Lost in Thought (33 page)

I know you know where the woods trails come out at the top of campus. If
we meet there on a Saturday afternoon, there’ll be no one around to see us and
it’s easy to sneak away. I go there all the time. Please don’t tell anyone I’ve
asked you to do this, even Carter. I feel so stupid and nervous about it. I’ll wait
for you this Saturday at 4:30. If you don’t show up, I’ll know you don’t want
to talk to me, and I’ll understand. No one else will have to know.

—Jillian

I sat on the bench in front of my locker and reread the note several times. It wasn’t that it said anything groundbreaking, but it was such a brave thing of her to do. Of course I would meet her, and I hoped that we really could become friends.

he’d picked a good time to meet on Saturday, right after my work hours ended, when it was pretty empty around campus.

S I shouldered my backpack and took a roundabout route to the top of campus. Maybe my subterfuge wasn’t necessary—I saw no one on my way there—but I didn’t want to be caught sneaking into the woods. I liked to avoid Headmaster Stewart as much as possible, so getting in trouble, even for minor infractions, was never on my list of things to do.

When I finally got up there—the library was almost at the other end of campus from the trailhead—I understood why the grounds were more empty than usual. It was sunny out, but deceptively so. A biting wind had come up while I was at work, making it the coldest day we’d had in weeks. I’d worn only a light spring coat and was shivering by the time I arrived. Jill was already waiting in the shadows of the trees. I hoped she hadn’t been there too long, because it was even chillier in the shade, but she was smartly dressed. She had a cute knit hat that covered her ears, a pretty silk scarf, and soft-looking leather gloves. I envied her for being so prepared, not that I should have been surprised.

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She was always very put together. In fact, aside from her own shy-ness, she exhibited none of the classic reasons kids were unpopular.

She might not have been the prettiest girl in her grade, but she was nice enough looking, with her petite figure, pretty blond hair, and especially those stunning blue eyes. She always dressed well, was good at sports, and was smart too, a must at Northbrook. Really, she should have been able to make friends easily, but I guessed it wasn’t the surface things about you that made it easy.

I thought I had similar surface advantages to Jill’s, but I didn’t make friends easily either. I might not have been shy—I didn’t have trouble
talking
to people—but I didn’t have much practice at really making friends. Before my time at the Academy, I wasn’t usually around long enough to keep them. Maybe I understood Jill better than I thought I did.

“Hi,” I said to break the ice. She was obviously very nervous. “Sorry I’m a little late. I didn’t want anyone to see me.”

“It…it’s okay,” she said. “I…I just thought you might not come.

But thank you.”

I kind of wanted to hug her, she was so jittery, but I didn’t think that would be welcome. Instead I said, “Of course I came! Everything Carter said was true. I
do
want to be your friend. I hope we can be.”

“Thanks,” she replied, looking a little relieved. “Do you mind if we walk? It’s a little cold out, and we probably shouldn’t get caught hanging out up here anyway.”

I
definitely
wanted to walk. My light jacket and backpack weren’t doing much to keep me warm. I followed her lead down the path Carter and I had once taken, but after not very long she broke off onto a smaller path I’d never been on. She explained the side trail went off campus completely and would also get us out of the trees. It was getting later, but even the late afternoon sunshine would be welcome.

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As we walked, she apologized, haltingly, and I knew it had to be hard for her, but she did it. I told her how impressed I was with her for it; I thought she was a lot stronger and braver than she gave herself credit for. This seemed to encourage her, and she became more open and relaxed the longer we walked.

Carter was a lengthy topic of conversation. More than anything, I think Jill just wanted
someone
to talk to. She couldn’t talk to Carter about how she felt, and she didn’t really have girlfriends to confide in either. I was a willing and sympathetic ear, and she took it eagerly.

“I’ve had a crush on Carter for as long as I can remember,” she told me. “It’s not just a crush though, I don’t think so. I’ve never really thought about any other guys. I mean, some of them are cute but, you know…they’re not Carter. I know he’s never felt the same way, but I always thought maybe, with time. And then for the last more than a year, he didn’t date
anyone.”

She played with her scarf as she talked. I couldn’t help noticing how pretty it was and how the copper tones in the pattern made her eye color pop. “I know I probably shouldn’t even think of him that way,” she went on, “but I couldn’t—can’t—help it. I’m sorry again, by the way. I was really jealous of you since you got here. I guess I still am a little, but…I’m getting over it. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this, but I…you know what it’s like to like him, to watch him flirt with another girl and wish…” She trailed off and sighed.

I still didn’t hug her, but I smiled and nodded in a way that I hoped seemed sympathetic. “I know what you mean,” I said. “And I don’t want you to be jealous of me, but understand if you can’t help it. You don’t really show it, though, and you deal with it a lot better than some other people.”

I told her about everything Alexis had done, including the night of the Ball, and the horrible things she’d said to me earlier. And then…we just talked. Like two normal girls getting to know each oth-L O S T I N T H O U G H T | 255

er. It was nice, and once Jill got going, she was easy to talk to. Breaking the ice seemed to be the hardest part for her. I almost thought we
could
be friends, real friends, not just girls who were friendly when they were around each other.

After a while, the small trail led into open and well-manicured grounds. It reminded me of the Academy, until I realized that the small buildings I could see between the trees and flowers were actually mausoleums, surrounded by neat swaths of gravestones. We’d entered a cemetery.

“Sorry,” Jill said quickly. “I hope you don’t mind. I walk here a lot; it’s pretty and…peaceful. The gates are closed at five, so I know it will always be quiet if I come around now.”

Parts of the cemetery were very old, with worn, white stones dating from more than a century ago, leading into areas with newer, larger monuments in all colors of smooth marble and granite. I found I liked reading the gravestones, especially the inscriptions. I wondered if I touched them and tried hard enough, if I could divine anything about the person’s death. I doubted it, but thought Jill might know better than I did. I was about to ask her what she thought when she started talking.

“So you don’t really have parents either, just like Carter, huh?” she said.

I hesitated. I was pretty sure most everyone knew about my parents’ accident, but I was taken aback by a sort of abruptness in her question. “Um, well, I don’t remember either of mine, since they both died when I was young,” I finally said. “But yeah, I guess Carter and I have that in common.”

Jill had wandered off the trail and though I thought she was moving at random, I realized the name PENROSE was carved in the center of the simple, pale gray double headstone where she stopped. This was Carter’s parents’ grave. I glanced around and got the impression the

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cemetery was enormous. And empty. We were near the edge of the grounds, with a fence bordered by trees not too far away, and no entrances or other people in sight. I shivered, suddenly feeling cold and very alone.

“I think that’s one of the reasons he likes you so much,” she went on, almost as if I hadn’t spoken, gesturing at the carved stone before us. “He thinks you can understand what he feels. He hates being an orphan, even though, honestly, Melinda and Jeff are better parents than his father ever was. But…I think he feels extra pressure too, because he’s the last one in his Sententia line.” She paused then added, in what I thought was a slightly harder voice, “I guess you understand that too.”

I looked sideways at her, but she was staring at the grave, oddly impassively. There didn’t seem to be anger in her face like I swore I’d just heard in her voice. I couldn’t believe Carter would have told her that I was a Marwood, and I knew Daniel Astor himself had mandated my heritage remain a secret while I was still at the Academy. “What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.

She smiled, with all the coldness I really
had
heard in her words, and it practically froze me where I stood. Out of surprise, or fear, or maybe unwitting surrender, I did manage to hold up my hands.

Which, of course, made it easy for her to punch me in the stomach.

Hard.

I doubled over in pain and shock, and couldn’t even catch my breath or shout what my brain was thinking—something that sounded distinctly like
what the fuck?!
—before she hit me again. Her gloved fist slammed into the side of my head and knocked me to the ground. She kicked me once in the side, which hurt like
hell,
before I could scramble away and push myself up.

I didn’t get very far.

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She kicked me in the side again, for good measure, and then in the shoulder, sending me careening into the gravestone behind me. The Penroses’ grave. Before I had time to wonder if I might be on my way to joining them, or exactly why she was attacking me in the first place, Jill stomped on my hand with one foot and pushed me onto my back with the other. She dropped to her knees on my chest, pinning my arms to the ground. God, that hurt, and I cried out in pain.

Unfortunately, only the dead were around to hear me.

“Jill?” I croaked, shocked and confused, a question in my voice as if this were somehow a mistake. Which showed how fuzzy my brain was, since she’d practically beat the shit out of me. And it didn’t look like she was done. She was staring down at me, the scarily impassive expression back on her face, but I could see the malevolence in her eyes. I realized then, more than a little too late, that her problem with making friends wasn’t that she was shy. She was actually psychotic.

“You know exactly what I mean!” she shouted, answering the question I’d completely forgotten I’d asked. “It’s bad enough you show up with your mysterious Legacy and, and, your beauty and your money and everyone loves you, including Carter. But then you have to go and be
special
. A Hangman, for God’s sake! You’re all supposed to be
dead!”

Half of my pounding head followed her words, amazed at the depth of the hatred in them. The other half desperately hoped she’d keep talking long enough for me to formulate a new plan. What I was doing—lying on the ground trapped underneath her—didn’t seem like the best one. As she spoke, I tried kicking her, failing completely and snapping my own knee awkwardly in the process. My legs were effectively immobilized by her shins, locked tightly across my hips and upper thighs.

Thrashing and jerking did no good either, along with trying to roll over, head butt her, even bite her. Spitting at her might have helped if I’d thought of it. Instead, I was hopelessly stuck, though I swore I

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should
have been able to shake her off. I was many pounds heavier, several inches taller, and a brown belt, for freaking sake! All I needed was one good punch. I bucked and twisted some more, and all around did whatever I thought might get me free.

To absolutely no avail. I didn’t even know how it was possible, but I remained solidly pinned, with a wicked slap in the face and knees ground harder into my chest for my efforts. Air was quickly becoming a very important commodity.

“Stop trying to get up!” she hissed at me, and then slapped me again, even though I’d stopped struggling. I was too dazed even to take advantage of my momentarily free arm.

“I’m sorry!” I rasped. “Jill, I’m sorry. But this is crazy, stop this!”

Apparently the c-word was the wrong thing to say.

“I. Am. Not. Crazy!” she screamed. I wanted to disagree, but didn’t. Though she might have been small, and absolutely more than half out of her mind, she was
strong
. And she was really starting to scare me.

“I’m sorry!” I tried again. It came out weak and soft because I couldn’t draw a full breath.

I didn’t think she even heard me. Or cared what I said. She was almost babbling in her frenzy. “How could you possibly think I’d want to be
friends
with you?! You have
everything
already. You don’t need more friends. You don’t even need Carter! You could have
any
guy!

And
now?
Now you’re all my father will talk about either. ‘The Marwood girl, the last Hangman…’ blah, blah, blah.
You’re
all
anyone
talks about and I can’t stand it anymore!”

“Your father?” was what I said before realizing,
Daniel Astor!
Apparently, it wasn’t true that she didn’t have contact with him. And apparently, he
wasn’t
keeping my secret, either.

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“Yes, my father, you idiot!” she yelled. “But he won’t shut up about you…what an important discovery you are, how useful you’ll be, and on and on. And the
worst
part, do you know what that is?!”