The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove (25 page)

Jack was silent for a moment and then he said, “Let him sleep it off and I’ll

cover with my parents.” He didn’t say goodbye before he ended the call.

As I reached out to put the phone on the bed table I saw the ugly red-purple

wound on my arm. It was mostly bruising, but there was the bright red ragged

edge of the cut. I went to the bathroom and washed the cut with hot water and

soap.

There was a first-aid kit under the sink and I took out a tube of antibacterial

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ointment and dabbed it on the cut. As I placed a large band-aid over it, I thought

of the time I’d accidentally cut myself when I was making salad. I thought then

that he’d seemed intense, but now a word came to me to describe his expression:

avid. He’d been excited.

I returned to the bedroom and slid under the blanket beside Lucky. I was

too shy to put my arm around him, so I let my leg touch his. Then I turned off the

light and listened to his steady breathing.

When I woke up Lucky was sitting on the bed beside me and the blanket

had slipped down to my waist.

“Morning, Jane,” he said. He looked fresh and was staring at my left

shoulder.

“Morning.”

He pushed the strap of my tank off my shoulder. “What’s this?” he said.

He touched my scar and I jerked away.

“A scar from a childhood accident.” I yanked the blanket up to my neck.

“It’s not that bad. You should see my friend Brad’s leg. Crashed into a

rock snowboarding and needed forty stitches. Now that’s something.” he said.

Lucky picked up his jacket and his cell phone.

“Jack called last night,” I said. “He’s got issues about our…our

friendship.”

“Who gives a shit what Jack thinks?” Lucky flashed a dazzling smile. He

took my hand and stretched out my arm, looking at the bandage. “Hope I wasn’t

too rough. I got carried away.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

“No, but I’ve thought a lot about it,” he said. “I gotta go. I can’t wait until

the next time we do this.”

“Lucky.” I paused and then said carefully, “Do you think you’re a

vampire?”

“Do I
think
I’m a vampire? The undead kind that sleeps in coffins and is

hundreds of years old?” he said with a laugh. “No, I think I’m a living human

being and I can show you my birth certificate. Do
you
think I’m a vampire?”

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“Of course not, but I thought you might believe it. You always wear

sunscreen and…”

“Multispectrum sunblock, not sunscreen. The town’s founders moved here

especially because of the crap weather. I sunburn worse than albinos.”

“Did you get the idea to do this from the stories your mother teaches?”

“Jane, it’s a total turn-off if you bring my mother into this. This is between

us. I thought you liked it, too.”

“I like being with you, not the hurting part.”

“We’ll figure out a way so it doesn’t hurt.” He left the room and I got up to

follow him to the living room. I got up and followed him to the living room. I

wanted him to kiss me good-bye at least, but he patted my head, as if I was a pet

or a child.

“Later,” he said and left.

In the shower, I kept thinking about the way Lucky had pushed against me.

My soapy hands caressed my body as I imagined him touching me in other ways,

in other places.

I’d just gotten out of the shower when the phone rang. I wrapped a towel

around me and ran to answer it, thinking it must be Lucky. “Hello!”

“Hi, JW,” Mary Violet said. “We thought you were coming for breakfast.

We’re making pancakes, and Constance wants to have a post-party review

session.”

In the background, Constance said, “You’re the one who wants to gossip!”

“CA met up with her lover, Gerald,” Mary Violet continued. “The geriatric

one in college.”

“Start breakfast without me,” I said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Good, because Con says she needs an impartial opinion and that’s you –

always watching and not getting involved.”

“Yes, that’s me,” I said, wondering how she’d react if she knew what had

happened with Lucky.

I dressed in cargo khakis and a long-sleeved shirt, then gathered my library

books, and my borrowed clothes and went to the Heyers’ in the cool gray morning

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fog. It made sense that sun-sensitive people would live where it was always

overcast.

Hattie was already there, listening while Mary Violet discussed who had

worn what at the party and what they’d done.

I tried to return the green dress, but MV said, “It’s yours. Agnes was

serious about giving it to you.”

I made her take back the cashmere shawl and the handbag.

Constance was more cheerful than I’d ever seen her and talked about

meeting her ex again. “You should have stayed,” Constance said. “Even though I

heard that Sage was completely heinous.”

“You should have slapped her!” Mary Violet said. “Everyone loves a

catfight. You would have scored major points with the guys.”

Hattie said to me, “Why didn’t you call me back? I would have slapped

Sage, too, and then MV would have gotten her catfight.”

Constance said, “I heard that Jack shut Sage up.”

“He did,” I admitted.

“Jack, always the noble one,” Hattie said with an edge to her voice. She

immediately smiled and said, “That’s why I like him.”

“He’s actually kind of hot when he’s playing,” Mary Violet said. “Not

gorgeous like Lucky, but very sexy anyway. Don’t you think so, Jane?”

“He seems talented,” I said. “I don’t know anything about music though.”

“You don’t have to know anything about music or sports to go groupie for

someone, like Hattie,” Mary Violet said. “Someday she’ll tell us all about Jack’s

depravity.”

“Oh, then he’d lose the mystery. A man with dark secrets is always sexier,”

she said and I wished I could tell them about Lucky’s dark secret and his

depravity.

As the girls talked about who did what at the party, I rubbed my thumb

across the inside of my elbow, feeling the bump of the bandage under the fabric

and the throb of the wound beneath. I told my friends that I had to get back and

do homework.

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When Mary Violet walked me to the front door, she said, “You should stay

and do your work here. I can answer all your questions.”

I remembered what Jack had said, “MV, what did the king’s fool do in

Shakespeare?”

“The fools are my favorites, right after the romantic heroes and the tragic

heroes, and the heroines, and the villains,” she said. “The fool is the only one

who’s allowed to tell the king the truth about things, but he can only do it in a

joking, insulting way. He’s protected by the king unless he goes too far and then

he’s exiled to some godforsaken place. Are you asking about this for
Night

Terrors
?”

I shook my head and said, “I heard someone say it and wondered.”

“Well, we should totally take
Shakespeare’s Critical Works
together next

year. Lots of field trips to see plays and they bring in Evergreen seniors to do

scenes with us. I can be Ophelia and you can be one of those girls who

masquerades as a boy and then the deluded hero is confused when he falls madly

in love with him slash her.”

“I can’t wait.”

As I walked downhill into town, I felt the first bite of autumn in the air.

Jack might think he was a truth-teller, but that didn’t make it so.

After I deposited my books in the library return slot, I went to a computer

stall so I could do a web search for my Alpha friends under their screen names.

When I tried to log in the computer,
Invalid User
flashed on the screen. I tried

another computer and had the same problem.

A man at the information desk saw that I was having problems and came

over. “May I help you?”

“Could you? I’m trying to get into my library account and the system

won’t let me log in. I double-checked the account number and password.”

“May I see your card?”

When I handed him my library card, he said, “Are you a student at Birch

Grove? You know there’s a no-computer policy for schoolwork.”

“This isn’t for schoolwork. I’m trying to contact some friends and set up an

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email account.”

“I see.” He tried to log into my account and got the same error message.

“One moment.” He went to the information station and tapped away at the

computer keyboard there.

After several minutes, he picked up a phone. He had a brief conversation

and returned to me.

“I’m sorry. We’re still dealing with glitches from a recent upgrade on our

inter-library system.”

“Okay, is there any place nearby with public computers?”

He shook his head. “The community here likes to protect their kids from

inappropriate material and online predators. Come back in a few weeks.”

“Thanks for checking.”

“May I help you with anything else?”

“No, thanks. I can find everything on my own.”

I found an aisle with books about psychology. I was going through the

indexes, looking under
Fetishes
and
Perversions
for the word
blood
, when the

librarian suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle.

“Excuse me!” he said in a loud whisper. “These books are for 18 and

over.”

“I’m an emancipated minor,” I said.

“Be that as it may, you are
not
over 18.” He took the book from my hand

and snapped it shut. “Is there anything else you need?”

“I didn’t realize you censored books here,” I said sharply and picked up my

bag.

“It’s not censorship. It’s age-appropriate restriction,” he said tightly. “I

think you better leave now, Miss Williams, or I’ll have to call your dean of

students about this disruption.”

“Fine,” I said and left. I was fuming as I walked to the market. What kind

of town restricted books on psychology, I thought as I bought milk, bread, and

fruit.

While I waited for the shuttle bus back to Birch Grove, I saw Mrs.

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Monroe’s Mercedes slow down and pull over. She waved to me and I went to the

window.

“Hello, Mrs. Monroe.”

“Hello, Jane! I thought I saw you leaving the market. Would you like a

ride back to campus?”

I shifted the weight of the grocery bag. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

I got in the car with the grocery bag on my lap. I was very aware of the

bandage that itched under my shirtsleeve.

On the way back up the hill, she said, “Did you enjoy the party last night?”

“It was nice.” There was no way she could have known that her son spent

the night with me, unless Jack said something. I didn’t think he would. After a

moment I said, “I’d never been to a country club before.”

“It’s the center of a lot of our social life. Jack’s a little bored with it, but he

can’t play at most places until he’s 21.”

“I liked his band. Does the name mean anything?”

“Dog Waffle?” she smiled. “Whenever I made waffles, the neighbor’s old

dog would come begging for his dog waffle. Jacob says it’s also a play upon

dogging
, following faithfully, and
waffle
, to go back and forth between things.

He may be joking.”

“I can’t tell when he’s kidding and when he’s serious.”

“He’s always doing both,” she said. “He can’t be serious without humor,

and he can’t be humorous without being serious, too.”

“Like the king’s fool?”

“Jacob’s nobody’s fool, even a king’s,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re

getting along with the boys. They seem quite fond of you. I hope you don’t find

tutoring Lucky to be too much of a chore.”

“He’s a good student.”

We arrived at the school and Mrs. Monroe parked at the wrought-iron gate

and stone pillars at the entrance. “Do you mind walking the rest of the way?”

I shook my head. “Thanks for the ride.”

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“See you tomorrow at dinner, Jane.”

When I got into the cottage, I rushed to the phone to see if Lucky had left

me a message. He hadn’t. I stayed inside most the day, working on my

assignments and hoping that he’d call.

I hadn’t slept much, so I closed my eyes to rest them, and I fell asleep. I

dreamed of the birch trees walking toward me, surprisingly graceful for their

enormous size.

Mrs. Monroe was sitting high in their branches, as if she was riding them.

“All my Birch Grove girls are exceptional,” she said. “Jane, you’re the most

special of all because you’re already dead!”

“I’m alive,” I tried to shout. “I’m alive.”

I awoke with a start and saw only darkness. I fumbled toward the wall,

turned on the light, and looked at the clock. It was almost midnight.

I opened the front door and stepped out on the porch hoping that the cold

air would clear my thoughts.

Someone was out there. I stayed motionless and listened harder. It