He said only, “If I had it to do over, I’d do it differently.”
“Whatever. Let’s just drop it, okay? And for the record, knocking Britnee over really was an accident. I didn’t see her. Tell her—tell her I’m sorry.” Skye pulled herself together and hurried out, hoping none of the hall monitors would see her.
When she got to Mr. Bollinger’s room, he was busily leafing through sheet music. “There you are! And here I thought you must have called in sick today.” His voice trailed off as he saw her face. “Uh-oh. What’s the matter?”
Skye tried to turn it into a joke. “Boys are stupid.”
“Don’t I know it.” Mr. Bollinger sighed. “Sit down and take a load off.”
Instead of making her work through the period, he set up the A/V screener and let her watch thirty minutes of Singin’ in the Rain, which as far as she was concerned made him the best teacher ever.
So, ur just ditching study hall?
It’s not ditching, Skye typed as she elbowed her locker shut for the day. If ur a senior, u can sign out up to 2x a week. This is the 1st time I’ve ever signed out. Y not?
Clem replied: B/c vampires r trying to KILL U and staying close to ur bodyguard might be a good idea!
Redgrave’s not going to kill me anytime soon. He could’ve done that yesterday if he wanted to. He didn’t.
Other vampires tried to kill u too. Maybe they got the smack-down, but doesn’t mean they won’t try again.
Clementine had a point. I just can’t be around Balthazar right now.
I get that. But u have to b careful.
She walked through the front doors of the school, where it was still snowing thick and heavy, with big, fat flakes blanketing down so abundantly that the whole world got fuzzy about two hundred yards in the distance. The snowfall hadn’t stopped since last night; the drifts were at least seven inches deep by now. This softening of the world—the muffling of sound, the dimming of light—helped soothe her overwrought senses. This was just what she needed: deep, endless snow.
After rewrapping her muffler around her neck, she sent back, I’ll go to Café Keats. I’ll even take the shortcut nobody uses. Madison can meet me there after school. It was weird that Madison hadn’t wanted to sign out with her, and Skye would have appreciated the company, but if somebody wanted to actually study in study hall, so be it. Even vampires won’t be out in the middle of this.
I guess, Clem replied. But txt me when u get there. Besides, we have to talk more about ur date to the dance!Skye sighed. Keith had asked her at lunch period, so offhandedly that he either didn’t care if she said yes or not, or wanted her to think he didn’t. It was a huge turnoff, but since the alternative now seemed to be sitting at home and crying about Balthazar, she’d said yes. Sure thing. Next text within 10 minutes, I swear.
Tromping through the drifts was vaguely satisfying; the cornstarch crunch of her boots in the snow was virtually the only sound she could hear, and even her enhanced senses didn’t overreact to that. Skye curved around the school grounds, grateful that the staff had thoroughly salted the paved path and steps. All she had to do was cut through Battlefield Gorge, and she’d be at Café Keats within seconds. The only reason she couldn’t already see it was the blinding snow—
He’s scared, he doesn’t know what to do, war isn’t like this in the books or the prints Mama showed him. There are no straight lines, there is no one telling him what to do. There are only men running at him to kill him, and he has to kill them or else. Why did no one tell him how sad he would feel to kill someone?
Damned musket! The whoreson thing won’t reload and the damned frogs are on him now!
The bullet through his head feels like a blow—like his mother boxing his ears—but he doesn’t die right away. He has time to put one hand to the side of his head, or where the side of his head used to be, before the real pain begins and turns the world black.
Skye staggered back, assaulted on every side by the visions of soldiers (in red coats, in blue, some Native Americans in homespun) shooting, being shot, knifing, being knifed, screaming in pain that shot through her in waves.
Battlefield Gorge, she thought. She’d known it her whole life and never thought about it twice. Never once had she wondered how it got that name.
The paths of the bullets through her body were bright, hot lines of pain. The terror and fury and agony of the dying rose up inside her, a thousand times worse than anything else her powers had ever shown her.
Skye couldn’t see, couldn’t think. She was neither conscious nor unconscious; her mind no longer belonged to her. She didn’t even have the strength to keep herself from toppling over into the thick snow. The flakes fell faster, it seemed, the better to cover her forever.
Chapter Nineteen
“YOU OWE ME ONE FOR THIS, MISTER,” RICK BOLlINGER said as he took over study hall from Balthazar.
“Name your price.” Balthazar kept a smile on his face, but all he could think of was how badly he needed to get out of this school now, right now.
“How about, oh—hmmm—chaperoning the Valentine’s Dance?” Rick suggested, mock innocently.
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“That’s me. The consigliere of Darby Glen High.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. Thanks again.” Balthazar managed to leave the library and let the door shut behind him before he broke into a run.
The shortcut, the shortcut—that had to be the gorge. None of the kids went that way because it wasn’t cool or something like that. That meant nobody would be there to help Skye, as if they even could. It was up to him.