Beautiful Creatures (15 page)

“It’s not your fault.”

“I wish I knew why the dreams are so real.”

“I tried to warn you. You should stay away from me.”

“Whatever. I’ll consider myself warned.” Somehow I knew I couldn’t do that—stay away from her. Even though I was about to
walk into school and face a huge load of crap, I didn’t care. It felt good to have someone I could talk to, without editing
everything I said. And I could talk to Lena; at Greenbrier it felt like I could’ve sat there in the weeds and talked to her
for days. Longer. As long as she was there to talk to.

“What is it about your birthday? Why did you say you might not be here after that?”

She quickly changed the subject. “What about the locket? Did you see what I saw? The burning? The other vision?”

“Yeah. I was sitting in the middle of church and almost fell out of the pew. But I found out some things from the Sisters.
The initials ECW, they stand for Ethan Carter Wate. He was my great-great-great-great-uncle, and my three crazy aunts say
I was named after him.”

“Then why didn’t you recognize the initials on the locket?”

“That’s the strange part. I’d never heard of him, and he’s conveniently missing from the family tree at my house.”

“What about GKD? It’s Genevieve, right?”

“They didn’t seem to know, but it has to be. She’s the one in the visions, and the D must stand for Duchannes. I was gonna
ask Amma, but when I showed her the locket her eyes almost fell out of her head. Like it was triple hexed, soaked in a bucket
of voodoo, and wrapped in a curse for good measure. And my dad’s study is off-limits, where he keeps all my mom’s old books
about Gatlin and the War.” I was rambling. “You could talk to your uncle.”

“My uncle won’t know anything. Where’s the locket now?”

“In my pocket, wrapped in a pouch full of powder Amma dumped all over it when she saw it. She thinks I took it back to Greenbrier
and buried it.”

“She must hate me.”

“No more than any of my girl, you know, friends. I mean, friends who are girls.” I couldn’t believe how stupid I sounded.
“I think we’d better get to class before we get in even more trouble.”

“Actually, I was thinking about going home. I know I’m going to have to deal with them eventually, but I’d like to live in
denial for one more day.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

She laughed. “With my uncle, the infamous Macon Ravenwood, who thinks school is a waste of time and the good citizens of Gatlin
are to be avoided at all costs? He’ll be thrilled.”

“Then why do you even go?” I was pretty sure Link would never show up at school again if his mom wasn’t chasing him out the
door every morning.

She twisted one of the charms on her necklace, a seven-pointed star. “I guess I thought it would be different here. Maybe
I could make some friends, join the newspaper or something. I don’t know.”

“Our newspaper?
The Jackson Stonewaller
?”

“I tried to join the newspaper at my old school, but they said all the staff positions were filled, even though they never
had enough writers to get the paper out on time.” She looked away, embarrassed. “I should get going.”

I opened the door for her. “I think you should talk to your uncle about the locket. He might know more than you think.”

“Trust me, he doesn’t.” I slammed the door. As much as I wanted her to stay, a part of me was relieved she was going home.
I was going to have enough to deal with today.

“Do you want me to turn that in for you?” I pointed at the notebook lying on the passenger seat.

“No, it’s not homework.” She flipped open the glove compartment and shoved the notebook inside. “It’s nothing.” Nothing she
was going to tell me about, anyway.

“You’d better go before Fatty starts scouting the lot.” She started the car before I could say anything else, and waved as
she pulled away from the curb.

I heard a bark. I turned to see the enormous black dog from Ravenwood, only a few feet away, and who it was barking at.

Mrs. Lincoln smiled at me. The dog growled, the hair along its back standing on end. Mrs. Lincoln looked down at it with such
revulsion, you would’ve thought she was looking at Macon Ravenwood himself. In a fight, I wasn’t sure which one of them would
come out on top.

“Wild dogs carry rabies. Someone should notify the county.” Yeah, someone.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Who was that I just saw drivin’ off in that strange black car? You seemed to be havin’ quite a conversation.” She already
knew the answer. It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.

“Ma’am.”

“Speakin’ a strange, Principal Harper was just tellin’ me he’s plannin’ on offerin’ that Ravenwood girl an occupational transfer.
She can take her pick, any school in three counties. As long as it’s not Jackson.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even look at her.

“It’s our responsibility, Ethan. Principal Harper’s, mine—every parent in Gatlin’s. We have to be sure to keep the young people
in this town outta harm’s way. And away from the wrong sorta people.” Which meant anyone who wasn’t like her.

She reached out her hand and touched me on the shoulder, just as she had done to Emily, not ten minutes ago. “I’m sure you
understand my meanin’. After all, you’re one of us. Your daddy was born here and your mamma was buried here. You belong here.
Not
everyone
does.”

I stared back at her. She was in her van before I could say another word.

This time, Mrs. Lincoln was after more than burning a few books.

Once I got to class, the day became abnormally normal, weirdly normal. I didn’t see any more parents, though I suspected they
were there loitering around the office. At lunch, I ate three bowls of chocolate pudding with the guys, as usual, though it
was clear what and who we weren’t talking about. Even the sight of Emily madly texting all through English and chemistry seemed
like some kind of reassuring universal truth. Except for the feeling that I knew what, or rather who, she was texting about.
Like I said, abnormally normal.

Until Link dropped me off after basketball practice and I decided to do something completely insane.

Amma was standing on the front porch—a sure sign of trouble. “Did you see her?” I should’ve expected this.

“She wasn’t in school today.” Technically that was true.

“Maybe that’s for the best. Trouble follows that girl around like Macon Ravenwood’s dog. I don’t want it followin’ you into
this house.”

“I’m going to take a shower. Will dinner be ready soon? Link and I have a project to do tonight.” I called from the stairs,
trying to sound normal.

“Project? What kinda project?”

“History.”

“Where are you goin’ and when are you fixin’ to get back?”

I let the bathroom door slam before I answered that one. I had a plan, but I needed a story, and it had to be good.

Ten minutes later, sitting at the kitchen table, I had it. It wasn’t airtight, but it was the best I could do without a little
time. Now I just had to pull it off. I wasn’t the best liar, and Amma was no fool. “Link is picking me up after dinner and
we’re gonna be at the library until it closes. I think it’s sometime around nine or ten.” I glopped Carolina Gold onto my
pulled pork. Carolina Gold, a sticky mess of mustard barbeque sauce, was the one thing Gatlin County was famous for that had
nothing to do with the Civil War.

“The library?”

Lying to Amma always made me nervous, so I tried not to do it that often. And tonight I was really feeling it, mostly in my
stomach. The last thing I wanted to do was eat three plates of pulled pork, but I had no choice. She knew exactly how much
I could put away. Two plates, and I would rouse suspicion. One plate, and she would send me to my room with a thermometer
and ginger ale. I nodded and set to work clearing my second plate.

“You haven’t set foot in the library since…”

“I know.” Since my mom died.

The library was home away from home to my mom, and my family. We had spent every Sunday afternoon there since I was a little
boy, wandering around the stacks, pulling out every book with a picture of a pirate ship, a knight, a soldier, or an astronaut.
My mom used to say, “This is my church, Ethan. This is how we keep the Sabbath holy in our family.”

The Gatlin County head librarian, Marian Ashcroft, was my mom’s oldest friend, the second smartest historian in Gatlin next
to my mom, and until last year, her research partner. They had been grad students together at Duke, and when Marian finished
her PhD in African-American studies, she followed my mom down to Gatlin to finish their first book together. They were halfway
through their fifth book before the accident.

I hadn’t set foot in the library since then, and I still wasn’t ready. But I also knew there was no way Amma would stop me
from going there. She wouldn’t even call to check up on me. Marian Ashcroft was family. And Amma, who had loved my mom as
much as Marian did, respected nothing more than family.

“Well, you mind your manners and don’t raise your voice. You know what your mamma used to say. Any book is a Good Book, and
wherever they keep the Good Book safe is also the House a the Lord.” Like I said, my mom would have never made it in the DAR.

Link honked. He was giving me a ride on his way to band practice. I fled the kitchen, feeling so guilty I had to fight the
impulse to fling myself into Amma’s arms and confess everything, like I was six years old again and had eaten all the dry
Jell-O mix out of the pantry. Maybe Amma was right. Maybe I had picked a hole in the sky and the universe was all about to
fall in on me.

As I stepped up to the door of Ravenwood, my hand tightened around the glossy blue folder, my excuse for showing up at Lena’s
house uninvited. I was dropping by to give her the English assignment she’d missed today—that’s what I planned to say, anyway.
It had sounded convincing, in my head, when I was standing on my own porch. But now that I was on the porch at Ravenwood,
I wasn’t so sure.

I wasn’t usually the kind of guy who would do something like this, but it was obvious there was no way Lena was ever going
to invite me over on her own. And I had a feeling her uncle could help us, that he might know something.

Or maybe it was the other thing. I wanted to see her. It had been a long, dull day at Jackson without Hurricane Lena, and
I was starting to wonder how I ever got through eight periods without all the trouble she caused me. Without all the trouble
she made me want to cause myself.

I could see light flooding from the vine-covered windows. I heard the sounds of music in the background, old Savannah songs,
from that Georgian songwriter my mom had loved.
“In the cool cool cool of the evening…”

I heard barking from the other side of the door before I even knocked, and within seconds the door swung open. Lena was standing
there in her bare feet, and she looked different—dressed up, in a black dress with little birds embroidered on it, like she
was going out to have dinner at a fancy restaurant. I looked more like I was headed to the Dar-ee Keen in my holey Atari T-shirt
and jeans. She stepped out onto the veranda, pulling the door shut behind her. “Ethan, what are you doing here?”

I held up the folder, lamely. “I brought your homework.”

“I can’t believe you just showed up here. I told you my uncle doesn’t like strangers.” She was already pushing me down the
stairs. “You have to go. Now.”

“I just thought we could talk to him.”

Behind us, I heard the awkward clearing of a throat. I looked up to see Macon Ravenwood’s dog, and beyond him, Macon Ravenwood
himself. I tried not to look surprised, but I’m pretty sure it gave me away when I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Well, that’s one I don’t hear often. And I do hate to disappoint, as I am nothing if not a Southern gentleman.” He spoke
in a measured Southern drawl, but with perfect enunciation. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Wate.”

I couldn’t believe I was standing in front of him. The mysterious Macon Ravenwood. Only, I really had been expecting Boo Radley—some
guy trudging around the house in overalls, mumbling in some kind of monosyllabic language like a Neanderthal, maybe even drooling
a bit around the edges of his mouth.