Charlotte spent the next hour re-writing her English paper. By midnight, words were swimming before her eyes.
She fell asleep at her desk with her head against her laptop, and she dreamed.
There was an empty pool and ghostly children and a big brass bell tolling the hour. Dom appeared, as he often did in her nightmares, looking much larger than he had been in life. He had arms like tree trunks, and legs so long that she stood eye-level with his knees. She could even smell his cologne, sticky-sweet and cloying, like peppermint candy.
Terror and adrenaline woke Charlotte with a start. Dom’s scent lingered in her imagination and sent a wave of nausea rippling through her body.
It was 6:02. A drizzle of rain chuckled through the gutters outside her window and the sky was darker than usual, but it was time to get ready for school.
She went about her morning routine feeling uneasy, watched and threatened, even though she knew it had only been a dream. She still couldn’t shrug off the memory of Dom.
In the middle of science class, a student worker came by with a note for Charlotte, asking that she “report immediately to the office.” It turned out the deans wanted to recommend her for a “special” study hall three times a week. Charlotte knew this was teacher-code for, “School’s barely started and you’re already failing all your classes. Do something about it.” She wondered how long it would take for them to wise up and kick her out. It was only a matter of time before they realized they had made a mistake in admitting her.
She trudged out of the main office building feeling downtrodden and humiliated.
Mr. Kerrigan’s art class was next period, something she ordinarily would have looked forward to. Instead, the thought of it filled her with dread. In the cold light of day, yesterday’s encounter seemed like an ugly mistake. She’d freaked him out. What had she been thinking last night, going to his house? That was the problem. She hadn’t been thinking.
The school day was in full swing. Students were crawling the campus, seeking cover from the steady trickle of rain misting the air. Maybe it was the low-hanging clouds, but Charlotte had a skittish feeling of claustrophobia that told her she needed to get away from school, and fast.
She walked purposefully towards the math building, which was adjacent to the rock-wall boundary of the school. She circled around to the back, where the air conditioner chillers were fenced off and weeds had sprung up in ugly clumps.
She hoisted herself over the low wall and jumped to the sidewalk below, landing awkwardly, her backpack throwing off her balance.
Now that she was free, she didn’t know what to do next. The school wasn’t far from downtown, so there was plenty to see and do within walking distance. Choosing a direction at random, she set off down the sidewalk and got as far as the corner before spotting two young guys walking towards her from the gas station. She backed up cautiously. They were students, she observed. One of them was Asher Lee-Anderson. He had a Slurpee and a bag of potato chips in hand – forbidden foods that Staley’s health-obsessed cafeteria refused to stock.
Neither Asher nor the other boy had noticed her yet.
She waited for them to pass before speaking.
“Excuse me gentlemen,” she said in a deep voice. “It seems you’re in possession of contraband snack goods.”
Asher actually looked alarmed for about half a second before breaking into a grin.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “Look who’s playing hooky.”
“Me? Hooky?” she said, batting her eyelashes innocently.
In the presence of his easy smile, Charlotte felt a little lighter. There was an edge to him, an electricity that zapped energy into the air around him like a force field.
Asher turned to the boy standing next to him. “Kennedy, this is my truant, borderline crazy friend named Charlotte,” he said. “Charlotte, this is my pretentious, snob of a half-brother, Kennedy.”
She shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Kennedy said. He looked very little like his brother. He was full Asian, with a crew cut and a serious countenance.
“We’re heading back to campus,” Asher told her. “Are you coming or going?”
“You’re heading back?” Charlotte asked, dismayed. “What fun is that?”
“I have a math test,” Kennedy said.
“And I have history,” Asher added. He regarded Charlotte curiously. “But I can blow it off this time.”
“To do what?”
Asher’s eyes focused on something behind Charlotte’s right shoulder.
“Crap,” he whispered through the side of his mouth. “Trouble at nine o’clock.”
Charlotte looked discretely over her shoulder and recognized one of the teachers crossing the street carrying a hotdog. So apparently the students weren’t the only ones smuggling fast food across school borders.
Like deer frozen in the headlights, all three students stopped in their tracks. The teacher had caught sight of them and was walking in their direction with a determined stride.
Kennedy swore under his breath. Without warning, he scrambled up the rock wall and vaulted back onto campus. Charlotte wondered if it was worth the effort of running away. The wall was higher here, and it would be difficult to scale with her arm in a sling.
“Come on,” Asher urged. He was already halfway up the wall, looking down at her impatiently. He extended his hand, leaning forward to reach her. Flustered, she took it and awkwardly hoisted herself over the wall, tumbling a little painfully onto the wet grass on the other side. By the time she stood and brushed the dirt off her knees, Kennedy was already out of sight and Asher was several yards away.
“Hurry up,” Asher said. He tugged her along as they ran through a back entrance in the math building and into an empty classroom.
“You’re such a spaz,” Charlotte said once they were safely behind closed doors. “That teacher probably didn’t even care.”
Asher gave one last look through the small window in the door before turning around. He crossed his arms and walked toward her with measured, predatory steps. “I don’t plan on ruining my perfect track record for a bag of potato chips.”
Charlotte sat down on one of the empty desks. “Do you often break school rules?”
“All the time. I do what I want, when I want, how I want,” he said. “Life’s too short to live by the book.”
“But what about the consequences?”
“Like I said, I never get caught.” He had drawn even with her, but kept advancing closer to where she sat on the school desk, passing the invisible boundary of appropriate contact. Eventually, his face was inches from hers and she felt the wanting for him build within her body reflexively.
He tilted her head back with a light touch and placed his lips against hers. She responded instantaneously to his touch. Her right hand found its way towards him, exploring the muscled contours of his back through his cotton t-shirt, her fingers traveling up to his neck and through his hair. In one smooth motion, she felt her back arch and let him guide her toward the desk.
Asher was well practiced at making out, almost as experienced as she was. She could tell by the way he progressed fluidly, agilely, incrementally, his lips, his hands, all working in dancing tandem. He brought his arms flat against the table on either side of her body, possessing her and filling her senses.
She closed her eyes and imagined it was not Asher, but Mr. Kerrigan. The illusion was difficult sustain. There was something too feline and assertive about Asher’s presence. Even with her eyes closed, she couldn’t fulfill the fantasy. He was not what she wanted him to be.
She opened her eyes and slipped under and away from his touch.
He relinquished her passively, waiting with an air of calculated indifference to see what she would say or do next.
“You certainly know what you’re doing,” she said, smoothing her mussed hair into a loose bun.
“You expected I wouldn’t?”
She smirked. “I guess
I should’ve known you’d have a knack for this.”
He got up off the desk. “You’re looking a little guilty, Charlotte. Have you got someone you’ve promised yourself to?”
“No,” she said. “But you do, if I recall.”
“Mm, yes. But remember? No rules.”
“And how do you know I won’t tell?” she asked provocatively. “And ruin your perfect track record.”
“You’re worth the risk.” She grabbed her bag and moved to the door. He came forward and opened it, filling the room with light. “Maybe another time, Charlotte?”
She shrugged and walked past him into the quiet corridor. In the wake of his touch, she felt beautiful but empty. Goosebumps rose along her thighs. The world was colder outside.
Chapter 10