“If I have this book, the faculty has no power over me,” Heathcliff said, lifting the book gently from my hands. “Without this book, they will not be able to banish me. They have no hold on me.”
He was right. The faculty would need the book to send him back into its pages. Without the book, they could not send him away.
I looked up at him, and for a minute, I believed that it could happen. That we could be free to be together. That we could make it work. Maybe I wouldn’t go to college. Maybe I would just stay here. Be with Heathcliff forever.
“So you… don’t want to go back to…?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the last words. My eyes found Wuthering Heights that Heathcliff held in his hand instead. It was the question I hadn’t wanted to ask him for the last year. After all, Heathcliff came complete with a full eight-piece set of emotional baggage. He had a true love back home in those pages, and her name was Catherine Earnshaw. She was the woman made for him, even if they never actually got to be together. Heathcliff and Catherine. They were probably the most famous star-crossed lovers since Romeo and Juliet.
Heathcliff never talked about Catherine. I’d never met her in person, but I’d come close when their creator, Emily Bronte, had tried to take over Bard by bringing her to this world my sophomore year. Emily had killed her then to show Heathcliff her power over both of them.
But, since that day in the vault with Emily, he’d never mentioned Catherine, and I hadn’t brought her up either. It was said I looked something like her, and sometimes I thought that maybe I was a nice consolation prize. But as soon as that little insecurity popped up, I tried to squash it. I looked at Heathcliff’s face and wanted to believe he loved me for me.
“My life is here,” Heathcliff said, giving me that intense look he sometimes wore that made my stomach jump. Looking at him, I couldn’t help but believe him. He pulled me into his arms and I went, and I stood there, feeling warm and protected. If only life could be this simple. If only I could stay here forever and not worry about the future.
Because, part of me knew that the faculty would not let Heathcliff keep this book. They would come for it and for him. Maybe they’d come for me, too. And they’d do it because they would think it was the right thing to do.
And even if they didn’t, could I live with him in this tiny cottage for the rest of my life? Would I have to say goodbye to my family? To my friends? I had parents. I had a sister. Heathcliff was an orphan and he was separated from everyone he once knew in his life already. Could I willfully do the same?
The truth was I didn’t know.
And how long would it be before the faculty found us? One week? A month? Two? This could not be forever.
“Miranda,” Heathcliff pulled away from me and met my eyes. “Stay here with me.”
He pulled a small velvet pouch from his pocket. Inside, there was a gleaming silver locket, a necklace I’d thought was lost forever.
“Where did you find this?”I asked him of the necklace he’d given me two years before. “I thought…” It had been lost aboard the Pequod, Ahab’s famous whaling vessel, a year ago. Junior year, Sylvia Plath had decided to bring Moby Dick to life. It had been an adventure that had nearly gotten me killed, and I was glad to say that the only real casualty was my necklace.
I had been sad to lose it, but I also knew I was lucky that’s the only thing I’d lost that day.
“I have my ways,” Heathcliff said and smiled at me. “Go on, open it.”
I pried open the small silver oval with one thumbnail. Inside, I saw a new piece of notebook paper with Heathcliff’s handwriting on it.
Be my present and my future. Yours in this world and the next, H.
I glanced up at Heathcliff and saw hope flicker in his eyes. I could see how badly he wanted me to say yes. And part of me really wanted to.
Yet, this was happening so fast. Words crowded together in my throat, but none actually came out.
I should be telling him yes. My heart was screaming yes, but my mind wasn’t so sure. Could I be happy with only Heathcliff? Alone together here? Forever?
Then again, he had already given up everything he knew to be with me. Shouldn’t I be willing to do the same?
The locket felt cool and smooth in my hand, as I snapped it shut.
“Miranda Tate,” Heathcliff said, suddenly sounding formal. “With this locket, I would like to ask you to be mine.”
“What?” I couldn’t have heard him quite right.
“Miranda Tate, do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
“I can’t marry you,” I sputtered, before I even knew what I was saying.
“Why not?”
“I’m eighteen, for starters.”
“That is a perfectly acceptable age to marry.” Heathcliff’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
“In 1836,” I said. His time, not mine.
“In any year. Because I love you.” Heathcliff’s words hung there for a long time. His eyes told me he spoke the truth. He was as serious as I’d ever seen him. “Stay with me. Be my wife.”
“Heathcliff.” The doubt came through in my voice even as I tried to keep it out. A sharp look flashed in his eyes.
“Do you not love me?” he challenged.
“Yes, of course, but what you’re asking is…”
“Is to be with you. In all ways. If that is not what you want, then perhaps it is not love you feel for me.” Heathcliff glanced down at his hands. Then, when I didn’t answer him right away, he turned from me. The coolness that had settled around him made me feel like he was taking part of me with him.
“Heathcliff—wait.” I put my hand on his arm and he paused, meeting my eye once more. “Let me have some time to think about it.”
“You may have whatever I can give you. If you need time, I’ll give you time,” Heathcliff said. “But you should know I didn’t have to think about this. Not for a second.” Then he shrugged my hand off his arm and left me standing in the empty cottage holding his locket and wondering what I was going to do.
CHAPTER TWO
“Has he asked you yet?” This was Hana, my best friend. We were sitting in the Bard cafeteria eating what passed for breakfast. On my tray was some kind of gray mushy stuff that might be oatmeal or wall paper glue. Honestly, there was no telling which one.
I pushed it around my bowl, hoping it would disappear without me actually having to eat any of it.
“Asked what?” For a horrifying second, I thought she knew about Heathcliff’s proposal. “What do you mean?”
Confusion flashed across Hana’s face. “Uh… senior prom? Everybody is talking about it.”
Right. So, she wasn’t talking about Heathcliff asking me to marry him. Of course, she wasn’t. She didn’t know. Why would she? No one knew but Heathcliff and me, and I doubted Heathcliff would run off and tell anyone. He was the epitome of the strong and silent type. I took a breath and told myself that I needed to calm down. Ever since last night, I’d been feeling jumpy.
“Prom! Uh… No. No, he hasn’t.” My voice sounded a little bit too relieved, which I realized was the wrong reaction. Hana gave me a puzzled look but I just shrugged and stuffed another bite of gruel in my mouth hoping by the time I finished swallowing that I’d come up with a nice way to divert this conversation to a different topic far, far away from Heathcliff.
I slid my hand into the pocket of my navy blue Bard uniform blazer and felt the coolness of the metal locket he’d given me. I was wearing the sleeves pushed up per usual and my arms were covered with a couple of wide plastic bangles. We were all required to wear the uniform, but there weren’t any regulations against accessorizing.
The locket was one accessory, however, I wasn’t prepared to wear just yet. There had been a time when I would’ve never taken the necklace off, but now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to put it on at all.
Why was I hesitating?
I wish I knew.
For now, I felt more comfortable keeping it in my pocket. It sat in one pock
et and my college letter lay folded in the other. I swear I was a walking metaphor for indecision. This morning, I was no closer to deciding what to do than I had been last night. Every time I put a hand in either pocket, I felt a whirl of confusion. The only certainty seemed that I would never be able to make a decision without regretting the outcome—whatever it was.
It occurred to me that this was my first big adult decision. And I have to say if this was what it meant to be an adult—to worry that any big decision you made was the wrong one—maybe growing up was seriously overrated.
“Well, I’m sure Heathcliff plans to ask you to prom soon, don’t worry,” Hana said, likely chalking up my odd reaction to nerves.
“Yeah,” I nodded. I felt a pang of guilt as I met Hana’s eyes. I wanted to tell her about Heathcliff’s proposal, but I already knew what she’d say. She would tell me I would be crazy to pick Heathcliff over college. Hana had been planning the interior of her dorm room at Princeton ever since she got her acceptance letter a few weeks back. She was firmly in the “go to college” camp, and until I was ready to agree with her, I honestly didn’t want to argue.
“Is Lindsay going to prom? Do you know?” she asked me.
Lindsay was my little sister. She came to Bard more than a year ago. We used to hate each other, but in the last year we mended our relationship. All it took to come together was a band of pirates trying to kill us. Funny how that works.
“I don’t know. She hasn’t said and I haven’t pressed. It’s kind of a touchy subject since…”
“She’s crushing on your ex Ryan and he doesn’t know she exists?”
“Pretty much,” I said and nodded. Ryan was the best looking boy in school, a star basketball player and sweet to boot. I’d dated him very briefly sophomore year. We weren’t dating anymore but we were friends. Technically, Ryan had dumped me, but he’d only done it because it was pretty obvious I was obsessed with Heathcliff so it’s not like I held it against him. I also was almost a hundred percent sure he was completely over me now. He wasn’t even supposed to be here at Bard this year. He was, technically, a fifth-year senior. The rumor was he was hanging around another year so that he could have more basketball practice and have a better chance for a basketball scholarship. The official reason, however, was that five of his high school credits didn’t transfer to Bard. The amazing part was that Ryan didn’t seem all that upset about having to spend an extra year of his life in high school.
“So Lindsay and I—we don’t talk about prom much.”
“Prom? God, don’t get me started.” This was my former roommate, Blade, who dumped her tray with a loud clatter on the table next to me. Samir, her boyfriend for the past year, trailed behind her. “I want to rip down every poster I see,” she added, referring to the bright red and yellow flyers that announced the coming of what no one thought possible – the school’s first-ever prom. Somehow, the biggest dance of high school just didn’t seem a good fit for Bard, which happened to be one of strictest reform boarding schools in America. Even now, the Guardians, the thug-like guards of the campus, lined the walls of the cafeteria just to make sure nobody decided to start a fight. The Guardians were like mall security guards, if mall security guards knew a dozen ways to subdue a person—all of them painful. Guardians reminded everyone that there was a steep price if you stepped out of line.
“Why are you in such a mood?” Hana asked Blade, her tone slightly annoyed as she flicked her shiny straight, jet-black hair off her shoulder. Hana’s eyes held just the hint of an almond shape and her skin was smooth and blemish-free, a legacy of her part-Asian heritage. Blade—fair skinned with hair that changed color with every new bottle of dye she bought—scowled. She and Blade didn’t exactly get along, but they were trying—for Samir’s sake. Blade and Samir had a kind of on-again, off-again thing going. And, at the moment, they were on-again.
Hana had been Samir’s best friend but she didn’t exactly approve of his relationship with Blade. I suspected Hana had a crush on Samir she wasn’t talking about, but she always insisted she was fine seeing him date. In theory.
It didn’t help that Blade lived at the intersection of Goth and punk. There was no hair color too wild; no piercing too extreme; no T-shirt too offensive. Hana was nerdy prep girl in her soul and Blade was hardcore rebel and together they were just oil and water. No matter how often you put them together, those two just weren’t going to mix.
“I, for one, can’t wait for Prom. I’m going to rent a tux!” Samir exclaimed, rubbing his hands together.
“Ew—you are not,” Blade declared, dropping her fork with a hard plink on her plate. A bit of unidentified Bard breakfast goo flicked onto the table. “I don’t do proms.”
“Why?” Samir asked.
“Because it’s a ridiculous exercise that’s way outdated. You dance to lame music, binge drink and reinforce old gender stereotypes,” Blade said.
“You have to do prom Blade.” Samir stirred the grayish mass of breakfast and took a bite. He made a face, but swallowed anyway.
“Hey, if she says she doesn’t want to do it, then…” Hana didn’t finish her sentence. Everyone at the table knew she’d prefer Blade to stay home.
“How can you not want to go to Prom?” Samir asked Blade, still amazed that his girlfriend—the queen of all things Goth—would actually not want to participate in a conventional tradition like prom.
“Why are you surprised?” Hana asked Samir.
“Why would I want to go to prom?” Blade said. She ran a hand over her bright violet hair. The tips were singed a bright orange. She’d also gotten two new nose rings in the last year, and was currently sporting a henna tattoo on her upper right cheek. “There’s the objectification of women, for one.”
“How does prom objectify women?” Hana couldn’t quite keep the annoyance out of her voice.
“How doesn’t it? The high heels. The skin-tight sequined dresses. The expectation of putting out.”
“Since when do you care about putting out?” Hana grumbled under her breath, but Blade didn’t hear her. Or chose to ignore her. It was hard to tell which.
“Plus, there’s all that lame music,” Blade finished. “I don’t do Katy Perry.”
“I like Katy Perry,” said Hana. “What’s wrong with Katy Perry?”
“Everything,” Blade said and rolled her eyes.
“You’re just jealous because she did the blue hair and made it popular.” Hana couldn’t help smirking a little.
“I invented blue hair,” Blade said.
“I bet you change your mind if you get asked in the right way,” Samir said, and then took a big bite of bacon.
“Ha!” Blade sounded doubtful.
“Miranda, talk some sense into her.” Samir pointed his fork at me.
“Me?” I put a bite of gray gruel in my mouth. It tasted a little bit like watered down Cream of Wheat with a healthy dose of cement. “Why me?”
“Well, I mean, you and Heathcliff are going, aren’t you?” Samir asked me.
I scurried to think of a reason to change the subject. I didn’t feel like talking about Prom and Heathcliff at the moment. “We’re not technically supposed to be dating, remember?”
“Oh, come on, Headmaster B would probably grant you guys an exception for Prom.” Samir chewed another bite and swallowed it. “I mean, it’s Prom.”
Headmaster B ran the school. Before she was Head Ghost and back when she’d been a real live person, people had known her as Charlotte Bronte. Yes, that one. The one who wrote Jane Eyre. She’d died relatively young, like all the faculty ghosts here, with unfinished business on earth. She, like the others, was stuck in purgatory with a bunch of surly kids who knew every last character on Jersey Shore, but had no idea who Mr. Rochester was.
I had serious doubts that Headmaster B would want to see Heathcliff at Prom at all. I got the impression Headmaster B tolerated Heathcliff because he’d helped save the school last year. But one wrong step and she’d see to it he was g
one.
“Besides,” Samir continued. “She can’t be that heartless. I mean she knows you guys are going to have to…OW! Blade, why did you kick me?” Both Hana and Blade were staring at Samir as he leaned over to rub his knee. “What did I say?”
My friends didn’t want to dwell on the fact that they knew I was supposed to say goodbye to Heathcliff on graduation day.
“It’s okay, guys,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s not like it’s a secret,” Samir pointed out. “Heathcliff has to go back, right? So Headmaster B, maybe she’d allow you one last date?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Headmaster B doesn’t bend rules. For anybody. Especially if it causes a break in the space time continuum or whatever is supposed to happen.”
“Okay, so you can’t have little Heathcliff babies or whatever, but are you going?” Samir pressed. He wasn’t going to give this up until I gave him a real answer. I shrugged.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Heathcliff.” I thought about his expression last night and the pain that flickered across his face when I asked him for time to think about his proposal. Eventually, he’d just nodded his head, but he hadn’t said a word as he walked me back to campus. I had a feeling if I didn’t tell him yes, and soon, he wouldn’t feel much like dancing. Not that I blamed him. I wondered myself why I hesitated. But it was a big decision. I didn’t want to rush it.
As if thinking about him could bring him into existence, I saw Heathcliff walk through the east doors. He was so tall and broad he was easy to spot in the crowd. My eyes followed him as he made his way down the row of tables. His hair looked altogether caress-worthy as it fell in unruly black waves around his ears.
“You mean he’ll have to ask you,” Samir corrected. Blade nearly choked on her bite of breakfast.
“Are you seriously saying that the boy has to ask the girl? You know that this is not the Dark Ages, right?”
“The boy doesn’t have to ask,” Samir said, back-peddling fast. Samir came from a conservative Indian family. The reason his family had sent him off to reform school in the first place was that he refused to have his parents arrange a marriage for him when he graduated. It wasn’t a leap to imagine Samir being traditional about Prom.
A Tale of Two Proms (Bard Academy) Page 2
