Casting Shadows (The Ash Grove Chronicles)

by Amanda DeWees

  “You’ll have to walk me through sometime and show me how they work.” William’s hair was damp with perspiration, and his glasses kept slipping down his nose, but he was smiling and relaxed. “Tan’s got me on a cardio schedule too,” he told Joy. “I’m going to start running—well, walking, then running—five days a week.”

  “But you don’t need to lose weight,” she objected.

  “It’ll improve my stamina,” said William. “Definitely help with playing trumpet, too.” As they walked out to the porch to see him off, he waved a hand around the yard. “I’m amazed you don’t have any trees down,” he said. “Looks like the storm must have taken it easy on you.”

  “What storm?”

  He looked at her incredulously. “What storm?” he repeated. “It practically flattened Ash Grove just a couple hours ago. Trees are down, the power went out, there’s flooding in the lower floor of the dining hall—didn’t you get any of it?”

  “Not a single raindrop,” said Tanner. Joy thought back, but she couldn’t even remember hearing thunder earlier that day. Ash Grove was only few miles away; surely they’d have gotten at least some remnants of a storm that fierce. How strange.

  “Just lucky, I guess,” she said, but the thought came to her that she should ask her father about the storm, in case it was a sign of something hinky.

  William pedaled off on his bike, and she and Tanner went back inside to the kitchen. She put the kettle on for some herbal tea, and Tan started cutting up an apple for them to share. The cozy domesticity of it gave her a warm feeling of contentment.

  “So William just wanted to get your help bulking up?” she asked. “He seemed so cryptic, I thought there was something more going on.”

  Tanner nodded. “There is. Poor guy’s taking it hard, and I don’t blame him.”

  “Did he ask you not to tell me?”

  “Not in so many words. I think he kind of expected me to tell you but didn’t want to be around for it. I think it would have been too humiliating for him.”

  She put down the box of chamomile tea bags. “For heaven’s sake, what?”

  “He and Maddie hooked up.”

  “But—” She stared at him in dawning happiness. “But that’s wonderful! He’s been in love with her for so long. If she’s finally come around, why is this not a good thing?”

  He gave her a wry look. “I didn’t say she’d come around. She just took him to bed, kicked him out again, and apparently expected that to be the end of it. I have to say, I know she’s your friend, but she really did a number on him.”

  “I can’t believe she’d do that. William must be in pieces.” She remembered how curt he’d been when he’d arrived, and realized now that he must have still been shell-shocked. But thanks to Tan, he’d looked infinitely better by the time he left. “How did you get the idea of putting him on a fitness program?”

  He shrugged. “I figured he needed some kind of distraction, and exercise is supposed to boost your endorphins and all that stuff.”

  “And it might help his self-confidence if he starts putting on some muscle.” She stretched up to kiss him—on the cheek, lest he think she was trying to work her seductive wiles on him. “That was really smart of you, and thoughtful.”

  “It wasn’t anything much.”

  “Oh yes it was.” She took a slice of apple and bit into it, trying to figure out what on earth Maddie could have been thinking. There were plenty of guys who’d have been happy to go to bed with her; what made her pick on William? She sighed. Maddie would probably tell her, but in her own time, and she’d just have to wait until then.

  On the plus side, her own barren love life was looking better by comparison. At least she and Tanner were in accord, more or less. With her mug of tea and the bowl of apple slices, she followed him back into the living room to be serenaded in lieu of snogging.

  Chapter 7

  Maddie had been in stagecraft class when the storm broke that afternoon. Two of her classmates were standing at the front of the room, working their way through a scene, as the teacher, Mr. Dudley, offered blocking suggestions. She couldn’t focus on them enough to tell whether they were doing Molière or Mamet.

  She had to admit she’d handled things badly.

  But why did William have to take it so seriously? Ever since he’d walked out of the coffee bar, he’d been avoiding her. Clark and Blake (especially Clark) were full of questions, and she made up some casual lie to tell them, but she knew they weren’t convinced. Definitely Blake wasn’t. Given their history, he probably had no trouble recognizing a Maddie Relationship Meltdown (TM).

  Not that this thing with William was a relationship, exactly, but then why was he acting like this? He was letting her calls go to voicemail, ignoring her texts. He wasn’t in his dorm room when she stopped by—or at least he didn’t answer the door when she knocked. If she could just get him to talk to her, she could apologize and get things back to the way they were. But he had made himself so scarce that even Clark said he didn’t know where he was.

  She had had too much caffeine, and she didn’t realize until the guy sitting in front of her turned around and gave her a death glare that she was jiggling her foot against his chair.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. God, everyone was so touchy. Including William. Why couldn’t he be a normal guy and just take a hookup in stride?

  But then he wouldn’t be William. And even though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew that he was a pretty terrific guy. If she had a brother, she’d want him to be just like William.

  So why, asked the prissy voice of her conscience, did you throw yourself at him in such an unsisterly fashion?

  Oh, shut up. She hadn’t meant any harm. She had been lonely, and he was so understanding, and… a surprisingly good kisser. Not to mention—

  No, Maddie. This is not what you should be focusing on. Apologizing, yes. Because when you’ve clearly established a sisterly relationship with a guy, you’re not supposed to strip down and shake your ta-tas at him until he has no choice but to succumb to your sultry charms.

  She got out her phone and texted him again: IM RLY SORRY PLS LETS TALK.

  And waited.

  Nothing.

  She drank some more Red Bull, drummed her fingers on the desk, jiggled her foot against the seat in front of her until its occupant turned around and snarled, “Dammit, Elvira!”

  She made a nasty gesture. She hated it when people called her Elvira. One of her boyfriends had called her that in bed, and they’d had a huge fight about it… and it had been William who’d helped her pick up the pieces that time, too. He’d backed her up, saying that when she’d put herself in a vulnerable position she deserved to be treated with consideration. Or something like that. She’d been crying and he’d been feeding her Rocky Road, so she hadn’t been paying attention to the exact words.

  She texted, WE CN GO 4 ICE CRM. MY TRT.

  Waited.

  Still nothing.

  He’d be out of class now, but he often stayed in the music building to practice, either with Aerosol Cheese or solo. If she could get out of here as soon as the bell rang, get ahead of the crowds, she might be able to nab him, and they could talk—in private, which would be ideal.

  As she watched the clock mounted over the whiteboard, she became aware that the room was growing dim, and the sound of wind was starting to make the actors’ dialogue more difficult to hear. Through the window nearest her she could see the sky darkening, the trees bowing down before the vicious force of the wind, and then rain began to hurl itself against the window, dissolving the view.

  The wind’s howl was rising to an intensity that brought mutterings of tornadoes from some of her classmates. Mr. Dudley called a halt to the scene and approached a window for a better look. A broken tree branch as big as Maddie’s arm slammed into the glass with a violence that made the whole class jump, and he stepped back quickly.

  “Okay, listen up, everyone,” he commanded. Mr. Dudley was a short and m
uscular former wrestler, with a shaved head and a short beard; when he asked for attention, he got it. “We need to get out of here. Get your things together quickly and follow me to the theater. Has anyone ever been to the tunnels before?”

  Maddie had never heard of any tunnels. The shaken heads and no’s of her classmates suggested that they hadn’t either.

  Mr. Dudley was unfazed. “We’re going downstairs to the theater. From there we’ll access the old tunnel system that runs underneath campus and use it to get to the old fallout shelter under the library, where we can stay safe until this passes.” The wind shrieked louder, and he raised his voice to be heard above it. “Everyone ready? Stay together and keep calm, and we’ll ride this out fine. Now let’s boogie.”

  Chattering to each other in nervous excitement, the students filed quickly into the hallway and downstairs through the scene shop. The vast brick-walled space was big enough to construct, move, and store the flats used for theater sets. Along the outer wall were ranged shelves of equipment and the bigger appliances like the table saw. From one of the shelves Mr. Dudley grabbed two flashlights—all there were. The overhead fluorescents had come on as he touched the switch, but Maddie wondered how long the power would last. With all hell breaking loose outside, it was only a matter of time before a falling tree brought down the power lines—or until lightning struck something vital.

  Mr. Dudley led them onto the stage and stopped in the center, near the front. “Maddie, you take this,” he said, giving her one of the flashlights. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you? Or claustrophobic?”

  “No, neither.”

  “Good. I want you to bring up the rear.”

  As Maddie watched, he yanked on a ring set in the floor, and a crack appeared. It was a trap door. The teacher turned on his flashlight and directed it into the opening, and Maddie saw a built-in metal ladder leading downward. Mr. Dudley disappeared down it, and a second later the light from his flashlight was augmented with the dingy glow of a low-wattage bulb.

  “Lights are still working,” he said unnecessarily, popping his head back up through the trap door like a meerkat. “Now everyone follow me.”

  “Mr. Dudley?” called Tasha. “Wouldn’t it be quicker if we used the scenery elevator?” She pointed upstage to the open-front metal structure that Maddie had forgotten was there.

  “If the power goes, I don’t want anyone trapped between floors,” he said. “But you’re right, this way is slower, so let’s get moving.”

  Maddie, at the end of the line, had leisure to think about rats and spiders. She decided not to think about them. When all of her classmates had passed through the hatch and she made her way down into the small room under the stage, she saw brick walls and a couple of dusty tables cluttered with random props and old magazines. There were cigarette butts on the cement floor, and a couple of empty beer cans as well; evidently some of the students knew about this place and used it as a hangout. It smelled musty, but not unpleasant, like old newspapers.

  The small room led through a short passage into a much larger chamber, which she guessed was under the scene shop; a couple of low-wattage bulbs in wire cages struggled to illuminate the shadowy corners. This looked like storage space for old scenery and supplies. Flats were stacked against the walls, and rows of free-standing shelves held cans of paint and turpentine, paintbrushes and painting equipment, and boxes that she supposed held old props. The high rows of shelving blocked out the light in places and made shadowy corridors in the room. Mr. Dudley was gathering everyone in the clear central area, and as Maddie joined them the overhead bulbs flickered and went out. There were excited shrieks from some of the students.

  “We’re fine, there’s nothing to worry about,” came the teacher’s calm voice, and he turned his flashlight on. Maddie did the same, and several students got out their phones to add their chilly illumination. “Everyone just keep together, and I’m going to take us to the library. Single file, and hold on to the shoulder of the person in front of you. I don’t want anyone to get separated from the group.”

  There was some shuffling and smothered giggling as her classmates sorted themselves, and a girl’s voice said loudly, “That’s not my shoulder, Trent.”

  A dim light distracted Maddie. It was coming from behind one of the far prop racks. “I think someone’s wandered off,” she told Becca, the girl next to her. “I’m going to check it out.”

  “Well, make it quick. I don’t like being the last in line. It’s creepy.”

  As she drew nearer the last row of shelving, she could hear a woman’s voice, but not clearly enough to make out words. It sounded as if she was chanting something. She slowed, hoping to understand what was being said, but the voice stopped. There were scuffling sounds. Cautiously, Maddie stuck her head around the end of the shelves.

  She saw a large open area that must have extended partway under the stage. It was lit only by a dim overhead bulb and a small fire in a metal basin in the center of the floor. The outer edges of the room were cloaked in shadow. A girl stood between the basin and Maddie, silhouetted by the fire’s glow, and her blaze of red hair shone as if with its own light. Then she moved, and Maddie recognized Sheila Hardesty, Ash Grove’s leading bitch.

  But Maddie had never seen her like this. Tension showed in her stance as she half crouched over something on the floor, and when she straightened, Maddie saw that she had a knife in one hand. She didn’t seem to have noticed Maddie watching her.

  Then the bundle on the floor shifted and groaned, and Maddie realized with shock that it was a person. Tied up, drugged, or injured—but scarcely moving.

  “Maddie?” came Tasha’s voice, echoing, from behind her. “Where are you?”

  She glanced back just as Becca and Tasha emerged from behind the storage racks. “Come on!” said Becca. “Mr. Dudley’s going to freak if we’re not all there where he can see us.”

  “Shh! Come look at this first.” She beckoned and stuck her head around the corner again.

  The room was empty, the overhead bulb dark. The beam of Maddie’s flashlight showed no sign of Sheila or anything else.

  “What are we looking at?” asked Tasha, and Becca grabbed her arm and tugged. “Come on, Maddie, shake a leg. If we’re going to be stuck underground for the rest of the afternoon, I want to be making out with one of the guys instead of playing mind games with you.”

  “What the hell,” said Maddie, her voice not quite steady, and let herself be towed back the way she had come by her friends.

  It wasn’t until Friday afternoon that Maddie was able to talk to William. As soon as her last class let out she made a beeline for the chorus room, where Aerosol Cheese rehearsed, hoping to catch him before the rest of the guys arrived.

  No such luck, When she arrived, William was already there. Unfortunately, so were three of her ex-boyfriends.

  Oh, fabulous. An audience—and a hostile one, at that.

  Jeremiah and Eric were tuning their guitars, Blake was adjusting the microphones, and William was just getting his guitar out of its case. His keyboard was already set up. Maybe she could talk him into leaving early.

  Eric, catching sight of her, nudged Jeremiah, who looked up and saw her. “Hey, Maddie,” he said, pleasantly enough. She was on pretty good terms with him, and he was now dating Tasha, so clearly she hadn’t entirely destroyed his faith in womankind.

  That made William glance up. “Hey,” she said to him. “Um, do you think we could talk?”

  “I don’t have time right now,” he said, dropping his eyes.

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the last two and a half days,” she said. “Just five minutes, okay?”

  Grudgingly: “Okay.”

  Eric was grinning as he watched this exchange. Damn Eric anyway, he was a total asshole and she should never have gone out with him. As soon as they’d broken up he’d started spreading ridiculous stories about her all over campus. He was the last person she wanted to do this in front of.
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  “Is there maybe someplace more private—” she began.

  “It’s here or nowhere, Maddie. I’ve got things to do.”

  William set his guitar aside and joined her in the doorway, where he folded his arms across his chest, settling his gaze on the empty air behind her left shoulder. He had never been this closed off with her before.

  “I’m really sorry about what happened, William. It was a mistake. I was lonely, and PMSing, and… I messed up.”

  He said nothing.

  “And I know I was awful to you the next day, too. I feel terrible about it, honestly.” Still he was silent. She stumbled on. Why was it so much easier working with a script than improvising her own life? “I thought if we could just forget about it—”

  “Forget?” Now he was looking at her, and she wished he wouldn’t. She had a hard time meeting his accusing stare. “Is that standard procedure for the guys you sleep with? Maybe it should be in the manual. Or do you usually just slip them a roofie and hope for the best?”

  The shock was even greater than the hurt. He had never spoken to her this way—never spoken to anyone this way as far as she knew. “William, come on. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Well, then I’d hate to see what it’s like when you do it on purpose.”

  Her temper was beginning to assert itself. “I don’t get why this is such a big deal. I know I hurt your feelings, and I’m really sorry, but why can’t we just, you know, move on?”

  “Maddie,” he said, and dropped his voice to a furious whisper, “did it ever occur to you that it was my first time?”

  Her shock and dismay must have shown in her face, because he gave a short laugh. “I guess I should take that as a compliment,” he said.

  “William, I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He gave her a withering look. “Well gosh, Maddie, maybe it’s not something I wanted to talk about. I’m not particularly enjoying talking about it now, as a matter of fact.”