Lost in Thought (36 page)

For her part, Dr. Stewart came to check on me every day and was a surprisingly good counselor. Maybe the Dr. in Dr. Stewart was actually in psychology. She asked me helpful questions, genuinely listened while I answered, and overall made me feel…better. I’d never have believed I’d look
forward
to seeing the headmaster, but during my time in the infirmary, I anticipated her daily arrival with interest rather than dread. I’m sure it had a tiny bit to do with her being the
only
person I really got to talk to the whole time, but that wasn’t all it was.

Our responses to what I’d dubbed in my head the
Jillian Incident
had built what I sensed was a mutual level of respect between us. We both let our guards down, at least a little, and learned more of what the other was made of. I was glad for it; I preferred being on, if not exactly what I’d call friendly, more
understanding
terms with her.

As promised, I spoke to my aunt on my second day of confinement. Because the public story was significantly less traumatic—for me, anyway—than the real one, Aunt Tessa was not as concerned as, well, she
should
have been. Of course, I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t tell her anything. Mostly she was proud of me, plus a little worried about my “migraine” and how I was dealing with the near-death of a “friend.”

Like the good mother she was, she also chastised me for breaking the rules about leaving school grounds. If we hadn’t left the school like

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we weren’t supposed to, she reasoned, we wouldn’t have been so far from help when Jill collapsed.

It felt so great to hear her voice, I chatted with her for as long as I could keep my eyes open. To my relief, she never threatened to come to campus—because, as far as she knew, there was no real need—and I would see her soon enough when she came to install the art piece she’d promised to donate. I looked forward to it immensely.

Though not quite as much as I looked forward to seeing Carter.

Not talking to him the entire time of my forced isolation was quite possibly the most difficult part of the whole incident. With almost tan-gible need, I longed to see his face, hear his voice, feel his arms around me, and, most importantly, know that he understood why I’d done what I did and forgave me.

On Wednesday, I finally got my wish. Dr. Stewart had brought me a selection of comfortable clothes from my dorm room to wear during my infirmary stay, and she brought me a hand-picked outfit, featuring an appropriately high-necked shirt, to wear upon my release. All she said when she let me go was, “Remain discreet, Elaine. And come see me whenever you need to talk.” I assured her that I would, and she and I both knew it was the truth.

You’d think the first thing I’d have done was run straight to Carter, since besides the bad stuff, it was about all I’d thought of for four days, but I didn’t. I restrained myself admirably. It was late afternoon and he was in the middle of the busiest time at the bookstore. I knew he’d drop everything the moment he saw me, but I wanted privacy and I wanted time. So instead, my first stop was my dorm room. I had no guarantees Amy would be there, but she was. I wondered if Dr. Stewart had told her I’d be coming back today.

Almost as soon as I came through the door, she slammed into me with a giant hug. I wasn’t quite prepared for the assault. I squeaked in pain—I couldn’t stop myself—but she released me quickly, smacking

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her own forehead as she did. She tugged me down on my bed and flopped beside me, sweeping up a pillow as she landed.

“Shit, Lane, sorry! Your head is probably still killing you.” The irony in her words was hysterical, but this time I managed to keep from laughing. “But seriously,” she continued, “it’s so good to see you. I can’t believe what happened! Are you okay? They say Jill is going to be all right, but she won’t be back to school this year. It’s so crazy that she just
died
like that! And you saved her! But…what were you doing off campus with her? That’s what I don’t understand.” She worried at the pillow while she spoke.

I let the comfort of my roommate’s familiar chatter wash over me like a balm. I felt better in her presence almost immediately. I even leaned in and gave her another, gentler hug before I responded. Not quite as much as Carter, but I’d missed Amy too. I couldn’t tell her the real truth, but I knew she would help me cope with the
Jillian Incident
in her own way. Neither could I be completely vague with her, because she was too smart for that, and also because she was my best friend, so I’d carefully crafted an answer that painted Jill in the best possible light and was, mostly, true.

I explained that Jill had finally responded, tentatively, to my attempts to befriend her, how we’d agreed to try hanging out without giving people a chance to gossip, and had stumbled on the path to the cemetery pretty much by accident. I described how scary it had been when she’d collapsed and how hard it was to save her. I even told her about how helpful Dr. Stewart had been about the whole thing.

“Wow,” she said drily. “That’s the most surprising part…I didn’t think the woman had a caring bone in her body.” She shook her head and was back to serious. “But yeah, how crazy. You’re fantastic, by the way! I think I might have freaked out and fainted or something. And I want to learn CPR too. A doctor’s daughter, you think I’d

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know…Your voice sounds like you’ve been crying for days. Have you?

Are you
really
okay?”

She squeezed my arm affectionately and I almost did start crying. I
hadn’t
been doing that, not since Jill’s heart had started beating, but Amy’s concern, and my inability to share what had really happened, almost had me weeping again.

So, I lied some more. I had to. “Yeah,” I said. “I can’t help thinking about her. It was…really scary. The nurse gave me some anxiety pills to take for a while, though, and I think they’re helping. It’s getting easier.” My “anxiety pills” were actually Vicodin, but it was a good cover for why I was popping the pain medication several times a day.

Amy was quiet for a while, probably thinking about what it would be like to watch a classmate die, but as always, she rebounded quickly.

“God, you’re a high maintenance friend,” she joked. “When I asked for a roommate, I didn’t expect to get one that came with so much
drama.
I’m thinking of getting a single next year, or maybe you’ll have to move into the infirmary full time and I can keep my awesome room for myself.”

We laughed and I hugged her again. It was true, I did seem to bring the drama, though mostly through no fault of my own. But we both knew that Amy loved it, same as she loved me. Being Sententia was hard, but it was what had brought me here, to this school, and this room, and this girl who I hugged one more time just because I could. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, even if I had the chance.

peaking of things that were not always easy to deal with but I wouldn’t trade for the world, it was finally time for me to see S Carter. I waited until after dinner—where I told my abbreviated story about a million times to my friends and nearly everyone else on campus before Amy shooed them all away—and hurried as much as I was able across the street to the bookstore and up the back stairs. I was sure that Dr. Stewart
hadn’t
told Carter I would be released today, so it took a minute or two for anyone to answer the door.

It was Melinda who greeted me. She instantly burst into tears. “Oh God, Lainey,” she sobbed, hugging me gently before pulling back to look at me. “Are you okay? Oh, honey. I can’t…I don’t…” She struggled for words between her tears.

“I’m okay,” I interrupted, and hugged her again. I was a little overwhelmed by the strength of her response. I knew she had real affection for me, but Jill, even if she was a little crazy, was still her niece. “I’m so sorry,” I told her truthfully, “but I’m okay.”

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“Sorry?! You don’t have to be sorry! What Jillian did…Oh, Lainey, I can’t believe it. But we’ll have plenty of time to talk about this later.”

She wiped her eyes and stepped to the side.

Carter had appeared behind her not long after she’d opened the door and shouted. He waited patiently, hovering by the hallway entrance that led to his room, though I could tell he was eager to hug me himself. Relief rolled off him in waves.

Jeff Revell, too, had appeared on the other side of the kitchen. He nodded at me and murmured, “We’re just thankful you’re all right,”

before disappearing through the living room door. Melinda followed him after one last squeeze of my arm, leaving Carter and me alone.

For a moment, neither of us moved, staring at each other from the few paces that separated us instead. I was so relieved to see him that I was frozen in my spot. Finally, despite knowing it would hurt, I threw myself at him, and he swept me up into his arms and carried me into his bedroom, shutting the door behind us with his foot. He set me down on the bed, gently, and then ran his fingers through my hair and across my cheek.

“I was so worried about you,” he said. It was barely audible, but it didn’t matter. I could practically
feel
the words seep under my skin and warm me from the inside.
“Are
you okay?”

“I will be,” I told him, and I would. Eventually. “It’s going to take a little while. For everything.”

“Can I see?” he asked tentatively.

I always thought it would be more romantic, or maybe passionate, the first time I took my shirt off in front of him, but it was neither. It was actually painful. It was also the easiest way to show him the extent of what she’d done. At least Dr. Stewart had brought me a decent-looking bra. Wordlessly, I slipped my shirt over my head.

I think he was more shocked than the day we’d discovered I was a Marwood, or the day he accidentally revealed his incredible abilities.

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He gasped sharply, blue eyes enormous as they looked in mine, asking silent permission. I nodded and he gingerly reached out to touch the worst of my injuries, first my neck—there was still a dark purple band, but it was starting to yellow at the edges—and then my side. I couldn’t help flinching when his fingers grazed the still-deep bruise there.

His eyes snapped back up to mine and he pulled his hand away.

“Jesus,” he whispered, raking his fingers through his hair. I pulled my shirt back on. “She did all that to you?”

I nodded again. “It’s getting better, though.”

“Jesus,” he repeated.

“Carter, I’m so…”

He chopped his hand through the air to cut me off.
“Don’t
apologize. Please. I can’t take it. This was
not
your fault.”

“But Jill…she’s family. And I…I killed her.”

“You
saved yourself.
And her too. That’s all that matters.” His words were almost angry, they were so vehement. He hopped up and started to pace the length of his room. With anger came his nervous energy.

“I don’t care if she’s family. At this point, I wouldn’t care if she’d died.

She tried to
murder you.
You think I’ll be upset that you didn’t let her?

God, Lainey. You really don’t get it, do you?”

He dropped down in front of me, gripping my face between his hands. “I love you, Lainey Young. I. Love. You. I think I might have killed her myself if anything worse had happened to you!”

It was my turn to be shocked. Not because of what he’d said, even though neither of us had ever said it before. I knew he loved me. I’d known it for weeks, maybe months, and I knew I felt the same way.

No, it was the
intensity
with which he’d said it. It both exhilarated and frightened me. I didn’t know if I was ready for such serious emotions, but that didn’t matter. I felt them too.

“I…I love you too,” I stuttered, then gathered strength. “I mean it.

I have for longer than I want to admit.”

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He didn’t say anything else, but I could see the elation in his eyes.

Somehow, I think he’d doubted that I returned the feelings. Which was stupid, but I guess maybe I’d finally found the one thing about which Carter wasn’t wholly confident.

He kissed me then, gently at first, but it grew, slowly and steadily, until we were lying together on his bed, completely entangled in the comfort of each other. If my injuries hurt, I didn’t feel it. I felt great, and
right,
and better than I had in months. I loved Carter and he loved me and we’d both finally admitted it out loud. What could possibly be wrong?

But there’s always something.

I’m not sure what made me do it, or whether or not it was conscious at all. Maybe it was because I’d never felt happier or safer than I did in that moment. Maybe it was my feeling of utter relief. Maybe it was simple exhaustion. With his arms hard around me and lips soft against mine, it was a miracle I could have any other thoughts at all.

Maybe there was nothing I could have done to prevent it even if I’d tried.

I’ll never know what caused me to open all of my senses at that moment, but I will never forget what came afterwards. In a brief and vibrant vision, with no real details but utter certainty, I knew that Carter Penrose had been an instrument of death before and that he would be again.

The next face I saw was my own.

Acknowledgments

T H AN K YO U :

To
my agent, April Eberhardt, for the tireless support of me and my words.