Too bad all of the answers I gave her were wrong.
Too bad we'd have identical failing exams, which would probably land us both on academic probation in our crucial senior years. Maybe we'd both fail the whole class.
A part of me wanted to look back to see if Tristen saw me cheating. I wondered what he would think if he noticed. But I didn't check, because I had a feeling that he wasn't bothering to look at me at all, and that would have been even worse than his disapproval.
"Time's up," Mr. Messerschmidt eventually called. We handed in our papers, and I smiled at Becca as we left the room, telling her, "I hope that repays the favor you did me. I hope we're even now."
259
***
Chapter 86
Jill
"READY?" MR
.
MESSERSCHMIDT
asked, one hand on the top of his car's open trunk.
I double checked the contents, making sure everything we needed was inside. The display I'd designed, the box with all the papers, the chemicals we'd need for our demonstration, and some of the rats that had shown reactions to variations of the formula. "Do you think they'll be okay?" I asked Tristen.
"It's less than an hour's ride," he said, shrugging. "I'm sure they'll be fine."
"Maybe we should keep them up front."
"They're rats," he pointed out. "Who cares if they're comfortable?" But I'd seen him stroke the animals and worry over them ... Was he growing cold to
everything?
"Just get in the car, Jill," Tristen said, preempting Mr. Messerschmidt by slamming the trunk shut. "Please." I wondered then if
he
hated
me.
Or if he was beyond caring after what I'd said. Maybe I was like a rat in his eyes. A creature beneath concern or consideration.
I crawled into the back seat, Tristen and Mr. Messerschmidt got in the front, and we headed to the University of the Sciences in Philadelphia.
I stared out the window at the passing traffic, one hand in the pocket of my best wool coat, the one I'd worn to my dad's funeral, my fingers caressing the vial that contained what was left of the formula.
260
***
Chapter 87
Jill
THE ASTRAZENECA AUDITORIUM
at the University of the Sciences was already crowded when we got there, and I got nervous just looking around at the students and teachers and parents who were lugging in plastic bins filled with their presentation materials.
Soon I would have to stand on stage in front of all those people, some of the top science students in the nation, and
Darcy Gray,
who'd laugh at how my voice would quiver like it always did when I spoke in public.
"Come on, Jill," Tristen said, nodding for me to follow him. He held the carrier full of rats. "Let's go."
"I... I..." I hung back.
"Jill, you're second on the program," Mr. Messerschmidt noted.
"You should probably get backstage and set up." I looked to Tristen, wanting to tell him that I was scared. I wanted to lean on him and borrow his strength. But his eyes were neutral, and he didn't encourage me.
"You go ahead," I said. "I need to use the restroom."
"Fine," Tristen agreed. "You're the boss." I watched him lead Mr. Messerschmidt through the crowded aisle toward the stage. He was taller than most of the teachers, even, and I easily followed his progress. Even in a new setting where he didn't know anybody, and although his injuries didn't look as ominous anymore, people seemed to part and make way for
Tristen Hyde. I didn't think they were picking up on some menace that
261
lurked inside of him. I thought they just instinctively recognized that he was special somehow.
How could I have thrown him away?
I turned away, scanning the auditorium for a restroom. Seeing a sign, I began to thread my way through the increasing throngs--with increasing panic. I was going to freak out. Darcy would laugh at me, mercilessly, as she accepted her check for thirty thousand dollars.
I touched the vial in my pocket with sweaty fingers.
The evening didn't have to end so badly, though. I knew
somebody who was bold. Somebody not afraid to steal, or go to parties. Somebody who would probably
love
to be on stage with all eyes on her and who could win the money. And what, really, did I have to lose by summoning my alter ego one last time? I'd already lost Tristen, and maybe my virtue, at a party I couldn't recall, and I was about to be humiliated, anyway. Wouldn't it be better not even to remember?
But it wasn't just stage fright that made me reach again for the vial, as I stepped inside the ladies' room. If I had been honest, I would have admitted that it was my inability to live one more second with myself.
I'd destroyed my one chance at love. Becca had handed me the hatchet, but I was the one who'd hacked to pieces my relationship with Tristen.
Maybe I just
wanted
to drink the formula, too. Just plain wanted to do it, and everything else was just an excuse.
I hurried toward a stall and was just about to step inside when somebody spoke to me.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't half the losing team of Jekel and Hyde!" 262
***
Chapter 88
Jill
"WHAT ARE YOU
doing here, Darcy?" I blurted, fingers curling around the vial in my pocket.
I realized the question was stupid as soon as it came out of my mouth, and of course Darcy laughed. "I'm here for the contest. Duh." She rolled her eyes and continued applying blush at the mirror. "I hope you're that sharp on stage," she added. "It'll be that much easier to beat you."
"Don't be so sure you're going to win," I warned her. "Tristen and I have a good presentation."
"I've seen you talk in public." Darcy smiled, dropping her makeup into her purse. "Remember seventh grade when you gave that book report? You ended up running out of the room!"
"This isn't seventh grade anymore," I reminded her.
"But you're the same person," Darcy said. "The same mousy girl you've always been--and always will be. You might be teamed up with a smooth-talking, arrogant thug, but at heart you're still a frightened little baby, Jill. It's just who you are." I knew Darcy was deliberately undermining my confidence to boost her chances of winning. But I also knew that she was just being mean for the hell of it. And to make matters worse, she'd just insulted Tristen.
Pulling my hand out of my pocket, I walked up to Darcy and took the fingers that had just been clutching the formula, opened them wide, and slapped her across the face hard enough to make up for about a decade of abuse. My palm print stained her cheek, and
263
she clapped her hand across her face, glaring at me in mute disbelief.
"I'll see you on stage," I said. "And don't ever insult me or Tristen again."
Then I marched out of the bathroom, forgetting all about taking the formula. I found Tristen backstage doing some last-minute rehearsal. He glanced up from his notes. "I suppose you'd prefer that I speak--"
"No," I interrupted, holding out my hand. "This is my experiment, right?"
Tristen seemed surprised but handed over the notes. "Of course."
"Jekel? Hyde?" A woman with a clipboard approached us. "It's time."
"Let's go," I said, shrugging out of my wool coat, dropping it with the rest of our stuff, and leading Tristen onto the stage.
Chapter 89
Jill
"YOU TWO SHOULD
really be proud," Mr. Messerschmidt said as we drove down the turnpike. "You did a great job."
"We didn't win, though," I said, hunched in the back seat. Tristen twisted around to face me. "But you were outstanding, Jill. Everyone loved you."
The compliment was bittersweet.
Everyone but you, Tristen.
I'd seen to that.
"Thanks," I said.
Tristen didn't turn back around. He kept facing me in the darkness. A car passed us in the next lane, and the headlights briefly lit
264
his face, and I thought I saw a trace of admiration and maybe even affection in his eyes, and suddenly I didn't care so much about losing the money. At least Tristen had thawed a little.
"We did do okay, didn't we?" I sort of smiled at the memory of me, Jill Jekel, delivering a flawless speech in front of about two hundred people. "Third place isn't bad."
Tristen's white teeth flashed in the darkness. "Especially since Darcy got fifth."
It was mean to be happy about her failure, but I couldn't help grinning, too.
Tristen reached back then and gave my knee a shake. "I'm proud of you."
"Thanks," I repeated as he turned to face forward again. Although the heater in Mr. Messerschmidt's car wasn't reaching the back seat, I felt warmer suddenly. Tristen had touched me. It didn't mean he still loved me, but it was better than the cold distance that had separated us. It was a start, maybe.
Hunkering down in my seat, I buried my hands in my pockets and stared out at the passing night. I was so distracted, thinking about Tristen, that we went about a full mile before I realized that the vial was gone.
Chapter 90 Tristen
MESSERSCHMIDT PULLED UP
in front of Jill's house, and immediately something struck me as not quite right.
265
"Jill," I said, opening the door and flipping up my seat, "I thought you said your mother was out of town."
She clasped my hand and struggled to get out. "She is." I continued holding her hand and directed her attention to the glowing windows--and the smoking chimney--of her house. "Well, someone's home. And they've lit a fire."
She started to pull her hand from mine, but I wouldn't let her go. I didn't want to release her. Not yet. For I had a very bad feeling about the scene before us. It was just an instinct born of my own knowledge of how the beast would behave.
I stroked Jill's hand with my thumb, hoping to convey that even if she hated me, I still loved her. I couldn't help loving her. I wanted to do so much more than just touch her hand. I wanted to take her in my arms and tell her that I was sorry for all that had gone wrong between us and for all of the awful things I had wrought upon her life, from forcing her to trespass in the school to carelessly altering her very soul with a kiss.
But of course I couldn't, with Messerschmidt watching.
"Maybe Mom came back," Jill said. She didn't sound convinced, though. In fact, I got the clear sense that alarm bells were going off for her, too.
The scene was so innocuous. And yet something was wrong. Messerschmidt opened the trunk, offering, "I'll help you take everything inside."
I squeezed Jill's hand again. "You wait out here, eh?" She looked up at me with those wide, wonderful eyes, which had just captivated an entire auditorium full of people as they'd always captivated me, and shook her head, her ponytail swinging. "No, Tristen. Let's go in together."
266
"Jill..."
"Come on," Messerschmidt prompted, lifting out the old box. "It's late and cold."
She pressed my palm, and I knew that she wouldn't let me go alone, no matter how I insisted. She truly had changed--and not only because she'd tasted the formula. The Jill Jekel who had emerged in the last few weeks was
completely
beyond my control.
"Let's get a move on," Messerschmidt urged, starting up the steps.
Releasing Jill's hand, I removed the box from Messerschmidt's grasp, stepped past him, and led the way inside the house.
Chapter 91
Jill
I WAS GLAD
Mr. Messerschmidt came with us. Tristen knew something was wrong.
I
knew something was wrong. Mom wasn't supposed to be home. And she never lit fires. That had been Dad's thing.
"Jill, give me the keys." Tristen held out his hand. "Please." I almost protested ... then did as he asked.
Mr. Messerschmidt cleared his throat, almost like he was nervous, too, for some reason.
Tristen put the key in lock, opened the door, and we all stepped inside.
And what we saw there ... it was even worse than what I'd imagined we might find.
267
***
Chapter 92
Jill
"MOM?" I CRIED.
"What's happening?"
"I'm sorry, Jill," she said, voice trembling. She was sitting on the couch, a teacup perched on her knee, which was shaking, too. Violently. "I didn't tell you we were seeing each other. I thought it might upset you ..." Her eyes darted to Dr. Hyde, who stood near the fireplace, smiling a crooked, evil smile. "And then he changed
..."
"Yes, people do change," Dr. Hyde agreed, stepping away from the fire. "Don't they, Tristen?" His smile shifted to a scowl. "And sometimes they must change back."
"Run for help," Tristen directed Mr. Messerschmidt over his shoulder. "Hurry."
But for the first time our teacher didn't follow Tristen's direction. "I can't do that," he said.
"Then grab your cell--call the police," Tristen snapped, keeping a wary eye on his father. "You don't understand what's happening here. Listen to me!"
Mr. Messerschmidt turned as instructed--then slowly and
deliberately spun the deadbolt, sealing us all in together. Tristen whipped around. "What are you doing, you idiot?"
"I'm sorry, Tristen," Mr. Messerschmidt said, cringing. "I have to do what your father says."
What?
I stared at my teacher, not understanding.
"What the hell is going on here?" Tristen demanded, turning 268
back to his father. "How do you know Messerschmidt? And what are you doing to Jill's mother? This is about you and me!" Dr. Hyde walked behind the couch and rested his hands on my mom's shoulders, and I wanted to scream. Mom's hands shook so hard that the contents of the teacup spilled out onto her pants. I followed the spreading stain and realized that her ankles were bound. My throat tightened like the duct tape was around my neck, too.
"Don't spill that, dear," he said, squeezing Mom's shoulder. His hands appeared gnarled and he stood slightly hunched, the monster finally casting off the mask it had worn. Dr. Hyde had changed, physically, like Tristen had done in the lab. Only this time the transformation was complete. The handsome, if