Читать книгу Evernight - Claudia Gray, Claudia Gray - Страница 7

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE YOUR UNIFORM TAILORED, did you?” Patrice smoothed her skirt as we prepared for the first day of classes.

Why hadn’t I seen it before? Of course all the real Evernight types had sent their uniforms to a tailor—tucked the blouses here and the kilts there so that they were chic and flattering instead of boxy and asexual. Like mine. “No. I didn’t think of it.”

“You really must remember to do that,” Patrice said. “Individual tailoring makes a world of difference. No woman should neglect it.” I could already tell that she liked giving advice, showing off how worldly and smart she was. This would have annoyed me more if she hadn’t been so obviously right. Sighing, I set back to work, trying to get my hair to lie smooth beneath my headband. Surely I’d see Lucas at some point that day, so I wanted to look my best, or as good as I could look in this stupid uniform.

We picked up our class assignments in an enormous line in the great hall, slips of paper handed out to us, just the way it would’ve been done a hundred years ago. The crowds of students were less rowdy than they would have been back at my old school. Everyone here seemed to understand the routine.

Maybe the quiet was only an illusion. My uneasiness seemed to swallow sound, muffling everything, until I wondered if anybody could even hear me if I screamed.

Patrice remained by my side at first, but only because we shared our first class, which was American History, taught by my mother. She was the only parent I would have for a teacher; instead of Dad’s biology class, I’d be taking chemistry with a Professor Iwerebon. I felt awkward walking next to Patrice with nothing to say, but I didn’t really have any alter-native—until I saw Lucas, the sunlight through the frosted glass in the hallways turning his golden-brown hair to bronze. At first I thought he saw Patrice and me, but he kept on walking without breaking his stride.

I began to smile. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” I said to Patrice, already darting away from her. She shrugged as she looked for other friends to walk with. “Lucas?” I called.

He still didn’t seem to hear me. I didn’t want to yell after him, so I jogged a couple of steps to catch up. He was headed in the opposite direction from me—not in Mom’s class, apparently—but I was willing to run the risk of being late. More loudly, I said, “Lucas!”

He turned his head only enough to glimpse me, then glanced around at the students nearby as though he was worried we would be overheard. “Hey, there.”

Where was my protector from the forest? The guy standing in front of me now didn’t act like he wanted to take care of me; he acted like he didn’t know me. But he didn’t know me, did he? We’d talked once in the woods—when he’d tried to save my life, and I’d repaid him by telling him to shut up. Just because I thought that was the start of something didn’t mean he did.

In fact, it looked like he definitely didn’t. For one second, he turned his head, then gave me a quick wave and a nod—the way you would any random acquaintance. After that, Lucas just kept on walking, until he vanished into the crowd.

There it was—the brush-off. I wondered how I could possibly understand guys even less than I’d thought.

The girls’ restroom on that floor was nearby, so I was able to duck into a stall and collect myself instead of bursting into tears. What had I done wrong? Despite how strange our first meeting had been, Lucas and I had ended up having a conversation that was as intimate as any I’d had with my best friends. I didn’t know a lot about guys, maybe, but I’d been sure that the connection between us was real. I had been wrong. I was alone at Evernight again, and it felt even worse than before.

Finally, once I was steady, I hurried to Mom’s classroom, barely avoiding being tardy. She shot me a look, and I shrugged as I sank into a desk in the back row. Mom quickly snapped out of mother mode into teacher mode.

“So, who here can tell me about the American Revolution?” Mom clasped her hands together, looking expectantly around the room. I slumped down in my seat, even though I knew she wouldn’t call on me first. I just wanted to be sure she understood how I felt about it. A guy sitting next to me raised his hand, rescuing the rest of us. Mom smiled a little. “And you are Mr—”

“More. Balthazar More.”

The first thing to understand about him is that he looked like a guy who could actually carry off the name “Balthazar” without being mocked for all time. On him, it looked good. He seemed confident about anything my mother might throw at him but not in an annoying way like most of the guys in the room. Just confident.

“Well, Mr More, if you were going to sum up the causes of the American Revolution for me, how would you put it?”

“The tax burdens imposed by the English Parliament were the last straw.” He spoke easily, almost lazily. Balthazar was big and broad-shouldered, so much so that he barely fitted into the old-fashioned wooden desk. His posture turned difficulty into grace, as though he’d rather lounge like that than sit up straight any day. “Of course, people were concerned about religious and political freedoms as well.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “So, God and politics are powerful, but as always, money rules the world.” Soft laughter echoed around the room. “Fifty years ago, no American high school teacher would have mentioned the taxes. A hundred years ago, and the entire conversation might’ve been about religion. A hundred and fifty years ago, and the answer would have depended on where you lived. In the North, they’d have taught you about political freedom. In the South, they’d have taught you about economic freedom—which, of course, was impossible without slavery.” Patrice made a rude sound. “Of course, in Great Britain, there were those who would have described the United States of America as a bizarre intellectual experiment that was about to go bust.”

More laughter now, and I realized that Mom already won over the entire class. Even Balthazar was half smiling at her, in a way that almost made me forget about Lucas.

Not really. But he was nice to look at, with his lazy grin.

“And that, more than anything else, is what I want you to understand about history.” Mom pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan as she wrote on the blackboard: Evolving interpretations. “People’s ideas about the past alter just as much as the present does. The scene in the rearview mirror changes every second. To understand history, it’s not enough to know the names and dates and places; a lot of you know all of those already, I’m sure. But you have to understand all the different interpretations that historical events have had over the centuries; that’s the only way to get a perspective that stands the test of time. We’re going to focus a lot of our energy on that this year.”

People leaned forward, opened their notebooks, and looked up at Mom, totally engaged. Then I realized maybe I ought to start taking notes, too. Mom might love me best, but she’d flunk me faster than she would anyone else in her classroom.

The hour flew by, with students asking questions, clearly testing Mom and liking what they found. Their pens scratched out notes faster than I could imagine writing, and more than once, my fingers felt like they would cramp. I hadn’t realized how competitive the students would be. No, that’s not quite right—it was obvious that they were competitive about clothes, and possessions, and romantic interests. That voracity shivered in the air around them. I just hadn’t realized they’d be competitive about schoolwork, too. No matter what it was, at Evernight, every single person wanted to be the best at everything they did.

So, you know, no pressure there.

“Your mother is fantastic,” Patrice gushed as she walked through the hallways after class. “She’s looking at the big picture, you know? Not only her own little window on the world. So few people have that.”

“Yeah. I mean—I’m trying to be like her. Someday.”

Just then, Courtney turned the corner. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail that made her eyebrows arch even more disdainfully. Patrice stiffened; apparently her new acceptance of me didn’t extend as far as defending me in front of Courtney. I braced myself for Courtney’s latest snarky remark. Instead, she sort of smiled at me, and I could tell she thought she was being nicer to me than I deserved. “Party this weekend,” she said. “Saturday. By the lake. One hour after curfew.”

“Sure.” Patrice shrugged just one shoulder, like she couldn’t care less about being invited to what was probably the coolest party at Evernight this fall, at least until the Autumn Ball. Or were formal dances not cool? Mom and Dad had made it sound like the biggest event of the year, but their ideas about Evernight were already suspect.

My curiosity about balls and their coolness or lack thereof had kept me from answering Courtney for myself. She glared at me, clearly annoyed I hadn’t gushed all over her with thanks. “Well?”

If I’d been gutsier, I’d have told her that she was a snob and a bore and that I had better things to do than go to her party. Instead, I only managed to say, “Um, yeah. Great. That’ll be great.”

Patrice nudged me as Courtney sauntered, with her blonde ponytail swinging behind her. “See? I told you. People are going to accept you because you’re—well, you’re their daughter.”

How big a loser do you have to be to coast into high school popularity on your parents? Still, I couldn’t afford to turn my nose up at any acceptance I won, no matter what the reasons were.

“What kind of party is it going to be, though? I mean, in the grounds? At night?”

“You have been to a party before, right?” Sometimes Patrice didn’t sound any nicer than Courtney.

“Of course I have.” I was counting my own birthday parties when I was a kid, but Patrice didn’t have to know that. “I just was wondering if—there wouldn’t be drinking, would there?”

Patrice laughed like I’d said something funny. “Oh, Bianca, grow up.”

She headed off toward the library, and I got the impression that I wasn’t invited to come along. So I walked back to our room alone.

Somehow my parents are cool, I thought. Does it skip a generation?

My parents had said that I would soon settle into a pattern, and that when I did, I’d like Evernight more. Well, after the first week, I knew they were only right about the first half.

Classes were okay, mostly. Mom made one reference to me being her daughter, then said, “Neither Bianca nor I will ever mention this fact again. You shouldn’t either.” Everybody laughed; she had them eating out of the palm of her hand. How did she do that? And why hadn’t she taught me how to do it, too?

Other teachers took some getting used to, and I missed the informality and friendliness of my old school. Here, the professors were imposing and powerful, and it was unthinkable not to meet their high expectations. A lifetime spent hiding from the world in the library had prepared me for the work, and I put more time into my studies than ever. The only class that bothered me was English, because that was the one Mrs Bethany taught. Something about her—just the way she held herself or how she cocked her head before someone answered a question in class—well, she was intimidating.

Still, academics weren’t going to be a problem. That much I’d already figured out. My social life was a different story.

Courtney and the other Evernight types had decided that I wasn’t somebody to despise; my well-liked parents had won me the right to be safely ignored, but that was all. Meanwhile, the “new admissions” kids regarded me with suspicion. I roomed with Patrice, and apparently that was reason enough to assume that I wasn’t going to side against her and her friends. The cliques had formed within a day, and I was caught exactly in the middle.

The only other “outcast” I’d reached out to at all was Raquel Vargas, the girl with the short haircut. One morning we’d griped about the amount of trigonometry homework we had, but that was almost it for social contact. Raquel, I sensed, didn’t make friends easily; she seemed lonely but withdrawn into herself. Not that different from me, really, but somehow even more miserable.

The other students made sure of that.

“Same black sweater, same black pants,” Courtney singsonged one day as she sauntered along, passing near Raquel. “Same stupid bracelet, too. And I bet we see them again tomorrow.”

Raquel shot back, “Not everybody can afford to buy every version of the uniform, you know.”

“No, I guess not,” said Erich, a guy who hung out with Courtney a lot. He had black hair and a thin, pointed face. “Only the people who actually belong here.”

Courtney and all her friends laughed. Raquel’s cheeks flushed dark, but she simply stalked away from them as the laughter got even louder. As she walked past me, our eyes met. I tried to show, without words, that I felt bad for her, but that only seemed to make her angrier. Apparently Raquel didn’t have much use for pity.

I sensed that, if we’d met somewhere else, Raquel and I might have found we had a lot in common. But as bad as I felt for her, I wasn’t sure I needed to spend time with anybody more depressed than I was.

I thought that I wouldn’t have been half as depressed, despite everything, if I’d been able to understand what had happened between me and Lucas.

We were in Professor Iwerebon’s chemistry class together, but sat at opposite ends of the room. Every moment I wasn’t trying to interpret the teacher’s thick Nigerian accent, I was surreptitiously watching Lucas. He didn’t meet my eyes before or after class, and he never spoke to me. The weirdest thing about this was that Lucas wasn’t remotely shy about speaking up to anybody else. He was quick to cut down anybody he thought was being pretentious, snobby, or hurtful—in short, virtually anybody who was the “Evernight type,” at any time at all.

For instance, on the grounds one day, two guys started laughing when a girl—not the Evernight type—dropped her backpack, then half stumbled over it. Lucas, strolling right behind them, said, “That’s ironic.”

“What?” Erich was one of the guys laughing. “That this school lets in total losers now?” The girl who had dropped her bag blushed.

“Even if that were true, it wouldn’t be irony,” Lucas pointed out. “Irony is the contrast between what’s said and what happens.”

Erich made a face. “What are you talking about?”

“You laughed at her for stumbling right before you fell flat on your face.”

I couldn’t see exactly how Lucas tripped Erich, but I knew that he’d done it even before Erich went sprawling into the grass. A few people laughed, but most of Courtney’s friends glared at Lucas, like he’d done something wrong by standing up for that girl.

“See, that’s irony,” Lucas said as kept walking.

If I’d had the chance, I would’ve told Lucas that I thought he’d done the right thing, and I wouldn’t have cared if Erich and Courtney and those guys were watching. I didn’t get the chance, though. Lucas moved past me as if I’d become invisible.

Erich hated Lucas. Courtney hated Lucas. Patrice hated Lucas. So far as I could tell, virtually everyone at Evernight Academy hated Lucas, except the goofy surfer-type guy I’d noticed on the first day—and me. Okay, Lucas was kind of a troublemaker, but I thought he was brave and honest, which were qualities more people at the school could stand to share.

Apparently, though, I would have to admire Lucas from a distance. For now, I was still alone.

“Aren’t you ready yet?” Patrice crouched upon our windowsill. The night outlined her slender body, graceful even as she prepared to make the leap to the nearest tree branch. “The monitors will be back soon.”

Evernight was policed by hall monitors every night. My parents were the only teachers I hadn’t yet seen lurking in a hallway, waiting to pounce upon any rule breakers. This was good reason to get out while we could, but I kept trying to fix my appearance in the mirror.

“Fix” was the operative word. Patrice looked effortlessly chic in slim slacks and a pale pink sweater that made her skin glow. Me, on the other hand—I was trying to make jeans and a black T-shirt look good. Without much success, I might add.

“Bianca, come on.” Patrice’s patience had run out. “I’m going now. Come with me or don’t.”

“I’m coming.” What did it matter how I looked, anyway? I was only going to this party because I hadn’t had the guts to refuse.

Patrice leaped to the tree branch, then to the ground, her landing as controlled as a gymnast descending from the uneven parallel bars. I managed to follow her, bark scraping my palms. The fear of discovery made me acutely aware of the noises around us: laughter from somebody’s room inside, the first fall leaves rustling on the ground, the hooting of another owl on the hunt.

The night air was cool enough to make me shiver as we ran across the grounds into the woods. Patrice could get through the underbrush without making a sound, a talent I envied. Maybe someday I’d be that coordinated, but it was hard to imagine.

At last we saw the firelight. They’d built a bonfire by the edge of the lake, small enough to avoid attracting attention but big enough to give warmth and cast eerie, flickering light. The students were huddled together, here or there, leaning in to talk in whispers or laugh. I wondered if this was the laughter I’d heard the night of the picnic. Superficially, they looked like any other group of teenagers, hanging out—but there was an energy in the air that heightened my senses, added tension to everyone’s movements and cruelty to most of the smiles. I remembered what I’d thought when I’d met Lucas in the woods during our frightening first encounter; sometimes, when you looked at certain people, you could glimpse something a little bit wild beneath the surface. I felt that wildness here.

Music from somebody’s radio played, trancelike and smooth. I didn’t know the singer; the lyrics weren’t in English. Patrice seemed to vanish into a circle of her friends right away, which left me standing alone, wondering what to do with my hands.

Pockets? No, that looks stupid. Hands on hips? What, like I’m angry about something? No. Okay, even thinking about this is lame.

“Hello there,” Balthazar said. I hadn’t seen him coming up behind me. He wore a black suede blazer and held a bottle in one hand. The firelight painted his face in warm light; he had curly hair, a strong jaw, and a heavy brow. He looked like a tough guy, a bruiser, somebody who would be quicker with a punch than a joke. But his eyes made him approachable and even sexy, because there was intelligence there and humor, too. There was no cruelty in his smile. “Want a beer? There’s still some left.”

“That’s okay.” He had to know I was blushing, even in the dark. “I’m, uh, not legal.”

Not legal? Like anyone here cared about that. I should’ve just painted GEEK on my forehead and saved everybody time.

Balthazar smiled, but not like he was laughing at me. “You know, children used to drink wine at the dinner table with their parents. And doctors used to advise women whose babies didn’t nurse well to feed them a little beer as extra food.”

“That was then, this is now.”

“Fair enough.” He didn’t press me, and I realized that he wasn’t drunk in the slightest. I began to relax. Balthazar had a way of putting people at ease, despite his size and his obvious strength. “I’ve been meaning to say hello to you since the first day.”

“Really?” I hope I didn’t squeak.

“I warn you now, I’m up to no good.” Balthazar must have gotten a good look at the expression on my face, because he laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Your mother said she’d taught you before, so I wanted a few hints on how to read her. I need to know my teacher’s secrets, right?”

I decided that Mom wouldn’t mind my telling him. “You want to watch for her bouncing on her heels.”

“Bouncing?”

“Yeah. That usually means she’s excited about something, interested in it, you know? And if she’s interested in it, she thinks you should be, too.”

“Which means it’s going to show up on a test.”

“You got it.”

He laughed again; he had a dimple in his chin that made him seem almost playful. I almost felt disloyal to Lucas, noticing how handsome Balthazar looked, but it was impossible not to. After the way Lucas had ignored me this past week, I wasn’t sure he had a right to my loyalty. Besides, it felt good, having a gorgeous guy paying attention to me.

Balthazar stepped a little closer. “I’m going to be glad we met. I can tell.”

I grinned back at him, and for a whole three seconds it looked like the party was going to be fun. That’s when Courtney showed up. She was wearing a black skirt cut really high, and a white blouse open really low in the front. She wasn’t very curvy, but she made up for it by not wearing a bra, which was now very obvious. “Balthazar. I’m so glad we get to catch up.”

“We’re caught up,” Balthazar seemed even less happy to see her than I was. She didn’t get the picture, or she ignored it.

“Seems like ages since we’ve hung out. Too long. We last saw each other in London, right?”

“St Petersburg,” he corrected her. He could rattle off the city’s name like throwing away a paper cup. Apparently he was bold and worldly enough to cross the oceans without a second thought.

Courtney’s hands smoothed down the front of his blazer, the movement of her fingers outlining his powerful physique. I envied her then—not her starlet looks or her continental travels, but her daring. If I’d been half as brave with Lucas in the woods, been able touch him or use his “good girl” comment as a way to flirt, maybe he wouldn’t act like we were strangers now. Courtney’s voice sliced through my fantasizing. “You’re not really doing anything here, are you, Balthazar?”

“I was talking to Bianca.”

Courtney glanced over her shoulder at me; her long blonde hair hung loose to her waist, and it rippled as she tossed her head. “Do you have something interesting to share, Bianca?”

“I—” What was I supposed to say? Anything would’ve been better than what I did say, which was, “Um, no.”

“Then you don’t mind if we take a few moments, do you?” She started towing Balthazar off without waiting for an answer. He shot me a look, and I knew that if I spoke even one word, he would stop. But I just stood there helplessly and watched them go.

A couple of people giggled. I glanced to one side and saw Erich, and despite the shifting shadows of the firelight, I was pretty sure he was pointing at me.

I slunk away from the fire, meaning only to be someplace out of the way until I could grab Patrice or somebody else who might pass for friendly. But every single step I took away from the others felt good, and before I knew it, I was leaving.

If we hadn’t sneaked out after curfew, I would’ve run straight through the door and up to my room. I remembered my law-breaker status in time, though, and stopped myself. Instead I headed westward to the gazebo on the lawn to pull myself together, then plan my re-entry.

As I made my way up the steps, I saw someone standing there. At first, though, I didn’t recognize who it could be—whoever it was held binoculars in front of his face. When the moonlight highlighted his bronze hair, I knew. “Lucas?”

“Hey there, Bianca.” It took a few seconds for him to lower the binoculars and grin at me. “Nice night for a party.”

I stared at the binoculars. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m spying on the party.” He was almost as abrupt as he had been in the hallway—until he got a good look at my face. I must’ve still looked miserable, because he asked, more gently, “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m a loser, but I’m fine.”

Lucas laughed. “I saw you cut out of there in a hurry. Anybody giving you trouble?”

“No. Not really. But the whole thing felt—threatening, I guess. You know how I am with strangers.”

“Good for you. That’s not your scene.”

“No kidding.” I stared at the binoculars. Only somebody with excellent night vision would be able to use them to see anything, though I guessed the bonfire’s light helped. “Why are you spying on the party?”

“Looking to see if anybody gets drunk or careless, or wanders off on his own.”

“What, are you Mrs Bethany’s hall monitor now?”

“Hardly.” Lucas set the binoculars down. He was dressed to blend into the shadows—black trousers and a long-sleeved T-shirt that outlined his muscular arms and chest. He was wirier than Balthazar but more cut, too. There was something almost aggressively masculine about him. “Just wondering what the hell those guys do when they’re not bullying, preening, or sucking up. Seems like they wouldn’t have much time left over for anything else.” He cast me an appraising glance. “You seem to like them well enough.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “You’re always hanging out with that crowd.”

“I’m not! Patrice is my roommate, so I have to spend time with her, and her friends come by all the time, but I can’t really avoid them. I mean, a couple of them are okay, but most of them scare me to death.”

“None of them are okay. You can trust me on that.”

I thought I could’ve made an argument on Balthazar’s behalf, but I didn’t want to talk about Balthazar right now. I also realized that Lucas had put me on the defensive, and he didn’t have the right to do that. “Wait, that’s why you’ve been so cold to me? Why you act like we don’t know each other?”

“If that crew had gotten their claws into you—a sweet girl like you—I didn’t want to have to watch. Not if I couldn’t do anything about it.” The depth of feeling in his voice startled me. We were still a few feet away from each other, but it seemed as though I’d never been closer to anyone. “When I saw you run out of there, I realized you still had a chance.”

“Trust me, I’m not part of that group,” I said. “I think they only asked me to the party to laugh at me. I only went because I—well, I have to know somebody here. You were the only friend I had, and I thought I’d lost you.”

Lucas linked his hands around some of the gazebo’s scrollwork, and I did the same, so that we were side by side. We were both entwined with the scrollwork now, like the ivy. “I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?”

In a small voice, I admitted, “You kind of did. I mean—I know we only talked once—”

“But it meant something to you.” Our eyes met for only an instant. “It meant something to me, too. I just didn’t realize—Well, I thought it was only me.”

Lucas hadn’t realized I liked him back? I was never, ever going to understand men. “I came up to talk to you on the first day of classes.”

“Yeah, and just before that, you were walking and talking with Patrice Deveraux, who is about as in as they get here. Her kind and my kind—let’s face it, we don’t mix.” His face looked unpleasant for a moment. “You told me you hardly ever spoke to strangers, so I figured you guys must be pretty friendly.”

“She’s my roommate. I kind of have to be able to talk to her to get through the day.”

“Okay, I got it wrong. Sorry.”

There was more to it than that, I sensed. But Lucas seemed to genuinely regret having jumped to conclusions, which was enough for me. My protector had always been watching out for me, even if I hadn’t known. Realizing that gave me a warm feeling, as if a long coat had been thrown over my shoulders to keep me cozy and dry.

The silence between us stretched out, but it wasn’t awkward. Sometimes there are people you can be quiet with, and you never feel the need to fill the gap with meaningless chitchat. I’d only become that close to a couple of people in my hometown, and I’d always thought it took years. Lucas and I were already there.

I remembered Courtney’s daring and decided I could be at least half as bold as she was. Though I’d never been good at making conversation, I’d give it a try. “Do you not get along with your roommate?”

“Vic?” Lucas smiled a little. “He’s pretty good, as roommates go. Oblivious, mostly. Goofy. But he’s an okay guy.”

The word goofy made me think I knew who this was. “Vic is the guy who wears Hawaiian shirts under his blazer sometimes, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“We haven’t talked, but he seems like fun.”

“He is. Maybe we can all hang out sometime.”

My heart pounding, I ventured, “That would be nice, but…I’d rather spend time with you.” Our eyes met, and I felt like I’d crossed some line. Was that a bad thing or a good one?

“We could—but—” Why was Lucas hesitating? “Bianca, I hope we’re friends. I like you. But it’s not a smart idea for you to spend a lot of time with me. You’ve seen that I’m not exactly the most popular guy on campus. I’m not here to make pals.”

“Are you here to make enemies? The way you and Erich fight, sometimes it seems like it.”

“Would you rather I was friendly with Erich?”

Erich was a class-A jerk, and we both knew it. “No, of course not. You’re just kind of, well, confrontational. I mean, do you really hate all these guys so much? I don’t like them, but you—it’s like you can’t even stand the sight of them.”

“I trust my instincts.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. “They’re people you don’t want on your bad side, not if you can help it.”

“Bianca, if you and I—if we—”

If we what? I could think of so many answers to that question, and I liked most of them. Our eyes met, locking so that it seemed impossible to look away. Lucas’s intensity was almost overpowering even when it wasn’t focused on me, and when it was—like now, as he studied every feature of my face, weighed all his words to me before he spoke them aloud—he could take my breath away.

Finally Lucas finished, “I couldn’t stand it if they took it out on you. And eventually they would.”

He was protecting me? That would have been endearing, if it hadn’t been crazy. “You know, I don’t think I have any social cred for you to damage.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Don’t be so stubborn.”

We were quiet together for a while. Moonlight filtered down between the leaves of ivy, and Lucas was close enough that I could recognize his scent—something that reminded me of cedar and pine, like the woods that surrounded us, as if he were somehow a part of this dark place.

“I’ve kinda messed things up, haven’t I?” Lucas sounded almost as bashful as I felt. “I’m not used to this.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Talking to girls?” Looking the way Lucas did, I doubted that.

However, there was no mistaking his sincerity when he nodded. The devilish glint had faded from his eyes. “I’ve spent a lot of years moving around. Traveling from place to place. Anybody I cared about—it seemed like they were gone too soon. I guess I learned to keep people at a distance.”

“You made me feel like I’d been stupid to trust you.”

“Don’t feel that way. This is my problem. I’d hate for it to be yours.”

My whole life had been spent in a small town, and I’d always thought that made me worse at meeting strangers. But now that Lucas said it, I could see that a peripatetic existence might have the same effect: isolate you, turn your thoughts inward, so that reaching out to others was the hardest thing in the world.

So perhaps his anger was a lot like my shyness. It was a sign that we were each lonely. Maybe we didn’t have to stay lonely too much longer.

Quietly, I said, “Aren’t you tired of running and hiding? I know I am.”

“I don’t run and hide,” Lucas retorted. Then he was silent for a second, considering. “Well, damn.”

“I could be wrong.”

“You’re not.” Lucas watched me for a while longer, and just when I was starting to feel like I’d been too open, he said, “I shouldn’t do this.”

“This?” My heart began to thump a little faster.

Lucas just shook his head and grinned. The devilish look was back. “When it gets complicated later on, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Maybe I’m the complicated one.”

He smiled even more broadly. “I can see it’s going to take us a while to settle this.” I loved it when he smiled at me that way, and I hoped we’d hang out at the gazebo for hours. But at that moment, Lucas cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” But then I did hear it: the faraway sound of the school’s front door opening repeatedly and footsteps on the front walk. “They’re coming out to bust the party!”

“Sucks to be Courtney,” Lucas said. “And it gives us a chance to get back inside.”

We ran across the grounds, listening to the sounds of the party being broken up, and gave each other big smiles as we sailed through the front door, home free.

“See you soon,” Lucas whispered as he let my arm go and headed toward his hall. And as I ran back to my own room and my own bed, that one word kept ringing in my ears: soon.