Shades of Red (5 page)

Darrell closed her sketchbook guiltily and stood up. “Class project?” she hissed as she watched Kate wrestle her laptop into its case. “What class project?”

Kate zipped up the case and joined the throng heading toward the dining hall. “You were in obviously in lala land,” she said dryly, and flicked the corner of Darrell's sketchbook. “Nice sketch of Gramps, though.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, well while you were off in space drawing pictures, the rest of us were forced to listen to the boring facts of the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Boring is right.” Darrell pulled her birthday novel out of her pack. “Maybe I'd better read this after all.”

“It's got to be more interesting than Gramps's version,” said Kate, stifling a yawn.

Darrell nodded. “I think I drifted when he started reeling off dates,” she admitted.

“I hope this guy is only here for a couple more days,” Brodie said from behind Kate. “In just a few lessons he's pretty much killed all the enjoyment Professor Tooth put back into learning history for me.” He poked Kate in the arm. “Guess we need to talk about the field trip,” he said.

Kate nodded.

“Well, which is it?” demanded Darrell. “A class project or a field trip?”

“The project
is
a field trip,” clarified Kate. “We're supposed to form groups of two or three and organize a trip somewhere like the Museum of Anthropology.”

“There's a whole archaeology section there — maybe we can make a side trip,” said Brodie hopefully.

Kate rolled her eyes. “Kicking and screaming only, man. Like I'd want to spend any time at all staring at rocks after already dragging myself to look up a bunch more dates at some stupid museum.”

Darrell stopped trying to stuff her sketchbook into her backpack and looked curiously at Brodie. “The Museum of Anthropology?” The inkling of an idea sparked like a firefly into her brain. She pulled Professor Tooth's notebook out of her pack and the sketchbook slipped right in its place.

“I have art class now,” she said slowly, “but what if we meet in the study hall after school today and you guys can fill me in on everything I missed, okay?”

Darrell trudged into the art room, Professor Tooth's notebook clasped tightly in both hands. From the doorway she watched Brodie and Kate head down the stairs, Kate in the lead and Brodie running to catch up.

“‘Students have complete freedom to choose their own topic, within the constraint of the historical periods of the Spanish Inquisition or the Protestant Reformation,'” Kate read aloud.

“Okay, I do remember Gramps saying something about a lot of torture and mayhem,” said Darrell, “so I'm pretty sure that must have been the Inquisition. But I have no idea what he means by the Protestant Reformation.”

“Maybe they were reformatting their group somehow?” said Kate, scrutinizing the page in her hand.

“Uh — I don't think Reformation has anything to do with reformatting, Kate,” laughed Brodie. “No computers before the twentieth century, you know.”

“He said something about covering the Reformation later in the year,” said Kate. “But he did give us that list, remember?”

The trio had pulled three overstuffed chairs together in the study hall and were reading over Professor Grampian's assignment by the light of the fire. The sun had long set, and only a few other chairs were occupied in the darkened room. Most first- and second-year students had elected to finish their assignments in the better-lit environs of the school library or dining hall.

Delaney was curled up beside Darrell's chair, snoozing with his head on the rust-coloured wool toque he had been carrying around all evening. Kate had closed her laptop, and Brodie fiddled with a new rock hammer that glinted in the firelight.

Darrell pulled out her notebook. “Yeah, here it is. ‘The Ninety-Five Theses of Martin Luther.' I thought Martin Luther was a guy who fought for equal rights for African Americans.”

Kate snorted. “That was Martin Luther King Junior. According to Gramps,
this
Martin Luther was actually a priest who got fed up with the way rich people in the Catholic Church could pay to get into heaven, so he made up a list of complaints and nailed them to a church door.”

Darrell shrugged. “Pay to get into heaven? I guess I did miss some interesting stuff when I dozed off.”

“That's okay,” said Kate. “I got most of it down on my laptop. I'll run you off a copy of my notes.”

Darrell nodded her thanks absently and pulled a broken piece of charcoal drawing pencil out of her pocket. “I was thinking about this class assignment,” she said, twisting the pencil in her fingers. “When is a field trip not a field trip?”

“When it involves Eagle Glen Alternative School,” answered Brodie with a grin. He pointed his tap hammer at Kate. “And I'm dying to find out just what Gramps has in mind. Every kid in the class has to partner up and put in a proposal. We have to raise the funds and plan the whole process. That much we all know. But where are we allowed to go?”

Darrell's voice was low. “I'm more interested in
when
,” she said quietly.

“We're supposed to set it up to happen sometime around spring break,” said Kate, reading the assignment sheet. “It says here that field trips can be taken in or out of school time, dependant on scheduling.”

Brodie glanced at Darrell's face. “I don't think that's what she meant,” he said.

Kate's head snapped up, and she instinctively peered around the back of her chair. “You can't be thinking about a field trip through
time
,” she hissed incredulously. “Are you
crazy
?”

A burst of laughter came from Andrea and Lily, the last two students in the room. Kate turned on them
furiously. “Will you keep it down? We're trying to get some work done here.”

“Whatever you say, Kate Clancy,” said Andrea mockingly.

“We've got swim practice, anyway.” Lily scooped up her books. “See you later,
Darrell
,” she said pointedly, and the two girls walked out the door. The sound of their laughter carried back from down the hall. Delaney rolled off the floor from his spot beneath Darrell's chair and, hat in his mouth, gently padded out the door behind them.

“Now she's mad at you,” observed Darrell.

“I don't care,” said Kate recklessly. “I wanted them out of here so I can find out what's going on in your head. Please tell me you don't want to take another trip through time.”

Darrell leaned forward, still keeping her voice low in spite of the closed door. “I don't know what's going on in my head,” she said. “I can't seem to sort it all out.” She rubbed her right knee absently. “Maybe I'm crazy — but I can't forget about what I did to Conrad.”

Kate ran her fingers through her hair in agitation. “What
you
did? Darrell, you didn't do anything to Conrad.” She searched her friend's face.

“I left him behind.” Darrell's voice was bitter. “I dragged him back through time with me and then he either burned to death in that fire or I left him stranded
five hundred years in the past.” She stood up abruptly and pushed aside the curtain that covered the heavy glass panes of the nearest window. “I killed Conrad Kennedy.”

The night outside was dark and low clouds obscured the stars, but she could just make out the top of the new light standard, erected on farthest point of the beach south of the school. The light was shaded to the landward side, but the rhythmic flicker was reflected on the waves, cautioning night travellers to stay far from the rocky shore.

Brodie pushed his chair back and walked to the window, his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Darrell, Conrad made his own choices, you know that. He was running away from school. He was selling us all out — and besides, you didn't drag him with you. It was an accident that he was there in the first place.”

Reluctantly, Darrell turned her eyes away from the spot where the old lighthouse had stood for so many years. The lethargy that had weighed on her throughout the holidays seemed to drag at her again, and she slumped back in the chair beside Kate. “You can say what you like, but I've been thinking about this for a while now. Somehow, Delaney and I are like keys in these doorways through time. Without us, nobody goes. You know it's true, Brodie; you tested it yourself. Conrad wouldn't have been there — couldn't have been — if I hadn't pulled him through time.” She lifted
her head with an effort and looked into his eyes. “And maybe I need to go find out what happened.”

Kate grabbed Darrell by the sleeves and shook her. “Are you
crazy
?” she cried again. “We're not going into the past for our field trip! I want to go that museum in Vancouver, not back to the Renaissance to find Conrad.”

In the firelight, Darrell could see Kate's face had gone the same shade as her hair.

“Besides,” Kate blurted, “he might not even —”

“Still be alive?” finished Darrell. She laughed bitterly. “Well, I can guarantee you that he's
not
alive today.” She pulled her legs up to her chest and rubbed her sore knee again. “I just have to figure out the location of another portal ...”

“I can't believe this!” Kate looked beseechingly at Brodie. “Could you please talk some sense into this girl?”

Brodie opened his mouth to speak, but Kate jumped to her feet and started counting problems off on her fingers.

“One: you don't have a route into the past now that the glyphs in the cave are gone and the lighthouse has burned. Two: Conrad has been gone since before the winter break. That's more than a month ago. Whenever we've gone back in time, it's been compressed somehow, Darrell, you know that. Who knows where he is now? He could be anywhere. And three, even if we could find him,
he'd most likely be dead. Professor Tooth is the only one who has any idea about what we've been up to and we're not even sure what she knows and what she doesn't. Besides, she's in Europe, and no one seems to want to tell us when she'll be back.”

“Professor Tooth is a big part of my problem,” said Darrell bitterly. “I need to talk to her and she's nowhere to be found.”

“Darrell, you spent all last term trying to find a way to change the past,” Brodie interjected. “Even with Leonardo's help, you weren't able to change things. You couldn't control the era you travelled to — the portals somehow just deposited you into a place in history. You couldn't go back and stop the accident that took your dad away. What makes you think you can do it now?”

“I just ...”

The door creaked a little, and they all jumped. A low shadow crept into the room.

“Delaney!” said Darrell. “Where have you been, boy?”

“He went out behind Lily,” said Kate, stretching out her legs under the table. “He must've been just sniffing around outside.”

The dog, the mass of wool still in his mouth, flopped back into his spot under Darrell's chair. She ran a hand down his soft golden back. “Still have that old thing? Where'd it come from, anyway?”

Brodie leaned forward in his chair and peered through the doorway. “Someone's coming. I think it's Paris.”

“There you are you rotten thief.” Paris closed the study hall door behind him. “Hand it over — I know you've got it.” He bent down and plucked the object out from under Delaney's head.

Darrell looked apologetic. “Sorry, Paris. Did he steal something of yours?”

Paris waved the wad of rust-coloured wool and grinned. “This used to be my winter hat,” he said. “I must've dropped it somewhere today, and I stopped to ask Lily and Andrea if they'd seen it. Lily said that she'd seen Delaney carrying something around in here, so I thought I'd check it out.”

He held out what once may have been a rusty-red woollen toque. It now resembled a well-chewed dishrag.

Paris laughed and pulled the toque on. Large chunks of his freshly violet hair stuck out artistically through a number of holes. “This is the second time he's taken it this week. What can I say? The dog's got good taste in hats.”

“Oh, Paris, I'm really sorry,” said Darrell, rustling in her backpack for her wallet. “He doesn't usually steal things like that. I'll pay for a new one, okay?”

“Forget it — I like it this way.” Paris posed like a runway model and everyone laughed. “Besides, it'll give Lily
and Andrea something new to talk about.”

Kate raised her eyebrows. “Like they don't have enough to say already.”

Paris nodded his agreement, and the exposed tufts of his hair bobbed gently through the holes in the hat. “That Lily sure can talk.”

“You should hear her snore — puts her talking to shame,” said Kate with a shrug.

Paris raised an eyebrow. “Try slipping on that little swimming nose-plug of hers while she sleeps,” he suggested. “That might help a bit.”

Kate's face lit up at the thought. “Not a bad idea,” she muttered.

“So,” he said, plopping down on a chair and putting his feet on the desk. “Anybody want a mint?” He popped a LifeSaver in his mouth. Everyone else at the table shook their heads.

“I have some of my own,” said Darrell, patting her pocket. “Thanks anyway.”

Paris looked around the group.

“An awkward silence,” he said with a grin. “So what are we talking about, anyway?”

“Nothing. We're just leaving,” said Kate hurriedly.

“Hmm,” said Paris. “I could have sworn that a conversation of some sort had been taking place. But since you obviously haven't got anything better to do, I have something interesting to show you.”

“Sorry, Paris, but I have some work to finish,” said Brodie, shouldering his pack.