A Tale of Two Proms (Bard Academy) Read online

  I expected to see an argument or at least anger—on Parker’s part or Heathcliff’s—but from what I could see they seemed almost… friendly. Parker’s face broke out into a smile and she laughed again. She even puffed out her chest a little bit like she does when Ryan Kent, or another eligible boy, is around. It took me a few seconds to realize just what I was seeing. Could it be possible? Was Parker flirting with Heathcliff?

  I ducked back and watched as Parker laid a casual hand on his forearm and laughed again, tossing her blond hair.

  Yep, definitely flirting.

  Officially, this was the strangest thing I’d ever seen at Bard Academy and my English Lit teacher was the ghost of Ernest Hemingway.

  I blinked a couple of times and just barely resisted the urge to pinch myself. This could not be real. I was not witnessing Parker Rodham flirting with my Heathcliff.

  Parker glanced up. I ducked behind the building, trying to hide, but even I knew I was a split second too late. Parker had seen me. The game was up.

  “Hello!” she called to me. “We’re over here!”

  Parker had seen me watching her flirt with my boyfriend and now she was calling me over to have a closer look? Clearly, I had fallen into a wormhole into another dimension where Parker had lost her mind and I wasn’t far behind.

  I peeked around the corner and found her staring at me, hand on her hip. Heathcliff was looking at me too, and nothing on his face told me he realized he’d been doing anything unusual. He seemed perfectly calm, like I’d just caught him at the cafeteria in line to get milk.

  “We’re over here,” Parker said, as if she were expecting me. “I told you, I’d do it.”

  Heathcliff smiled at me, glad to see me, and not at all uncomfortable by the fact he was two feet from the girl he knew I couldn’t stand. Something was rotten in Denmark.

  And I don’t mean figuratively.

  Literally, something smelled awful. As I took a step closer and soon figured out that the stink was coming from Heathcliff. This morning, he’d smelled perfect—just like himself. Now, he carried with him the odor of stale beer.

  “Uh… What was that?” I asked Parker. I was too distracted by Heathcliff’s smell and by his rumpled clothes. He looked like he’d spent the last couple of hours since I saw him at a frat party.

  “What else?” Parker echoed. “I found him for you.” Parker’s white smile grew bigger. I didn’t detect the usual sarcasm in her voice. I had no idea what was going on, but a voice inside my head told me to play along until I figured out what was happening. Parker was suddenly chummy with Heathcliff and me? Something was up, and I had to figure out what it was.

  She was still talking. “I told you I’d find him and I did. Now, tell me how this is going to make Miranda’s life miserable.”

  “Make Miranda’s life miserable?” I echoed. Okay, so clearly, Parker thought I wasn’t me. That made sense, as did the fact she still hated my guts. Parker and I had never been, and probably would never be, BFFs. We were more like BEFs, Best Enemies Forever.

  But then, who did she think I was? I could think of only one person: Catherine.

  “Ugh, Miranda. Can’t stand her. Her and that imaginary boyfriend of hers. Do you think since he’s a made-up character he’s even a real human being? Isn’t that like dating outside your species or something?”

  I must have given Parker a long, hard look, because she started to backpedal.

  “I mean, not that I have anything against you 'Fiction-Americans, ' or whatever you want to call yourself. Sorry, Catherine—or Cathy—a or whatever you want to go by.”

  Now this was starting to make more sense. Parker did think I was Catherine, and the two of them had made some kind of deal.

  I wondered when Catherine had approached Parker. Even more troubling was that Catherine and Parker had any kind of deal at all. With those two together, you didn’t need any horsemen of the apocalypse. I think they had enough evil between them to get the job done all on their own.

  “Yeah, uh, thanks,” I said. Why would Cathy need Parker’s help to find Heathcliff?

  And why was Heathcliff just standing there, totally fine with the fact that I was supposed to be Catherine and Parker was trading him off like a stray dog she’d found in the street. Nothing about this was right. Heathcliff would never let Parker do something like this… unless he wanted to go with Catherine. Maybe that had been his plan all along?

  I glanced up at Heathcliff’s face but couldn’t read a single expression on it. He also seemed a little unsteady on his feet. Was it just my imagination or was he swaying a bit? Kind of like a big oak tree about to fall down.

  “So?” Parker asked me.

  “So?”

  “So, I delivered…” Parker looked at Heathcliff. “And now you owe me what you promised.”

  What I promised? I think the last thing I promised Parker Rodham was to never speak to her again after I’d saved her life and in return she’d tried to get me expelled from Bard. I was pretty sure she wasn’t talking about that promise. What could Catherine have promised Parker? I doubted a girl from 1825 had much to offer Parker in terms of a bribe.

  “Right—that, well…” I stalled. “I’m working on getting it.”

  “You’re working on it. You said fair trade, and here I am.”

  “Right, but uh…” I had no idea what Parker thought I owed her, but I decided to bluff. “I couldn’t bring it out here. In daylight. Not with the Guardians around.”

  Parker stared at me a long minute. “You couldn’t bring the key to the vault outside? How big is this key?”

  I stopped and stared. Parker wanted the key to the vault? The same vault that was hidden beneath the library and contained a whole mini library of enchanted books, any of which could bring fictional characters to life? That vault?

  The idea of Parker rummaging around in such a powerful and dangerous place like the vault made me feel like throwing up. She knew how dangerous those books could be. She also knew that you could banish the faculty by destroying those books. The books were their only anchor to this world.

  Maybe she planned to liquidate the teachers. It wouldn’t be beyond her.

  I tried to keep my face blank, but something must’ve shown, because a suspicious look darkened Parker’s face.

  “You do know what I’m talking about, right?” It was more than a question. It was an accusation.

  I willed myself to look calm and hoped none of my true thoughts were popping up on my face for her to see. I must not have been the best actress because I could tell Parker was already doubting my performance. She was studying me now, doing her own calculations and she was quickly coming to the conclusion that something was wrong.

  “Well, I have to be careful when the key comes out,” I said. “The faculty have ways of knowing when it’s on the move.”

  Technically, there wasn’t a key to the vault at all so nothing that I was saying was in the least bit true. The vault was opened by pulling a special book from the shelf in the back of the library, near the rare books wing. I could easily show Parker how to get into the vault, but I wasn’t going to do that. That would be like handing Parker all the launch codes to the country’s nuclear arsenal. It was only wise if you were hoping for the end of the world.

  The fact that Catherine promised Parker a key to the vault at all was an interesting development. Either Catherine was playing Parker by telling her there was a key, or Catherine didn’t know how to get into the vault any more than Parker did.

  That was a fact to file away for later.

  Parker’s eyes had narrowed. She was on the brink of figuring all of this out. Parker might be evil, but she was hardly stupid. “What happened to your hair?” Parker asked. The doubt in her voice growing. “It looked different this morning.”

  This was a trap, the kind Parker loved to set. I remembered Lindsay saying Catherine had worn ponytails—old school Britney Spears style—the last time she’d seen her. Maybe she was still wearing them
that way.

  “Yeah, I had ponytails,” I said, pulling my hair up on each side of my head to mimic them. “But I decided it was time for a change.”

  “I agree about that,” said a voice from behind me. It was a girl’s voice and it sounded remarkably like mine.

  I knew who it was before I turned around. The surprise on Parker’s and Heathcliff’s faces was enough to clue me in. When I turned, I saw Catherine standing there, her hair in pigtails, gum in her mouth. She snapped it loudly. Now that we were closer than we’d ever been, I saw she wasn’t my exact twin. She had a flatter stomach than me. She also was a smidgen shorter. Her eyes weren’t quite like mine, either, or maybe that was just the excessive make-up she was wearing. It was hard to tell what her eyes were like under ten pounds of black liquid eyeliner. I had never met anyone before who wore more make-up than Blade, but I guess there was a first time for everything.

  “How could you possibly think this pathetic girl was me?” Catherine’s voice was barely a snarl, her face twisted in disgust. If I had suspected she had been the one to launch the stone gargoyle at my head this morning, I was more than sure of it now. The hate in her eyes told me if she had something lethal in her hands at the moment she’d throw it at me.

  I almost hated to drag my eyes away from her. I thought the second I did she’d plunge a knife in me. I did risk a look at Heathcliff. At a time like this, it’s always best to find out who your allies are. I wanted to know if Heathcliff had my back, but I couldn’t tell at all from his expression. I expected to find concern on his face, maybe even worry, but he looked decidedly unfazed, even a little bit amused.

  Fantastic. Just the reaction I wanted from my boyfriend.

  Parker just frowned at me.

  “I knew it was you, Miranda, I could smell your cheap perfume.” Parker glared. She took a step closer. Catherine did, too. Heathcliff remained still. I wondered if I shouted, if anyone would hear me. We were far enough away from the main campus paths that I doubted it. Distantly, a bell rang, signally the start of the next period. Now, nobody but the tardy would be out, anyway. My chances of being rescued just dropped considerably.

  Plus, there was the Heathcliff problem. Whose side was he on?

  I stared at him, but he gave nothing away. A little “I got this, Miranda” nod would’ve been nice. I had hardly ever had to worry about Heathcliff’s allegiances before. I didn’t like the feeling.

  “Well, since we’re all here, maybe you can tell Parker why you lied to her,” I told Catherine. Talking was good at this point, I thought. If we were talking, that meant nobody was punching me. Or kicking me. Or tying me up. Or killing me. All of those things I figured Catherine probably wanted to do to me. And Parker wouldn’t stop her, either. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure Heathcliff would jump in and save me at this point so talking was my best option.

  “What are you talking about?” snapped Parker.

  I kept my eyes on Catherine. She looked a little surprised, but then she quickly swallowed the feeling. Her brows knitted in disapproval as she studied me. I figured she had lied to Parker on purpose and I could tell by the look on her face I was right.

  “Are you going to tell her, or am I?” I asked Catherine.

  “Someone shut her up!” Catherine growled. But Parker and Heathcliff remained completely still.

  “What’s she talking about Cathy?” Parker asked.

  “There’s no key to the vault,” I told Parker. “Cathy is double-crossing you.” Parker went from wanting to kill me to wanting to kill Catherine. Catherine’s eyes stayed fixed on me.

  “Hey!” shouted a voice from somewhere behind Heathcliff. When he shifted slightly, I saw a big, burly Guardian standing there holding a taser in his hand. “You kids are supposed to be in class.”

  I’d never been so glad to see a Guardian in my whole life. They may be just oversized mall security guards, but at this point, that guy in the blue polo might’ve just saved my life.

  “Stay right there. You’ll have to come with us for detention,” a second one added, appearing near the first.

  Parker, who never took direction well, didn’t even pretend to stay put. She took one look at them and just took off at a sprint, pushing Catherine against the wall. Catherine gave me a look that told me she wasn’t finished with me but then she righted herself and ran off, as well.

  “Stop!” the Guardians shouted and then came lumbering after us.

  Well, geez, I was the least evil person of our little quartet, so it wouldn’t be fair if I was the only one caught. I turned to run, and noticed Heathcliff was just standing there like a deer in headlights. This wasn’t like him. He was a boy of action. The Heathcliff I knew would’ve knocked down the Guardian and run past him, but this version of Heathcliff was unusually indecisive. It looked like it was up to me to do something, so I grabbed Heathcliff’s arm and pulled him in the direction Parker had gone, down the south side of the library. We nearly collided with a third Guardian, but we skidded right and ducked inside the library just in time.

  Heathcliff knew the library better than just about anyone. I’d spent hours in here with him during the last year. Heathcliff knew every alcove, every out of the way place, every quiet spot in the library. But now, it was me and not Heathcliff leading the way into the library. It was honestly like he didn’t care if the Guardians caught us.

  “Why are we running?” Heathcliff asked me, a puzzled look on his face.

  “No time for jokes,” I snapped, annoyed. There was absolutely nothing funny about being caught by the Guardians. They could dole out dish duty or worse.

  Heathcliff shrugged and followed me, like I was leading him to a picnic. He was acting like someone had knocked him hard in the head with something. I’d have to worry about that later. Right now, I had my hands full with avoiding detention.

  “Over here,” I hissed at him, pulling him down a row of books that would lead us to an archive room. We were steps away when two of the Guardians from the alley spilled out, blocking our path. I stopped and steered us in the opposite direction, driving us deeper into the stacks.

  “Should we go upstairs? Downstairs? The study hall?” I paused at the end of the stacks, the exit door to the stairs on my right, the small row of study desks on my left. I didn’t know the best way out. “Do we hide? Do we run?”

  Heathcliff just stared at me like I was speaking a different language. “I don’t know,” he said in a voice that was both his and wasn’t his.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Heathcliff always knew what to do. He always had a plan. He was never indecisive; never hesitant. He had this knack for thinking on his feet and a strong instinct for escaping Guardians and anyone else hoping to lock him up. But today it was like he was in a fog and couldn’t find his way out.

  “I see them!” cried one of the Guardians behind us. He was probably forty feet away.

  “The stairs,” I said, making the decision for us. I had no idea if it was the right one, but I was almost positive doing nothing and letting the Guardians get us would definitely be the wrong choice. I slammed open the door to the stairs and pulled Heathcliff through it. On the stairs, I saw Guardians on the flight below, working their way up, so our only option was to head to the second floor. I realized as we ran that we’d be trapped upstairs. There was no way to the outside unless we jumped out a window. But we didn’t have another option at this point. I’d committed us to upstairs and that’s where we’d have to go. We’d just have to find a place to hide and hope they got tired of looking for us. We finished the climb and burst through a doorway to the second floor. The first thing I saw was the restroom door.

  “There,” I said, running toward the girls’ bathroom. We were inside before Heathcliff could say another word. This would buy us some time. I pulled a trashcan in front of the door and then I checked all the stalls to make sure they were empty. It was about this time that I realized Heathcliff was standing and staring at the toilet in the first stall like he’
d never seen one before.

  It wasn’t like him to be overly obsessed with modern technology. Sure, he’d been pretty transfixed by indoor plumbing back when he’d first showed up in this century. But most of the novelty of life in the new millennium had worn off by now. He’d had nearly three years to get used to it.

  I glanced at the back wall and realized there might be a way out. If I stood on the toilet in the back stall, I could just reach the air conditioning grate against the wall. It was just big enough for a person to climb through.

  “I need your help, Heathcliff.” I’d gotten the grate off, but I needed his help to get up there. He reluctantly left the toilet and came to my stall. “Give me a boost.”

  He stared at my legs a beat too long like he was just registering the fact I was wearing a knee-length plaid skirt, the standard issue for female Bard students. “I’m glad to help you,” he said. “If you convince me it’s the best thing to do. What’s to say it wouldn’t be smarter for me to talk to those gentlemen who were chasing us?”

  I just stood and stared at him. The Heathcliff I knew would never even consider negotiating surrender with the Guardians. And “gentlemen” is about the last word in the English language he’d call them. He hated them on sight and he certainly didn’t trust them to keep their word.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “A smart man weighs his options,” he said.

  “Well, you’re not very smart today because your options are pretty clear. The Guardians will grab you and send you away from here. Is that what you want?”

  “Would that be closer or farther from you?”

  “Far, far from me. All the way to Wuthering Heights.”

  “Like the novel?”

  I stared at him. Was he kidding? If so, it wasn’t funny. “Another joke? Now is not the time.”

  “I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” Heathcliff did many things, but he rarely lightened anything.