Sometimes By Moonlight (4 page)

Shakily, I reached out for the metal latch of the well house door and pushed it open. In the dim light, I saw the sad little room was nearly bare except for some old sandbags stacked near a makeshift table made from a barrelhead. But the sight of an open sketchbook and pens made me smile. Austin had been there. And I figured if he’d left the candles burning, then he couldn’t be far.

 I shut the well house door and sat down on the sandbags to wait. Austin’s sketchbook was open to a portrait of me, done in his signature pen and ink style.  I’d never seen this picture before. When I’d met Austin the summer before, his drawings had been of animals, mostly birds. A picture of a person was something new. I smiled, thinking that maybe he’d missed me enough to want to draw my portrait. That was something, at least.

I studied the picture closely, noting how the moon rose behind me in the background, its beams looking almost alive and casting long shadows on my face. He’d made me more beautiful than I knew myself to be. My normally crazy hair flowed out in perfect waves. He’d made my nose a little more delicate than it was.

Looking at the portrait, though, I started to get angry. If he’d thought enough of me to draw a picture, then why had he waited so long to come to see me at Steinfelder? I mean, I risked everything to break him out of Camp Crescent. And he couldn’t even drop me a postcard?

I was out in the snow a minute later, stomping my way back to the main building. But halfway there, I stopped and turned around. I really did need to wait for Austin. It was one thing to complain about him not showing up, but quite another to ditch him before he had a chance to explain. And I wanted to see him. That was the main reason.

I neared the end of the old stone wall and leaned a hand on it to steady myself. I needed to chill. The situation called for me to be rational and as normal as possible when we were together again. I forced myself to take some deep breaths of the clean, night air, and then I squatted down behind a too-small bush to watch for Austin.

 As before, the sounds of the night echoed all around me. Scratching continued in the guardhouse kennels. The night birds, on watch for prey in the snow, rustled on branches. I thought of all those nights I’d spent looking out the window at the moon, never realizing the forest beyond Steinfelder was alive. Never realizing that if you just listened, you could hear everything. I let the symphony of the darkness wash over me.  It was as comforting as lying in a bathtub, listening to the meditative drip of a faucet. I felt myself start to relax.

After a while, my patience was rewarded. I heard the crunch of footsteps as a figure moved across the snow toward the door of the well house. He was back! I rose up from my hiding place and started moving. Ahead of me, the figure ducked into the doorway. I ran across the snow, fueled by my eagerness for the reunion with Austin.

I threw open the door, opening my arms wide to capture him in a hug. “You’re here!”

“EEEEAEE!” the hooded figure in my arms squealed and squirmed out of my grasp.

I stepped back from a visibly angry Marie-Rose. “Sorry. I thought you were—”

“Mrs. Lemmon is up and about the dorm, peeking in rooms. Any minute she’s going to reach our room and we’ll be dead!” She shook a finger at me.

“How did you know I was in here?”

Marie-Rose’s cheeks colored. “Your boots were gone. And, the light was on in here, obviously.” She frowned down at the sketchbook on the barrelhead. “What is this?”

“Austin’s drawings. He must have been here earlier.”

Marie-Rose blew out the candles. “We’ve got to get back up to our room.”

“I want to take the book,” I said.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you want Lemmon to find it when she turns beds? She will ask questions.”

Marie-Rose had a point. I didn’t need Lemmon on my case any more than she was already. “Okay, fine,” I said, giving the sketchbook a last, longing glance.

“Well, then? What are you waiting for?” My roommate led me out of the well house, closing the door behind us. “We need to get back up there now.”

“But what about Austin?”

Marie-Rose rolled her eyes. “I am going back to the room. You wait here and get caught. Why did I even try to save you?”

“I’ll just wait another minute. You go. I promise I’ll be right behind you.”

Shaking her head, Marie-Rose sped off toward the back entrance of the building.

“Where are you?” I said to the night, to Austin—wherever he was. I didn’t know how much time I had left and if he was out there, he needed to hurry up and show himself. Glancing toward the school, I watched Marie-Rose slip inside the back entrance. My gaze rose to the dorm windows. A light went on in a corner room, then off. Then the next room’s light went on. Crap. Lemmon really was making the rounds.

I sprinted over to the chain link fence. “Psst—are you out there?” I whispered into the darkness. “Austin?”

I waited for minute, but there was no response. I didn’t understand how he could come all this way, leave his sketchbook for me to find, and then not bother to show himself. It was so frustrating.

Snow began to fall then, big wet flakes that mixed with my tears. I was forced to abandon my mission and run back to the dorm, no closer to understanding what was happening with Austin and feeling like a fool.

Chapter Three

The back stairs were dark, but I bounded up them without hesitation. I’m normally pretty clumsy, but I felt graceful and quick and reached the dorm faster than I thought possible. When Lemmon charged into the room across the hall from us, I slipped in through our door and threw off my coat and boots. Marie-Rose looked like she was about to hyperventilate, but there was no time to explain. I threw my outerwear under the bed and dove beneath the covers.

My head had barely hit the pillow when Lemmon yanked open our door and turned on the light. I peeked at her from between half-closed lids. I was grateful that at least the old bag had thrown a proper bathrobe over her slinky number from earlier. She grunted, either out of relief or disappointment at seeing us in our beds. Then, she turned and flounced out of our room, closing the door with a staccato slam.

I let out the big breath I’d been holding. “Omigod, that was close.”

“
Mais, non
. I am not talking to you,” Marie-Rose said.

“What do you mean?”

She sat up and pointed a slender finger in my direction. “Shelby Locke, why would you go out after dark?”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have done it, okay? That’s why I didn’t wake you up.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Now it was my turn to feel embarrassed. “Sorry. I’m not used to anyone worrying about me.”

“Well, I do worry about you.” She gave me a stern look. “You cry over this boy. You think he’s coming to find you at the school.”

“You saw the note,” I said. “That had to mean something.”

Marie-Rose nodded. “Of course, but you don’t even know it was from him or what it means.”

“But, the sketchbook… that had to be his.”

“Let’s go to bed. Maybe this is enough about Austin for tonight.”

“Enough Austin? Do I really talk about him that much?”

Marie-Rose’s mouth fell open. “Shelby, you talk about him
all
the time. From the moment you arrived here it’s been nothing but Austin.”

“Oh.” I got out of bed and went over to the closet to swap my snow pants and heavy sweatshirt for pajamas. As I dressed, I thought about Marie-Rose’s observation. She was right. I’d been wrapped up in missing him. And maybe talking about him incessantly was another way I was holding on to us, to what we’d had. Now, I didn’t even know what that was.

I slipped back into my bed. “I’m sorry. I guess you’re right. You know, about me talking about Austin a lot.”

Marie-Rose pulled her ponytail band out and ran a brush through her hair. “Let’s go to sleep. I hear they are letting us video call home tomorrow night. If I have bags under my eyes,
Maman
is not going to be pleased.”

“Ok.”

She set the brush down on the nightstand and pulled her covers up. “So, was it worth it?” she asked, a quiet curiosity lacing her voice. “To sneak out?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.

Marie-Rose rolled over on her side, looking at me in the dark. “I wonder if it ever is, to risk something for a boy.”

I knew the answer to that one—or at least I thought I had last summer—that yes, it was worth it, especially in Austin’s case. I lay on my back, looking out toward the moon moving slowly across the window. Austin had come for me, sort of. He was out there somewhere, though I had more questions than answers.

And the biggest question of all was if I would ever see Austin again. That’s the one that kept me awake, staring at the waxing moon.

***

It was almost my turn. I stood waiting outside the library door the next afternoon, waiting for Marie-Rose to finish her video call home. A high-pitched sound echoed out into the hallway as my friend laughed nervously. I could only imagine the coal-raking she was getting from her
maman
.

I passed the time staring at the paintings from the Duke’s collection that lined the hallway’s walls. I assumed they were all relatives of the Duke. Bored looking girls in poufy dresses. Small boys in flouncy shirts. Stern-eyed old people gazing with reproach at all who passed down the corridor, as if
we
were the ones in funny clothes. Not my kind of art. I liked the modern paintings at the Museum of Contemporary Art in downtown L.A. This stuff was strictly
Scooby-Doo
haunted library.

Another crescendo of fake laughter drifted out from the library. During these video chats, we were only allowed five minutes of talk time, which the school deemed long enough for us to convince our parents that we were being properly fed, clothed and bathed. I glanced down at my watch, noting that Marie-Rose only had another minute of torture left.

My gaze tracked to the paintings again and settled on one portrait in particular—a knight with a two-headed spear tipped with gleaming blades. Covering his chain mail was a flowing blue and white tunic emblazoned with the design of a steed, legs raised in battle. Though the knight had a helmet concealing his expression, he was definitely a scary, intense dude. On a hill in the distance behind him, more riders approached, wearing the same colors. Steely black clouds swirled overhead, giving the whole painting an ominous feel.

“Yikes,” I said.

“It is your turn.” Marie-Rose tapped me on the shoulder. Her eyes were red and raw.

“Geez. Are you okay?”

“
Oui
,” she said, hurrying off before I could comfort her.