Chapter 21

“Did you hear about Fi’s punishment?” Erin asks Julia and me as we find seats in the bleachers of the fieldhouse. Tonight is Darby Prep’s first swim meet of the season against Deerfield Academy. The two schools battled it out in an exciting finals last year, according to Julia, when Mackenzie broke two Darby Prep records and tied for the prep school record in the 100m butterfly. She called him the next Michael Phelps.

I am so out-of-touch, I had to google that.

“No, I didn’t,” Julia says, taking a seat between Erin and me. We are in the third row with a decent view of the entire pool. The bleachers are filled near to capacity: for one thing, it’s about the only activity happening on campus tonight and for another, the team is pretty darn good and there’s always the chance that someone will break another record.

“Three years’ probation and a huge fine,” Erin says with a grimace. “Not that her dad can’t afford it but how is that gonna look on her transcripts?” She shakes her head and her ponytail swish-swishes across the collar of her windbreaker. “She won’t get into any of the Ivies.”

Julia tugs at the front of her turtleneck. “God, it’s hot in here, huh?”

It’s humid is what it is, like a tropical jungle. Steam has fogged the glass windows of the field house where a fan has drawn, Darby Prep rocks the house, in fat block letters. The smell of chlorine permeates the heavy air, as if the whole place has been washed with bleach.

nods her agreement. “Yeah, really hot.”

Julia turns and smiles sweetly at the girl. “Would you get us some Cokes?” she asks. “Bell Book’s treat!” She holds up her wallet and shakes it.

Erin grins and she grabs for the wallet. “Yay! Snacks too?”

“Whatever’s in there, spend it. I’m sure Fiona won’t mind.” And then she leans closer to and whispers something in her ear.

Erin nods. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Thanks, sweetie. You’re awesome.”

As soon as Erin is gone, Julia turns back to the pool deck, frowning as she searches for her man.

“She didn’t get probation,” she says.

“Excuse me?”

“Fiona? She got community service. Helping blind old people or something.”

“You knew?” I ask, bewildered.

“She texted me two nights ago from her dad’s house.”

“Then why didn’t you correct ?”

“Fi likes the drama. She’d rather have people believe she’s more of a badass than she actually is.” Julia shakes her head as if she can’t believe such nonsense. “Whatever. That’s her thing.”

And then she squeals and her entire personality changes. “There he is!”

I follow her gaze: Mackenzie is warming up by the side of the pool, ear buds in place, flapping long arms like a bird.

“Michael always does that,” Julia confides.

Mack Dodd strides from one end of the pool to the other, head bobbing to the beat being pumped into his ears. When he gets to the warm-up pool, he removes his team jacket and sweatpants and tosses them onto a bench. I – and Julia and every other girl on these bleachers – stare as he bends forward to talk to a buddy in the small pool. His back muscles are the very definition of rippling; when he moves and stretches, they glide over his frame as if he were already swimming; when he laughs, we can see his ribs expand and contract.

I haven’t seen my roommate’s boyfriend since that night we kissed. She never mentioned anything to me and as far as I know, he never said anything to her. And lord knows, I am not going to open that can of worms. But now, seeing him like this, a blush rises to my cheek as I recall our night together.

“Mack! Mackenzie!” Julia waves her arm over her head to catch his attention. When he finally notices and looks our way, I shrink back and hope he doesn’t see that my face is beet red. Not that he’d know why…

Mack nods back at us – at Julia - and returns to his warm-up routine. I can almost feel the relief my roommate feels at having been acknowledged as the number-one-swimmer-and-Olympic-hopeful’s girlfriend.

Now she can turn her attention elsewhere, which is back to me. “Hey, sweetie,” she sing-songs. “Would you do me, like, the hugest favor?”

When Julia smiles at someone, it’s like a spotlight has singled that person out for all sorts of happiness. I am no exception. “Yeah, sure, what is it?”

“I need three letters of recommendation for Bates,” she says. “Headmaster O’Brien is going to give me one and so is Mrs. Gibson.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It would be amazing if your aunt would write one too.”

“Beatrix? But she’s so new here. Are you sure you want her?”

Julia’s head bobs. “I’ve decided to major in English so her letter would be really helpful.” She grabs onto my arm and bats her eyelashes at me. “Would you ask her for me?”

“Gosh, I haven’t seen Bea much lately. She’s been really busy with her classes.” And I’ve been busy spending time at cemetery and oh yeah, she’s kind of pissed at me for absorbing other people’s and becoming them.

But, naturally, I don’t say that.

“Pretty please?”

“Oh, um.” I suppose I should ask why she can’t ask Bea herself but I guess it doesn’t matter. Julia’s sweet and kind and she’s probably a good student. Bea will no doubt write the letter without much inducement. “Sure, I can do that.”

Huh. I sound exactly like .

Julia wipes imaginary sweat off her brow. “Thank you so much. And by the way, we’re probably going to go ahead and initiate you as soon as Fiona gets back.”

I feel a smile form on my lips. “Yeah? Cool.” Trey’s comments yesterday made me question my decision to pledge the group but hearing Julia talk about initiation gets me excited again. Is it so wrong to want to be part of a group? They’re not exclusionary; they’re philanthropic. And fun. Nothing wrong with fun, is there?

Erin plops back into her seat then, holding out a tray of sodas along with several bags of chips. Julia takes her share and then passes it along to me.

“Ooh, your favorites!” Julia says. “French Onion Sun Chips!”

I catch Julia’s eye and grin. This is what she whispered in Erin’s ear. “Yup. They’re my favorites. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Book and Candle.” And Julia winks at me before she opens her own bag of chips. “Doritos! My favorites too!”

See, Trey? It’s not so bad having friends.

*****

I promised myself I would talk to Mrs. Gibson and I will. I am. Now. I’m going to march myself into her cramped and stinky office and ask her point-blank about Bell Book and Candle and if there is any possible way the group is connected to ’s witch hunters.

Except I’m not a member yet.

And all I can hear in my head is her voice telling me I’d have to wait until I’d been initiated to ask questions:

Maybe once you’ve been initiated, you’ll find out.

Mrs. Gibson probably won’t tell me but she will tell Fiona, her blessed Alpha chapter president. So what if…

Yes, what if.

What if.

It won’t take long. I swear. In, out, ask a couple questions, leave. Wham, bam…

And Bea won’t ever have to know.

I’m in my Darby Prep uniform, the same one that every other girl on this campus wears so when I shift into Fiona, no one will know the difference. I don’t take any chances shifting in my own room in the dorm, or in any other place where someone could see me.

If nothing else, I have learned that from Constance Meriwether.

In the girls’ bathroom in the library, I find an empty stall and wait until everyone has cleared out. But how to create the energy for the shift, like I did back in the headmaster’s office? How to generate the surge of adrenaline needed for my heart to beat faster and my blood to pump harder? Must I get angry, a la the Incredible Hulk, in order to access a strong emotion that will give me the impetus to change?

I concentrate on Fiona, on how much I resented her that night in O’Brien’s office. I think about the toadying attitude of the cops who came to arrest me upon finding Fiona Geddes instead of Calliope Bellflower among the wreckage. I focus my thoughts on how easily Fiona got off. Community service? No expulsion? And now, a mini-vacation at her father’s expensive home in the plum section of Darby Cove.

Damn her! God damn her and her sense of entitlement!

And in no time, I can feel my pulse begin to quicken and my skin grow warm. The bathroom stall is closing in on me, making me claustrophobic.

I have to get out. I have to get out. I have to get out.

I can’t stand it any more! I fumble with the lock on the door and fling it open with my elbow. I find my reflection in the mirror.

Fiona Geddes stares back at me. Imperious. Imposing. Queen of the MGs.

I can have anything I want.

The ease with which I am able slip into Fiona – not just her physical being but her head space as well – is startling but I tell myself that it’s simply because I’ve experienced life as Fiona before.

It can’t be because I like it.

I hurry down the hall to Mrs. Gibson’s office before anyone stops me, wanting to chat with Fiona, and rap sharply on her door.

“Fiona,” the librarian says with a thin-lipped smile. “Come in, my dear. It’s good to see you back.”

Back? Yes, back! I had forgotten she was at her father’s house. Is she supposed to be on campus now? Oh well, can’t worry about that now.

“Good to be back, Mrs. Gibson.”

The librarian’s eyebrows shoot up. “Mrs. Gibson? Since when did you stop calling me Mary?”

Strike two! This is not as easy as fooling the Cove cops.

“Sorry, Mary,” I say. “Guess I lost my head for a second.”

Mrs. Gibson cocks an eye at me and I can feel panic begin to constrict my chest. Can she tell? Can she see through this skin?

But if she can, she doesn’t give any sign of it. Instead she merely leans forward on her elbows and clasps her hands together. “I’m sure you did. You’ve been through a lot lately.” She adds a sympathetic nod. “Is everything all right now?”

“Um, yeah, it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry you had to go home to your father,” she says and winces. “But it was better than the alternative, yes? Better than sitting in jail?”

“Oh yes, much better. I had a great time at home.” I can only imagine Fiona enjoyed her vacation from school, holed up in the manse with her father, her every whim catered to.

The librarian looks astonished. “Really? Well, that’s certainly good to hear. Was Angela around to provide a buffer?”

Angela? Who the hell is Angela?

“Uh, yes.”

“Good, good. You’ll tell me if you need my help?”

Help? I better move this along before I muck things up forever.

“I was just walking through the quad and I thought I’d stop to ask you—”

“Perfect timing! I was just making some tea. Will you have some?”

Feet tea? “Um, no thanks…Mary.” And before the words are fully out of my mouth, I realize I’ve swung and missed again. Fiona loves the librarian’s crummy tea. I hold up a finger to Mary Gibson. “I mean, yes, please. I’d love a cup.”

She smiles and turns her back to me as she fixes the tea for the two of us. “For a minute there, I thought you might have hit your head on that fall from the window.”

“Oh, um, no, I’m good.” While she’s busy with the tea and cups, I take the opportunity to search her shelves for the books with the Bell Book and Candle symbols. They were just above her shoulder height on the third shelf, I believe, but she’s in the way now and I can’t see past the braided bun that’s perched on the top of her head like a frosted cupcake.

“When I first heard from the headmaster about the incident, I was so worried for you, my dear.”

“No worries.” I peer around Mrs. Gibson’s back and see the Shakespeare and Marlowe books’ positions are unchanged on the second shelf. There are a couple of new books I recognize, a pair of poetry collections from Bea’s own shelves. Looks like my aunt has been spending time with her new friend.

But where are the books with the gold symbol?

I can hear the tea being poured into china cups and the tinkle-tinkle of a silver spoon stirring in a cube of sugar but I can’t tear my gaze from the shelves. Where are those books?

“Here we are,” Mrs. Gibson says as she hands me a cup on a saucer. It’s the same pattern as the last time I was in here, that winding mesmerizing green vine.

She holds her cup in front of her. “Cheers and welcome back.”

I hold up my cup as well. It doesn’t smell nearly as bad as last time: it’s neither feet nor death lilies but a sweet, earthy aroma. Not like a rose but a rose bush, deeply-rooted and rich with minerals. I take a sip. Not bad.

Mrs. Gibson smiles again. “Would you like to tell me how Calliope got out of the headmaster’s office and left you in it?”

I nearly choke on my tea and the saucer wobbles in my hand. “I beg your pardon?”

“You weren’t supposed to get caught in there, Fiona,” she scolds me. “It was very simple. Now how did it happen?”

She knows?

“Well, I…” How much can I tell her? How much would Fiona know? I take another sip of tea, stalling for time. My head feels light, overwhelmed. This is not what I expected when I shifted.

“Start from the beginning.”

“I…we…woke up Calliope and walked her through the quad—”

“You blindfolded her?”

I nod. “I took her arm and I think Julia took her other—”

“You think? You don’t know for certain?”

“I—”

“These details are very important,” Mary Gibson insists.

I drink my tea, thinking, thinking…recalling the night of the hazing is so nerve-wracking. Good god, it’s as if it’s happening all over again: the blindfold, the late-night quad, the empty corridors.

Bell…book…candle. So be it!

Who said that?

I can hear those words in my head but it’s not someone else’s voice saying them. It’s mine.

“So be it,” I whisper.

“Fiona!” Mrs. Gibson says. Her voice is like a razor blade slicing through my brain and I cringe, shoulders hunched, chin to my chest, an automatic reaction to the sharp tone. Even as part of me wonders where the response is coming from, the rest of me wants to curl into a ball and wrap my arms around my head.

“Fiona!” she says again, rapping her knuckles against the desktop for emphasis.

“What,” I say dully. What does she want? What do any of them want from me?

“What happened in O’Brien’s office? Why were you there and not Calliope?”

Why? Why does she want to know this? My head begins to feel swoon again. I feel my eyes water, my cheeks and chest grow warm, my skin glows hot pink. A sob starts in my stomach, hollow and empty, rises to my throat.

Oh god, I don’t know, I don’t know.

“I don’t know what happened, Mary,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I let you down.” I don’t want her to hurt me. I know I suck. I know I’m a disappointment. I roll forward and rest my head against my knee; the skin soon becomes slick, wet from tears I’m trying to blink back.

What is wrong with me?

“Fiona, please,” Mrs. Gibson says with a sigh. “You’ll do it right next time.”

I glance up at desk level to see her shaking her head from side to side, clearly unhappy with me.

“Sit up straight, please. Fiona. Up. Now.”

Before I sit back against the chair, I wipe my eyes with my shirt sleeve and take a deep composing breath.

“Was there something you came here for?” The librarian asks, sounding impatient.

Was there…? My head feels so foggy, my eyelids heavy. My whole body feels weighted down. There was something I needed, wasn’t there? What was it…I force my eyes to scan the room, to see if something will jog my memory. I see piles of papers, the tea garden, and many, many books.

A book! That’s what I wanted so very long ago. God, it seems like hours have passed since I walked into this office.

“Do you want some more tea?” Mrs. Gibson asks, holding the kettle aloft.

Tea? No. Tea is the last thing I want. I shake my head.

“Your books,” I say but it’s a struggle to get out the words. “You have a book with a symbol on it, a gold symbol.” I draw the double 8’s in the air in front of myself.

Mrs. Gibson nods. “What do you need it for?”

The more I talk, the more oxygen I take in, the clearer-headed I seem to be.

“I, um, just wanted to study it before the initiation.”

“Are you still planning to initiate her?”

Her must mean Callie. Me. Me, me, me.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Is this a strike four? Have I finally spoken the one thing I can’t defend, expressed the one thought that cannot be attributed to the real Fiona? You know what? I can’t care at this point. I need to get out of this room. I need some fresh air to clear my head. Either I said the right thing or…

Mrs. Gibson reaches behind her to the third shelf where I had previously seen the three books but now there is only one. She pulls it off the shelf and hands it to me.

I wait for her to tell me it’s rare, irreplaceable, delicate, any of the things she would say to Calliope Bellflower, but all she does is nod again.

“Don’t let it out of your sight, yes? And show no one who isn’t a member.”

“Thank you…Mary.”

I tuck the book under my arm and race out the door before I can say anything else, before Mrs. Gibson can ask any further questions. In the girls’ lavatory, I wait about two seconds after the last person leaves and then I quickly shift back. I stagger out of the stall and lean my hands on the sink. I’m almost afraid to look at myself.

I’ll do it on three.

One, two…two and a half…

I glance up.

“Three.”

I exhale, relieved to see my face, to hear my voice. I run the cold water as hard and fast as it will go and then splash some of it against my cheeks and neck. I look better – a little – and my eyes are no longer red.

My head is still fuzzy, though, despite having shifted back, and when I head for the door, one knee buckles.

Whoa. Guess I need more time to recuperate from the shift.

I shove the Bell Book and Candle book into my backpack and get outside. The damp air and dreary sky have never been so refreshing. I find a bench in the quad and lean my back against it with my face to the clouds, enjoying the cool breeze blow across my skin.

The strange feeling I had, the tightness of my chest and throat, is slowly dissipating but it makes me wonder: what the hell happens when I shift? Where am I when I become someone else? Where is Calliope Bellflower?

Beatrix told me time and time again that I can’t assume people’s memories and that, so far, has been true. But what of their feelings, their emotions? When I became Fiona Geddes, I didn’t feel like myself inside someone else’s body. I felt like…

Fiona?

No, that can’t be. I’m still me. I pat my uniform down with the palms of my hands just to prove it to myself. Yes, I’m still me.