Wuthering high: a bard academy novel (6 page)

“Um, do you have to do that?” I ask her when her flying elbow nearly hits me in the face.

She furiously scribbles “Sacred Wiccan Protection Vampire Ritual” on her notepad and shows it to me, and then points to the wall. In one of the spaces not covered by a picture of Satan or his minions, there is a certificate that reads, “Wiccan Witch, Certified 2003 by Wicca Women’s Association — Cleveland.”

“Vampires? What do you mean?”

She picks up an old copy of
Dracula
from her desk and hands it to me.

“I know what a vampire is,” I say, pushing the book aside. “But why are you protecting us from them?”

She scribbles on her notepad, “Saw one,” as if this is a regular occurrence for Blade. You know, some people go bird watching. Blade prefers vampire watching. Now I know she’s insane.

She tries to hand me a string of garlic to wear around my neck, but I decline. I don’t really want to smell like a lasagna, thanks.

Blade shrugs and then leaves the room, wearing her own garlic lei.

I decide I’ve had enough.

I undo the latch at the window and find it swings inward. I look out and see I’m on the third floor, but there’s a ledge, and even better, a drainpipe. Just like the one at home I used (once!) to sneak out of my room.

Could it be this easy? Could my ticket to freedom be right in front of me? I glance back over my shoulder and decide I’m not going to wait for Blade to come back. I grab my backpack and put my foot on the ledge. I come face-to-face with a gargoyle and nearly lose it. Jesus. Why does this place have to be so freakin’ creepy? God! I put my hand on its head and haul myself out the window.

I climb halfway down and then jump the rest of the way. I land on the ground hard, but manage not to hurt anything. It’s not that much different than sneaking out of my room at home. Not that I’ve done that more than once or, okay, maybe twice. And I swear it’s all Cass’s fault (I guess in some ways she
is
the Bad Influence Friend — she always knows of the kegger party, and always wants me to come).

I march off in the direction of the woods. Can you really blame me? The bus driver nearly killed me, there are brain-dead Guardians beating the hell out of anybody who breathes, the students are insane (see Blade and Heathcliff), and I am being forced to live without a hair dryer. I don’t know what other signs you need. I’ve seen Lifetime Original Movies (or as Cass calls them, Knifetime Original Movies, because of how often a deranged, knife-wielding stalker pops up in one of them). I’m not going to wait around to be a Knifetime victim.

There don’t seem to be any teachers or other adults about as I make my way down by the buildings and toward the dirt road that the bus took to get here. I’m not an outdoors girl, so I think it’s best if I stick with roads. Just as I’m almost to the Bard Academy gate, I see two Guardians walking by. Quickly, I duck into the forest. The sky above me is a dark shade of magenta. It’s starting to get dark. I wonder how often that ferry comes. Hopefully, often.

I try to remember what they told us about surviving in the woods at night at camp. I didn’t pay attention. I never imagined I’d actually have use for camping survival types. Who knew?

I start heading in the direction where I think the road is. I walk for what seems like forever. I’m getting a blister on my right toe and I’m now ankle-deep in what has to be poison ivy. Mosquitoes buzz in my ear and nip at my arms. I’ve smashed two already and missed a half dozen more. Bugs of some kind are nipping at my ankles. Knowing my luck today, they’re probably ticks. I’ll not only be lost in the woods forever, but I’ll also contract Lyme disease.

I try imagining the speech I’m going to give my parents when I call them whenever I finally get someplace where my mobile phone works. Mom will have to listen about the “no hair dryer” rule and polyester uniforms. Then she’ll have to take me back. Sure, she wants to punish me, but even she can’t want me to be without my hair dryer. Good grooming is a basic civil right.

I run into yet another spiderweb and I do that really embarrassing Spiderweb Dance. Liz says that when people run into a spiderweb they always do the same thing — flail their arms and do a little boogie dance, which makes everyone, no matter how cool they are, look ridiculous. I think about Liz talking about the Spiderweb Dance and have to smile. I miss her. I miss Cass, too. I can’t believe I didn’t take them up on their offer to stow me away in their attics.

While I’m struggling with the spiderweb, I nearly run smack into another tree branch. The forest is getting thicker. And it’s definitely getting darker. I should’ve been to the road by now. I don’t remember it being this far.

Something rather large rumbles around in the bushes a few yards away.

If that’s a chipmunk, it’s a really big freaking chipmunk.

I start thinking again about the
Friday the 13th
movies. I never should’ve watched them when they came on cable. Now look at me. I’m worried about a psycho killer in the woods on some island off the coast of Maine.

Another mosquito bites my arm. I smack it, and think I shouldn’t be worried about Jason. I should be worried about contracting malaria.

I see lights up ahead. The road — finally. Jeez. It’s taken me long enough.

I check my mobile phone: still no bars, but the phone says I’ve been walking for an hour.

I push the last branch away from the lights and find myself staring, not at the road, but at the white stone buildings of Bard Academy. In fact, it’s the exact place I stepped into the woods.

This is impossible.

I look around. How did this happen? I could’ve sworn I wasn’t moving in a circle. I’m an outdoors virgin, but still, I’ve got a better sense of direction than this. I never get lost in the mall, ever. Could the woods be so different?

And even if I did get lost, how did I come back at the
exact spot
where I left? I mean, that’s just not possible that I did a U-turn somewhere out there. But here I am, right back in the Goth Village, right in front of the lion statues standing guard outside the library.

The campus is eerily quiet. And I notice that even though we’re on an island, I don’t hear the sound of the ocean. Everything is quiet, except, in the distance, a wolf howls.

This isn’t normal.

Just
where
am I?

Six

When I get back
to the dorm, I find it completely empty.

What the…?

The halls and every room is empty. Completely deserted. What happened? Where is everybody? I wander into the dorm den, where I find Ms. W sitting by the fire and reading a book.

The wet spot on her sleeve is gone, but there seems to be one near the hem of her dress. Odd.

She closes her book and looks at me.

“Got escape out of your system, I hope,” she says, in clipped English.

I flinch. “How did you —?”

“I have my ways,” she says. “Not including the mud that you have all over your jeans.”

I look down at them and can feel my face go red. I guess I have to work on being more stealth.

“I’m sorry, I am, it’s just that…”

“The woods are dangerous, you know,” she tells me as I watch a single drop of water fall from the hem of her dress and land on the carpet. Is it water or sweat? “You could’ve died of hypothermia, or worse.”

I don’t think I want to know what “worse” is.

“And even if you made it out of the woods, where are you going to go? We’re on an island, Miranda,” she says. “The ferry only comes twice a day.”

She has a point.

I realize that she at least cares about my welfare. It’s more than I can say about my dad.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and mean it.

“I could turn you in, but I’m not going to. This is your one free pass, you understand me?” I nod. She looks at her watch. “Now you’re late for dinner. Change into your uniform and head to the cafeteria before all the food is gone.”

“I am not going out in public like this,” I say to my reflection in the mirror after I’ve changed.

I look down at myself and all I can see is old-school Britney Spears. I’ve got on a white starched shirt, which makes my already nonexistent boobs even more nonexistent, along with a navy blue skinny tie with the Bard Academy seal on it, and a short, pleated Bard Academy skirt. To complete the ensemble: white knee-high socks. All I need are pigtails and some dance moves and I am the pre–Federline Britney. If anyone I knew ever saw me in this, I’d literally die of embarrassment. I have a fashion reputation to protect. I should be singing “Oops, I Did It Again.”

I am already thinking about ways I can try to make it cooler. Maybe if I shredded the hem, or the tie? Anything would be an improvement. I put on my navy blue cap (the one Lindsay calls my Fidel Castro hat, because it’s square and has a short brim) and some bangles and dangle earrings, which is the best I can do on short notice.

The dining room is dark and depressing. The lights above are dimly lit chandeliers, with flickering bulbs that give off about as much light as candles. The electricity in the dining hall and about everywhere else seems patchy at best. The lights keep flickering.

The walls are all dark-paneled wood and the room is filled with long, wooden tables paired with benches that are bolted to the floor. No plastic chairs here. I wonder if this is to prevent students from throwing them. I head to the line, where I am the next-to-last person to get my tray and get my food.

Calling the meal they serve us “dinner” is being generous. Even calling it “food” would be something of a stretch. On the bright side, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to drop fifteen pounds without even trying.

The meal, if you want to call it that, consists of a big white roll (um, carb-heavy, no thanks), some mystery meat swimming in some unidentifiable gravy, and green beans so soggy they disintegrate on the fork.

I’m not sure what’s scarier. The woods, my polyester uniform, or this food.

Have these people ever heard of Cheetos? Cap’n Crunch? Something edible? I take my tray to the end of the line and then look for a place to sit.

Amazingly, everyone seems to be sitting in groups of friends already. It’s not even the first day of classes and already there are cliques. Where did they come from? Was there a meeting I missed? There are literally no singles sitting at any table. Everyone is at least paired up with someone else, and here I am, alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces. I literally see
no one
I recognize. Not even Blade. I feel my heart sink.

I wait a beat or two, counting down the seconds as I stand with my tray, glancing around the cafeteria. I realize that I’m quickly slipping from the “casually looking for friends” zone into the “this girl has no friends and doesn’t know where to sit” zone. I glance up and see a guy with a pink Mohawk, who nods at me. Does he want me to sit with him?

Oh God. Am I reduced to sitting with Pink Mohawk Guy? Seriously? Is this my life now?

And then, a punkish girl with green hair steps out of line behind me and heads to the Pink Mohawk Guy. He wasn’t nodding at me, he was nodding at Green Spiky Hair Girl. Great. Not even the Pink Mohawk Guy wants me to sit with him. I don’t think I can sink lower.

Get a grip, I tell myself. It’s not that bad to sit by yourself, is it? Besides, is it so bad to be a social pariah at Bard? I mean, what does it say about you if you’re popular at a school of delinquents? Yeah, thought so. This rationale makes me feel instantly better. I’m not a social pariah; if anything, being an outcast here makes me normal.

Then I see someone I recognize. It’s Hana. And she’s sitting with a boy. Oh, thank God! I’m saved. I catch her eye and she gives me a smile. I’m in.

“Hey, mind if I sit with you guys?” I ask, approaching them.

“Sure, have a seat,” Hana says, nodding to the seat in front of her.

“Thanks,” I say. “You saved me.”

“You owe me one,” Hana says, but she smiles at me. “Miranda, meet Samir. Samir, Miranda.”

Samir is slim with an olive complexion and jet-black hair that’s a bit unkempt. He seems not to care that his shirt is half tucked-in and half tucked-out of his pants. He looks like he just rolled out of bed.

“Will you marry me?” he asks me.

“Uh…” I glance at Hana.

“He asks every girl he meets,” Hana explains. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m what you call desperate,” Samir says.

“His parents want to arrange his marriage for him,” Hana says. “They sent him here because he refuses to get married to the girl of their choice when he turns nineteen.”

“That’s a little young to get married, isn’t it?”

“My parents grew up in India in a very traditional family. They have a different way of thinking about things,” Samir says. “So why are you here? Did your parents send you away for telling them you won’t have an arranged marriage, too?”

“No, but they could have. My parents are dorks,” I say.

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did you do?”

“Samir! Stop being so nosy. Miranda, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“She’s right, you know,” Samir says. “We can just look it up in your file when you aren’t around.”

“Ignore him, seriously,” Hana says.

“So? Come on. Can’t be that bad. You look too goody-goody for it to be that bad. Wait, let me guess. Eating disorder?”

“Just what are you trying to say?”

“Shoplifting. Must be.”

“Not even close.”

Hana and Samir stare at me. I sigh. I’ve never been good at doing the whole mysterious thing. “Fine. I wrecked my dad’s car. Maxed-out my stepmom’s credit card.”

“Sweet, right here,” Samir says, putting up his hand for a high five. Despite myself, I smile and slap his palm. Samir has a kind of contagious energy. He makes everything seem like a game. “That’s almost as good as Hana’s story. She wrecked her mother’s car, too. But you know all about Asian drivers.”

“First off, I’m only half-Japanese,” Hana says, flinging her soggy roll at him. “And second, by that logic, you should be driving a cab.”

“Maybe I will,” Samir says.