Flicker (4 page)

              “Not for me, milady; never.” He gave a slight bow as he ushered her through, and she couldn't help laughing.

              “Now, how do you get away with talking like that in a high school?” She asked, amused. “You've only been here a day, so maybe no one's noticed yet, but I'm surprised the homecoming committee at your last school didn't come after you with torches and pitchforks for such weirdness.”

              “Oh, they did,” he replied seriously. “That's why I had to come here instead. The witch hunts were getting to be a strain.”

              She chuckled, preceding him down the stairs. “How do you manage to say that with a straight face?”

              He smirked, and her heart stuttered for a moment. “It's a gift.”

              Elise shook her head. “Well, I hope Willowdale proves to be a witch hunt-free zone for you.”

              “Given your fashion choices, I'd say they seem pretty liberal here.” He gestured to encompass her several layers of floor-length skirts and archaic-inspired top.

              “Oh, don't get your hopes up from my example,” she replied wryly. “My abnormality is a lifestyle choice; it's definitely not something to judge the school by.”

              “So what's the lifestyle you're choosing?” He asked curiously.

              “Generally, solitary,” Elise said ruefully.

              He raised an eyebrow. “Well, then, I seem to be the exception to the rule.”

              “Don't get used to it,” she warned, leading the way through the press of students on the landing and fighting her way through the door to the second floor.

              “Nonsense,” was his flippant response. “I'm so charming, you'll never get rid of me.” His voice dropped lower, and he was suddenly gripping her arm, just above her elbow, halting her in her tracks so he could capture her with his eyes. “You're stuck with me now, I'm afraid.”

              And with that, he walked ahead of her into the Latin classroom. Elise stood still for another moment, shivering once again at the seductive menace in his voice. Then a girl bumped into her from behind, and she stumbled into motion once again.

              As Elise entered the classroom behind him, dropping off yesterday's homework on Magistra's desk and settling into her seat on autopilot, she was forced to confront the embarrassing fact that she had been flirting shamelessly with him; her only consolation was that he had been doing the same. This time, at least, she had held her own in the conversation-- that is, until the end. Another shudder ripped up her spine as she replayed the final seconds of their interaction. The heat in her body left her little doubt that her reaction this time had been less fear and more... she glanced over her shoulder at him, just in time to see him yawn and stretch, leaning back in his seat and looking straight at her. She flushed sheepishly, hurriedly turning back to the front. She was annoyed to realize that she still hadn't learned his name.

              Elise's frustration would be short-lived, though, she knew: in the few days before she assigned them Latin names, Magistra took attendance for any new students in English. So she paid attention through the first five or so of her classmates, and was rewarded when Magistra called, “Mercer, Alexander,” and the boy promptly replied, “Salve, Magistra. Tibi gratias ago pro me docens. ”

              Magistra West paused, fluttering her eyelashes at him-- Elise was always amused by her teacher's flirtatious way of joking with her students-- and saying throatily, “My, it would seem that our new pupil has had a good deal of classical education before he came to us.”

              “Yes, Magistra,” he replied with a smile, apparently as amused as Elise by the teacher's antics. “I took Latin for two years at my old school.”

              “Well, you'll fit right in here with our remaining advanced students; discipuli, welcome Alexander to your scholarly fold. Now, dear, was your last teacher in the practice of giving students Latin names?”

              “He was, but he just left mine alone-- it is rather classical, after all.” He said charmingly.

              “That is certainly true. Well, if you have no objections, then Alexander you shall remain. Welcome to my class,” she gave him a genuine smile before she moved on down the list.

              So now I know his name, Elise thought. Alexander was an old name, as he'd noted, and a powerful one-- the name fit him, and she was obscurely pleased by it. Despite her embarrassment over flirting with him in the hallway, she also couldn't resist turning around in her seat to smirk at him from under her eyelashes. “Show-off,” she mouthed at him. It made her oddly happy that she was the only person in the room who wasn't surprised by his grasp of the language they were studying; sharing the secret with him, however briefly, had almost made her feel like they were friends.

              Alexander shrugged, grinning. “When in Rome...” he murmured back, just barely loud enough that she could hear him. And then, to complete the image, he actually winked at her. Elise flushed a deep crimson and whirled back to face the chalkboard again, pretending to be absorbed by the grammatical diagram Magistra was sketching there.

              The class dragged by, only partially because it was just the second day and Magistra spent the period reviewing things they had learned last year. Elise kept having to stop herself from looking over her shoulder at Alexander again, especially at the frequent points when she was sure she could feel his eyes burning into her back. She hadn't actually flirted with anyone in years, and in watching her peers throw themselves at each other, had seen nothing she cared to emulate. The last thing she wanted was to turn into one of them; in the interest of preventing such a transformation, she refused to look back at him. The part of her that mocked everything she did pointed out that all she was likely to do, when looking at him, was bat her eyelashes like a bimbo-- so there was no point in bothering.

              Sitting through the boring class, barely hearing Magistra's jokes, Elise found her confidence ebbing in a wash of negativity that left her depressed and anxious. What was she thinking, trying to flirt with some boy? Most likely, she would run out of things to talk about with him and end up sitting awkwardly in silence, looking like a moron. But on the off chance that things went well and he enjoyed her company, then what? She knew perfectly well he couldn't be trusted-- no one could. So was there really any point in this? She slumped in her desk, doodling absently in the margins of her notebook as she decided that at the bell, she had better just slip out of the class without so much as looking at Alexander again.

              As Magistra reminded the class to turn in the forms she'd handed out yesterday and bid them “Valete,” Elise slipped her pen into the spiral of her notebook and grabbed the strap of her messenger bag. She was preparing to leave the room quickly today and brave the crush of students in the hallway rather than risk being alone in the room with Alexander once more. But the bell sounded, she stood up, and found herself quite unaccountably face-to-face with him. He must have pushed his desk out of the way to get to her side so quickly.

              “Walk with me,” he commanded shortly.

              Elise considered refusing. In the classroom, still full of students and with Magistra busily erasing the board, there was nothing he could do to her if she made a fuss. But she made the mistake of looking up into his dark eyes, and saw a deep, lonely sadness there that she didn't have the cruelty to ignore. She found herself nodding, unwillingly but at the same time desperate to do something to erase that look from his face. He took her hand, passed it through his arm like she was an old-fashioned lady, and pulled her from the room.

              Alexander escorted her through the halls, speaking only to ask her brusquely but courteously if she had to go to her locker. Elise shook her head, and he continued to walk quickly, making his way through the mayhem of the high school without anyone getting in his way or pushing up against him, as if the other students were somehow magically repelled from him. Elise nearly had to jog to keep up with his long-legged strides, which was most unchivalrous of him, she noted to herself. But whatever miracle kept people from getting in his way apparently extended to her, so at least she wasn't fighting her way through the crowd. Before she knew it, they were at the bottom of the stairs, and he pushed open the heavy door, leading her out into the sunlight.

              It was a beautiful September day, still summer-warm with a gentle breeze rustling multitudes of green leaves on the trees and carrying the scent of newly-mowed grass to Elise's nose. As Alexander led her across the street into the park, she felt her spirits begin to lift. For just a moment, she trusted him to guide her and closed her eyes, tilting her head back to feel the warm sun on her face.

              She opened her eyes when he stopped walking, pulling her to a halt beside him. He was staring at her curiously, the melancholy loneliness all but gone from his eyes. Tentatively, she smiled in response to his scrutiny. “What?” She asked. “Do I have something on my face?” Her eyes flickered away from his, and she bit her lip, uncertain whether she sounded like she was flirting again. But her earlier worries didn't seem so important now, standing on thick, vividly green grass in the bright sunlight. Impulsively, she reached out and touched the leaves of a low-hanging branch on the cherry tree they had stopped beside. No, she realized, she really had been silly inside. She had blown this whole situation out of proportion. If she and Alexander didn't have anything to talk about, then she would bid him goodbye and go home to look up the sheet music for Les Miserables in case she ended up wanting to join the orchestra. If they did find each other entertaining, they could walk in the park for a while and maybe go to The Treehouse. Either way, there was nothing to be upset about.

              Elise didn't realize she had let go of Alexander's arm and turned toward the tree she had touched until she heard a stick crack sharply behind her. She jumped, startled out of her thoughts, but it was just a few girls walking to field hockey practice. She flashed them an apologetic smile as they looked at her like she was crazy and continued their conversation. One of them looked across the field they were walking towards, calling a greeting and waving excitedly. Elise followed the direction of her gaze and saw a group of boys toying with a soccer ball-- clearly the soccer team was out for practice as well. For a moment, her stomach clenched and her mood darkened again before she forced her thoughts back to the present.

              Taking a deep breath, she forced her shoulders down and her chin up, recovering her usual poise and turning back to Alexander. The look on his face was intense as he watched her, and Elise tried not to be unnerved. At least he wasn't staring at her like she was nuts for petting a tree, she rationalized.

              “So,” she said cheerfully.

              “So,” he replied, sounding amused, his expression bland once more.

              “Alexander, then? I never asked,” she grinned ruefully.

              “I typically just go with Alex,” he answered. “Four syllables are so pretentious.”

              Elise laughed. “Well, we can't have that.”

              “And were your parents classically inclined?” He asked her, an eyebrow raised.

              “What do you mean?”

              “Elysia isn't exactly one of the ten most common names of the century.”

              “Oh,” she said, looking vaguely embarrassed. “My name is Elise.” She stuck out her hand like people did in old movies. “Elise Whitfield, at your service.”

              “Elise,” he murmured, seemingly to himself. “Are you, indeed?” He smirked, but his hand when he shook hers was firm and warm. She had a flash of nervousness that she would hold his hand too long, and as soon as the thought occurred to her, she dropped it like it was a poisonous snake. Alex pressed his lips together like he was trying not to laugh.

              “So, Elise,” he began, turning slightly and beginning to walk, his body language inviting her to accompany him. “Tell me about Willowdale.”

              Elise gathered a handful of her skirts in a practiced motion so she could walk beside him in the springy grass. “Well,” she said slowly. “From what I have seen, it's a nice town. Lovely main street with some little shops and a few nice restaurants, obviously the coffee shop and the park here, normal people-- it's just a nice, small town.”

              “Normal people?” He asked, a slight upward tilt to his mouth belying his otherwise serious expression.

              “You know, normal.” She shrugged. “People get up early, walk their dogs, go to school, go to work, shop for groceries, do yoga, whatever. It's a well-to-do town; people go about their business. As far as I know, we're not harboring any crime lords or any superheroes. If you want to know about the inner workings of the cliques and clubs, I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree-- I tend to keep to myself.”

              “Why is that, would you say?” Alex tilted his head so he could look down at her, apparently very interested. Elise shrugged again, more decisively this time.

              “Because people are normal here,” she repeated significantly. “They don't want to deal with... abnormality.”

              “And are you abnormal?” He asked with skeptical amusement .