Read The Little Woods Online

Authors: McCormick Templeman

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #General, #Social Issues, #Friendship

The Little Woods (4 page)

“Jack knows everyone’s schedules,” Sophie said. “He’s kind of OCD about stuff like that.”

“I looked at yours in chem. The better question is why the hell are you taking two sciences?”

“You’re taking two sciences?” Sophie cringed. “Oh God. You’re going to fit right in with the Slater twins. You’re practically a triplet.”

“They said if I took chem and bio I wouldn’t have to take an art, and I really really hate art.”

“What kind of person hates art?” Jack laughed, incredulous.

“Two sciences?” Sophie sneered. “Gross.”

“Sophie’s no one to talk. She skipped eighth grade and takes math at Dublin Community College.”

“Yeah, but math is fun. Science is for nerds,” Sophie said.

Jack flashed me a wicked grin and then took an enormous bite of his cheese sandwich. I spent the rest of lunch out on the balcony with them, wondering when Sophie would smoke her cigarette, only to realize that something as innocuous as
smoking was bad business at St. Bede’s Academy and would, I surmised, require an after-hours stealth mission to what they referred to as the side of the hill.

Honors history was taught by a man who barely seemed to know he was in the room, and who somehow managed to make China’s Cultural Revolution seem about as dramatic as a trip to the dentist. I tried to take some notes but then gave up in favor of examining my fellow students. They were a diligent and focused bunch, with the exception of Sophie, who was blatantly reading a science fiction novel. I hoped we could be friends.

As soon as we were given our assignment (150 pages of
Eastern History, Eastern Thought
), Sophie headed for the door, but I found her waiting for me just outside, her arms crossed in front of her like a schoolmistress’s.

“I’ll walk you to bio. I have chem down there. There’s something we need to discuss.”

“That sounds very official.”

“Listen, I don’t care what Jack says. Iris didn’t run away.”

“Okay, my interest is piqued,” I said, turning my attention to Sophie. “What happened to her?”

“She was murdered.”

“Right.” I laughed, but then I saw that she was serious. My books suddenly felt very heavy on my back.

“I’m not joking,” she said. “And if you ask me, the police never took her disappearance seriously. There were all these signs that seemed to point to her running away, so everyone just assumed that’s what happened, but I don’t buy it.”

“What signs?”

“Well, first off, she started failing her classes. You didn’t know Iris, but Iris didn’t fail stuff. Math, art, physics, you name it, she was brilliant. She was my main competition for two years, and then suddenly last spring—poof—it was like she wasn’t there. You don’t spend half your life busting your butt and excelling just to decide one day that you don’t care anymore.”

“You do if something bad happens to you.”

“Exactly,” she said, snapping her fingers repeatedly.

“But that just lends credence to the whole running-away theory, doesn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. See, there were other things. She started getting sick all the time. It seemed like she was always camped out in the infirmary. Only, she didn’t really seem sick to me. She seemed like she was avoiding something.”

“What was she avoiding?”

“I don’t know, but I started wondering if maybe she was in some kind of trouble. See, Iris didn’t come from money, but last year she started dressing like a model. She was on an academic scholarship like me. Her parents definitely didn’t start buying her designer clothes all of a sudden, so how’d she get them?”

“Did she have a job?”

“She did a work-study as Ms. Snow’s lab assistant, but that’s a pittance.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I don’t know. I just think there are a bunch of pieces that don’t necessarily add up to a whole, and if I were you, I’d watch my back.”

“Why me?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention—because Helen killed her.”

I tripped over a rock, stumbling forward onto my hands and knees. I heard a smattering of laughter erupt behind me. I pulled myself up, dusted off my shorts, and kept walking.

“Sorry,” I said. “Did you just say my current roommate murdered her previous roommate?”

“Yeah,” Sophie said, laughing. “I just thought you should know.”

“It
was
thoughtful of you,” I said. “Do you have, um, evidence that Helen killed Iris?”

Sophie shook her head. “Just a gut feeling.”

We entered the Hardwicke biology building, a redbrick Georgian number in stark contrast to the Gothic gray architecture that dominated the rest of the campus. Inside, everything was white and shiny and unnecessarily curvy.

“Well, thanks for the heads-up, I guess,” I said, still trying to decide if I was being hazed.

“I’m gonna be late,” she said. “We’ll talk later.” She gave me a quick wave, then left me alone in a corridor lined with glass cases displaying various bones and models.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “What the hell was that?”

When I walked into the biology lab, I drank in the cool laboratory rush of fresh oxygen, marble-covered work spaces, and metal spigots ready and willing to spurt air at my bidding. There were only a few kids in their seats, and only one of those stood out. Though I could see a resemblance between her and Noel, they were far from identical and seemed almost to be carved from different material. She was unlike anyone I’d seen
so far at St. Bede’s. Alarmingly beautiful, she emitted a sort of sixties chic. She wore her long dark brown hair swept up from her chiseled face, achieving a slight poof at the top of her head. Her dark blue eyes were offset by what looked like fine black eyeliner, and there was a wildness to them that I found immediately disconcerting.

Helen looked at me starkly, coldly, and it was obvious that she knew who I was. And then her face lit up, and she pushed herself out of her seat and moved toward me, the cold exterior falling away to reveal a delicious, caramel warmth. Approaching me, she grasped my hand, and then she led me to her lab table. All eyes were on me. Audrey Hepburn had been summoned from the grave specifically to shower me with affection.

“Cally, right? I’m Helen, want to chop up dead things with me?” Her voice, scratchy and low, called to mind sixth-grade boys and unrequited crushes. “I saw you talking to Sophie Taye outside. What’s she been saying about me? She hates me, you know. I think I, like, made fun of her pencil box in ninth grade or something. I was kind of a bitch then. I heard you caught Freddy going through your stuff. You could get her impeached if you wanted. So where are you from, anyway?” She fell back into her seat like a stream of fresh water languishing into a marble fountain.

“Yeah, um,” I said, sitting, feeling clunky. “I met Freddy and Noel last night.”

“Noel told me. We’re twins, you know, but as you could probably tell, she got all the ugly genes. She’s coming to bio. She can’t stay away from me. Kind of a stalker.”

I felt someone’s eyes on the back of my neck and turned to
find the dark-skinned boy from the night before sitting in the last row. I almost had an aneurysm when he smiled at me.

“That’s Alex Reese,” Helen whispered. “He’s kind of the big man on campus. Captain of most sports, straight-A average, head prefect too.”

“What’s a prefect?”

“They’re like liaisons between the students and faculty. It’s prestigious. It helps you get into college. Freddy’s one too, and Tanner, have you met Tanner yet?”

I shook my head.

“He’s boring and blond and fratty. Freddy has a thing for him, but he’s been going out with Cara Svitt since her freshman year.”

“Got it,” I said, doing my best not to appear overwhelmed. I stole another look back at Alex, and he laughed quietly to himself. Then he leaned back in his chair, his arms, a symphony of delicate tendons, crisscrossed behind his head. My Lord, I was starting to like this school.

Asta entered laughing, pale green chiffon swirling around her, two adulating girls in tow. Everyone seemed to perk up a bit when she entered. The girls took their seats and Asta leapt up to sit on her desk. Looking around the room, she met each of our gazes, seeming to delight in our very existence. And then she laughed again—that deep, growly sort of laughter that came from her chest.

“My God, don’t you all look morbid. Is it really that bad to be back?” As she spoke, I could feel the room lightening, feel my muscles relaxing. “I hope everyone had a great break,” she said. “I hope you’re all well rested and ready to take on a new
semester. I’ve been here the whole break working.” She grimaced. “But Dr. and Mrs. Harrison just got back from Belize, and they’ve got some amazing samples I’m going to bring in. We’re going to have a really fun semester, I swear.” She crossed her legs, revealing delicate ankles. “We’re going to take on the infamous Drosophila melanogaster in genetics lab. Three cheers for fruit flies!”

Freddy and Noel trickled in late, waved to me and Helen, and took a seat at the table in front of us. Asta raised an eyebrow at them. “And let me remind you that I do not tolerate tardiness. I’ve already spoken at length about my reasons for being rather strict regarding this, and rest assured the first day back from vacation is no excuse. Now today we shall revisit the swine, because I feel I owe it to you, considering what happened in the fall.” She hopped down from her desk and began handing out fetal pigs.

“Delicious,” I said, trying not to gag.

I tried to focus, but it was difficult not to stare at Helen. It was like being in the same space as a movie star.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I didn’t go through any of your stuff,” Helen said, taking up a scalpel and jauntily slicing into the gray-pink flesh.

“That was big of you. Don’t cut that part. I think it’s the spleen.”

“Poor piggy,” she said, pretending to pout. “So Cally, or do you go by Calista?”

“Um,” I said, still kind of dazed. “Cally.”

“I’m going to call you Wood. Are you nervous about living with me?”

“Why would I be nervous?” I said, but I stumbled over the words, and it was clear Helen couldn’t help laughing.

“There are always rumors about me. Did you hear the one about me killing my roommate?”

Heat and blood rushed into my cheeks.

“That’s a classic. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to think of myself as the femme fatale, and it’s true that I didn’t care for Iris, but I’m perfectly certain she’s alive somewhere, if not well, because, let’s face it, the girl was bananas. She’s probably in an institution gnawing her arm off as we speak.”

A very small black girl with very large glasses rolled her eyes and raised her hand. “Ms. Snow, I’m finding it difficult to concentrate with all the talking.”

“Sorry, Drucy,” Helen muttered.

Asta approached, smiling at me with a maternal softness before turning her gaze to Helen. “Miss Slater, as fascinating as I’m sure your insights into the lab must be, I’m going to have to ask you to keep them to yourself.”

“Okay,” Helen said, unflappable, and went back to work.

Asta lingered a moment, sitting neatly on the edge of my work space.

“And how are you getting along, Miss Wood?”

“Me? Fine. Fine. I’m, um, yeah.”

“Let me know if you need any help with anything. St. Bede’s can be a touch fast-paced, so don’t worry if it feels kind of crazy at first. I’m sure you’ll fall right into step, but if you should need anything, my door is always open.” She smiled and gently patted me on the shoulder.

“Your test scores must be ridiculous, Wood,” Helen whispered after Asta walked away. Then she looked at me as if she were only now seeing me for the first time. She shook her head and laughed. “I think we’re gonna have a fun semester, Wood. I really do.”

Sports tryouts were directly after school. I didn’t have tons of experience with team sports. I enjoyed watching them on TV with Danny, and I wasn’t exactly bad at them, but my phenomenal laziness had prevented me from excelling at any. Unfortunately, at St. Bede’s, laziness wasn’t an excuse, and sports were mandatory.

Noel caught up with me walking out to the field, a large stick slung awkwardly over her shoulder.

“Are you shooting for varsity?” she asked.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” I said, noticing that everyone else was wearing boys’ basketball shorts that read
Dartmouth
or
Yale
. I looked down at my Dickies and shrugged.

“Are you any good at lacrosse?” Noel asked.

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Good, then you’re coming with me. Freddy, Helen, and Pigeon are on varsity. My sister’s the captain, and you’d think that would get me on the team because of, like, nepotism or something, but it never does. Come on, we’ll try out for JV.”

“Which one’s Pigeon?”

“Over there,” Noel said, pointing out a dark-haired slip of a girl walking with Helen and Freddy.

“She’s cute.”

“She’s a nightmare,” she said.

I was given a lacrosse stick, and we hopefuls were broken into three lines, the center girl given the ball. Then we were supposed to do something involving running down the field and putting the ball into the goal. I managed to avoid the line of girls who were supposed to do something with the ball, and spent the afternoon sort of lurching down the field, hoping not to fall into ditches. When I watched Noel descend upon the unmanned goal and miss it by a good three feet, I knew that neither of us would make JV. Rather than humiliate ourselves by being the only upperclassmen on third team, we decided to pursue independent walking as our sport—something I was pretty sure Noel had made up on the spot. She said someone named Ms. Sjursen would sign off on it for us.

“Will that count?”

She thought a moment. “I think so. She’s a little bit senile, but she’s good with lists. She runs the equipment center and just sits there marking stuff in and out all day. She can just mark us in and out as well. Plus she likes me. I bring her cookies sometimes.”

We were walking by the varsity field on the way back to the dorm when I first met the disaster I would come to know as Pigeon. She was sitting on the bench, picking at her nails and biting her lower lip, when she saw us and waved. She jumped up and ran over, faster than I’ve ever run.

Other books

Plum Deadly by Grant, Ellie
The Laird's Captive Wife by Joanna Fulford
The Marvellous Boy by Peter Corris
Daughters Of The Bride by Susan Mallery
With the Father by Jenni Moen
The Letter Killeth by Ralph McInerny
Dust: (Part I: Sandstorms) by Bloom, Lochlan
Songbird by Victoria Escobar
Ignorance by Milan Kundera