Evernight (4 page)

* * *

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 lone 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Raquel, I sensed, didn't make friends easily; she seemed lonely but withdrawn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 sing-songed 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 toss 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 blond 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 reentry.
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 chit-chat. 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.