Lock and Key Page 5

  “No, I’m from Seattle,” I said, lifting my chin though my cheeks were burning. “It’s a lot colder there.”

  “Well it can get kinda hot here in Frostproof. You might want to change into something more comfortable.” He did his little bump and grind move again and one of the other guys said,

  “Come on, Sanchez. Leave her alone.”

  “But she’s so pretty. Besides, I’m just talking to her, Reyes.” He licked his lips at me obscenely and made a rude kissing noise. “Thought maybe she might want some beefsteak for lunch.”

  Okay, I’d had about enough of this. I didn’t normally like confrontations but I had the sense that if I backed down, I’d have problems with this jerk forever.

  “Seriously?” I glared up at him. “Are you referring to your penis? Because I don’t think English class is the best place to make that offer.”

  “Oh yeah, chica? Where do you want to go then?” He bent down, sneering directly into my face.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, staring back at him. “Maybe the science lab? So I can get a microscope to try and find it?”

  His face darkened as the other green-tag boys howled in laughter.

  “Burn!” shouted one of them. “Oh, she burned you bad, Sanchez!”

  “Very funny, you little puta.” There was a growl in Sanchez’s voice that sounded almost animalistic and his eyes seemed to flash yellow for a split second. “Very fucking funny. You—”

  “All right now, class, settle down. Settle down.” Mrs. Wainright’s voice caused Sanchez to freeze. “Mr. Sanchez,” she said, frowning at him. “Are you bothering our new student?”

  Sanchez, who had been leaning over my desk, straightened up with a fake looking smile. “Of course not, Miz W. I was just welcoming her to Frostproof and Nocturne Academy.”

  “Well then, that’s all right.” Mrs. Wainright smiled benignly and I got the idea the she was completely and totally clueless. Not just about what had happened—or almost happened—between myself and the thuggish Sanchez, but clueless about the whole entire dynamic of this weird school, whatever it might be.

  “All right, dear,” she said to me. “Why don’t you stand up and introduce yourself to the class?”

  The bully I could handle but this was mortifying. Despite my desire to teach someday, I didn’t really like public speaking. As Sanchez and his posse slunk to the back of the room, I stood, my cheeks flaming, and turned briefly to face the class. All eyes were fixed on me and none of them were friendly. Well of course they weren’t—I had probably just insulted their star quarterback.

  “I’m Megan Foster—I mean Latimer,” I said, trying to keep my chin up. “I just moved here from Seattle.” Despite my determination to be brave, my words came out in a mumble.

  “What’s that dear?” Mrs. Wainright frowned. “Please speak up and tell us a little more about yourself.”

  God, was this torture never going to end?

  “I’m Megan Latimer,” I said, forcing the words to come out louder from my desert-dry throat. “I moved here from Seattle and…and I’m staying with my aunt Delilah. Or I was before I came here to Nocturne.”

  I saw several eyes widen and some of the female students started whispering together. I heard my aunt’s name mentioned once or twice as they looked at me appraisingly. Aunt Dellie’s reputation clearly preceded her.

  Great. Now I was going to be not just the new girl but the new girl who lived with her crazy aunt who claimed to be a witch.

  My cheeks got hot as I stood there, listening to them talk about me. Surely this was one of the levels of hell Dante wrote about. Griffin’s head was turned in my direction and this time I was sure he was looking at me. The key at my neck throbbed and I tried to ignore it.

  Please let this be over, I prayed. Please just let me sit down.

  “That’s nice, dearie. You can be seated now.”

  To my relief, Mrs. Wainright released me and I was able sink back down into my seat. Cheeks still burning, I turned to face the white board and tried to ignore the whispers behind me.

  “Now then.” Mrs. Wainright cleared her throat, a dry scratchy sound that made me thirsty just hearing it. “Today we’ll be talking about Dracula. Who has read the assignment?”

  Almost no one raised their hand. I was hesitant to raise mine, even though I had read and dissected the book way back in freshman English.

  Mrs. Wainright frowned. “Now class, that is unacceptable. I assigned this book because I know how much young people these days like vampires.” She pursed her lips. “What’s that series you all read? Nightfall? Sundown?”

  “Is she talking about Twlight?” one of the girls whispered, giggling. “Oh my God, that came out years ago!”

  “And is she seriously talking about vampires?” whispered her companion. “Is she completely clueless or what?”

  “Clearly. I don’t know what the Headmistress is thinking, hiring Norms to teach us,” the first girl murmured. “And anyway, this stupid book was nothing like Twilight. I mean, Dracula was some creepy old guy. Ugh!”

  “Just because he doesn’t sparkle doesn’t make him ugly,” a familiar voice from the back of the class remarked.

  The key around my neck got warmer. Apparently it also reacted to Griffin’s voice. Great.

  I wanted to turn and look at him but I’d done enough of that already. I stared stolidly ahead.

  “He’s disgusting! Nothing like a real Nocturne!” the girl protested.

  “And what would you know about Nocturnes, Annabella?” Griffin drawled. “I thought you were just a pretty little bubble-headed Fae, taking a break from the Realm to grace all of us with your presence.”

  “Why you—” the first girl started. I cut my eyes to the side and saw that she was red in the face—and very pretty. She and the girl she had been whispering with both had platinum blonde hair and they were wearing lanyards with purple tags on them.

  “The worst thing was when Dracula started going after the Lucy character when he already has a bunch of other wives or girlfriends or whatever they are stashed away in his castle,” the second girl said. “I was all like, ewww!”

  “He’s not after Lucy to offer her his eternal, undying love and devotion,” Griffin said dryly. “He wants her for her blood. He wants to drink her dry—an ocean of blood wouldn’t have satisfied his thirst.”

  There was a strange flatness to his tone, a cold note that made me turn and look at him though I had promised myself I wouldn’t. His gorgeous face was completely emotionless but I swore I could feel something coming from him—a pain so palpable I could almost reach out and stroke it like a cat with barbed wire for fur.

  Mrs. Wainright cleared her throat uncomfortably. “That will be enough, Mr. Darkheart. Please raise your hand in the future if you wish to join in the discussion.”

  He shrugged and leaned back in his seat silently. Then, as though feeling me looking at him, he lowered the dark glasses again and stared directly, challengingly into my eyes.

  The key between my breasts grew hot again and twitched against my skin like a small, frightened animal. Absently, I put my hand up to quiet it, but still I couldn’t break his gaze. I felt trapped by his lightning and pitch eyes until I heard my name.

  “Miss Latimer? Miss Latimer?”

  I realized that Mrs. Wainright had been calling me for some time and that I was still twisted around in my seat, engaged in a staring contest with Griffin while the entire class watched.

  I snapped my head back around and stared down at my hands, my cheeks growing hot as I tried to ignore the amused giggles and whispers of my new classmates.

  God, what was wrong with me?

  I attempted to listen to the rest of the lesson but it didn’t hold my attention. I was distracted by the cool, itching sensation I felt between my shoulder blades—that feeling of being watched.

  I wanted to turn again and see if he was looking at me. The key around my neck pulsed with eagerness but I ignored it grimly. I co
uldn’t get caught in another staring contest with him—especially not in front of the class.

  But still, the desire to glance behind me was maddening—an impulse almost too strong to be denied. An itch that needed desperately to be scratched. It was almost as if he was willing me to look back at him.

  But that was crazy—right?

  I looked straight ahead, pretending I could stare a hole through the white board if I tried hard enough. As soon as the bell rang, I was out of my seat and almost running through the door.

  I heard laughter behind me and I knew that Sanchez and his friends probably thought I was running from them. But I wasn’t—I was running from him. From Griffin and the weird, cool tingling between my shoulder blades that meant those lightning colored eyes were staring at me.

  I almost made it to the door when Mrs. Wainright’s strident, old lady voice called me back.

  “Miss Latimer? I’d like a word with you.”

  My heart sank down to my new Mary Janes as I turned slowly back to her. Almost everyone else had cleared the classroom. Only Griffin remained, still sitting in his seat at the back. I did my best not to look at him.

  “Yes, Mrs. Wainright?” I said, trying to appear anxious to please when I really just wanted to run as far and as fast as I could to get out of there.

  She frowned at me, her many wrinkles spawning new creases and crevices with the gesture.

  “I wanted to ask you, dearie, about what you were saying earlier. Something about being in a different English class in your old school?”

  “Oh…oh yes…” I hardly knew what to say. I looked down at my hands and when I looked up, Griffin was suddenly standing there, right behind the teacher who was obviously oblivious to his presence.

  How had he moved so fast and so silently? It should have been impossible.

  The key flared to life between my breasts, throbbing and burning, reminding me of those pictures you see in Catholic schools where Christ’s heart is painted outside his body with a crown of thorns wreathed around it.

  “So do you want me to try and get you switched to a different class?” Mrs. Wainright asked patiently.

  Griffin lowered his dark glasses and gave me a smirk.

  What was that supposed to mean? Was he inviting me to stay? Daring me to go? Would I ever see him again if I quit this class we had together? I knew I shouldn’t care one way or another but the key throbbing between my breasts told me I had to care.

  Somehow he and I were connected.

  Just inside his collar I caught a glimpse of the heavy, dull black lock studded with Blood stones. It taunted me far more than his mocking sneer.

  “I…I guess I’ll stay in this class for awhile and see how I do,” I blurted at last. “Is that…will that be all right?”

  “Certainly.” Mrs. Wainright nodded vaguely and out in the hall I heard a bell chime. “Now then, you’d better run along. You don’t want to be late for third period.”

  “No, of…of course not,” I somehow managed to get out.

  With Griffin still smirking at me and the key burning the tender skin of my chest, I turned and fled the classroom as fast as I could.

  8

  The rest of the morning passed in a daze. I had no other classes with Griffin, at least during the early part of the day, which made me feel I was right in keeping the remedial English class, no matter how awful it was going to look on my college aps.

  Besides, once I got the strange matter of the key sorted out, I could always reopen the subject of getting switched to another class with Mrs. Wainright. Clearly she wasn’t all there mentally, but she was at least willing to help and I was sure I could get it worked out.

  At least, that was the excuse I gave myself for staying put.

  Most of my classes seemed to be normal ones—World History, Biology, Algebra Two—which I hated. I have never been good at math, which I will freely admit. It’s just not my area.

  After lunch, though, I had a stranger class listed on my schedule—Elementary Casting—whatever that meant. Probably it was just another way for Mrs. Vernon, the school secretary, to get back at me for having the temerity to argue with her about getting into honors English.

  I had missed gym, which was my first period. That suited me just fine—I wasn’t looking forward to starting my day with that particular class. Although I supposed at least it would be early enough in the morning that it wouldn’t be as horribly hot as it got in the afternoon. As it was now.

  Florida is called “The Sunshine State” but I was beginning to think they ought to change that to “The Godawful Heat and Sweating all the Time State.” I wished more than once that I could have worn the short-sleeved uniform blouse—the stone hallways were really way too warm.

  Why couldn’t they keep it cooler if the Academy was so swanky? How much did it cost to go here for students who weren’t on scholarship, like I was? Whatever it was, I wished they would put some of those tuition fees into the AC bill and crank it down a little.

  Before I knew it, it was time for lunch—a good thing because I hadn’t gotten breakfast due to Aunt Dellie’s last minute news that I was coming to Nocturne instead of going to Frostproof High. So I was really hungry. After a few twists and turns, I found the Dining Hall located in the corridor between the North and East Towers.

  The minute I walked into the vast lunchroom, however, I felt all eyes were on me. A big part of me wanted to turn around and walk back the way I had come. But then I saw Griffin again, sitting at the far corner of a long table by himself. He lowered his sunglasses and gave me a mocking smile which made one half of his sensuous mouth curl up.

  That decided me.

  Lifting my chin, I stepped fully into the Dining Hall—which looked like it came straight out of a movie set at Cambridge or Oxford or one of those other elite colleges which is hundreds of years old.

  There were even banners hanging from the arching stone ceiling—big enough that any one of them would have made a fine tablecloth for the long wooden tables they hung above.

  Under the green banner, which said DRAKE in gold letters, Sanchez and his crew along with a couple dozen other tough-looking boys and a very few girls were sitting. They all looked to be of Hispanic heritage with brown eyes and black hair. Some of them were openly sporting tattoos—the most common one being a long green dragon, which I saw inked around the forearms of some of the bigger guys.

  The purple banner said, FAE, in yellow silk letters and I saw the two girls from my English class sitting there. All of the students sitting at that table were blond, with perfect complexions and I mean perfect. Seriously, they looked like an ad for Clearasil. Their huge eyes, most of which were brilliant jewel tones like emerald green and amethyst purple, reminded me of Anime characters.

  The red banner read, NOCTURNE, in black letters. The students here all seemed to be drinking smoothies rather than eating. At least, I didn’t see any trays of food in front of them, like the other groups had. They were pale and almost as perfect as the Fae crowd, if not as colorful. A few of them seemed to be eyeing me almost hungrily, though I couldn’t figure out why.

  At the table under the blue banner, which said, SISTERS in silver letters, was a group of students who were entirely female. Which made sense, I supposed, since they were called the “Sisters.” A few of them seemed to be eyeing me with an interested, speculative gaze which I did my very best to ignore. All I wanted was to fit in, though I wasn’t sure how that was going to be possible since I wasn’t part of any of the four main groups

  Shrugging off their eyes, I went to the very back of the vast, cavernous room and ducked into the covered lunch line. Grabbing a green plastic tray, I pushed it blindly along the dull silver metal railing.

  “Well, well—what’ll it be?” a lunch lady in a hairnet asked me in a bored voice.

  “I’d like some of that,” I said, pointing at what appeared to be roast beef, sitting on a carving station.

  But the lunch lady shook her head.

/>   “Sorry, hon—that’s only for Drakes.”

  “What?” I frowned at her. “But…I don’t understand. Can I have some of that, then?”

  I pointed at a bowl of fruit salad which appeared to contain a mix of exotic, jewel-toned fruits, many of which I didn’t recognize, though they looked delicious.

  The lunch lady frowned and shook her head again.

  “Sorry—only for Faes.”

  “Look,” I said, dropping my voice and leaning forward, so the other students in line ahead of me wouldn’t hear. “Is this about money? Because I’m a scholarship student? Because that’s discrimination and it’s not fair.”

  “Got nothing to do with what’s fair, missy,” the lunch lady said sharply. “It has to do with what your tag says you can eat. Let me see it.”

  I held up my lanyard, the gray tag with its vertical red stripe of tape and the horizontal blue stripe crossing it.

  “Well…” She frowned hesitantly. “I don’t think you’d want anything from the Nocturne station.” She nodded at a tub of ice filled with chilled bottles of some reddish liquid. “But I can serve you from either the Norm section or the Sisters food, if you want.”

  The Norm food selection appeared to consist of a gloppy casserole with a bright orange layer on top—not appealing at all. I chose from the Sisters’ section instead—a nice fresh salad and a piece of grilled fish with lemon wedges on the side. I got a glass of iced tea to drink—one thing I will say about the South is that they make really good tea—and finally made my way back out into the Dining Hall, looking for a place to sit.

  Which turned out to be a problem.

  9

  Which table should I sit at?

  I stared in consternation at the four main tables under their colorful banners. Clearly the Drakes and Faes were out. But should I sit at the Nocturne table or with the Sisters? I didn’t see any gray banner for the Norms or Nulls or whatever it was I was supposed to be.

  I looked for Griffin. He had been sitting by himself at the very end of the last Nocturne table—which happened to be empty—but he was gone now. Probably he had slipped out while I was getting my lunch.