Fallen (6 page)

“Aw, Cole’ll ease up soon. He puts on his no-guff face every time there’s a new student. Anyway,” Arriane said, poking Luce, “it could be worse. You could have gotten stuck with Ms. Tross.”

Luce glanced down at her schedule. “I have her for biology in the afternoon block,” she said with a sinking feeling in her gut.

As Arriane sputtered out a laugh, Luce felt a bump on her shoulder. It was Cam, passing them in the hall on his way to lunch. Luce would have gone sprawling if not for his hand reaching back to steady her.

“Easy there.” He shot her a quick smile, and she wondered if he had bumped her intentionally. But he didn’t seem that juvenile. Luce glanced at Arriane to see whether she’d noticed anything. Arriane raised her eyebrows, almost inviting Luce to speak, but neither one of them said a thing.

When they crossed the dusty interior windows
separating bleak hall from bleaker cafeteria, Arriane took hold of Luce’s elbow.

“Avoid the chicken-fried steak at all costs,” she coached as they followed the crowd into the din of the lunchroom. “The pizza’s fine, the chili’s okay, and actually the borscht ain’t bad. Do you like meat loaf?”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Luce said. She was glancing around the tables, looking for two people in particular. Daniel and Cam. She’d just feel more at ease if she knew where they were so she could go about having her lunch pretending that she didn’t see either one of them. But so far, no sightings …

“Vegetarian, huh?” Arriane pursed her lips. “Hippie parents or your own meager attempt at rebellion?”

“Uh, neither, I just don’t—”

“Like meat?” Arriane steered Luce’s shoulders ninety degrees so that she was looking directly at Daniel, sitting at a table across the room. Luce let out a long exhale. There he was. “Now, does that go for
all
meat?” Arriane sang loudly. “Like you wouldn’t sink your teeth into
him?”

Luce slugged Arriane and dragged her toward the lunch line. Arriane was cracking up, but Luce knew she was blushing badly, which would be excruciatingly obvious in this fluorescent lighting.

“Shut up, he totally heard you,” she whispered.

Part of Luce felt glad to be joking about boys with a friend. Assuming Arriane was her friend.

She still felt unglued by what had happened this morning when she’d seen Daniel. That pull toward him—she still didn’t understand where it came from, and yet here it was again. She made herself tear her eyes away from his blond hair, from the smooth line of his jaw. She refused to be caught staring. She did
not
want to give him any reason to flip her off a second time.

“Whatever,” Arriane scoffed. “He’s so focused on that hamburger, he wouldn’t hear the call of Satan.” She gestured at Daniel, who did look intensely focused on chewing his burger. Scratch that, he looked like someone
pretending
to be intensely focused on chewing his hamburger.

Luce glanced across the table at Daniel’s friend Roland. He was looking straight at her. When he caught her eye, he waggled his eyebrows in a way that Luce couldn’t make sense of but that still creeped her out a little.

Luce turned back to Arriane. “Why is everyone at this school so weird?”

“I’m going to choose not to take offense at that,” Arriane said, picking up a plastic tray and handing one to Luce. “And I’m going to move on to explaining the fine art of selecting a cafeteria seat. You see, you never want to sit anywhere near the—Luce, look out!”

All Luce did was take one step backward, but as soon as she did, she felt the rough shove of two hands on her shoulders. Immediately, she knew she was going down.
She reached out in front of her for support, but all her hands found was someone else’s full lunch tray. The whole thing tumbled down right along with her. She landed with a thud on the cafeteria floor, a full cup of borscht in her face.

When she’d wiped enough mushy beets out of her eyes to see, Luce looked up. The angriest pixie she’d ever seen was standing over her. The girl had spiky bleached hair, at least ten piercings on her face, and a death glare. She bared her teeth at Luce and hissed, “If the sight of you hadn’t just ruined my appetite, I’d make you buy me another lunch.”

Luce stammered an apology. She tried to get up, but the girl clamped the heel of her black stiletto boot down on Luce’s foot. Pain shot up her leg, and she had to bite her lip so she wouldn’t cry out.

“Why don’t I just take a rain check,” the girl said.

“That’s enough, Molly,” Arriane said coolly. She reached down to help Luce to her feet.

Luce winced. The stiletto was definitely going to leave a bruise.

Molly squared her hips to face Arriane, and Luce got the feeling this was not the first time they’d locked horns.

“Fast friends with the newbie, I see,” Molly growled. “This is very bad behavior, A. Aren’t you supposed to be on probation?”

Luce swallowed. Arriane hadn’t mentioned anything
about probation, and it didn’t make sense that that would prohibit her from making new friends. But the word was enough to make Arriane clench her fist and throw a fat punch that landed on Molly’s right eye.

Molly reeled backward, but it was Arriane who caught Luce’s attention. She’d begun convulsing, her arms thrown up and jerking in the air.

It was the wristband, Luce realized with horror. It was sending some sort of shock through Arriane’s body. Unbelievable. This was cruel and unusual punishment, for sure. Luce’s stomach churned as she watched her friend’s entire body quake. She reached out to catch Arriane just as she sank to the floor.

“Arriane,” Luce whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Terrific.” Arriane’s dark eyes flickered open, then shut.

Luce gasped. Then one of Arriane’s eyes popped back open. “Scared ya, did I? Aw, that’s sweet. Don’t worry, the shocks won’t kill me,” she whispered. “They only make me stronger. Anyway, it was worth it to give that cow a black eye, ya know?”

“All right, break it up. Break it up,” a husky voice boomed behind them.

Randy stood in the doorway, red-faced and breathing hard. It was a little too late to break anything up, Luce thought, but then Molly was lurching toward them, her stiletto heels clicking on the linoleum. This girl was
shameless. Was she really going to kick the crap out of Arriane with Randy standing right there?

Luckily, Randy’s burly arms closed around her first. Molly tried to kick her way out and started screaming.

“Somebody better start talking,” Randy barked, squeezing Molly until she went limp. “On second thought, all three of you report for detention tomorrow morning. Cemetery. Crack of dawn!” Randy looked at Molly. “Have you
chilled
yet?”

Molly nodded stiffly, and Randy released her. She crouched down to where Arriane still lay in Luce’s lap, her arms crossed over her chest. At first Luce thought Arriane was sulking, like an angry dog with a shock collar, but then Luce felt a small jolt from Arriane’s body and realized that the girl was still at the mercy of the wristband.

“Come on,” Randy said, more softly. “Let’s go turn you off.”

She extended her hand to Arriane and helped heave up her tiny, shaking body, turning back only once at the doorway to repeat her orders for Luce and Molly.

“Crack of dawn!”

“Looking forward to it,” Molly said sweetly, reaching down to pick up the plate of meat loaf that had slipped from her tray.

She dangled it over Luce’s head for a second, then turned the plate upside down and mashed the food into
her hair. Luce could hear the squish of her own mortification as all of Sword & Cross got its viewing of the meat-loaf-coated new girl.

“Priceless,” Molly said, pulling out the tiniest silver camera from the back pocket of her black jeans. “Say … meat loaf,” she sang, snapping a few close-up shots. “These will be
great
on my blog.”

“Nice hat,” someone jeered from the other side of the cafeteria. Then, with trepidation, Luce turned her eyes to Daniel, praying that somehow he had missed this whole scene. But no. He was shaking his head. He looked annoyed.

Until that moment, Luce had thought she had a chance at standing up and just shaking off the incident—literally. But seeing Daniel’s reaction—well, it finally made her crack.

She would
not
cry in front of any of these horrible people. She swallowed hard, got to her feet, and took off. She rushed toward the nearest door, eager to feel some cool air on her face.

Instead, the southern September humidity cloaked her, choking her, as soon as she got outside. The sky was that no-color color, a grayish brown so oppressively bland it was difficult even to find the sun. Luce slowed down, but got as far as the edge of the parking lot before she came to a complete stop.

She longed to see her battered old car there, to sink into the fraying cloth seat, rev the engine, crank up the
stereo, and peel the hell out of this place. But as she stood on the hot black pavement, reality set in: She was stuck here, and a pair of towering metal gates separated her from the world outside Sword & Cross. Besides, even if she’d had a way out … where was she going to go?

The sick feeling in her gut told her all she needed to know. She was already at the last stop, and things were looking pretty grim.

It was as depressing as it was true: Sword & Cross was all she had.

She dropped her face into her hands, knowing she had to go back. But when she lifted her head, the residue on her palm reminded her that she was still coated in Molly’s meat loaf. Ugh. First stop, the nearest bathroom.

Back inside, Luce ducked into the girls’ room just as the door was swinging open. Gabbe, who appeared even more blond and flawless now that Luce looked like she’d just gone Dumpster diving, squeezed past.

“Whoops, ’scuse me, honey,” she said. Her southern-accented voice was sweet, but her face crumpled up at the sight of Luce. “Oh God, you look terrible. What happened?”

What happened? As if the whole school didn’t already know. This girl was probably playing dumb so Luce would relive the whole mortifying scene.

“Wait five minutes,” Luce replied, with more of an edge in her voice than she meant. “I’m sure gossip spreads like the plague around here.”

“You want to borrow my foundation?” Gabbe asked, holding up a pastel blue cosmetics case. “You haven’t seen yourself yet, but you’re going to—”

“Thanks, but no.” Luce cut her off, pushing into the bathroom. Without looking at herself in the mirror, she turned on the faucet. She splashed cold water on her face and finally let it all out. Tears streaming, she pumped the soap dispenser and tried to use some of the cheap pink powdered hand soap to scrub off the meat loaf. But there was still the matter of her hair. And her clothes had definitely looked and smelled better. Not that she needed to worry about making a good first impression anymore.

The bathroom door cracked open and Luce scrambled against the wall like a trapped animal. When a stranger walked in, Luce stiffened and waited for the worst.

The girl had a squat build, accentuated by an abnormal amount of layered clothing. Her wide face was surrounded by curly brown hair, and her bright purple glasses wobbled when she sniffed. She looked fairly unassuming, but then, looks could be deceiving. Both her hands were tucked behind her back in a way that, after the day Luce had had, she just couldn’t trust.

“You know, you’re not supposed to be in here without a pass,” the girl said. Her even tone seemed to mean business.

“I know.” The look in the girl’s eyes confirmed Luce’s suspicion that it was absolutely impossible to
catch a break at this place. She started to sigh in surrender. “I just—”

“I’m kidding.” The girl laughed, rolling her eyes and relaxing her posture. “I snagged some shampoo from the locker room for you,” she said, bringing her hands around to display two innocent-looking plastic bottles of shampoo and conditioner. “Come on,” she said, pulling over a beat-up folding chair. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Sit here.”

A half-whimpering, half-laughing noise she’d never made before escaped from Luce’s lips. It sounded, she guessed, like relief. The girl was actually being nice to her—not just reform school nice, but regular-person nice! For no apparent reason. The shock of it was almost too great for Luce to stand. “Thanks?” Luce managed to say, still feeling a little bit guarded.

“Oh, and you probably need a change of clothes,” the girl said, looking down at her black sweater and pulling it over her head to expose an identical black sweater underneath.

When she saw the surprised look on Luce’s face, she said, “What? I have a hostile immune system. I have to wear a lot of layers.”

“Oh, well, will you be okay without this one?” Luce made herself ask, even though she would have done just about anything right then to get out of the meat cloak she was wearing.

“Of course,” the girl said, waving her off. “I’ve got
three more on under this. And a couple more in my locker. Be my guest. It pains me to see a vegetarian covered in meat. I’m very empathetic.”

Luce wondered how this stranger knew about her dietary preferences, but more than that, she had to ask: “Um, why are you being so nice?”

The girl laughed, sighed, then shook her head. “Not everyone at Sword & Cross is a whore or a jock.”

“Huh?” Luce said.

“Sword & Cross … Whores and Jocks. Lame nickname in town for this school. Obviously there aren’t really any jocks here. I won’t oppress your ears with some of the cruder nicknames they’ve come up with.”

Luce laughed.

“All I meant was, not everyone here is a complete jerk.”

“Just the majority?” Luce asked, hating it that she already sounded so negative. But it had been such a long morning, and she’d already been through so much, and maybe this girl wouldn’t judge her for being a little bit gruff.

To her surprise, the girl smiled. “Exactly. And they sure give the rest of us a bad name.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Pennyweather Van Syckle-Lockwood. You can call me Penn.”

“Got it,” Luce said, still too frazzled to realize that, in a former life, she might have stifled a laugh at this girl’s moniker. It sounded like she’d hopped straight off the
pages of a Dickens novel. Then again, there was something trustworthy about a girl with a name like that who could manage to introduce herself with a straight face. “I’m Lucinda Price.”