“I was just about to bring you coffee and a sweater.” I held up the coffee cup and cardigan, the latter of which was his favorite and a perfectly believable reason to be in his office. “Would you like cream?”
He looked at the cup as I held it up. “You were really going to bring me coffee and a sweater?”
I paused. “Yes?”
“Well.” He smiled and stepped into the room. “Thank you, Vanessa. You just made my day.”
Of course I did. I’d been distant since seeing him in Raina’s scrapbook, and I knew he felt that, even if he didn’t understand its cause. Were this gesture sincere, it would’ve been the closest we’d come to our old relationship in months.
“You’re welcome.” I let him kiss my cheek as he passed, knowing the more I gave, the easier it’d be to leave.
“That’s strange.”
I had one foot through the open doorway when he spoke. I turned slowly, feeling my face flush the same shade as his favorite sweater. “Is something wrong?”
He was behind his desk, leaning over the keyboard. He typed, waited, and typed again. He tapped the top of the monitor and then took it with both hands and gently shook it back and forth. “I know I left this on. Did we have a power surge while I was outside?”
He stood up straight and scratched his head. In that moment he looked so perplexed, so like my beloved Big Poppa when-ever he was confused by new slang his students were using or technology he was trying to learn, that I suddenly felt terrible for snooping.
“That’s what that was.” I hurried back into the room and picked up the cords. “I tripped over these when I was getting your sweater. I must’ve disconnected the computer. Sorry.”
His face relaxed. “That’s okay.”
I plugged the cords back in and darted toward the door.
“Vanessa?”
I froze. He knew. I had thought unplugging the computer would shut everything down so that he’d never know that I’d been on the computer, let alone that I’d figured out his password and reached his desktop. But it hadn’t. And now he knew. He knew that I knew about Charlotte, and—
“If you wanted to join me for coffee and dessert… I’d like that.”
“Sure, Dad,” I managed without turning around. “I’ll be right back.”
I closed the door behind me and headed for the kitchen, which was now empty. I put the dirty cup in the dishwasher and filled two clean cups with coffee and cream. I cut a huge piece of brownie, wrapped it in a paper towel, and grabbed two forks from the utensil drawer.
And then I took the coffee and dessert and went upstairs, where Paige was waiting for me.
I
WOKE UP
the next morning with a headache. I took three aspirin, drank a gallon of water, and soaked in the tub for an hour. Nothing helped. The pain continued into the weekend, when Paige and I returned to Bates, and I guessed it was caused by stress—related to Dad, school, and lying to Simon. Unfortunately, the physical relief I’d surely feel after coming clean during this visit was a small consolation.
“So tell me more about this famous party,” Paige said. She and Riley stayed a few feet in front of Simon and me as we walked across campus. “Will there be games?”
“And prizes,” Riley said. “And some of Androscoggin County’s finest livestock.”
I looked at Simon. “As in cows?”
“Technically, it’s a harvest festival,” he explained. “Bates has one every year.”
Up ahead, Riley said something that made Paige laugh. She rocked to the right, bumping his shoulder with hers.
“He doesn’t know about last summer?” I asked, lowering my voice.
Simon shook his head. “He saw some of the news coverage on TV—along with the rest of the country—but he has no idea she was involved. He thinks she’s your great summer buddy who moved to Boston to be there for you.”
“Good. If she wants him to know anything else, she’ll tell him when she’s ready.”
He lifted our clasped hands and pressed his lips to the top of mine. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
I hesitated, then kissed his cheek. “Me, too.”
It was a warm fall day, and the campus was filled with people studying, sunning, and heading to and from the festival. As we walked, I listened to their conversations and laughter, thinking they all sounded so happy, so normal. I tried to imagine doing the same things on a college campus this time next year… but couldn’t.
“So what do we think?” Riley asked when we caught up with him and Paige at the festival entrance. “Scarecrow contest then tractor race? Tractor race then scarecrow contest? Or should we just skip ahead to the caramel apples and pumpkin-flavored beer?”
“I could go for a hayride,” I said, spotting a long, horse-drawn wagon on the far side of the field. “If that’s okay with everyone else.”
It was. We took our time getting there, stopping along the way to cast our votes for the best pumpkin carving, watch a cider-making demonstration, and sample different varieties of locally made maple syrup. After we finally joined the end of the long hayride line, it took another thirty minutes to reach the front; by the time it was our turn, the wagon was packed and the next one wasn’t due back for several more minutes.
“We can totally fit,” Riley said, surveying the narrow gaps between riders. “We’ll just double up.”
“You don’t mind sitting on my lap?” Paige joked.
“In the interest of time and entertainment, no. I’d make that extreme sacrifice.”
Paige laughed. Simon looked at me.
“Let’s do it,” I said.
We climbed a short ladder and over the slatted back of the wagon. Riley followed Paige as she navigated through legs, feet, and bales of hay, and, true to his word, sat on her knees when she found a small seat near the driver and horses. Simon squeezed in the back left corner of the wagon, then pulled me gently into his lap.
“I think I like the Bates Harvest Festival,” I said as he put his arms around me.
Roughly thirty people were crammed into the small space—many of whom, judging by the occasional shrieks and loud laughter, had enjoyed some pre-hayride pumpkin-flavored cocktails—but sitting in the back with Simon was so cozy, we might as well have been alone.
“How was your lab?” I asked as the wagon started moving. We talked so often I knew his schedule by heart.
“Long. Grueling. Visually taxing.”
“I thought you loved science’s little winged friends.”
“I do… when I’m not expecting very important company.”
I smiled. “Important company? What kind?”
“Oh, the kind that makes me forget the atomic number of carbon, and how to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit, and the taxonomy of living things.”
“Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species,” I recited, patting his chest lightly with each one. “She must be something special to make you forget the little science even I know.”
His arms tightened around me. I rested my head on his shoulder.
It felt so good, so comfortable.
If only it didn’t have to end.
“Caleb’s birthday’s next weekend,” Simon said a moment later.
“Right,” I said, grateful for the new topic. “The big one-seven. Is he excited?”
“Against his will. He was just going to have a few friends over for pizza and a movie, but Monty had other ideas. And whatever Monty wants—”
“Caleb wants.”
“Hence the town-wide boat bash next Saturday night. Monty’s decking out the
Barbara Ann
, Caleb’s friends are rigging their fishing boats with lights and DJ equipment, and people are supposedly going to be jumping one ship for the next all night long.”
“Jumping ship?” I lifted my head and looked at him. I hadn’t checked the
Winter Harbor Herald
Web site since yesterday morning. “Does that mean… ?”
“No.” He lifted a strand of hair away from my face. “It doesn’t. Rowboats might be able to sit in spots, but the water’s still too frozen to launch anything bigger. Caleb just loves boats so much Monty wanted to make sure they were part of the party.”
I lay my head back down. Simon’s heart beat faster against my palm.
“So, I know it’s short notice… but would you want to come? With me? To Caleb’s party?”
I opened my mouth to say yes. He sounded nervous, and I wanted to reassure him—and I also wanted to be wherever he was. But the word wouldn’t come out.
“I know he’d love to see you,” Simon continued. “So would my parents. But if it’s too soon, I totally understand. It was just an idea.”
“No.”
“No? As in it’s not too soon?”
Hot tears sprang to my eyes. Blinking them away, I sat up so his arms released me. I tried to look at him but couldn’t.
“No… I can’t go.”
“Can’t. Okay. Do you already have plans?”
This was it. I had to do it. It was bad enough lying to him—I couldn’t drag down his whole family, too.
“Simon.” Fresh tears welled as I said his name. “I have to tell you something.”
He put one hand on my knee. “Anything, Vanessa. Always.”
Anything. Always. Did he mean it?
I wasn’t ready to find out but took a deep, shaky breath any-way. “Do you remember—”
I was cut off as the wagon jerked forward. Simon’s arms were back around my waist instantly. The air filled with shrieks and screams as the horses quickly sped up from a slow stroll to a full gallop.
“The Sleepy Hollow Stampede?” I practically shouted to be heard over the excited din and thundering hooves. The long black banner, suspended between trees, disappeared as we charged beneath it and into a dark forest.
“I think we’ve been hijacked!” Simon yelled back with a smile.
Holding on to him to keep from tumbling out, I followed his nod. The wagon driver, an elderly man who’d been wearing overalls and a flannel shirt when we boarded, had either changed into a costume without our noticing… or been taken out by the Headless Horseman.
“Vanessa!” Paige shrieked.
Our eyes met across the wagon, and we both cracked up. Riley bounced in her lap, his eyes closed, his arms tight around her shoulders. Hers were around his waist. As the wagon flew over bumps and rocks, festival volunteers dressed as witches and zombies lunged from the trees. Passengers screamed, ducked, and gripped whatever they could—hay bales, the sides of the wagon, each other—to avoid being caught and falling off.
It was the first time I’d been scared by something unrelated to the events of last summer
since
the events of last summer. And because Simon was right there, holding me tighter than he ever had before, I enjoyed every second.
When it was over and the wagon slowed to a stop at the ride entrance, Simon, still smiling, brushed my windblown hair away from my face. He went to kiss my forehead, but I lifted my chin so his lips landed on mine.
We kissed for several seconds, ignoring the looks and giggles of other passengers moving past us as they climbed out. We might have continued—perhaps even taking another ride just so we didn’t have to pull apart—but Riley had apparently been terrified into extreme thirst.
“Cider,” he gasped, standing just outside the wagon. “Lemonade, witch’s brew, I don’t care. As long as it’s liquid and can be swallowed.”
Simon’s lips stilled against mine. He lowered his head to my shoulder and shook it.
“I could use a drink myself,” I said. After the excitement of both the hayride and kissing Simon, my body needed fueling. I gave him a quick peck and climbed off his lap.
“But you wanted to talk. Maybe we should meet up with them later.”
It was stupid. And childish. And would probably only end up making things worse.
But I lied anyway.
“It’s no big deal. It can wait.”
If he wasn’t convinced, he didn’t say so. He was quiet for a while, though, as we walked to a big white tent where dozens of students and teachers were square-dancing. I worried he was upset that I’d put off the topic, but he seemed to relax after we spent some time at the tent’s refreshment table.
I relaxed, too. The refreshments consisted of bottled water, pretzels, and mixed nuts, and chasing the salty snacks with regular water was surprisingly satisfying. The music, played by a live country band, was good. Paige, fueled by Riley’s jokes and attention, couldn’t stop smiling. Simon let go of my hand only to put his arm around my waist.
I was having such a nice time I didn’t even hesitate when Simon asked me to dance.
Along with Paige and Riley, we formed a square with two other couples. The large white tent was crowded, and the portable dance floor shook from the dancers’ stomping and skipping. It took a few spins—and a lot of knocking into each other—to get the hang of it, but once we did, we do-si-doed like pros.
“College rocks!” Paige yelled as we hooked arms during one turn.
I laughed. I hadn’t seen her so happy in a long time.
Which made me happy. So much so that I kissed Simon the next time we were paired together.
One country song led to the next. The caller encouraged the crowd to sing along, and eventually, catching on to a simple chorus, I joined in.
Maybe it was the music. Or the white lights twinkling overhead. Or the way Simon caught my eye and grinned no matter where we were in the square. Whatever the reason, I didn’t notice no one else was dancing until I went to hook my arm through Riley’s… and it wasn’t there.
It’s okay
…, I told myself, turning slowly.
They’re not looking at you
….
Except they were. All of them—students, teachers, the caller, Riley, Simon. Everyone but Paige. They’d formed a big, still circle. They didn’t clap, dance, or sing along. They simply stood there, watching me.
The girls were pouting.
The guys were smiling.
“A
RE YOU COLD
?” Ms. Mulligan asked when we sat in her office Monday morning. “Should I close the window?”
“I’m fine.” I pulled on the sweatshirt hood so it covered more of my face. “Bad-hair day.”
“
Amore ac studio
.” She said this expectantly. When I didn’t respond, she nodded to my chest. “With ardor and devotion. The Bates motto.”
“Oh.” I looked down at the logo, which was similar to Dartmouth’s. The protective shield of higher education featured a book, a tree, and the fancy Latin slogan. “I didn’t realize.”
“Bates is an excellent school. It’s consistently ranked one of the top twenty-five liberal arts colleges in the country.”
“It’s my friend’s sweatshirt.”
“You know a current student? Wonderful.” She turned to her computer. “Many parents encourage their children to make clean breaks so that they’re not distracted, but college can be overwhelming. I think having someone there you already know and trust would help ensure a smooth transition.”
I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t interested in Bates—especially not after last weekend, when I’d accidentally introduced myself to the entire school—but I was too tired to protest.
“My local Hawthorne and Bates alumnus is available for an interview next Tuesday at seven o’clock,” she said. “Does that work for you?”
“An interview? Thanks, but I don’t think—”
“How about Beantown Beanery? Their mocha lattes are the best in the city.”
There was no point in arguing. Ms. Mulligan would only try to convince me it was a good idea and wouldn’t want to hear me say otherwise. Instead, I took my backpack from the floor and stood up.
She stopped typing and looked at me. “Is something wrong?”
“I have an English test,” I said, shuffling backward. “Next period. I just remembered.”
“There are still twenty minutes left of this period. This will only take a—”
“I have to review my notes.” I reached the door, grabbed the knob. “But thanks.”
I knew she wanted to stop me, but she didn’t. Just like she—or anyone else—hadn’t said a word about my sweatshirt and wrinkled skirt. Deviating from the strict Hawthorne uniform was an offense punishable by detention, and though I’d gotten many looks from teachers and staff members since school started, no one had said anything.
They didn’t want to upset me. They didn’t want to push me any closer to the edge than I already was.
I used this to my advantage now. I passed several staff members as I hurried down the hall; they all opened their mouths to ask what I was doing in the hall in the middle of the period, but they didn’t say anything. They didn’t try to stop me. Mrs. Hanley, my math teacher, was right there when I reached the front doors and lunged against them, but she let me go without a word.
Outside, I ran down the steps and across the street. It was early October and the air had finally cooled, the leaves changed color. People walked by in wool coats, chins tucked inside their collars and hands in their pockets. But I didn’t feel the chill. In fact, I was so warm, if I hadn’t needed the protection of Simon’s sweatshirt, I would have taken it off.
I headed for the park. I’d never cut class before and wasn’t sure where to go, but that seemed as good a place as any. It’d be crowded, and as long as I stayed hidden, no one would notice me.
I found an empty bench in a leafy alcove and sat down. I pulled my water and a bottle of aspirin from my backpack and took two more pills. That brought today’s total up to six—the recommended daily dose—and it was only noon.
But the headache wouldn’t go away. It hadn’t returned while we were at Bates, but it’d hit like a sledgehammer the second we crossed the Boston city line three days ago. Its strength had fluctuated since then, but even when I felt only mild pressure, it was still a reminder of everything I didn’t know and everything I still had to do.
Which included talking to Simon. He hadn’t seemed particularly surprised by my unexpected square dance solo, claiming it was understandable since I was the most striking girl in the room, but I’d never fully recovered. I’d been too nervous, too paranoid, and we’d spent the rest of the weekend watching movies and eating takeout in the dorm with Paige and Riley. He’d tried to bring up what I’d wanted to talk about only once, over the phone the night we got back to Boston, but I’d assured him it was nothing. And because he never pushed me to do anything I wasn’t 100 percent okay with, it’d been business as usual since.
Except for the headache. And the thirst. And the warmth and fatigue, which were new symptoms of whatever was making me sick.
I slid down onto the bench and closed my eyes. I focused on the soothing sounds of leaves rustling, birds singing… people kissing.
I opened my eyes. I wasn’t imagining it. People were making out, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the park. I couldn’t see them from where I sat, but I could hear every breath and murmur, which meant they were too close for comfort.
As I grabbed my backpack and jumped up, I caught a glimpse of navy blue, a flash of maroon. The Hawthorne Prep colors popped out from behind a nearby tree as the happy couple shifted their embrace.
“Vanessa?” a familiar male voice called out.
I was only a few feet down the path when he spotted me. Without turning around, I tightened the hood around my face and quickened my pace.
“Vanessa, wait up!”
I walked even faster. Behind me, footsteps hurried to catch up.
“Hey, speed racer,” the voice said, suddenly next to me. “You know school’s in the other direction, right?”
He touched my elbow. I pulled away and veered left. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Marisol Solomon, a fellow senior who modeled for J.Crew. She still stood by the tree where she’d just been abandoned, apparently too confused to tuck in her blouse or fix her hair. When our eyes met, she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.
I took every turn I came to, passing through gardens and around monuments. I thought I lost my pursuer once, when I ducked behind a public restroom, but he was following me again seconds after I emerged from the other side. I was so worried about staying away I didn’t pay attention to where I was going, and soon I reached the edge of an open field. I stopped short and scanned my surroundings. The only shelter was the Parkman Bandstand; it stood thirty feet away, in the middle of the field.
The footsteps sounded farther back now. I looked behind me but didn’t see anyone.
I was so tired I could’ve collapsed to the ground and taken a long nap right there, but instead I summoned what little strength I had left. If I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me, so all I had to do was make it to the bandstand. It resembled a gazebo so wouldn’t provide total protection, but its short walls were still tall enough to hide someone who didn’t want to be found.
I took a deep breath and ran.
My legs grew weaker with every step. My heart clenched and wouldn’t release. I gasped for air faster than my lungs could expand and contract. I was about to give up and brace for the awkward encounter that followed, but then I glanced behind me once to see how far away he was… and saw Raina and Zara instead.
They walked slowly, side by side, wearing long dresses that had once been white but were now gray and torn and clinging to their shriveled limbs. Their skin was blue, their dark hair matted. Their silver eyes were narrowed… and aimed at me.
I lunged the remaining distance to the bandstand and tripped inside, landing hard on my knees. The impact left thin rips in my tights and scrapes on my skin. Ignoring the pain, I crawled across the floor and out of sight of the entrance.
“Please,” I whispered, closing my eyes and hugging my knees to my chest. “I’m sorry. Please don’t—”
“Please don’t what?”
My breath caught.
“Suggest that you’ve been wasting your time at Hawthorne when you could’ve been an Olympian gold medalist by now?”
I opened my eyes to see Parker leaning against a stone pillar and breathing heavily. He loosened the neck of his crimson tie and then used its length to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He watched me climb to my feet and look out over the low walls of the bandstand.
“Where’s the fire?” he asked. “I didn’t see flames, but the way you hauled across the park I figured there had to be one somewhere.”
There wasn’t a fire. There was also, thankfully, no one else in sight.
I shrugged off my backpack and leaned against the pillar across from his. “Shouldn’t you get back to your girlfriend?”
“What girlfriend?”
“The one you were simultaneously suffocating and resuscitating behind a tree,” I said, sifting through my backpack.
“Marisol’s not my girlfriend. Or a friend. In fact, she’s so tightly wound, sometimes she’s barely a girl.”
Barely a girl. I could relate.
My fingers finally landed on familiar plastic ridges. I yanked out the water bottle—and felt like crying when I saw that it was empty. I was so physically and emotionally drained, the tears would’ve streamed down my face if I’d had any salt water left to cry.
“Hey.”
I looked up. The cockiness was gone from Parker’s face. In its place was something I never would’ve expected to see unless I’d actually witnessed it firsthand.
Concern.
He reached into his messenger bag and removed a Nalgene bottle. He started to step toward me, but then seemed to think better of it and stopped. “Here,” he said, holding out the water.
My throat tightened. I didn’t want anything from Parker King. Not only because his conceit bordered on obnoxiousness, but because I didn’t want to encourage him. After all, he’d just chased me through Boston Common. Who knew what he’d do if I was anything except cold to him?
But I’d have to deal with that later. I was so thirsty I wouldn’t make it out of the park if I refused.
“Thanks.” I took the bottle, turned, and walked to the other side of the bandstand so he wouldn’t see my face crumple in relief. It was regular water, of course, but it still helped slow my aching lungs and racing heart.
“Hold still.”
The mouthful I’d just swallowed shot back up. He knelt by my feet, his fingers on my shin. The water burned as I forced it down. “What are you—”
“You’re bleeding.” He adjusted his hands quickly so that one was firm behind my calf, keeping me from moving backward.
And then I saw it. Dark red liquid, leaking from my knee, trailing down my leg, staining my white tights.
Images flashed across my vision. Justine, in the woods, in Caleb’s arms. Blood trickling from an open wound.
It’s just dirt, or seaweed…
“I need to… I think I’m going to…”
He jumped up as my legs gave out. I sank to the floor, vaguely aware of his arm tight around my shoulders.
“It’s okay.” He took off his blazer, poured some water on a sleeve, and used it like a washcloth on my face. “You’re okay.”
Too weak to argue, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. Every now and then warm plastic pressed to my lips, and I opened my mouth. Between drinking and the makeshift cold compress, my skin started to cool, my internal temperature began to drop. Eventually, I felt well enough to open my eyes again.
“Strawberry Shortcake?” The printed Band-Aid was the first thing I saw.
“My little sister doesn’t let me go anywhere unprepared.” Parker held up a plastic baggie filled with more Strawberry Shortcake Band-Aids, Cinderella tissues, and Jolly Ranchers.
I looked at him, almost seeing, for just a second, what every other girl at Hawthorne must see in him. His dark blond hair was brushed away from his face and grazed the top of his shirt collar; his blue eyes occasionally glinted green (like now, in the early-afternoon sun); and he had smooth, golden skin. But even more disarming than his physical characteristics was the easy, fearless attitude behind them. Parker knew he was attractive, but looking at him now, something told me he didn’t care.
His confidence was fueled by more than that, which somehow made his appearance the least interesting thing about him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For chasing you when you obviously wanted to be alone. But I wanted to give you something, and I’ve had trouble finding you.”
He’d been looking for me? Was my draw, my unintended—and unwanted—appeal to the opposite sex already worse than I’d thought?
“We don’t have any classes together, you’re never at your locker, and I haven’t seen you in the library again. It was either this or wait until our paths crossed in Winter Harbor next summer.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he reached into his blazer pocket and took out a photo… of Justine. Eating an ice-cream cone on Winter Harbor’s crowded Main Street. She wasn’t looking at the camera, which meant she hadn’t known it was aimed at her.
“I wasn’t sure who your sister was,” he said apologetically. “When I asked one of my friends, he told me and showed me that. He had a thing for her and snuck the picture when we were up there two summers ago.”
“I don’t remember ever seeing you around,” I said, gently taking the picture.
“That’s because I wasn’t around much. That summer was the first time we visited, and we were only there a week. My parents bought a place last summer, but Dad was busy and we never made it up.” He hesitated before continuing. “Anyway, I asked if you were okay the other day because you looked really hot, like you might have a fever. But I was an idiot for not knowing what happened. And I just thought that giving you the photo was one small thing I could do to make up for it.”
“You didn’t have to do anything,” I said. “To be honest, someone not knowing was actually refreshing.” Or it would’ve been, if I hadn’t been too taken aback by his sudden attention.
“Just like an escorted visit to Nurse Benson will be? I did what I could with what I had, but you were in pretty bad shape a few minutes ago.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine. I always get sick at the sight of blood.”
“Okay,” he said, not convinced, “but I insist on walking you back to school.”
“You don’t have to.” I stood quickly, my head spinning.
He grabbed my arm when I started to sway to one side. I closed my eyes and waited for the spinning to subside. When I opened them again, Parker’s eyes were waiting.