Chapter 32. Lorena
lorena
Huntington looks a lot like it did on the first day, except that winter is nearly here, so the sun is setting earlier. Its final red rays are barely visible through the trees as I cart my suitcase up the driveway.
One of the double doors is propped open, and upon entering the foyer, I see Director Minaro striding toward me.
“Oh, hello, Lorena,” she says, noting my presence only half a stride before knocking into me. “I was just coming to shut the door.”
“But—is everyone already back then?” My pulse is an ascending piano scale as I think of William.
“I am not locking it,” she says, walking around me. “The cold air is just overworking the heating system.”
The door shuts with a bang that echoes through the grand hall as well as my bones.
“There we go,” she says in a satisfied tone. “Shall we?”
I have to take two steps for each one of hers to keep pace with the director. “Do you—have you heard from William’s parents?” I chance, despite knowing the odds.
“I have not. I take it this means you have not heard from him, either.”
I shake my head.
“Alas, it appears you have lost your sparring partner in my class,” she says, and her words make me less excited about my favorite subject.
As embarrassing as it is to admit, our literary debates were my favorite moments with William.
“I am curious.” She stops walking, and I wonder what she’s going to ask.
“Did you see who picked him up from Hanover?” She looks into my eyes the same concentrated way William used to early on, when he wasn’t sure if he could trust me. “Was it his parents?” she adds, blinking away the intensity so that she now looks only mildly interested.
“Um—his friends,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Cousins, actually.”
“What were their names?” she prods, and the way she says it is not her usual voice.
She seems to catch herself because she clears her throat.
“You see, I need to have a report ready in case the district asks for details on his absences, and since he took off in the middle of a school-sanctioned field trip, I must make sure everything is aboveboard.”
But William’s words come back to me about the green book having the Legion of Fire logo. What if Director Minaro is part of it? Trevor said his parents sent him here against his will. What if it was for a purpose, only he doesn’t know it? Maybe they’re in league with Director Minaro.
And maybe they’re not the only ones.
What if the reason so many students felt a draw to this place is because they all come from families that belong to the Legion—?
“Lorena? Are you all right?”
I inhale deeply to push down my paranoia. “Sorry, headache,” I say because it’s the first lie that comes to mind. Then I follow it up with a second lie: “I don’t remember their names.”
“Oh,” she says, and I get the feeling she knows I’m lying.
It’s only when I’m walking up the tower stairs that my worries about William are overtaken by a more pressing concern: My impending reunion with Salma.
I unlock the door, and it creaks open, revealing the gray air of dusk. A quick pan from the top bunk bed to the single bed by the window tells me the room is empty.
My shoulders sag with disappointment.
“Hey.”
I look around for the source of the voice, and that’s when I spot her. Salma is already in uniform, sitting on the bottom bunk. My bed.
I take it as a promising sign, and I give her a small grin as I come over—then I see the white thing on her arm.
A cast.
“What the fuck?” My heart’s chambers crash like cymbals as I sit at her side. “What happened, Sal?”
“Sprained my elbow,” she says, shifting away from me a little.
There’s a gauntness in her cheeks that makes me wonder if she ate anything over break.
She usually has her meals at my house, since there’s no one at home to cook for her.
She must have been living off granola, frozen veggie burgers, and iced coffee.
Guilt rises up my throat, threatening to choke me. “Why didn’t you call? Or why didn’t the hospital call Ma?” She’s Salma’s emergency contact, since her dad is never around.
“We’re eighteen,” she reminds me. “We don’t need a parent anymore.”
The declaration makes me sad, and as I search her face for the same sense of loss, I don’t see even a trace of it.
And it strikes me that Salma and I have always had completely opposing views on growing up.
Where she’s been counting down to her independence since childhood, I’ve been avoiding the burden of making my own choices.
But when I met William, something changed.
I was forced to make a choice, and I did the only thing that made sense: I protected my loved ones.
That led me to start speaking up in class. Choices led to more choices, until I was no longer listening to Salma or Ma but to myself.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a low voice that doesn’t sound entirely like me.
As if the words are coming from a deeper place than usual.
“You are unequivocally right about everything. You’re more than my sister, you’re a part of me, and I should have known better than to lie to you.
Especially about something that close to your heart.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. ”
A comma forms between her eyebrows, and while she still looks upset, at least she’s listening.
“Lore, this isn’t something we’re going to be able to move past just like that.”
My heart stalls as I see the shininess in her eyes. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen her shed a tear our entire lives, and my mouth goes dry with dismay.
“It’s as if…” She trails off, like she’s trying to find the right words. “As if the first night we got here, I met Mr. Darcy and found out he was real. And I didn’t tell you.”
She stares into my eyes, like she’s trying to convey more than words. “You had to know what it would’ve meant to me to meet an actual vampire. And you kept that from me. Why? And don’t tell me that it was for my own safety because you know damn well we could have shared the secret.”
“But it was, Sal.” It feels like the moisture that belongs in my mouth has traveled to my eyes. “I knew he had supernatural hearing and that he had been spying on me. He warned me if I told anyone he would kill you, and I couldn’t risk it.”
“What about the first night?” she asks, and I can tell she’s been thinking about this and analyzing everything I told her, trying to find the weak spots in my story.
“You described how he controlled your mind and bit you, then he had a seizure so you escaped. Doesn’t sound like he had time to tell you about his super-hearing and threaten your friends. You could have told me then.”
“I…”
Had just been bitten.
Had nearly died.
Was traumatized.
“… was afraid of how you’d react.” The truth is out before I can settle on an excuse. “I knew if I told you there was a vampire, you’d go running into his arms.”
My voice cracks, and tears start to flow down my cheeks. Then the dams break in her eyes, too, and we’re both leaking salty water.
“How was that your decision to make for me?” she asks, her voice barely more than a breath. “It’s like when you went to our parents about—”
“He was catfishing you—”
“That’s not the point!” Her voice grows into a rare high-pitched shriek, and it silences both of us. “You don’t let me make my own decisions.” Her throat sounds a little rough now. “And maybe I don’t let you make yours, either. That’s not healthy, for either of us.”
I don’t like what she’s saying, and my heart becomes a bass drum.
The longer our silence stretches, I go from scared to frustrated.
She wants me to regret saving her life, and I don’t.
It feels like the same specter haunting my interactions with Ma has reared its head, and I say, “If you’re still thinking about that party, I made my own choices that night—”
“Where is he?” she asks, changing the subject.
“I don’t know.”
She cocks her head like she doesn’t believe me.
“I swear. He hasn’t reached out, and I asked Minaro about him a moment ago, and she said there’s been no news. Except…” I trail off, not sure if it’s even worth saying.
“Except what?”
“It just seemed like she was fishing for information. She asked me who specifically picked him up from Hanover.”
“She’s the head of the school, and he was her responsibility when he disappeared, so that makes sense.”
I don’t want to argue, so I just say, “Yeah, I guess.”
“You told me that only Stoker vampires can make other vampires,” she goes on, her gaze lowering to the white cast on her arm. “But he’s not a Stoker.”
“Right.”
“What about the guys he met in Hanover? Were they Stokers?”
There’s an uncomfortable squirm in my stomach. “No,” I say with a sharp shrug. “But I’ve been thinking about it over break, and I feel like if there were Stoker vampires around, their population would probably have grown big enough by now that we’d know they exist.”
She doesn’t react to that. “Do you think he’s ever coming back? Like for his things?”
I shake my head, and to my horror, tears prick my eyes again. “He’s gone,” I say firmly, both to her and to myself.
Salma’s face turns away slightly, and I wish I could see her expression. When she doesn’t look at me for a while, I ask, “What can I do, Sal? How can I make this up to you?”
“I don’t know,” she says at last. “Just give me time.”
Every part of me wants to keep fighting for her forgiveness, but I know that Salma can’t be coaxed. She operates on her own terms.
I’m about to stand up in resignation when I hear the lock click, and the door swings open. Tiffany sweeps into the room in a floor-length puffy pink coat that seems a little sweeter than her usual fashion choices. She’s paired it with black boots identical to Salma’s.
It’s clear she’s coming from home and not her aunt’s house because she’s not wearing makeup, and instead of straight hair, she’s left her natural curls. She looks younger, but no less beautiful.
She’s also rolling her own suitcase this time.