Kissed By Moonlight (24 page)

Chapter 33

The next day, I sat in Dr. Hackett's history class. The room was unusually quiet, despite being nearly full.

Whispered conversations crested to a certain noise level, when everyone realized they were getting progressively louder, and then died down. It was like watching the tide
roll in and out.

Despite all the warm bodies, the room felt chilly enough that I didn't bother shrugging out of my sweater.

The base fear and worry in the room even had a faint but unmistakable odor to it that linger like an invisible mist over everything. The heated air blowing down out of the vents overhead, the ducts rattling almost silently, couldn't dispel it.

Everyone was still upset or frightened
over what had happened, it seemed. None of them knew that the killer had been caught last night, and that now they were safe.

But of course, I was the only person in the room that knew the truth. Now that I thought about it, things were probably going to get even worse. At some point, someone would notice that Adam had gone missing.

Would Vick and his family leave any remains to be found? Or would Adam just be listed as a troubled young man who had simply disappeared one day, never to be seen anywhere by anyone ever again?

If nothing had happened last night, he'd be sitting in this lecture with me right now.

"Okay, everyone, time to settle down..." Professor Hackett said, holding up his hands for quiet.

It took him a second to realize everyone already had quieted down. It seemed this thing threw off the rhythm of the entire school.

I looked around the room as I pulled my notepad out and set it on my desk. I recognized many of the faces, but only because I'd seen them so many times already.

Jim and the twins didn't share any classes with me. Adam would of course no longer be attending this lecture. Jenn was gone from my English class.

Strangers sat in the seats beside me. Both the real friends I'd made at school were gone, and I was alone again.

Except for Eric, I guess. Though he was firmly in the enemy camp, and he was only in my English lecture.

Professor Hackett started his lecture on pre-Civil War people and politics. Normally, I liked listening to his smoke-roughened voice. Today, I couldn't really do anything but contemplate my future at Redeemer.

I started scratching out the title of the first lecture slide, most of my mind otherwise engaged.

I was sure Jim would invite me to more of his parties. Didn't he put up some Facebook event about some sort of memorial get together later this week?

It didn't matter; I wasn't going. Jenn introduced me to that bunch, and Jenn was gone now. It would just feel awkward being there, and without her I knew I couldn't belong.

I'd also first met Adam through them. I was sure Jim would be full of stories about him, too, when they discovered Adam missing.

Two very good reasons to sever, I figured.

It seemed I had so many good reasons for doing things lately. Good reasons for helping get rid of Adam, good reasons to tell myself that it had been the right thing to do.

All those good reasons seemed to result in things that made me feel even worse about myself, however.

So I decided then to just throw myself in to school. I knew I was in danger of losing that scholarship if I let things slip even more than they already had.

So, giving my head a bit of a shake, I forced my attention onto Professor Hackett. He wandered back and forth in front of the first row of seats, raising his hands and weaving them through the air as he discussed the importance of southern cotton plantations to
the English economy.

I started scribbling frantically, trying to get everything written on the current slide down while still paying attention to him.

Yes, school could carry me through all this. All I had to do was ride that rising tide and let it carry me through the years so that time could eventually bury all these awful events and terrible feelings.

Chapter 34

Everything was going according to plan. It had been a couple days since Vick took Adam, and I'd succeeded in brushing those thoughts to random ones in the middle of the day and nightmares to wake me in the middle of the night.

Outside, it was snowing! When I woke up that morning and threw my curtains back, I actually smiled.

It was so weird, watching the little puffy flakes drift down through the air in front of my window. There was even a light carpeting of them on the ground, covering up the dull brown of the dead grass with an even, pearly whiteness.

It was my first chance to actually use the winter boots I'd picked up. They were black, and my
boot cut jeans went with them nicely.

I dressed hurriedly, wanting to get out there before the horde of students churned those virgin fields with their own boots. A spark of excitement shot up through me as I looked down, leaning across my desk. Was there enough on the ground for snow angels?

I was going to find out.

I'd stayed up until about two in the morning the night before, finally finishing with
Jane Eyre
for the English lecture today. I'd expected to wake up haggard and tired.

Outside, the air smelled different.
Fresher, somehow. Crisp. I turned my face up and closed my eyes, letting a few of those cold flakes land on my cheeks. They melted right away, the cool water running down my neck and making me shiver.

Today was different, in a good way. The thin blanket of snow covered everything up, reflected the sunlight managing to punch through the clouds above to cast everything in a different light.

It crunched under my feet, and I almost slipped a couple times on the way to the Arnold building. About half way there, I picked up the pace, realizing I would be late if a lollygagged any longer admiring the scenery.

All the other walkers I passed also seemed to have sensed the change in things. They were louder, happier.

As I turned to walk up the path to the Arnold building, two guys even tossed snowballs at each other. I stopped as one of their throws went wild and whizzed past me to burst on the ground a few feet away.

"Sorry!" one guy said, both of them smiling.

I laughed and made my way to the building, and then to the lecture hall.

I got in just as the professor came over to close the doors. She gave me a look.

"Sorry," I said.

"Go, take your seat," she said.

Not such a great start to the lecture, but I was ready. I knew I'd understand what she said, that I wouldn't be in the dark when she referenced this or that event. I scanned the rows of seats, looking for a good spot.

Like in Dr. Hackett's class, attendance seemed to be up. Safety in numbers and all that, I suppose. I bit down on my bottom lip as I realized there might not be a spare seat.

"Steph! Hey, Stephie!"

My heart dropped as I recognized that voice. My eyes fell on Eric Putnam. As usual, he sat beside Joseph. He pointed down. At first, I thought he was gesturing at his crotch and I readied my own gesture. Then I saw the empty seat in front of him. It seemed to be the only spare one in the whole room.

"Please, take your seat or leave," the professor said, shuffling through her notes on the lectern as she shot me another look.

I'd almost succeeded in pushing Eric out of my mind, too. But seeing him there strained at the wall I'd built in my mind to hold back all those awful thoughts and memories.
All those things that would keep me from doing my best at school.

I strongly considered just going back to my dorm and maybe getting an essay outline ready, but it would set my first bad
precedent to leave now.

So, swallowing my feelings, I walked up the steps to the row.

"Sorry, excuse me, sorry..." I muttered as people pulled their feet back so I could make my way in.

There was a bead of melted snow making its way down my back, making the whole procedure even more uncomfortable. I could feel everyone looking at me, and I knew I was holding up the start of the lecture.

Finally, I plunked myself down in the chair.

"Hey,
Stephie. Lookin' good," Eric said. He nudged my backrest.

It was starting to get hot in my winter coat, but I couldn't take it off. Not now, not with him actually breathing down my neck.

"Mr. Putnam, something to announce to the rest of the class?" the professor said.

"No, doc.
Please, continue," Eric said, grinning and leaning back.

I couldn't help the
déjà vu, or the memory that sensation unlocked. The last time something like this happened, Jenn came to my rescue. Everyone had laughed at Eric.

It was actually a pretty good memory, and it made me smile as I wrote the date down on my notepad.

Eric seemed to recall, too. He waited until the professor turned around to write something on the whiteboard before nudging the back of my chair again.

"No one to tell me I have a small dick now, is there,
Stephie?"

"Shut up..." I whispered through clenched teeth. I could feel the bad memories begin pushing at my mental wall. The mortal was beginning to crack.

Joseph apparently saw a chance to further ingratiate himself with Eric. He giggled.

"She couldn't say you had a small one when you..." he started.

"Shut the fuck up, Joe," Eric said. There was venom in his voice, and it carried farther than he wanted it to.

"Really, Mr. Putnam, do I need to give you a timeout in the corner?" the professor
said.

Sniggers echoed from around the room at that. I hid my own small smile behind my hand. It really made my day whenever I saw that stupid douche get a little comeuppance.

"Ah, no, doc. Sorry. I just stubbed my toe was all," Eric said.

I
didn’t need to look over my shoulder to know he'd be all red in the face and talking through clenched teeth, his lips forced into a horrible fake smile.

The professor just shook her head and tried to pick up where she'd left off.

"Now, the story continues. Let's consider Rochester's first wife, and the significance of keeping her locked up..."

I started writing, trying to lose myself in the lecture and the rhythm of the professor's voice. Some stray thought tried to catch my attention as I unzipped my coat as quietly as I could. It really was getting hot in there, and I had to choose between comfort and letting Eric get a look at the back of my neck.

"Sorry, Eric, I know you said we couldn't talk about her anymore," Joseph whispered.

"Whatever. Just keep those stupid lips of yours shut until after class," Eric said.

I couldn't help overhearing. I couldn't help my subconscious working at what they'd said. I could, however, do my best to ignore the conclusion it came to, as well as the sudden urge to discover more.

I really, really concentrated on considering Rochester's motivations on keeping his wife in the attic, and why she'd gone mad in the first place.

Chapter 35

So I wasn't really sure why I found myself following Eric and Joseph after class. The hallway outside the lecture room filled with talking students, the rustle of thick winter coats, and the squeak of shoes off the polished floor.

It was good that Eric was tall. Despite the cold, he still wore that red-sleeved letterman jacket.

"This is dumb," I muttered under my breath, "Come on, it's time to go and start that essay."

I failed to convince my feet, as they kept carrying me along maybe fifteen feet behind Eric and Joseph. Were they talking? I wanted to get closer to hear, but I couldn't risk that. They might notice me. This time, I didn't have Vick to appear out of nowhere to tell them to get lost.

Their little whispers from class kept nagging me as I watched them go down a flight of stairs and leave the building, presumably on their way back to the frat house.

They'd been talking about Jenn. I could figure out that much. What I couldn't figure out was Joseph's comment about her no longer being able to say anything about Eric’s, uh, size.

That feeling I'd had when Vick and I stopped Adam returned.
That feeling that something was terribly wrong. It boiled in the pit of my stomach.

More snow had piled up on the walks and the grass between the buildings during lecture. I wanted several times to just stop and enjoy the pristine look of it, but I couldn't.

And now, the cold in the air became a hindrance. It burned in my lungs and left my throat, mouth, and nose feeling dry. I even had to step off the path onto the snow covering the grass as a little orange plow with a blue flashing light on top came by, pushing white mounds of the stuff off and scattering what looked like dirt behind it.

The man driving it smiled and waved at me from inside the little, glassed-in cabin.