you refuse to answer, that could be construed as obstruction of justice. Same goes for you, Ryder. I think it’s a good idea for both of you to take stock of the situation, be grateful you had the sense to make an exit, and, as I said, let things calm down here.”

  “For how long?” Ryder asked.

  “A while,” Dr. Davenport replied.

  “A while? Is that the kind of answer you would give a patient?” Ryder said. “ ‘You’ll get better in a while?’ ”

  I never had seen anger rise to the surface of Dr. Davenport’s face or his eyes turn so steely and cold.

  Bea Davenport leaped on the opportunity. “Just as I’ve been saying, Harrison, he’s been quite insolent lately.”

  Dr. Davenport looked at her and then nodded. “I believe that is all for now,” he said. “The conversation is over.”

  Ryder shot up out of his chair, turned, and stormed out of the office.

  My mother rose slowly. “Let’s go back, Fern,” she said, a deep sadness weighing her down.

  I felt the tears welling in my eyes. I had enough trouble saying hello to Dr. Davenport, much less challenging anything he said or did. The very thought of doing that would terrify me, but the shock and pain in Ryder’s face had a greater impact.

  “This is unfair, Dr. Davenport. Ryder took me out of an unpleasant situation immediately. I’m sure some of his friends will call him a goody-goody or something now. He should not be punished. And neither should I for things other people do,” I said, this time not looking away.

  “Fern!” my mother said.

  “Not unexpected,” Bea Davenport said.

  “I hope not,” I said, still flying high on my defiance. “I hope speaking the truth is always expected.” I started to walk out.

  “Just a minute, Fern,” Dr. Davenport said. I turned back to him. “You and Ryder are ignoring a great lesson here. It is perhaps unfair to suffer because of the actions of others and not yourself, but understand that you will be judged by the company you keep. It is childishly naive to think otherwise. There are always
consequences. When you settle down, be grateful you’ve learned this with little cost to yourself other than being grounded for a while.”

  I glanced at my mother, and then I walked out.

  She stayed back for a few moments and then caught up with me. “We need to have a long talk,” she said.

  “Yes. We do. Finally,” I replied.

  I was crying. I was afraid, but I was quite satisfied with how I had stood by Ryder as well.

  As we entered our section of Wyndemere, however, I realize that Bea Davenport could say all sorts of things about me now. She might convince Dr. Davenport that I was the bad influence he had referred to, that I was a bad influence on Ryder, and that I had somehow placed him and the family in this compromising situation. Maybe now she would persuade him to give my mother her walking papers. Where would we go? What would my mother do? Take a job as someone else’s nanny? You needed references for that, and Bea Davenport would make sure my mother had no good ones.

  Really, what would my mother do? She had devoted too much of her life to Wyndemere and the Davenport family and not developed any other work skills. People said to be careful what you wished for; you might get it. Was I about to get it? I had been wishing we would leave for years now, but on our own steam and not driven out.

  When I glanced at my mother, I saw the pain in her eyes. She followed me into my room.

  I sat on my bed, folded my arms under my breasts, and scowled at the floor.

  “Dr. Davenport wasn’t blaming either of you for what happened last night, Fern. He was merely suggesting everyone take a deep breath and let the dust settle.”

  “Bea Davenport was so damn happy about it,” I said. “I hate her, and Ryder hates her, too. I think her own daughter hates her.”

  “Ryder’s and your defiance of Dr. Davenport just now gave her the upper hand, Fern. You must learn when it’s best to suck in your breath and wait. A branch that—”

  “Bends doesn’t break. I know, I know.” I spun on her. “You hate that woman, too. I know you do.”

  “Let’s just say I wouldn’t rush to throw her a lifeline if she was in danger of drowning.”