Christine, walked in and sat down in the row beside me. She leaned bulky shoulders against the steel back of the chair.
“You have the worst luck. First, a sprained ankle in winter break and now, attacked…” She colored and ducked her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Sorry, that was dumb. Are you okay? I hope they catch the psycho.”
A picture of Vane flashed in my head. How many times had he been called psycho? At least once or twice by me. Although his methods got results, the label still seemed to fit.
Everyone at school knew of the attack. Concord might lie on the periphery of Boston, but it wasn’t the big city. Communities in the suburbs remained insular, and maniacal knifings weren’t supposed to happen here. I put a hand on Christine’s arm and squeezed. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. The doctors say I’ll be off the crutch in less than a week.”
As I said the words, it actually felt true—which was a little depressing on its own. It meant I was getting used to life as the sword-bearer. Ironic, since the end loomed closer and closer.
Christine beamed. “Just in time for Prom. You’ve worked on it so hard. I checked out the Park Hotel during the break. We took some family into the city. My cousins were so jealous. It’s like having Prom at a palace—the huge ballroom, the upstairs balconies, and the view of the city. I can’t believe you pulled in enough money to book it.”
“We did it,” I reminded her. Christine was part of the Prom committee.
She nodded happily. “Oh, I can’t wait.”
I smiled. “Who’re you going with?”
She colored. Her eyes sought out a boy in tinted glasses and bleached hair lounging in his seat at the front of the class. “Taylor asked me last week.”
As if sensing her gaze, he turned to look back at us, giving her a shy smile. She grinned back. Their happiness hit me like a brick.
I forced myself to smile brightly. “That’s great. I’m thrilled for you.”
And I was. Still, I was floored. This was how I imagined my life. Shy exchanges. First love. Prom. Happy graduation ever after. Instead, I let this fairy tale slip away, and with time swiftly running out, I had little hope of recapturing it.
Students streamed into class and took their seats seconds before the bell. Grey slipped into a seat beside me. Our history teacher hurried to her desk. Back from maternity leave, she didn’t look as if she’d gotten more than a few hours of sleep. The bell rang. One last student walked in.
Matt Emrys.
His sudden appearance instigated a new wave of whispering across the room.
“They let him out?” someone hissed beside me.
“I heard he got a lot of therapy,” another girl replied.
Someone giggled. “Does he still think he’s Merlin?”
Ramanajan sighed. “I wonder if that means Coach Vane is back, too.”
I watched Matt move with controlled grace to the teacher’s desk.
“Matt? You’re back,” Ms. Bedevere said happily.
He handed Ms. Bedevere a slip of paper. His rolling accent washed over the room. “Just returned.”
Wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt, he modeled both as biker and hippie professor. Instead of his usual shaggy hair, though, he styled the brown locks so they emphasized the lean slant of his high cheekbones. His jaw looked freshly shaven. He hadn’t looked this neat at the UN meeting.
A boy in front of Grey commented, “Those padded, white rooms make nice getaways.”
Grey kicked his chair. “You should know, Joey.”
Matt’s gaze zeroed in on me. He walked to an empty seat on the other side of Christine. At the front of the class, Ms. Bedevere went to the chalkboard and started writing. My pocket vibrated as I got a text on my cell phone. It was a new one from Sylvia. As far as I knew, only she and Grey had the number. I snuck a look at the screen. The text listed a blocked number.
You should be resting.
I glanced at Matt. Sure enough, he’d snuck out his phone and was typing away.
A second text buzzed. You look hot.
I wondered briefly if he’d been body snatched. I stared at the words, unable to make sense of the sentence. Hot? I didn’t even know the word existed in Matt’s vocabulary.
I wrote back. What are you doing here?
An answer zinged back. Couldn’t leave you alone on your birthday.
My head jerked up. A calendar next to the chalkboard confirmed what I had forgotten.