anyways... a friend wanted me to post these, and im sorry that i have grouped the chapters-- its just that im rushed and dont have enough time to review at the moment, so i cant get enough points.
Also, bit of swearing in chapter 4... sorry if it offends..
Oh, by the way... if you like these please, please read my other novel "Ingeniosus".. its pretty awesome
ta. Georgie xx
E.N.J.O.Y
Chapter 3
Mr. Morgan just stood at the chalkboard droning on and on about something, but my mind was somewhere else, far away from the complexities of science.
I was busy preparing reasons why Chance and I should no longer be partners, making a list on the back on an old quiz. As soon as class was over I would hand over my arguments to Morgan. Uncooperative on assignments, I wrote. Shows little interest in cooperation.
But it was the things that weren’t listed that bothered me the most. I found the sketch of the girl eerie, and I was spooked by how much he knew about me and how he knew just what to say to get under my skin.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Chance staring at me, not in a discrete kind of way; full on staring. The kind of staring that was allowed when you were far away; admiring someone from the distance, but Chance made it too obvious. I could feel colour burning my cheeks as I flipped over the list I was writing, he had surly seen it.
“Mahrissa?”
Morgan stood at the front of the room, his hand outstretched in a gesture that showed he was waiting for my answer.
“Could you repeat the question?” I asked, bitting down on my bottom lip.
The class snickered; no empathy from anyone. I suppose I should have known; I was in a class room full of delinquents.
Morgan said, with slight annoyance, “What qualities are you attracted to in a potential mate?”
“Potential mate?”
I could hear Gabriella laughing behind me.
My throat seemed to close over, “You want me to list characteristics of a....?”
“Potential mate, yes. That would be useful.”
Without meaning to, I looked sideways at Chance. He was eased back in his seat with elbows bent, hands resting on the back of his head. He flashed me a smile and mouthed, “We’re waiting.”
“I’ve never thought about that before...” I said as I stacked my hands on the table, hoping I looked more unruffled than I felt.
“Well, think fast.”
“Could you call on someone else first?”
Morgan gestured impatiently to my left, “You’re up, Chance.”
Unlike me, Chance spoke with absolute confidence. He had himself positioned so that his body was angled a little towards mine, our knees only inches apart.
“Intelligent. Attractive. Vulnerable.”
Mr. Morgan was busy listing the adjectives on the board. “Vulnerable?” he asked. “How so?”
Gabbe spoke up, “Does this have anything to do with today’s unit we’re studying? Because I can’t find anything about desired characteristics of a mate in our textbooks.”
Morgan stopped writing long enough to look over his shoulder, “Every animal on the planet attracts mates with the goal of reproduction. Frogs swell their bodies. Male gorillas beat their chest. Have you ever watched a male pigeon dance and tousle his feathers, demanding female attention? Attraction is the first element of all animal reproduction, including humans. Why don’t you give us your list, Gabriella?”
Gabbe held up her five fingers, “Gorgeous, wealthy, generous, fiercely protective, and just a little bit dangerous.” A finger went down with each description.
Chance flung back his head and laughed under his breath. “The problem with human attraction is not knowing if it will be returned.”
“Excellent point,” Morgan said.
“Humans are vulnerable,” Chance continued. “Because they’re capable of being hurt.” At this, Chance knocked his knee against mine. I scooted away, not daring to let myself wonder what he meant be the gesture.
Morgan nodded. “The complexity of human attraction—and reproduction—is one of the features that set us apart from other species.”
I thought I heard Chance stifle a laugh, turning it into a snort, but it was a very soft sound, and I couldn’t be sure.
Morgan continued, “Since the dawn of time, women have been attracted to mates with strong survival skills—like intelligence and physical awareness—because men with these qualities are more likely to bring home dinner at the end of the day.” He stuck his thumbs in the air and grinned. “Dinner equals survival, team.”
No one laughed.
“Likewise,” he continued, “men are attracted to beauty because it indicates health and youth—no point mating with a frail woman who won’t be around to raise the children.” Morgan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and chuckled.
“That is so sexist,” Andi protested. “Tell me something that relates to a woman from the twenty-first century.”
“If you approach reproduction with the eye to science, Alisandra, you’ll see that children are the key to the survival of our species. And the more children you have, the greater your contribution to the gene pool.”
I practically heard Gabbe’s eyes rolling. “I think we are finally getting to today’s topic. Sex.”
“Almost,” said Mr. Morgan, holding up a finger. “Before sex comes attraction, but after attraction comes body language. You have to communicate ‘I’m interested’ to a potential mate, only not in so many words.”
Morgan pointed beside me. “All right, Chance. Let’s say you’re at a party. The room is full of girls of different shapes and sizes. You see blondes, brunettes, redheads, and a few with black hair. Some are talkative, while others appear shy. You have found a girl who fits your profile—attractive, intelligent and vulnerable. How do you let her know you’re interested?”
“Single her out. Talk to her.”
“Good. Now for the big question—how do you know if she’s interested or if she wants you to move on?” Morgan said, clasping his hands together excitedly.
“I study her,” Chance said. “I figure out what she’s thinking and feeling. She’s not going to come right out and tell me, which is why I have to pay attention. Does she turn her body towards mine? Does she hold my eyes, and then look away? Does she bite her lip and play with her hair, the way Mahrissa is doing right now?”
Laughter rose around the room. I dropped my hands to my lap.
“She’s interested,” said Chance, bumping my leg again.
Of all things, I blushed.
“Very good! Very good!” Morgan said, his voice charged, smiling broadly at our attentiveness.
“The blood vessels in Mahrissa’s face are widening and her skin is warming,” Chance said. “She knows she is being evaluated. She likes the attention, but she’s not sure how to handle it.”
“I am not blushing.”
“She’s nervous,” Chance said. “She is stroking her arm to draw attention away from her face and down to her figure, or maybe her skin. Both are strong selling points.”
I nearly choked. He’s joking, I told myself. No, he’s insane. I had no experience dealing with lunatics and it showed. The closest we had to a nut case was Shaun Arden, who still thought his girlfriend was alive after she died in a freak accident. He had been in and out of a mental asylum before he came to Darkmoor.
I felt like I had spent most of my time staring at Chance with my mouth agape.
I placed my hands flat against the table, held my chin high, and tried to look as if I still possessed some dignity. “This is ridiculous.”
Stretching his arm out to his side with exaggerated slyness, Chance hung it on the back of my chair. I had a strange feeling that this was a threat aimed entirely at me, and that he was ignorant and uncaring the way the class received it.
They laughed, but he didn’t seem to hear it, holding my eyes so individually with his own that I almost believed he’d carved a small, private world for us that no one else could reach.
“Vulnerable,” he mouthed.
I locked my ankles around the legs of my chair and jerked forward, feeling the weight of his arm drop off the back of the seat. I was not vulnerable.
“And there you have it!” Morgan said, “Biology in motion.”
“Can we please talk about sex, now?” asked Gabbe impatiently.
“Tomorrow. Read chapter seven and be ready for a discussion first thing.”
The bell rang, and Chance scraped his chair back. “That was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.” Before I could come up with something more pithy than ‘No, thanks’, he edged behind me and disappeared out the door with the rest of the class, all of the guards pacing after them fiercely.
“What was with class today?” Gabbe said, coming to my table. “It was watered-down porn. He practically had you and Chance on top of your lab table, horizontal, minus your clothing, doing the Big Deed—”
I nailed her with a look that said, ‘Does it look like I want a replay?’
“Yeesh,” Andi said, coming up behind us.
“I need to talk to Morgan. Talk to you guys later.”
“Sure thing.”
I made my way up to Morgan’s desk, where he sat hunched over a book of basketball plays.
“Hi, Mahrissa,” he said without looking up. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m here to tell you the new seating chart and lesson plan is making me uncomfortable.”
Morgan kicked back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “I like the seating chart.”
I set a copy of the schools code of conduct and students rights down on top of it. “By law, no student should feel threatened on school property.”
“You feel threatened?”
“I feel uncomfortable. And I’d like to propose a solution.” When Morgan didn’t cut me off, I drew a confident breath. “I will tutor any student from our biology class—if you will seat me beside Andi or Gabbe again.”
“Chance could use a tutor.”
I resisted gritting my teeth, “That defeats the point.”
“Did you see him today? He was involved in the discussion. I haven’t heard him say a word since he was sent here to Darkmoor, but as soon as I put him next to you—bingo. His grades are going to improve.”
“And Gabbe’s are going to drop.”
“That’s what happens when you can’t look sideways to get the answer,” he said dryly.
“Gabbe’s problem is lack of dedication. I’ll tutor her.”
“No can do.” Glancing at his watch, he said, “I’m late for a meeting. Are we done?”
I squeezed my brain for one more argument, but it appeared I was fresh out of inspiration.
“Let’s give the seating chart a few more weeks. Oh, and I was serious about you tutoring Chance. I’ll count you in.” Morgan didn’t wait for my answer; he whistled a tune as he ducked out the door.
By seven o’clock the sky had glowered into an inky blue, and I zipped up my coat for warmth. Gabbe and I were on our way from the mess hall to the library, having just finished eating a terrible portion of steamed carrot and some kind of unrecognisable meat.
Gabriella Wakefield was a petite girl with short, dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She is slim and has a tattoo and scar that she doesn’t talk about; always getting defensive. She speaks her mind and often gets in trouble for it, but she can’t stand the people she cares about to get hurt, using her temper to help when she can. Gabbe was arrested for attempted murder and petty theft.
“Have you written the review for history yet?” Gabbe asked me, rubbing her arms to conduct some warmth. “Mine is about religion and how those two cities in the Bible were destroyed by God—what were they called, Gomorrah and uh, Damnit. I can’t remember.... oh, it’s Sodom. Gomorrah and Sodom—”
“The review is due by tomorrow.” I cut across her.
“You’re being awfully touchy, you know,” said Gabbe as we cut across the grass, towards the library.
“Blame the review,” blame Chance, I thought, thinking back to everything he had said about me today and that sketch of who I thought to be me.
I am not vulnerable.
“I'm not talking about just tonight. I’ve noticed,” she said with a mischievous curve of her mouth, “that you’ve been unusually crabby for a good hour at the end of bio these past two days.”
“Easy, blame Chance.”
Gabbe pulled a mirror out of her pocket—which I had no idea how she got since we had to dispose of our hazards when we got here and a mirror was counted as a hazard. She looked in it and licked her teeth, giving a practiced smile. “I have to admit, his dark side calls to me.”
I had no desire to admit it, but Gabbe wasn’t alone. I felt drawn to Chance in a way that I’d never felt drawn to anyone. There was a magnetic pull between us. Around him, I felt lured to him, pushed onto the edge of danger. At any moment, it felt like I could fall over that edge.
“Hearing you say that, makes me want to—” I paused; trying to think of exactly what our attraction to Chance did make me want to do. Something unpleasant.
“Tell me you don’t think he is good-looking,” Gabbe said, “and I promise I’ll never bring up his name again.”
Surely there had to be something better to do than ruin our evening by inviting Chance, though abstractly, into it. Sitting beside him for an hour every day, five days a week was more than I could take. I wasn’t going to give him my evenings, too.
“Well?” Gabbe pressed.
“He could be good-looking. But I’d be the last to know. I’m tainted on this one, sorry.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I can’t get beyond his personality. No amount of beauty could make up for it.”
“Not beauty. He’s...hard-edged. Sexy.”
I rolled my eyes as we approached the library. The building was bland and covered in black mold. The rough face of it was barely noticeable with the woods behind it.
“What? You disagree, or ruggedly handsome isn’t your type?”
“I don’t have a type,” I said, “I'm not that narrow.”
Gabbe just laughed, “You, babe, are more than narrow—you’re restrained. Cramped. Your range is about as wide as one of Morgan’s microbes. There are very few, if any, boys at this school you would fall for.”
“That’s not true,” I said the words automatically. It wasn’t until I’d spoken them that I wondered how accurate they were. I had never been seriously interested in anyone. How weird was I? “It isn’t about the boys, it’s about...love. I haven’t found it yet.”
“It isn’t about love,” Gabbe said, “It’s about fun.”
I lifted my eyebrows, doubtful. “Kissing a guy I don’t really know—I don’t care about—is fun?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention in bio? It’s about a lot more than kissing.”
“Oh,” I said in an enlightened voice. “The gene pool is warped enough without me contributing to it.”
“Want to know who I think would be really good?”
“Good?”
“Good,” she repeated with an indecent smile.
“Not particularly,” I sighed, knowing she would answer whether I wanted her to or not.
“Your partner.”
“Don’t call him that,” I said. “Partner’ has a positive connotation.”
Gabbe reached over and squeezed my hand as we entered the library, letting go as she pushed the doors shut behind us.
“Haven’t you ever fantasised about kissing him? Imagined flinging yourself at him when you steal a glance sideways, crushing your mouth on his?
I stared at her with a look that I hoped spelled out appalled or shocked. “Have you?”
Gabbe just grinned.
“He isn’t good enough for you,” I said.
She moaned. “Careful, you will make me want him more.”
Chapter 4
Inside the library we took a table behind the back of the shelves, concealing ourselves off from the rest of the grayish colour scheme of the library.
I pulled out a notebook and began to write my review on the Dark ages; my chosen topic for the history review.
Just then Carrie Craimer; a gossiping slut of a girl pranced into the library. She had blonde curly hair that reached her over proportioned chest. Her narrow face covered in foundation and her eyes painted a bright strawberry colour. She was a rich kid falsely accused of murdering her one night stand. Anyone else would think she would have killed him, except most of us at Darkmoor know her well enough to know she can’t handle a fight. She can only through around words, not punches.
Carrie Pranced herself over to us; letting her skirt sway the one inch that it took for everyone to see more than just her thighs. She thrusts her hips sideways in a walk I could only describe as snobbish. Flinging her hair over her shoulders she said, “How are the royal losers doing tonight?” dragging out the word ‘losers’ so that it was nearly unidentifiable.
“Not nearly as interesting as yours, freakshow,” I retorted, grinning widely; all of my hatred for her would be written easily in my eyes.
Gabbe suddenly threw a comment in. “You’ve got food stuck in your teeth, in the crack between the two front ones. It looks like a chocolate Laxative...”
“Wow,” said Carrie, staggering back melodramatically with a hand pressed to her heart. “Am I supposed to act offended? Try this on for size. Old News. At least I know how to exercise a little self-control.”
“Skank,” Gabbe spat, aiming a death stare right at Carrie.
“Geek,” Carrie fired back.
“Slut,” I continued.
“Freak,” Carried retorted.
“Anorexic pig” I snapped.
“Bitch—” Carrie huffed, just before three guards came up behind us and clamped a firm hand around each of our wrists.
“Girls,” one guard said aggressively. “I would break this up right now and get back to your dorms before we decide to alert the warden on this matter—”
“You look good in uniform,” Carrie told him, flashing her trademark toxic smile.
He jerked his head sideways; towards the doors. “Get out of here.” But it didn’t sound half so gruff. Each guard let go of our wrists and paced towards the doors with Carrie.
Carrie sashayed up to the door. “Mind getting the door for me? I’m short on hands.” She was holding one book—a paperback.
The guard pushed the handicapped button on the side door, and the doors automatically glided open.
“Why, thank you,” Carrie said, blowing him a kiss.
I didn’t follow her. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I did, but right now I was filled with enough negative emotion that I might do something I may regret later. I was in no mood for beating her skinny ass in a punch up, I was also in no mood for being zapped by my stupid security bracelet.
“Damn girl, she is lucky that we didn’t cross paths in a dark alley. Want some—last chance?” Gabbe said, shaking a bag of chips in my face.
“Pass.”
Gabbe wandered off to discard the chips. A few minutes later she returned with a romance novel. She took the seat next to me and displaying the novel’s cover, said, “Someday this is going to be us; hooking up with half-dressed cowboys. What do you think it’s like to kiss a pair of sunbaked, mud-crusted lips?”
“Dirty.”
“Speaking of dirty,” there was an unexpected rise in her voice. “There’s our guy.”
I stopped scribbling down my essay long enough to peer around Gabbe, and my heart skipped a beat. Chance stood across the room in the checkout line. As if he sensed me watching him, he turned around. Our eyes locked for one, two, three counts. I broke away first, but not before earning myself a slow grin.
My heart beat turned erratic, and I told myself to pull it together. I was not going down this path. Not with Chance. Not unless I was literally out of my mind.
“Let’s go,” I told Gabbe. Folding up my essay, I zipped it inside my backpack with the book that Gabbe wanted, dropping some of my notes on the floor as I did.
Gabbe said, “I’m trying to read the title he’s holding...hang on... How to be a stalker.”
“He’s not checking out a book with that title.” But I wasn’t too sure.
“It’s either that or How to emit sexy without trying.”
“Shhh!” I hissed.
“Calm down, he can’t hear. He’s talking to the librarian. He’s checking out a book.”
Confirming with a quick glance over, I realised that if we left now, we would most definitely run into his outside the exit door. And then I would be expected to say something to him. I ordered myself back into my chair and searched diligently through my pockets for nothing whatsoever while he finished checking out.
“Do you think it’s creepy he’s here at the same time we are?” Gabbe asked me.
“Do you?”
“I think he is following you.”
“I think it’s a coincidence.” That wasn’t entirely true. If I had to make a list of the top 10 places I would expect to find Chance on a Thursday night, let alone any given night; the library wouldn’t make it. So what was he doing here?
That question was particularly disturbing after what had happened on Monday; finding the sketch of me. The sketch I thought was me. Positive it was me.
I hadn’t mentioned it to Gabbe because I was hoping it would shrink and shrivel in my memory until it ceased to have happened, or discover I was utterly wrong.
“Chance!” Gabbe stage-whispered. “Are you stalking Mahrissa?”
I clamped my hand over her mouth until she stuck her tongue out and slobbered all over my palm. “Ewwww, Gabbe that is gross—but seriously, stop it. I mean it.” I put on a severe face.
“I bet he is following you,” she said, prying my hand away. I bet he has a history of it too. I bet he has restraining orders. We should sneak into the front office. It would all be in his student file.”
“We are not sneaking into the student files.”
“I could create a diversion. I’m good at diversions. No one would see you go in. We could be like spies.”
“We are not spies.”
“Do you know his real name? Surely he isn’t really named Chance—honestly who would call their child Chance. It would be like look at my baby, aint he a good little boy, here Chance, Chaaaancce.” Gabbe said excitedly, falling into a mass stage of babbling.
“No. I don’t know his name.”
“Do you know anything about him?”
“No. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
Gabbe just flung her head back and laughed. “Oh, come on. You love a good mystery, and it doesn’t get any better than this.”
“The best mysteries normally involve a dead body. We don’t have any decomposing bodies.”
“Not yet!” Gabbe squealed.
Gabbe bounced down the path towards the East block; the girls’ dorms. She stuck her tongue out a few cameras and trampled a few shrubs on our way through a short cut. It was surprising how much land Darkmoor was spread over, and how many nooks and crannies that the guards where yet to keep an eye on.
The boundaries contained a parking lot on the bottom right, moving left there were the offices which contained the student files, an indoor pool/gym and training area; allocated to keep us all fighting fit, less emphasis on the fighting part though. Behind the gym were the West block dorms; numbered from nine through to sixteen, all boys. The mess hall was smack bang in the middle with the infirmary and supply room conjoined, to the right was the East block; numbered from one through to eight, all girls. Behind the East block was the two class rooms; A and B. To the left of them was the graveyard and the chapel, followed by the library, then a few miles of woods before it reached the lake. Placed around the grounds were two notice boards—one in front of the East and West dorms. There was also at least two miles of woods surrounding the front of Darkmoor, keeping all eyes off the surrounding area, like an animal in a zoo.
I dropped Gabbe off at her dorm, giving her a quick hug before faced with her bumper-stickered door; the number three was carved into the door handle with what looked to be some reasonable style.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep straight away, so I decided on a quick stroll around the boundaries. I allowed my thought to drift to Chance. Gabbe was right—something was incredibly alluring, and incredibly creepy. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that there was something... off. The fact that he liked to antagonize me wasn’t exactly a news flash, but there was a difference between getting under my skin and possibly going as far as following me to accomplish it. Not many people would go that far, even the ones who belonged in Darkmoor... people wouldn’t go that far unless they had a very good reason.
Half way back to my dorm a pattering rain flushed out the wispy clouds of fog hovering above the path.
The lights around the school flickered and I wondered if a heavy storm was going to blow in. Darkmoor was presumably close to the ocean, not that we had ever seen it, just that the weather changed constantly and a rainstorm could quickly spiral into a flash flood.
I walked quicker; lengthening my strides.
The outside lights flickered again. A cold feeling prickled along the nape of my neck, and the hairs on my arms tingled. My sixth sense graduated to a high alert. I kept asking myself if I thought I was being followed. There was no one around, just the cameras keeping watch. I was alone, and it wasn’t very comforting.
Quickly I Diverting my attention to the edges of the woods, something was moving... or someone. Moving towards me...
I screamed and bolted towards East block as fast as I could push myself. On impulse I jerked right, skimming my hand along the wall of the infirmary to keep running in a straight line.
I could hear heavy footsteps closing in on me, but I didn’t dare turn my head. Panicked, I sprinted like my life depended on it.
Did my life depend on it? I thought.
I couldn’t hear them anymore.
I stopped, and tried to jam my heart back inside my chest. My ragged breathing was all over the place and I tried to quiet down, just long enough to pin point their location.
I was holding my breath and fisting my hands until my knuckles went a pasty white.
He was crouched a few feet away, watching me, just watching me.
He was dressed in total black and blended into the night, making it hard for me to tell what he looked like. At first I couldn’t distinguish any facial features, then I realised he was wearing a ski mask.
He suddenly rose to his feet, and stepped forwards—the distance between us was a mere ten metres, at most.
Our eyes connected through the holes in the mask. A lethal smile seemed to rise in his eyes.
I turned and dashed for the notice board in front of the East block, bracing myself on one side as he pounced to the other.
He flatted his palms onto the wood and gave a pounding thud between us.
I was distracted by a creaking-groan from the wood. I watched in horror as the wood began to bow. He was tearing—it—off.
I sprinted as fast as I could to my dorm, but he was faster. His hand fumbled over my shoulder, clamping around my arm. I gave a hoarse cry and then legged it.
He hung on, gripping tighter to my arm as we approached the dorms. Finally he let go, dropping his grip on my arm.
I sped forward with the force of adrenaline. I checked behind me as I shoved the thick double doors open and scampered down the hall. I had to press my lips together to keep from sobbing.
“Something happened—I—he—it—out of nowhere—the board—Gabbe—” I spluttered as I pounded on Gabbe’s door, the tears were starting to leak from my eyes and mute sobbing was constricting my lungs.
“What? Mahrissa. What—” Gabbe said wide eyed and panicked.
I wiped my nose on the back of my hand. I was trembling down to my toes. “He came out of nowhere.”
“Who?”
“He—” I tried to net my thoughts and funnel them into words. “He came at—me and chased me.” I said through sniffles.
“Oh, man. Oh-man-oh-man-oh-man. Are you okay?—what did you say about a board?” Gabbe wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Babe, are you okay?”
“Fine,” I lied and wrapped my arms around my trembling torso. “Fine, I'm fine,” I repeated, more to myself than to Gabbe.
“Good. Good.”
Whatever I was going to say next seemed to fade into the background. My mind was two steps ahead. The board was old. Maybe I could pass the whole incident off as a crazy imagination and a whole tonne of wind? I wanted to confide in Gabbe, but I didn’t want to sound crazy, either. How was I going to explain watching the guy come from nowhere, rise to his feet and begin tearing apart the notice board? I stretched my hoodie down past my shoulder. No red marks where he had gripped me that I could see...
I came to myself with a start. Was I actually considering denying it had happened? I knew what I’d seen. It was not my imagination.
“Holy freak show,” Gabbe said. “You’re not talking. You’re not okay are you? There is blood dripping down your shoulder and scar tissue all over your waist, isn’t there?”
“I'm fine. But can I sleep in your room.”
“First we are looking at the notice board—that is the board that you mentioned right?” Gabbe asked, tugging me towards the double doors.
“Do you really want it see the damage tonight, or do you want to see it after seven hours of sleep?”
“Let’s get it over with,” Gabbe replied. “Like now...”
“Fine.”
When he had torn at the wood, the damage was extensive; looking like large splinters that had been pilled through a shredder. Bits and pieces layed everywhere, forced into the ground so that they looked like headstones.
When we got outside, I stared at the notice board for a long moment. It wasn’t a warm night, but the weather wasn’t the cause of the goosebumps rippling over my arms.
No splintered wood. No cracked wood. Not even an odd piece to look like a headstone.
“Something’s not right,” I said. But Gabbe wasn’t listening. She was busy inspecting every square inch of the board.
I stepped forwards and poked the wood. Solid. I closed my eyes. When I reopened them, the wood was still intact.
I walked around the back of the board. I’d completed almost two circles when I came up short. Nothing.
My mind flashed back to the lethal eyes behind the mask. They were so blue that they looked like the sky, dancing wisps of white mixing in the middle near the pupil. Blue like...Chance’s.
“There is nothing wrong with it,” Gabbe said shrugging her shoulders, as she started to walk back in the direction of our dorms.
I manufactured a smile, but my stomach soured. Five minutes ago, the wood was lying in pieces all over the lawn and it was splintered upright. Looking at the board now, it seemed impossible. No, it seemed crazy. But I saw his fist punch into the wood, and I felt his fingernails bite into my shoulder.
Hadn’t I?
The harder I tried to recall the moment, the more I couldn’t. Little bits of missing information cut across my memory. The details were fading, becoming blurred. Was he tall? Short? Thin? Bulky? Had he said anything?
I couldn’t remember. That was the most frightening part.
Chapter 5
The school day was almost over, only biology left, and after a quick stop by my dorm to exchange books, I headed to class. Gabbe and I arrived before Chance; she slid into his empty seat and dug through her backpack, pulling out a bag of chips.
“Mm-Mmm,” Gabbe spoke as she shoved the bag towards me. “You didn’t eat lunch either—eat up.”
“I'm not hungry.”
“Liar—you’re always hungry. Is this about Chance? You’re not worried he’s really stalking you, are you? Because last night, that whole thing at the library, I was joking.”
I massaged small circles into my temples. The dull ache that had taken up residence behind my eyes flared at the sound of his name. “Chance is the least of my worries,” I said. It wasn’t exactly true.
“My seat, if you don’t mind.”
Gabbe and I looked up simultaneously at the sound of Chance’s voice.
He sounded pleasant enough, but he kept his eyes trained on Gabbe as she rose and slung her backpack over her shoulder. It appeared she couldn’t move fast enough; he swept his arm towards the aisle, inviting her out of his way. “Looking good as always,” he said to me, taking his chair. He leaned back in it, stretching his legs out in front of him. I’d known all along that he was tall, but never put a measure to it. Looking at the length of his legs now, I guessed he would be at least six feet. Maybe even six-one.
“Thank you,” I answered without thinking. Immediately I wanted to take it back. Thank you? Of all things I could have said, “thank you” was the worst. I didn’t want Chance thinking I liked his complements, because I didn’t...mostly. It didn’t take much perception to realise he was trouble, and I had enough trouble in my life already. No need to invite anymore. Maybe if I ignored him, he would eventually give up on conversation. And then we could sit side by side in silent harmony, like every other partnership in the room.
“You smell good too,” Chance said.
“It’s called a shower.” I was staring straight ahead. When he didn’t answer, I turned sideways. “Soap. Shampoo. Hot water.”
“Naked. I know the drill.”
My mouth opened to change the subject when the bell cut me off.
“Put your text books away,” Morgan said from behind his desk. “I'm handing out a practise test to get you all warmed up for next week’s real one.” He stopped in front of me, licking his fingers as he tried to separate the papers. “I want fifteen minutes of silence whilst you answer the questions. Then we’ll discuss chapter seven. Good luck.”
I worked through the first several questions, answering them with a rhythmic outpouring of memorized facts. If nothing else, the quiz stole my concentration, pushing last night’s accident and the voice in the back of my head which was que3stioning my sanity. Pausing to shake a cramp out of my writing hand, I felt
Chance lean towards me.
“You look tired, rough night?” he whispered.
“I saw you at the library.” I was careful to keep my pencil gliding over my test, seeming hard at work.
“The highlight of my night.”
“Were you following me?”
He tipped his head back and laughed softly.
I tried a new angle. “What were you doing there?”
“Getting a book.”
I felt Morgan’s eyes on me and decided to dedicate myself to the test for a while longer. After answering several more questions, I stole a glance to my left, at Chance. I was surprised to find him already watching me. He grinned.
My heart did an unexpected flip, startled by his bizarrely attractive smile. To my horror, I was so taken back, I dropped my pen. It bounced on the tabletop a few times before rolling over the edge. Chance bent down to pick it up. He held the it out in the palm of his hand, and I had to focus not to let my hand linger in his as I took it back.
“After the library,” I whispered, “where did you go?”
“Why?”
“Did you follow me?” I demanded in an undertone.
“You look a little on edge, Mahrissa. What happened?” His eyebrows lifted in concern. But I wasn’t fooled, it was all for show, because there was a taunting spark at the centre of his blue eyes.
“Are you following me?”
“Why would I want to follow you?”
“Answer the question.”
Morgan cleared his throat. “Mahrissa,” he said in a warning tone that pulled me back to my test. I couldn’t help speculating about what Chance’s answer might have been, and it had me wanting to slide away far away from him. Across the room. Maybe even across the universe.
Morgan chirped on a whistle. “Time’s up. Pass your tests forward. Be expecting similar questions next week. Now”—he sanded his hands together, and the dry sound of it made me shiver—“for today’s lesson. Gabriella, want to take a stab at out topic?”
“S-e-x,” Gabbe announced.
Precisely after she did, I tuned out. Was Chance following me? Was he the face behind the ski mask—if there was a face behind the ski mask? What did he want? I hugged me elbows tightly to my chest, suddenly it was very cold. I wanted to go back to my old life, the way it was before I turned into a reckless, unstable teenager, before I came to Darkmoor, before Chance barged into my life.
At the end of class, I stopped Chance from leaving. “Can we talk?”
He was already standing, so he took a seat on the edge of the table. “What’s up?” he asked me.
“I know you don’t want to sit next to me any more than I want to sit next to you. I think Morgan might consider changing our seats if you talk to him. If you explain the situation—”
“The situation?”
“We’re not—compatible.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, a calculating gesture I’d grown accustomed to in only a few short days of knowing him. “We’re not?”
“I'm not announcing groundbreaking news here.”
“When coach asked for my list of desired characteristics in a mate, I gave him you.”
“Take that back.”
“Intelligent. Attractive. Vulnerable. You disagree?”
He was doing this for the sole purpose of antagonizing me, and that only flustered me more. “Will you ask Morgan to change the seats or not?”
“Pass. You’ve grown on me. You’re my Partner.” Chance said, emphasising “Partner” as if it had a completely different meaning in his eyes.
Did it have a different meaning in his eyes? I thought.
What was I supposed to say to that? He was obviously aiming to get a reaction out of me, which wasn’t difficult, seeing how I could never tell when he was joking, and when he was being sincere.
I tried to inject a measure of self-composure into my voice. “I think you’d be much better seated with someone else. And I think you know it too,” I smiled, tensed but polite.
“I think I could end up next to Andi.” His smile appeared just as polite. “I'm not going to press my luck.”
Gabbe appeared beside our table, glancing between the two of us.
“Am I interrupting something?” she asked.
“No,” I said at the same time that Chance retorted, “Yes.”
I yanked my backpack shut. “I was just asking Chance about tonight’s reading. I couldn’t remember which pages Morgan had assigned.”
Gabbe said, “The assignment’s on the board, same as always. As if you haven’t already read it.”
Chance laughed, seemingly sharing a private joke with himself. Not for the first time, I wished I knew what he was thinking, because sometimes I was positive that these private jokes had everything to do with me. “Anything else, Mahrissa?” he said.
“No,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it.” he winked. Actually winked.
After Chance was out of earshot, Gabbe gripped my arm. “Good news. Roland. That’s his last name I saw it on the class roster.”
“And that’s something to smile about because....?”
“Everyone knows that the student files are placed alphabetically in a last-name-first kind of way.” She said beaming a huge smile at me.
Eyes aglow, Gabbe locked her arm in mine and pulled me towards the door. “Time to do some real sleuthing—utter spy work.”
There were a lot of people wandering aimlessly around the grounds, but as I followed closely behind Gabbe I was glad to see that there wasn’t anyone near the main lobby at all. No one said anything to me about trespassing in a restricted area, even though I had never fully interpreted the meaning of restricted, but I'm sure the warden would find an appropriate punishment.
“What about the camera’s?” I asked Gabbe, remembering that even though the camera’s weren’t looked at much, surly if something went wrong our faces would be painted all over the screens.
“I stuck some dead batteries in a few of them on my way over to your room,” Gabbe said, in the same nonchalant tone of voice someone else might use to say “I just filled the car up with gas.”
Gabbe took a sweeping glance around before she led me into the main buildings back entrance and down three steep steps to an olive-coloured door not visible from ground level.
Gabbe suddenly clutched her head with both of her hands and let out a sigh that could only be interpreted as “Oh shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked her suddenly, checking over my shoulders for any sign of life.
“The door is locked—I didn’t expect it to be locked,” she huffed.
I produced two bobby-pins from my hair and flattened the wire out so that only the end of it was left twisted up. I got a sudden sense of Déjà vu as I remembered breaking into Chance’s dorm using the exact same technique on Monday night. I inserted them into the lock and put pressure on the knob as I edged the pins around. I felt the click of the lock unlatching itself and chose to this time put the pins in my pocket instead of discarding them onto the floor. It might have been a bit suspicious if I felt the pins here, whilst leaving the pins in front of Chance’s door was just something that could be blamed on numerous boys.
I felt an unexpected shiver of excitement as we walked the short distance through a warm, damp corridor whose ceiling was only a few inches higher than our heads. The stale air smelled like something had died there, and I was almost glad that the room was too dark to clearly see the floor. Just when I was beginning to feel claustrophobic, Gabbe produced a key that looked to open the small but much more modern door.
Once we ducked through, we were able to stand up on the other side. The records office reeked of mildew, but the air felt much cooler and drier. It was pitch black except for the pale red glow of the EXIT sign over that hung over our heads.
I could only just make out Gabbe silhouette, her hands were groping the air. “Where’s that string?” she muttered. “There.”
With a gentle tug, Gabbe turned on a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling on a linked metal chain. The room was still dim, but now I could see that the cement walls were also painted olive green and lined with heavy metal shelves and filing cabinets. Dozens of cardboard boxes had been stuffed onto the shelves, and the aisle between the cabinets seemed to stretch out forever. Everything was coated with a thick layer of dust and I could feel my nose getting aggravated with it.
“Gabbe, one question. Why was the main lobby empty? Seriously I’ve been here umm—close to two years, and not once I have I seen that office empty.” I asked her.
“Everything is under control.” she whispered.
“What happened to the secretary?”
“She had to leave for a minute.”
“Had to? You didn’t decapitate her, did you?” I asked wide eyed with my mouth agape.
“Not this time.”
Thank goodness for small mercies. I thought.
“But I did call in a bomb threat from infirmary,” Gabbe said calmly. “The secretary dialled the police, then ran off to find the principal.”
“Gabbe!”
She tapped her wrist. “Clocks ticking. We don’t particularly want to be in here when the cops arrive.”
True. I thought.
“Hmmm. If I was a student record, where would I be...?” Gabbe’s voice trailed off and she disappeared into the darkness behind a tall filing cabinet. “Its alphabetical by student,” Gabbe called. Her voice sounded muffled and far away. “P, Q, R... here we are, Roland.”
I followed the sound of rustling paperwork down a narrow aisle and soon found Gabbe with a box propped open in her arms, struggling under its weight. Chance’s file was tucked under her chin.
“It’s so thin,” she said, lifting her chin slightly so that I could take the file. “Normally, they’re so much more, ummm....” Gabbe looked up at me and bit her lip. “Okay, now I sound like a crazy stalker girl. Let’s just look in the file, shall we?”
There was only a single white page in the file. A black-and-white scan of what must have been his student ID picture looking straight at the camera, at me, a faint smile on his lips. I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Oh em gee, doesn’t he look exactly the same?” Gabbe interrupted my thoughts. “And look at the date. This picture was taken three years ago.”
That can’t be possible. I thought as I stared at the photo, surely there was a difference in his appearance. Nothing.
A bold text at the top of the page caught my eye;
DANIEL ‘CHANCE’ ROLAND
All of the teachers called him by ‘Chance’. Gabbe and Andi had to suffer through their full names, why not him? What was so special about Chance?
Daniel.
“Parents: unknown,” Gabbe read, whilst I leaned over her shoulder. “Guardian: First Hierarchy Orphanage.”
“Orphanage?” I asked, pressing a hand to my heart.
“That’s all there is. Everything else listed here is his—”
“Criminal Record,” I finished, reading along.
“Loitering on a public beach after hour...jaywalking...theft.”
Gabbe widened her eyes at me and swallowed a laugh. “Chance got arrested for jaywalking? Admit it, that’s funny.”
There was something inside me that thought it was amusing, but there was also this part inside me that didn’t like to picture Chance getting arrested for anything. But I liked it even less that, according to Darkmoor, his whole life added up to a little more than a list of petty crimes. Out of all of these boxes and paperwork down here, and this was all there was on Daniel ‘Chance’ Roland.
“There has to be more,” I sighed and leant my head on Gabbe’s shoulder.
Suddenly there was a soft “thud, thud, thud” over head. Footsteps. Both of our eyes shot to the ceiling instantly.
“The main office,” Gabbe whispered, pulling out a tissue from her sleeve to blow her nose. “It could be anyone. But no one’s going to come down here, trust me.”
A second later, a door deep within the room creaked open, and light from the hall illuminated the stairway. A clopping of shoes started down. I felt Gabbe grip onto the back of my shirt, pulling us both against a wall and behind a bookshelf. We waited, holding our breath and clutching Chance’s file to in our hands.
We are so, so busted. I thought melodramatically.
I closed my eyes expecting the worst, but was relieved when we heard a haunting, melodic hum filled the room. Someone was singing.
“Doooo da dada doo,” a female voice crooned softly. I crannied my neck between two boxes of files and could see a thin older woman with a small flashlight strapped to her forehead like a coal miner. It was the librarian; Miss Rosenberg.
She was carrying two large boxes, one stacked on top of the other so that only the part of her that was visible was her glowing forehead. Her airy steps made it look as if she boxes where full of feathers instead of heavy files.
Gabbe gripped my hand as we watched Miss Rosenberg place the file boxes on an empty shelf. She took put a pen and wrote something in her notebook.
“Just a couple more...” Miss Rosenberg said under her breath. A second later, she started to glide back up the stairs, gone as quickly as she had appeared. Her hum lingered for just a moment in her wake.
When the door clicked shut, Gabbe let out a huge gulp of air. “She said there was more. She’ll probably come back.”
“What do we do?” I asked.
“You sneak back up the stairs,” Gabbe said pointing. “Hang a left at the top and you’ll be right back at the main office. If anyone see’s you, you can say you were... looking for the secretary.”
“What about you?” I asked her.
“I’ll put Chance’s file away and meet you at the bleachers near to parking lot. Miss Rosenberg won’t get too suspicious if she just see’s me. I wander the school like I have lived here a lifetime.”
I glanced at Chance’s file with a small pang of regret. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. My brain was fighting a war between allowing myself to like Chance or to take flight and escape him.
Chance was so cryptic—and unfortunately so was his file. I wanted to know more about him, just because of curiosity—at least that is what I told myself the reason was.
But one look at Gabbe’s face told me that we were short enough on time as it was.
“If there is anything else to find out about him, we’ll find it,” Gabbe assured me. “We’ll keep looking.” She gave me a little shove towards the door. “Now, go.”
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