Winter's Light (3 page)

Chapter 3

At around eight-thirty she heard the cheerful honking of Jasmine’s Mini Cooper outside. She quickly finished dressing, gave her unruly red hair a few final vigorous brushes (this didn’t do much about the unruliness) and was about to leave when she remembered the lodestone. It was still lying on her bedside table where she’d left it this morning. She hadn’t gone a day without wearing it since Blake had given it to her in the Velasco Place. A constant reminder of him, instead of causing her pain, wearing the necklace comforted her. The emerald crystal shard once had the power to call Blake back from the Dead Lands and though this power seemed to be spent, sometimes when Winter looked at it she felt a glimmer of hope. If only for a moment or two. Slipping the small silver chain over her head and feeling better for it, she ran out of the house to meet Jasmine.

Winter could see Jasmine impatiently drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she slid down the steep driveway, nearly losing her balance in her haste. As usual her friend looked spectacular, making Winter feel even more self-conscious about her sloppy appearance. Jasmine was wearing a thin gold headband, the colour complementing her honey-coloured Vietnamese skin beautifully. Winter wished she could wear something as effortlessly chic, but knew she could never pull it off. She was doomed to be a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl.

Jasmine flashed Winter a grin as she slid in breathlessly next to her.

‘Hey, slow poke.’

‘Sorry, Jas. We’re gonna be late aren’t we?’

‘So what if we are? What’s Sorensen gonna do?’ she said, gunning the engine and steering them onto the road. ‘Put us on detention?’

Being in the car with Jasmine, amongst all the empty lip balm containers and crumpled chip packets, Winter felt her mood lighten. Jasmine had that effect on her. With her irreverent, mischievous personality, she was a ray of light breaking through the gloominess of Winter’s days. It was easier for Winter to mimic the girl she used to be when she was around Jas. That girl who could joke and laugh and tease.

‘Nice headband. I have to admit though, I’m a little surprised,’ Winter said, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Jasmine turned down whatever terrible pop music she was listening to. ‘Surprised at what?’

‘I was expecting something a little more dramatic for today. No eyebrow ring, no pink hair. Is this the new Jasmine? Should I be worried?’

For their entire school life Jasmine had skated dangerously close to what the teachers considered ‘unacceptable student wear’. A natural non-conformist, Jasmine didn’t rebel through drink or drugs but in fashion, which seemed almost worse to the authority figures as it was thrust into their faces on a daily basis and there was nothing they could do about it. Winter had anticipated that today of all days Jasmine would have made some kind of defining statement to sum up her last twelve years at school. Maybe shave her head or get some tribal tattoo on her face.

‘Well I was thinking of showing up in a studded leather bikini but figured it would be hidden by the graduation gown anyway so why bother?’ Jasmine said nonchalantly. After a moment’s pause she added, a trace of guilt in her voice, ‘Actually I was going to run a green rinse through my hair last night but all of a sudden I got this image of me as a forty-year-old looking through my yearbook with my kid and trying to explain to them why mummy was the only girl who looked like a troll doll in the graduation picture.’ Noting Winter’s amused expression, Jasmine sighed dramatically. ‘Yes, I know. I’m a big sell-out. All talk, no action. Blah, blah, blah. Go on – say something, I deserve it.’

Winter shrugged innocently, and turned to watch the houses roll by. One of the garages stood open, the owners having forgotten to close it after leaving for work or for school. Winter fought against the memory before it surfaced, but it was too late. She was back in Blake’s truck driving madly through the rain as the Skivers glided after them. Blake was telling her to look for ‘somewhere dark’, somewhere the light of day couldn’t penetrate. The Skivers were going to catch them unless he could find this place and spirit them away to the Dead Lands, a trick he could only manage in darkness. He’d spotted the open garage as they turned into the street, bringing his truck to a screeching halt. Throwing open the doors, Blake had yelled, ‘Run!’ and then . . .

‘Win?’ Jasmine’s voice snapped her out of her anxious reverie. She looked over and saw her friend frowning. ‘Did you hear a word I just said?’

Winter nodded quickly. ‘Of course.’

‘So do you want to go to Kelly Davis’s house before the beach party or just go straight to the party?’

‘Oh.’ Jasmine had been running through tonight’s options. ‘I don’t mind. Whatever you want to do.’

Jasmine’s frown deepened. ‘Everything okay? Are you actually in this car with me or did I leave you back at the house?’

Winter sighed and forced the brightest smile she could muster. ‘I’m sorry, I was just . . .’

‘Bad dreams again?’ Jasmine offered, her voice softening.

Winter was going to deny it, but there was no hiding her feelings from Jasmine’s perceptive stare. She’d been there the night Blake had died and was the only one who knew the truth.

‘Yeah,’ she admitted quietly.

Jasmine nodded sadly, returning her attention to the road. Winter hated seeing her friend’s carefree features shadowed by such an expression. She quickly added, ‘It’s fine. They’re just dreams.’

Without looking at her Jasmine said, ‘You need to stop torturing yourself, Win.’
Stop torturing us
, Winter suspected was the true sentiment behind the words but didn’t say anything. She knew she hadn’t been easy to be friends with these past three months – morose, brooding, clinging to her melancholy like it was her favourite perfume. In fact if she were to be honest she probably hadn’t been the best company for longer than that. Since her parents’ funeral anyway.

‘Tell me more about the party tonight,’ she said, pushing all her angst and concern deep inside. Jasmine’s furrowed brow took a moment to smooth completely but soon she was talking happily about the strapless top she’d bought for the occasion and the possible hook-ups she foresaw taking place down on the beach. That was good. Winter smiled and nodded in the appropriate places and that was good too. She’d learnt to hide her pain well, having had extensive practice with Lucy.

Anybody eavesdropping on their conversation as they drove through Trinity’s school gates would have been convinced they were just a couple of teenage girls, discussing the usual – boys and parties. Nothing strange about that. A close observer might see the clouded expression in Winter’s eyes, but considering the banality of their conversation would probably assume it was nothing more serious than a bit of boy trouble.

Sadly, Winter supposed that’s all it really was when you came right down to it.

A bit of boy trouble.

Chapter 4

The morning was spent preparing for the graduation ceremony. Separated into their home classes, the students’ first stop on the graduation express was with Mrs Loramy. The Religious Studies teacher spent an excessive amount of time taking them through the process as though walking up to a podium, shaking hands with the principal, taking a piece of paper and smiling for a photographer was a complicated piece of choreography. After they finished with Mrs Loramy they were then herded into the cafeteria, which had been transformed into a makeshift wardrobe department. There were boxes of black graduation gowns and caps stored hygienically in plastic bags labelled either ‘Large’ or ‘Small’. There was no medium, and those on either extreme of the range – Anthony Hilkejmeyer’s gown barely reached his middle thigh, and Josie Bell’s pooled around her feet like an oil spill – were out of luck. Fortunately, a ‘Small’ suited Winter just fine and after slipping the soft black fabric over her head she went outside to find her seat.

The ceremony was to take place in the quadrangle with the multi-purpose hall serving as an alternative location should the weather turn nasty, a prospect that was looking more and more likely, Winter thought, staring up at the grey skies as she made her way to the seating area. There were about twenty rows of chairs leading back from a small stage where a wooden lectern and microphone stood. The first five rows were reserved for students, the rest for teachers and parents. A dark green banner hung from the lectern emblazoned with Trinity’s credo in flowing gold script,
Suma Tentabo
. Strive for Excellence. Next to the stage stood a three-tiered platform where the graduation class would have their photograph taken once the last diploma had been awarded.

A little daunted by the sea of chairs, Winter was relieved to see someone had gone to the effort of printing out the graduation names on tiny tent cards so finding where she was supposed to sit was easy. There it was in the front row – ‘Winter Adams’. Right between Samantha Abercrombie and Jules Ballard. Jules was already there, chatting to Alice Brager (who, as usual, was wearing far too much make-up – thick orange foundation and heavy mascara), however, there was no sign of Samantha. Presumably her homeroom class hadn’t made it to the cafeteria for gown selection yet.

Before taking her seat, Winter paused, shielding her eyes from the overcast sky’s glare to see if Lucy had arrived yet. She couldn’t see Lucy anywhere, but there was still at least half an hour before the ceremony was scheduled to begin so there was plenty of time.

‘Hey, Win, you excited or what?’ Jules asked, breaking off his conversation with Alice, who looked a little put out to be ignored in favour of Winter. She shot Winter an irritated glance and took out her phone to play with.

‘Pretty excited,’ Winter replied, doing her best to mirror his enthusiasm. He was a nice guy, always willing to chat to Winter when they passed in the hallway despite the fact that Winter ranked considerably lower on the social ladder than he did.

‘Can you believe we actually made it? I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up and it’ll be the beginning of the year. It doesn’t feel real, you know? Like it’s a dream.’

Winter nodded. ‘I get that.’ It wasn’t a lie either. The whole thing felt unreal. She just couldn’t believe this was the last day she’d ever have to spend at school.

‘You picked your college yet?’ Jules asked her. Winter could just make out the tan blotches of the pimple cover-up smeared on his chin. The box might have said ‘skin tone’ but Winter had never met anyone whose skin matched the colour cooked up by the geniuses at the cosmetics company. She realised she was staring at his chin and quickly looked away, replying, ‘I’m not sure I’m even going.’

This answer appeared to floor Jules. ‘You’re kidding right? What are you going to do then? Not stay here?’ The way he phrased this last bit suggested staying in Hagan’s Bluff was some kind of prison sentence. Winter might not have had any plans but she had no intention of staying in Hagan’s Bluff any longer than she had to. Not with so many memories and bad dreams connected to the town.

She shook her head firmly. ‘No, I’m not staying here.’

A cold wind began to blow and she was grateful she’d kept her jacket on beneath the gown. The buzz of people talking grew steadily louder as more students emptied out into the quadrangle. They roamed the aisles searching for their name tags, stopping to wave at their parents seated at the back. Samantha Abercrombie was in one of the final groups released. Sitting down next to Winter, she said, ‘I’m so nervous!’ and Winter had to restrain herself from asking why. All they had to do was sit here, wait for their name to be read out and then go up to accept their diploma. It wasn’t like they even had to say anything. Just walk up to the podium, smile for the camera, and sit back down again. Hardly rocket science.

Once the last of the students had found their seats, Principal Sorensen walked to the centre of the stage and tapped the microphone experimentally. Winter had always been slightly terrified of Sorensen. While the ex-nun had wielded her authority benevolently – she never went out of her way to be cruel – there was something about her stiff aspect, her severe features, that intimidated Winter.

‘Good afternoon everyone,’ Sorensen said, her voice booming through the speakers on either side of the platform, accompanied by a brief whine of feedback. ‘It looks like we’re going to have to get the ceremony started or risk getting wet. If it should start raining please move in an orderly fashion into the hall where we will continue.’

Winter looked up and saw that the cloud cover had thickened considerably. They’d be lucky to make it through the ceremony dry.

Sorensen cleared her throat. ‘We’ve gathered here today to witness the closing of a chapter. Life is marked with a few signposts along the way . . .’

Winter allowed herself to zone out, uninterested in Sorensen’s mixed metaphors. She twisted around in her seat to try to see Lucy. Unfortunately, due to the angle of her seat she could only make out the first two rows of the parents’ section. An image of her parents sitting with all the others popped into her head. She could see her dad with his black curly hair smiling proudly. She could see her mum wearing bright red lipstick, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue and laughing at her own tears. The image hurt, but made Winter smile just the same.

Sorensen drew to the end of her speech – some pap about ‘a new chapter was ready to be written’ – she wondered if Sorensen trotted out the same speech every year – and then the school band played a brief interlude while the photographer set up his camera at the base of the stage. When he’d finished positioning his tripod he gave Sorensen the thumbs up.

Sorensen lent into the microphone and said, ‘I’d like to welcome Mr Lorimer to the stage to read out the list of graduating students.’ While Sorensen took her position to hand out the diplomas, Mr Woodley approached the podium a little nervously. He was wearing a corn yellow tie and had combed his hair painstakingly to the left to cover his receding hairline.

‘This is it!’ Samantha said next to her, surprising Winter by grabbing her hand and giving it an excited squeeze.

Mr Lorimer lent forward into the microphone, cleared his throat and said, ‘Samantha Abercrombie.’

Samantha gave a little yelp and jumped up off her seat as though she’d just been awarded the best actress award at the Oscars. She walked quickly up to the stage and shook Sorensen’s hand, smiled dazzlingly for the camera, there was a brief round of applause, and then she walked down to the platform. Winter was just thinking what a lonely figure Samantha looked standing on the back row all by herself when she heard Mr Lorimer call another name.

‘Winter Adams.’