Authors: Lani Woodland
Steve and Cherie had kept me well stocked on junk food and every day had some activity planned for us. So far, Steve’s slip and slide in the mud during the rain was my favorite. I was lucky to have such good friends to keep me busy so I wouldn’t slip too far into a funk.
When I entered the building, the lady at the information desk pointed me toward Mr. Crosby’s office. Except in passing, I hadn’t seen Mr. Crosby since the day he had reprimanded me for being lost in the construction zone.
His secretary, whose nameplate read “Teri,” motioned for me to come in. She tucked the phone under her chin and held out her hand for the paper. She glanced over it, then pointed toward the thick office door that stood closed behind her desk. She pantomimed knocking.
I rapped on the door and heard, “Come in.”
I peeked my head inside the door. Mr. Crosby sat at his desk eating lunch. He wiped at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Come in Miss Silva. Sorry, you’ve caught me eating.”
I forgot how to move; the deep rumble of his voice shocked me into near paralysis. Mr. Crosby was the baritone spokesman at my meeting with the Clutch.
He tilted his head at me and I forced myself to move, to pretend I hadn’t figured out who he was.
“No, problem.” I plastered on a smile that felt wooden. “Lesley wanted me to get your signature on a few things.”
I walked on unsteady legs toward his desk and handed him the papers.
“So Yara, tell me how are you liking your internship.” He took a bite of his brownie.
The inside of my mouth felt covered in molasses. “It’s been great. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you’re able to get the most out of it.”
He shuffled his brownie to his other hand and picked up a pen. He glanced over the pages and signed his name. A few crumbs fell on the paper and he shook them off. “I shouldn’t let my sweet tooth affect my job, but I can’t resist these brownies. Angela, in the cafeteria, makes the best ones.”
I flashed him my fake smile again. “Lesley has some collating for me to do so I better get going.”
“It was a pleasure to see Yara. We’ll have to talk again soon.”
My smile fell as I escaped his office. I didn’t like the idea of the leader of the Clutch wanting to talk to me again.
v
I was lounging across my bed one afternoon, taking a break from studying, when Cherie came home from her internship more excited than I had seen her since Christmas.
“Guess what I found out today.”
“Some dirt on Crosby we can use to blackmail him into letting Brent go and still make Crosby help him?” I asked hopefully.
Blackmail wasn’t really something I was considering, but Cherie was gathering any information she could find on him. If she found something good we weren’t really sure what’d we do with it. We’d figure that out if we collected any.
Cherie’s excitement dimmed. “No, Mr. Crosby is a dead end. For being a politician he had a surprisingly boring life. All I could find is that he was in a serious accident when he was around our age. But there weren’t any more details about it.” She sighed. “What I found was a short bio about Howard Lovell. It was in some records I was sorting through today.”
I prepared myself for teasing. “Howard who?”
“He was a key smith.” She handed me a photocopy piece of the article. “He made these.”
In the grainy newspaper picture was an elaborate key, old-fashioned and beautiful in a way I didn’t know a key could be. Further down, the article showed another picture, this time of Sophia, wearing the key around her neck.
“There were two keys made. One for Christopher and one for Sophia. They were called the Heart of Pendrell.”
I snorted in derision. “Only our school would name a key.” I studied the picture closer. “Think one is the key that DJ stole? The one Sophia was guarding?”
Cherie nodded. She slid the paper into her Sophia Pendrell file on her desk. “I do. The key was rumored to be able to open any door at the school.”
“So it was like a master key.”
“Yes, but read on.”
The article was pretty dull but one sentence stood out. I read it aloud. “Testing the rumor, an unnamed student stole the key as a prank, but discovered it could not open a single door at the school.”
Cherie nodded.
“But then what did it unlock?” I asked. “And if there are two keys, then where is the other one?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” It was like we were putting together a puzzle and we had the outside straight edges all together but the middle was still blank. How did all the pieces fit together?
v
The metal of the gun glinted in the bright moonlight. The barrel turned and a leather-gloved finger pulled the trigger. My ears rang as the bullet left the chamber. The soft, devastating sound of metal entering flesh left me with sour bile in my throat. A scream of pain sounded through the night like a warrior’s battle cry. The sulfuric smell of gunpowder stung my nostrils. Blood began to spread across a white shirt and a shaky hand covered the wound.
A hand grabbed me from behind. I jerked away, glaring at the intruder. They motioned for me to follow. I spun back around. A familiar shape lay on the ground. Brent. He was crumpled on the ground, his front drenched in red.
No
!
I coughed on smoke and the heat blistered my skin as I ran toward him. The hand grabbed me again. I slapped it away and moved toward Brent. He needed me. I had to get to him. Only then did I understand what they’d been warning me about. The flames had changed direction, moving closer to us. The fire crackled and sparks rained down on us, one landing close to Brent.
I screamed.
I jolted awake, the scream lodged in my throat. Sweat soaked my skin and I trembled in the cold February air. The details of the dream thundered through my memory. There was a gun, a fire and Brent.
It was just a dream. Only a dream.
No, it was more than a simple dream. It was one of my vivid dreams, the kind that gave me glimpses into the future. A future where Brent died before my eyes.
I had to call Brent. I needed to hear his voice. I didn’t care if things were weird between us. He still thought I had betrayed him; he avoided me and we’d barely spoken since that day in the cafeteria. I loved him and I needed to hear his voice. To know he was okay. Even though it was three in the morning, I dialed the number to his and Steve’s room. The phone picked up on the first ring but it wasn’t Brent or Steve.
“I’m so sorry. I must have the wrong number.” My shaking fingers must have misdialed.
I was about to hang up when the person asked, “Yara?
“Uh, yeah. Who’s this?”
“It’s Travis.”
Travis was Audrey’s boyfriend. I wondered what he was doing in Steve and Brent’s room at three in the morning. Of course it wouldn’t be the first time the three of them had stayed up all night playing video games.
“Hey Travis,” I said. “Can you put Brent on?”
He paused and my heart sunk. “He doesn’t want to talk to me, does he?”
“No, it isn’t that,” he said instantly. “It isn’t that at all. I was just about to call you. It’s Brent, he, well. . .he’s in the E.R. He had another seizure. Steve rode in the front seat of the ambulance. Brent’s parents are going to meet him at the hospital.”
I let out an inaudible sob. “Is he okay?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, and hung up the phone.
Brent was in the hospital? What if he wasn’t okay? What if he died with this tension between us? Thinking I didn’t love him? Had I done this to him? Had my refusal of the Clutch’s offer affected things? Had they refused to help? Or did it prove I was right? I didn’t realize I was shaking, or rocking back and forth, or crying, until Cherie handed me a tissue, wrapped a blanket around me and slung her arm over my shoulders.
“What happened?”
My voice had woken Cherie who had stared at me, blinking through her haze of sleep. “Brent . . . seizure . . . hospital,” I said around my cries.
Without another word, Cherie handed me my shoes and my ankle length coat. She put on hers as well and guided me toward her car. Audrey and Travis were waiting for us when we got there. We drove to the hospital in complete silence.
I sat on the same chair I had sat in on Christmas Eve. It felt the same except for one important thing—this time I wasn’t alone. I stretched, wishing I could fall asleep again. I had managed a few catnaps, but that was all. It felt like I had been there for a whole day, but according to the clock it had only been about two hours.
Cherie sat down next to me, her hands full of snacks.
“I called the school and let them know where we are,” Cherie said, handing me a muffin. “I called your parents too. They asked me to have you call them soon.”
I broke off a piece of the muffin and stuffed it into my mouth, mumbling my thanks to Cherie. I didn’t feel like talking to my parents so I typed out a text, letting them know I was okay.
The minutes stretched on, but there wasn’t much to say. A few hours later, a familiar looking nurse came out of the wooden double doors and walked toward me.
I jumped up and met her halfway. “Holly! Do you remember me?”
She nodded and gave my upper arm a little squeeze.
“How is he?”
She pulled the rubber band out of her hair and slipped it around her wrist. “He’s awake. His parents just left to go get some food. I think I can get you in to see him.”
I hugged her. “Thank you.”
We followed her down the hallway, past several curtained areas, to his room. Everyone filed in before me. I hovered, unsure of exactly how welcome I was.
Brent was sitting up in bed. He waved his fork to us in greeting. His eyes seemed to gloss over me. Maybe coming had been a mistake?
He had a tray on the table in front of him. His plate held his usual, nasty egg concoction.
“You’re still eating that?” Cherie asked, wrinkling her nose. “You must be even more sick than we thought.”
“How did you manage to get them to serve you that?” Audrey asked.
Brent took another bite. “Money may have exchanged hands.”
“Are you part of a food clinical trial or something?” Steve stroked his chin. “That would make so much sense. I mean the seizures started not to long after you started eating that!”
“Blueberry syrup and Tabasco sauce?” Travis eyes open wide. “Gross. I can’t believe I have two friends who like their eggs that way.”
“Do you want some?” Brent asked, joyfully shoving another forkful into his mouth.
Travis looked like he was going to be sick. “No thank you. I ate it once on a dare from my roommate, Phil. I still have flashbacks.”
“So, uh . . . ” Steve cleared his throat. His normally tanned skin looked pale and he wasn’t wearing his signature grin. “Are you okay?”
Brent gave a barely perceptive nod. “As okay as I can be, man.”
“I almost ended up in that ambulance with you. I nearly had a heart attack.” He lightly tapped his fist against the curtain. “If Travis hadn’t been there.” Steve shook his head. “Whatever man. Just don’t do it again.”
Brent’s eyes looked suspiciously bright. “I’ll do my best.”
Holly poked her head in. “There are too many of you in here.”
Travis and Audrey turned to go, each wishing Brent well.
Brent waved at them. “Thanks for coming, guys.”
I didn’t move any further into the room. Brent kept his eyes on Steve and Cherie. And awkward silence filled the space.
“Enough of this!” Cherie threw her hands up in the air. “You need to talk to each other.”
She marched over to me and dragged me into the room then she took Steve’s hand and marched him to the door.
“Let’s give them some privacy and time,” Cherie said ushering him out. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at Brent so I stared at the monitors next to his bed instead. My fingers played with the silver plated button on my coat, easing it in and out of the hole.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I said, trying to dispel some of the awkwardness in the room.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Brent said.
I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye. He poked his fork into his breakfast, his eyes glued to his plate.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” Brent had mumbled the words, but I’d heard them.
“Of course I would.” It hurt that he doubted me. He seemed to have lost all faith in me. I dropped my hands to my side. I needed to change the conversation to something safe, something that didn’t hinge on emotion, something neutral. “What did the doctors say this time?”
I finally forced myself to look at him. I wanted to go touch him, to hold his hand, but I was too afraid to move forward.
“They hope if they adjust my medication they’ll be able to prevent another one.” He took a drink of his orange juice.
“Brent, I . . .” I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. I wanted it to be something monumental, something that would take away the unease between us, that would restore us to where we were before the meeting with the Clutch. Something that would let him know how much I loved him. How much I needed him. How sorry I was that he was here, especially if I could have prevented it. But there weren’t words. Brent looked at me expectantly like he could hear my unspoken thoughts. The hardness that had been in his face softened, the cold in his eyes thawed.
“I know, Yara—”
Right then the door opened and his parents came back with their lunch. They froze when they saw me.
“He isn’t supposed to have visitors,” his mom said.
“Mom, I—”
She held up her hand. “Brent, you are not to have any visitors while you are here.”
“You need to leave now.” His dad glared at me. “Don’t come back.”
I nodded, my face reddening in anger.
I was almost at the door when Brent called my name.
I paused and turned toward him but didn’t meet his gaze.
“Thank you for coming. It means more than you know.”
The warmth in his words surprised me and my eyes lifted to his. The love I saw churning there made my breath catch in my throat.