by Kate Brian
quick smile of greeting.
"Here. Take these," Noelle said, handing over her wool-and-cashmere gloves as Ariana blew on her hands.
"Your fingers are turning purple." "Thanks," Ariana said. She felt ten times better as she pulled the gloves on.
It was nice, the way Noelle was always taking care of her. "All I want for Christmas is a good pair of gloves,"
she joked. "I'll be sure to tell Daniel that. Nothing says romance like a big old pair of wool mittens." Noelle
rolled her eyes.
"Attention, students." The chapel went deathly silent as Headmaster Cox spoke into the microphone at the
lectern. His voice echoed around the chapel, bouncing from the rafters to the stained glass. "Welcome. My
remarks will be brief, but they are important, and I suggest you pay close attention." A loud snore sounded on
the other side of the chapel, and Gage Coolidge slid down in his pew before any of the teachers had the
chance to catch him. A few snickers rose up around him. Either Headmaster Cox didn't hear the boys'
laughter, or he didn't care enough to acknowledge it. Ariana glanced across the aisle and saw Thomas giving
Gage a silent high five. Mature. As always.
Seeing Thomas now in the light of day, messing around with Gage, Ariana was proud to realize that she felt
absolutely nothing at all. No spark, no blush, no warmth. Perhaps it had just been the atmosphere, the few
swallows of champagne she had indulged in. A moment of temporary insanity. Everyone had those, right?
"As you are all aware, Easton Academy's campus will be closed beginning at precisely six o'clock tomorrow
evening," Headmaster Cox continued. Shadowy light from the lanterns played across the dean's partially bald
head, almost as if a bunch of kids were making shadow puppets against it. "Six o'clock sharp. The only
exceptions to this rule are the students who have already received my permission to be on campus. Those
students, and those students alone, will stay in Drake for the duration of break. No other dormitories will be
open to students during this time." Everyone knew that Headmaster Cox was talking about Easton's exchange
students. They always stayed together over breaks and holidays, since it was usually too far for them to travel
home. "The cost of heating each of the dormitories is too great, considering the relatively small number of
students on campus." "So all those thousands they extort from our parents for tuition can't pay the bills, huh?"
Natasha whispered. She only briefly looked up from the New York Times crossword she was doing-in pen.
Last month she'd announced that she was going to do this every day until she completed one all on her own.
"No luck yet?" Ariana whispered.
"Not for lack of working my ass off on it," Natasha joked in response, her dark eyes smiling as she filled in
number twenty-four across. Then Leanne gave Ariana an unwarranted look of death and Ariana faced forward
again. The two were roommates and best friends, but Ariana always thought that Leanne was a little bit too
possessive when it came to Natasha.
Feeling frozen out of any further conversation, Ariana unwillingly let her mind drift back to the talk she'd had
with her mother. Part of her was happy for her mom, happy that she could finally get away from the blank
white walls, the cold nurses, and the restricted visiting hours. Happy that she could finally go home. But part
of her knew that her mom wasn't ready. And Ariana couldn't go through it again. Couldn't come home to an
eerily silent house. Couldn't call for her mother and hear the sound of her own voice echo in the soaring
entrance hall. Couldn't run up the stairs, down the long hallway into the bedroom, and find-
"I repeat." Headmaster Cox's voice boomed throughout the chapel, and Ariana snapped to attention, her chest
heaving, heart pounding. No. Stop. She had to stop torturing herself. It had been over two years ago, and still
the images flashed in her mind as clearly as if it were happening all over again. "Any student who is found to
be in violation of these rules will face immediate expulsion." A fresh wave of silence swept over the student
body. Headmaster Cox was not one to make idle threats. Ariana willed herself to breathe.
In ... two ...three ... Mom is fine. She's fine. She's going to be fine.Out... two ... three ... It's not going to
happen again. You don't have to worry. In ... two ... three ... It's over. It's all over. Just calm down. Calm...
From the corner of her eye, she caught Noelle glancing quizzically in her direction. Ariana resumed a normal
breathing cadence, but she wasn't sure how long it would last. She needed air. Real air. It was too cramped in
these pews.
"This includes any student who is caught on campus without the requisite paperwork, and any student who
attempts to enter a dormitory other than Drake," Headmaster Cox clarified. "There are no exceptions. None."
He paused for effect, gazing down with authority at the students seated in front of him.
Suddenly Ariana saw the face of the EMT as clear as day. The one who had been hovering over her when she
awoke from shock. I have to get out of here. Now. "That is all. You are dismissed." The noise level rose in the
chapel before the headmaster had the chance to step away from the microphone. Students crammed together
and rushed for the chapel doors, filling the center aisle. Dizziness overwhelmed Ariana as she jumped to her
feet. She shoved past a group of sophomore girls and ignored Noelle's calls. She couldn't stop the thoughts of
her mother, thoughts of that awful day, from flooding her mind, from suffocating her. Finally she reached the
doors and stumbled under the archway, gulping in the sharp winter air. She leaned against the intricate
stonework and closed her eyes, trying to distance herself from the students around her and her own thoughts,
all at once. Trying to escape.
"Hey, naughty girl." A familiar voice oozing with confidence rose above the noise around her. She opened
her eyes and saw Thomas standing in worn jeans and a thin gray T-shirt. Snowflakes fell around him, but he
wore no coat. Nothing to guard against the weather except for a tattered brown cap. Still, he didn't seem to
notice the cold. Her heart flipped. Dammit. So much for that. Apparently it had been the distance between
them that had kept her body from reacting to him in the chapel. "What?" Ariana asked, her face growing
warm. Thomas smirked. "I know you said you were a good girl, but that thigh-graze proved otherwise. Hence,
the new name."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Ariana pursed her lips in disapproval, her voice low. "I was drunk.
So I would appreciate it if you wouldn't call me that." She pushed away from the wall and headed around the
side of the chapel toward the academic buildings. "Like you don't love the idea of me having a special name
for you," Thomas said, following after her. Ariana whirled on him. "I don't. Just leave me alone," she
snapped. Thomas held up his hands for a brief moment, but then fell into step with her, a maddening grin
spreading over his face. "I don't think you were drunk. And I don't think it was a mistake." Against the
backdrop of the heavy gray skies, his blue eyes seemed to glow. He pushed back the long bangs that spilled
over his forehead. Ariana looked away, fixing her gaze straight ahead. "It doesn't matter what you think," she
said in what she hoped was a light tone.
"What ever you have to tell yourself." Thomas laughed.
Ariana shook her head, as if she could erase the memory of what she'd done on Saturday night like an Etch A
Sketch. Her mom's fragile voice echoed in her mind, her excitement about Daniel. About the Ryans. All
Ariana wanted was to forget about Saturday evening. Forget about Daniel's stupid drunkenness. Forget the
way Thomas had made her feel free. Forget the way Thomas had looked at her, like he knew what she was
thinking. He didn't. No one did. Not Daniel. Not even Noelle. And definitely not Thomas.
She paused in the center of the quad and turned to Thomas, leveling him with the most serious glare she could
muster. "Let me say it again. Slowly so that you can understand through the haze of whatever drugs you're
currently road-testing. Leave. Me. Alone." Thomas's face fell. For a split second he actually looked hurt. But
then, just as quickly, he regained his cocky composure. "Fine. I'll leave you alone. For now." He glanced left,
smiled, then looked back at her. "Later, naughty girl." As soon as he was gone, Ariana glanced over to see
what had made him smile and her stomach clenched. She found herself face-to-face with Daniel and Paige.
Ariana's fingers shook and she gripped her left forearm with her right hand, practically cutting off her own
circulation even through her heavy coat. Had they been behind her the whole time? Had they heard her
conversation with Thomas? She forced a smile, leaning in to give Daniel a peck on the cheek.
"I didn't know you guys were there."
Had they heard him call her naughty girl? If so, her life as she knew it was over.
"Obviously." Paige's smile was frozen on her face, her eyes cold. "Ready for class?" Ariana nodded, afraid to
speak. "Good." Paige stepped between Daniel and Ariana. "Then let's go." "See you later," Daniel said. His
expression was confused, but not hurt. Not angry. Ariana had no idea what to think. "Yeah. Later." Ariana
and Paige started across the quad and Ariana's every step was shaky, tentative, as she waited for Paige's
attack-but it never came. Not in words, anyway. But every once in a while Ariana could almost feel Paige's
cold, judging stare boring into the side of her face. She refused to look over and meet her eyes. Instead, she
told herself over and over that it was just her imagination. And she almost believed it.
C'EST MOI
***"You've all heard the saying 'Life imitates art'? Well, this was a perfect example." Mr. Holmes leaned
against the mahogany desk at the front of the classroom, his copy of Madame Bovary in one hand and a
stainless steel coffee mug in the other. "When Flaubert's story of an unhappy, unfaithful married woman was
printed in the Revue de Paris, Flaubert himself was brought to trial on charges of immorality."
"He's so hot when he's talking about immorality," Paige whispered from the chair next to Ariana's.
"Agreed," Isobel said. "Almost makes me want to read the thing." She tossed her glossy black tresses over her
shoulder. "Almost." Ariana rolled her eyes and focused on taking notes. Almost every girl on campus had a
crush on the young English teacher, who had come to Easton several years ago after graduating from
Princeton. But Ariana didn't care about his looks. She loved the way he made the characters, the worlds they
read about, come alive. Being invited to be a part of his Topics in Eighteenth-Century French Literature
seminar was a huge honor. There were only eight people in the class, all seniors, with the exception of her.
She loved that Mr. Holmes thought she was smart enough-good enough-for one of the toughest classes at
Easton. "The thing is, Flaubert did feel a real connection with Emma Bovary," Mr. Holmes was saying. "He
wrote many of his own personal flaws into her character. One of his most famous quotes is 'Madame Bovary,
c'est moi.'" He rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white collared shirt. "Translation?"
"What is, 'I am Madame Bovary'?" blurted Connie Tolson, a nerdy senior seated a few chairs to Ariana's
right. Her ramrod- straight posture made her look like she had just pulled something in one of the major
muscle groups. Mr. Holmes chuckled. "Absolutely right, Ms. Tolson. Bonus points for the creative delivery."
He dropped the book on his desk and wiped his palms on his khakis, leaving faint chalk stains. "Oh, please.
What is, 'desperate and so out of her league'?" Isobel hissed, a wry grin creasing her olive cheek. Ariana
shook her head. "You're terrible." Isobel smiled. "And proud of it." "Remarkably, Flaubert establishes a
strong connection between his readers and Emma. So even though she's weaving a web of excess, sex, and
betrayal, we really empathize with Emma throughout the novel," Mr. Holmes continued. "We see the
destruction this woman is causing, solely for the purpose of her own fulfillment, and still we feel for her. In a
strange way, we root for her, want her to find happiness. And we're devastated when she doesn't."
"Um, I'm not," Connie called out. "She was wrong to cheat on her husband so many times. A woman who
does things like that doesn't deserve to be happy." And a girl who wore red slip-on ankle boots didn't deserve
to be a student at Easton, but Ariana wasn't raising her hand and announcing it to the class. She kept her eyes
on Connie, taking in the holier-than-thou smirk she was broadcasting in hi-def around the semicircle.
"Interesting idea, Miss Tolson." Mr. Holmes raised an eyebrow. "But I'll play the devil's advocate here.
Don't we all deserve to be happy? Or at least to search for what we think might make us happy? Isn't that a
basic human right?"
"Not if being happy means you're hurting someone else," Connie replied matter-of-factly. "I agree," Paige
announced. Shock passed over Connie's pinched features, and Isobel nearly choked on her coffee. "People
who don't think about how their actions affect the people they love are selfish." She leaned forward in her
chair, looking past Isobel and directly at Ariana. "Don't you think, Ariana?" she asked sweetly. Her green
eyes blazed.
Ariana's pulse raced. Paige had heard Thomas's nickname for her. There was no other explanation. "Miss
Osgood? Care to weigh in on this one?" Mr. Holmes smiled. "Actually, I do," she said quietly, taking a deep
breath. If they had been inside Billings, Ariana would probably have submitted to being bullied by Paige, but
not here. Not where it might affect her grade. "I don't think it's fair to place all of the responsibility for
Charles Bovary's happiness on Emma. He's responsible for his own happiness, just like she's responsible for
hers." Mr. Holmes nodded, and Ariana felt her voice strengthening. "And even though she never found it, at
least she had the guts to try." Connie crossed her arms over her navy sweater vest and flashed a judgmental
glare. "So you're saying it's okay to have ..." She paused, tossing her skinny French braid over her shoulder.
"...intercourse with as many people as you want to, just to make yourself happy?"
"Sounds like Emma isn't the one who needs to be having intercourse," Isobel said, just loudly enough. Ariana
could have sworn she saw a hint of a smile pass over Mr. Holmes's face. She'd known she liked him. "That's
not what I'm saying." Ariana shook her head emphatically, avoiding Paige's glare. "She made mistakes, and
she paid for them. We all make mistakes, and I think that's what makes us feel so close to Emma. She's
human. She's flawed. But she's doing her best, and we have to give her some credit for that." She sank back
into her chai
r, surprised at the tirade that had slipped, almost involuntarily, from her lips. She hadn't known
she felt so strongly about the issue until she was face-to-face with Connie and Paige and their intolerant
views. But she was smart enough to know why she had reacted the way she had. Thomas. "Ariana's
absolutely right," Mr. Holmes said, slipping his book into a leather messenger bag on top of his desk. "Emma
Bovary's flaws are what make her so accessible to us. And she does pay for her mistakes. Although, Miss
Osgood," he said kindly, "one could also argue that her painful death is retribution for her immoral behavior."
Ariana felt a distinct pang in her chest. Like Holmes was condemning her to the same fate as Emma Bovary
right then and there. "Like karma," Ariana said quietly.
"Exactly like karma," Mr. Holmes replied, fiddling with his wedding band. He glanced up at the clock.
"Sorry, folks. I kept you a few minutes late. We'll continue this discussion after the break, so if you have any
thoughts on morality as it relates to the book, jot them down and bring them in." He pulled a folded
newspaper from his back pocket. Like Natasha, Mr. Holmes was always working on the New York Times
crossword puzzle. "Just a reminder that your papers are due in my mailbox-no e-mail attachments, people-
before you leave campus," he called over the din of chatting students. "Have a great break, everyone." The
paper. Suddenly, Ariana's blood coursed through her veins at a fevered rate. In all the morning's drama, she
had completely forgotten about the paper. And so far, all she had was a blank Word document and a massive
case of writer's block-which was unlike her. Ariana had always been able to focus, no matter what was
happening around her. As a child, she'd learned to sink into her own mind and settle there until it was safe to
return to reality. To curl up in bed with Jane Eyre or Mrs. Dalloway and pretend she didn't hear the chilling
screams, the threats her mother tossed at her father like active grenades. Just try me. I'll do it.... I swear to
God, I'll do it, and you'll be sorry.... "What's wrong with you?" Isobel pulled a pair of oversize Gucci
sunglasses from her tote and slipped them on as Ariana and Paige gathered their things. "Nothing," Ariana
said, nervous about making eye contact with Paige. Paige had the power to make her winter break miserable.
To make her life in Billings miserable. In her quest to please Mr. Holmes, she had gone temporarily insane
and forgotten that fact. Why had she felt the need to show Paige up? No one crossed Paige Ryan, and
everyone at Easton knew that. Even Connie Tolson. "It's just this paper," she told Isobel as she buttoned her
coat. "I'm nowhere close to being done. I think I'm going to have to stay behind for a day or so to finish."
"That's ridiculous," Paige scoffed. "Just ask for an extension." Isobel nodded. "He let me turn in my paper on
Dangerous Liaisons a week late."
"Yeah. I suppose," Ariana said, even though the thought filled her throat with bile. She had never asked for an
extension before, and she didn't want to start now. But she knew that Paige wasn't simply suggesting that
Ariana get an extension. Paige didn't suggest. She ordered. Clearly the idea of Ariana missing a day of
Daniel's precious Christmas plans was unacceptable to her. "I'll ask," Ariana conceded, letting her blond hair
fall over her face as she reached down to pick up her bag. Anything to avoid having to look at Paige. "I'll
catch up with you guys later." "Later," Isobel said lightly. Ariana watched as she and Paige sashayed past Mr.
