A Tale of Two Proms (Bard Academy) (32 page)

I guess it wasn’t a dream. Parker was dead. And what a way to go. I shuddered.

I felt genuinely bad for Parker’s family. I guess it was probably better for them to think she died because of a gas leak and not a one-eyed freak.

“You must’ve been so scared,” Mom said, squeezing my arm. I wanted to tell her she had no idea. I’d come face to face with Cyclops and Mr. Hyde in less than twenty-four hours.

“Your father wants to sue,” Mom said. I tried to imagine what that lawsuit would look like
Tate vs. Jekyll and Hyde.

“He also wanted to come,” Mr. Perkins said. “But the doctors said it was too stressful a trip. Too soon for him to be flying.”

“They left him at home and he’s probably already retained the best litigator in town,” Lindsay said.

“He can’t sue Bard,” I said, wondering how many other parents would be thinking the same thing. “It’s not their fault.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

I looked at Lindsay. I didn’t think Mom would buy “Catherine Earnshaw” as an answer.

“Well, go pack your things, we need to leave before something else explodes,” Mom said. Her voice was jittery. I noticed she was glancing around at the firefighters and police officers standing near the rubble of the old chapel. If they were looking for faculty remains, I could’ve told them not to bother. Ghosts don’t have bodies to leave behind.

Or maybe Mom was just picking up on the vibe of this place. Bard had creepy down to a science.

“We’re going to grab something to eat,” Mom said. “Want to come with us?”

I did, but there was something I needed to do first.

“Yeah, Mom, I will,” I said. “I just want to check in at the Headmaster’s office for one second. You guys go ahead, okay?”

“Okay,” Mom said and then she and Mr. Perkins and Lindsay retreated to the cafeteria.

I needed to see Headmaster B one last time. A few things still bothered me.

But, when I came to her door, I found she wasn’t there. Instead, a big burly police officer in uniform with a large walkie-talkie was standing there talking to a firefighter. They had their heads together over what looked like Bard Academy blueprints. No Headmaster B.

They glanced up at me as I stood in the door.

“Um, I’m looking for the Headmaster.”

The police officer and firefighter exchanged a somber glance.

“Sorry, kid, but she’s been missing since the explosion yesterday.”

I blinked, trying to register this information.

“But…” That wasn’t possible. I saw her yesterday. She wasn’t missing then.

“We’re working as fast as we can,” the firefighter said. “We’re hoping to still find survivors. But since the first floor of the library collapsed into the basement….”

“Wait, it what?” Basement? Did they mean the vault? Was the vault no more?

I had a bad feeling about this. I remembered the look on my teachers faces yesterday. The way Headmaster B was holding my bag full of vault books and the way Miss A had hugged me and
thanked me
.

I’d been so blind.

I sprinted back to my dorm. I grabbed my journal and opened it, whipping through the pages until I got to the last entry. I recognized Headmaster B’s loopy handwriting. It read:

Dear Miranda,

We hope that one day you will understand what we have done and why. We felt the only true way to ensure both worlds would be safe would be to close the portal – permanently. This is what we have done.

As a consequence, no one is henceforth tied to this island. You are free. As are we. Do not mourn us. We owe you a debt of gratitude. You helped us become better people and for that we will always be grateful.

Live life fully, write often, and have no regrets.

Affectionately yours,

Charlotte

I simply stared at the entry stunned. Miss A had been saying a permanent goodbye yesterday. They all had. I hadn’t just imagined that Miss A looked more transparent than usual. She had because she’d been fading—literally. How had they done it? Destroyed the books? Could they have done that?

I wondered how long it was before they’d disappeared. Minutes? Hours? I’d gone to sleep and they had passed on to the next world. They were well and truly gone and I still couldn’t quite believe it. They were
gone
.

I sat on my bed, the shock wearing off slowly, as my brain tried to digest this new information.

I felt sad, but I also felt happy for them. It was a bittersweet moment. I had lost them, but they had gained their freedom. 

I had a moment of peace, before I thought of Heathcliff.

Heathcliff.

Had he disappeared in the night, too? Faded away to nothingness? 

I felt a moment of pure panic.

You are free.

Did Headmaster B mean that I was free of Heathcliff?

My feet were already moving. I had to find him. I kicked myself for not looking sooner. I only hoped I wasn’t too late.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
O
NE

I went to the boys’ dorm, but no one had seen Heathcliff. I looked at the pond, but he wasn’t there, either. At each place where I didn’t find him, the panic in my chest grew a little stronger, crowding out all other emotions until all I could think was
he’s gone, too
. My last hope was the cabin. When I found it again in the clearing, I was shocked to see the damaged done by the Cyclops in the sunlight. It was near flattened. Hardly anything was left standing, except for a part of one wall. After we had left, the Cyclops must’ve spent quite a long time dismantling it, looking for his supper. I stepped to the door which was laid on its side. I looked down at the flattened mess of splinters. Even if I wanted to, there’d be no living here now.  I picked through the debris and found the typewriter Heathcliff had given me. It was still in one piece. But it was the only thing that was.

 I closed my eyes for a second, trying to remember what it had looked like when Heathcliff had proposed. That seemed like a year ago. Had he really asked me to marry him—and then a day later gotten back with his ex-girlfriend and tried to destroy Bard? 

I closed my eyes, wondering if I could imagine a happy ending at the end of all this. A happy ending for Heathcliff and me. I wondered if imagination worked in this world as it did in the other. I tried to imagine us together. 

“Not much left is there?” Heathcliff was standing behind me.  I jumped, startled.

It was definitely Heathcliff, but he hadn’t looked as he had in my imagination. He’d shaved recently and he was out of his Bard uniform. He wore plain jeans and a t-shirt. He looked surprisingly modern. There was still an air of danger about him. No matter how reformed he got, he’d still be Heathcliff. It was his black eyes and untamable hair, I thought. And the fact that no matter how sharp his razor, he always seemed to have the trace of stubble. He crossed his muscled arms across his chest and considered me a moment.

“I thought you were…” I said.

“Did you?” A small smile played around the corner of his mouth.

I was relieved to find him here—more than relieved—happy. I knew we needed to talk about serious things, but at that moment I just wanted to hug him and feel his arms around me, holding me tight. Heathcliff had that kind of effect on me. It was probably why we’d not had very many serious discussions before now.

He took a step closer and then his arms were around me. I breathed in the smell of him and he just held me for a second.

“The faculty are gone,” I told his chest.

“I know,” Heathcliff said. “I talked to Charlotte before she…uh…left.” 

I pulled back and blinked up at him.

“What did she say?”

“She told me I should be honest with you.”

I stood very still. I knew honesty was the best policy, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this particular truth.

“You never asked me about my feelings for Catherine,” Heathcliff said. 

Or about why he was making about to make out with her on the Prom dance floor if his real intention was to be with me. I managed, thankfully, not to say that. “Did you love her?” I did my best to keep my voice steady. I was proud of that.

 “I thought I did,” Heathcliff said. “But that was before I met you.”

“When you saw her again, you had feelings for her?”

“I needed to be sure,” Heathcliff said. “And I also needed to keep her away from you. She tried to kill you once.”

 “At the chapel,” I said. The falling stone gargoyle wasn’t exactly subtle.

“I knew right then I didn’t love her,” Heathcliff said. “She was going to destroy the only person who ever really believed in me—you. From then on, I plotted on ways to send her back where she belonged. My plan was always to send her to
Wuthering Heights
.” 

“I saw you on the dance floor.” It seemed pretty incriminating evidence.

“I didn’t have the book,” Heathcliff said. “I had to play along until I got the book. It was the only way to send her back.” 

I stared at Heathcliff a long time. I looked for any signs he was lying or stretching the truth or conveniently changing his story now that Catherine was gone and I was here. But I didn’t see any hint of a lie.

 “Why me? Why not her?” It was the question I’d been struggling with since I’d known Heathcliff. “That first day we met, you thought I was her. It was why you fell in love with me, wasn’t it? Because I
looked
like her?” The words clawed their way out, and I realized I’d been worried about that very thing a long time. It was my greatest fear spoken out loud. Even now, even after I knew he’d saved me, not Catherine, I was still afraid of his answer.

Heathcliff looked at me for a second, his black eyes unreadable.

“I never loved Catherine the way I love you,” Heathcliff said. “Yes, you look alike, but you are nothing like her at all in here.” He pointed to my chest. “She is selfish and hateful and petty. You are generous and caring and brave. She sees the worst in me. You, Miranda Tate, see the best. When I’m with you, I feel like I
can
be a better person. That I will be.”

He took another step closer to me. We were toe to toe now and I had to crane my neck to meet his dark eyes. “I want to choose my
own
fate.”

I did, too.

And the thing was, he had saved me. When it came right down to it, he
had
picked me. That was a fact.

“You make me a better man,” he said, and then he pulled me closer to him. I could feel his warmth and his strength. “I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.” He was serious. He was certain. “And I’ll start by going with you to Philadelphia.” He pulled out my college acceptance letter from his pocket.

I stared at it.

“How long have you known?” I asked him, searching his face.

“The letter fell out of your pocket in the dorm last night, after you fell asleep. But I’ve known for awhile you were keeping something from me.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I said, feeling the need to explain. “I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

“I realize now that asking you to stay here…” Heathcliff gestured to rubble of the cabin around us. “Was selfish of me. You need more in your life. And you’ll get it.”

“You want to come with me to Philadelphia?” I asked him.

“Of course,” Heathcliff said.

“But I thought you couldn’t leave the island?”

“The ties that bound me are broken,” Heathcliff said. “It’s what Charlotte told me. I’m free to go anywhere. Do anything. Live anywhere.” He looked at me. “Be with anyone I choose. I’m free.”

That’s what she’d meant, I realized, when she told me I was free. I was free to choose, too. 

“I choose you, Miranda Tate.” Heathcliff’s hands were warm on my shoulders. “Do you choose me?”

I looked for a long time in Heathcliff’s black eyes. Heathcliff flashed me a brilliant smile and I knew then my answer.

Because I realized that our love wasn’t powerful because we were written for each other. It was powerful because we had decided to be together. Sometimes the most intense stories are the ones you make when you defy destiny.

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “I choose you, too.”

And then Heathcliff pulled me closer to him and laid his lips on mine. I felt the rush I always did when he touched me. My heart soared and I felt like nothing could ever be wrong in the world again. Kissing Heathcliff felt like I’d come home to the place where I belonged.

When he pulled away, I took his hand and led him away from the flattened cottage.

“Come on,” I told him. “I want you to meet my mom.”

Heathcliff raised an eyebrow. “This sounds serious,” he said, and smiled.

I thought about what my mom and Mr. Perkins might think of this tall, broad boy with the black eyes and the wild hair and the shadow of stubble on his chin. They’d grow to like him, I thought, and then love him, just like I did. And then I thought—how was I going to introduce him? He didn’t have a last name. He just went by Heathcliff.

“Heathcliff…” I began, trying to find a way to pose the question.

“Just call me Heath,” he said and grinned at me. “From now on, I’ll just be Heath Grange.”

“A new name?”

“For a new world,” Heath said and squeezed my hand. I glanced up at his face. I found hope there and strength, and the promise for a new beginning.

I didn’t know for sure what the future would bring, but I knew that whatever happened, we would write the next chapter together.

AUTHOR BIO

Cara Lockwood is the
USA Today
bestselling author of the Bard Academy novels
Wuthering High
,
The Scarlet Letterman
and
Moby Clique
. She is also the author of six other books, including
I Did (But I Wouldn’t Now)
and
I Do (But I Don’t)
, which was made into a Lifetime Original Movie. She lives in Chicago with her two daughters. Visit her at
www.BardAcademy.com
or
www.CaraLockwood.com
.