Chapter 24

Chalmers looms over the quad like Mrs. Duncan herself.

I will crush you, Callie. One more step and I will smash you like a bug under my heel.

I can’t go back in. I can’t face Julia and Mrs. Duncan and Headmaster O’Brien all looking at me like I’m a horrible person.

And I can’t face Beatrix.

I can, however, face Beatrix’s car. I hurry back to the faculty lot and grab a wool blanket from the Volvo’s trunk before climbing into the backseat. If I scooch all the way down, so no one – not even a passing security guard in his golf cart – will see me.

I tuck the ends of the blanket under my feet and around my shoulders so I’m wrapped like a giant taco.

How did I get to this place? Where I’m hiding from my aunt and my school’s headmaster because I hit my roommate?

Good lord, I hit Julia. I pulled her hair and I pushed her into a closet. I swung a fist at her and scratched her cheeks with my nails. Even now, I can feel her soft skin under my knuckles, her fine blonde hair between my fingers. I close my eyes to the image my brain wants to form – that of me viciously assaulting Julia.

Stop it! Stop thinking that!

Who was that?

Who am I?

Is that person still a part of me?

Tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes and trickle down the sides of my face. I can feel them seep into my hair and my ears.

What is wrong with me? Is it the same thing that was wrong with Evangeline and Abigail and Constance? Are we all the Accused?

I reach for the Bell Book & Candle book in my backpack and hold it up to the wan light of the moon.

No rain tonight. Lucky me.

I flip past the pages Trey and I looked at – the list, the family trees – and find a section of newspaper clippings and photographs.

Library christens new wing, reads the headline in one Darby Cove Courier article dated .

This week saw the formal opening of the new wing of the library at . After four months of construction, Headmaster Marshall Blythe proudly handed the key over to Miss Maud Godwin, the prestigious school’s librarian.

“We’ve got state-of-the-art equipment now,” Mr. Blythe said at the ceremony. “Microfiche machines and an automatic return date stamp that will make Miss Godwin’s job much easier.”

When pressed for comment, Miss Godwin replied quietly (she’s a librarian, after all!), “Frankly, I don’t see the need for such things but I suppose the children want it.”

I recognize the front desk: that’s our library’s circulation desk. And that’s…our librarian?

But no, it can’t be. It must be the light in this car – or lack thereof. Beneath the photo is the caption, “Darby Prep Headmaster Marshall Blythe and Librarian Maud Godwin christen new wing.”

She only looks like Mrs. Gibson. There’s a similarity, yes, but this woman’s dark hair is whipped up to a frothy beehive and she wears a pair of cat’s-eye glasses on a chain.

I turn the page and find another newspaper clipping. This one is much older, dated 1915, from the New Haven Register and carries the headline, Librarian Promoted. In this photo, a young woman named Marlene Gower shakes the hand of a man wearing a starched white shirt and bow-tie. She’s dressed in the style of the day: a long skirt that sweeps the floor and a high-necked blouse with tiny buttons on the sleeves.

An outfit straight out of Beatrix’s closet, I think.

I squint at the photo. This woman too looks a little like Mary Gibson. Are all librarians sprung from the same mold? Do the pinched cheeks and thin lips come first or must they be cultivated?

I must be tired - no, exhausted. It’s been a long-ass day and the crap I went through is obviously having serious repercussions on my mind, making me imagine some very strange things. In the quiet of the car, I hear my stomach growl, a muffled grr beneath my jacket. Oh yeah, that’s right. I missed dinner and dessert and snacks at The Rat. In fact, the last thing I remember putting in my stomach was that stand tea and god, that was so many hours ago.

I pull the hood of my jacket up over my head to form a mini-sleeping bag. Maybe if I dream about food, it will be just like I ate it.

Yeah, right.

I wonder where Trey is now. Did he make it back yet? Is he still walking?

Just sleep, Callie. A few hours of shuteye and everything will look better in the morning. It has to, doesn’t it?

As I feel sleep descend, my hand slides across the book and the pages of family trees fall open against my fingers. A small smile lifts the corners of my lips: no Constance Meriwether, I think, at least there is that to comfort me.

My eyelids start to close, heavy and ponderous, and my hands blindly close the book. As they do, I feel something rough and scratchy touch my fingertips.

A torn page, that’s what it feels like.

Someone has ripped a page from this book.

***

I awaken to a rapping in my ear, and not the good kind, either.

Where the hell am I?

Tap, tap, tap.

“Ow, shit, god!” My whole body is one giant cramp.

“Calliope Bellflower?”

Aw crap. I’m in the Volvo. And that face peering in through the window is campus security.

And it’s raining.

Within ten minutes, I am standing in the headmaster’s office with my aunt Beatrix. I still haven’t had anything to eat and my head is pounding. I could really use a cup of coffee but it doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen anytime soon.

Headmaster O’Brien is the modern day equivalent of Marshall Blythe: he looks like an ex-prep schooler himself with the trim build of a former athlete and a boyish appearance. Whenever I have seen him, he is usually wearing a suit and a smile but today, it’s just the suit.

The rain slapping against the window behind O’Brien’s desk – the same window I dove out of so very recently – makes the grim proceedings feel even more dismal.

What’s worse is that Bea has not spoken one word to me since Security delivered me to her office. Even now, seated a foot away from me, she keeps her attention on O’Brien, ignoring me.

“I’ve already heard from Miss Poole,” O’Brien says. “I didn’t think it was necessary to bring her in again after all she’s been through.”

“I completely agree,” Bea says, as if I’m not even in the room. “She’s been devastated by this, simply devastated.”

O’Brien nods. “That’s what Mrs. Duncan told me too.” Finally, he looks at me – and I almost wish he hadn’t. His fierce gaze burns into my skull, shaming me.

Wrong, Callie, wrong! You’ve been very, very bad!

“Miss Bellflower,” the headmaster begins, “your punishment is—”

“Wait, wait! What about my side of the story? Huh? Don’t I get to say something?”

Beatrix turns to me with a withering stare and it looks like she has a board strapped to her spine, she’s sitting up so straight. “Did you or did you not assault Julia Poole?”

“Well, I…yes, I guess I did.”

“And did you or did you not neglect to give her first aid or otherwise assist her in getting to the nurse?”

“Oh. Well. Yes.”

“And did you or did you not run away instead of accepting responsibility?”

“I…oh. Um…”

“Then Headmaster O’Brien—”

“But it wasn’t my fault!” I hear my voice protest. “She…she…antagonized me. She drove me to hit her.” And as I’m saying the words – as these exact horrifying words are coming out of my mouth – I realize just how insane I sound.

O’Brien blinks at me, clearly not comprehending this strange turn of events. “She drove you—”

“Yes! Do you think she’s so perfect that she couldn’t do something like that?”

“Miss Bellflower, you are dangerously close to expulsion,” O’Brien warns.

And like a flash, my anger speeds to the surface before I can stop it.

“That’s completely unfair!” My voice rises to a register I didn’t know I possessed. I can feel my face flush and my skin grow warm. That fireball of energy that comes with the shift is just below my ribcage, threatening to take over.

Uh-oh. No, no, no.

Beatrix is furious with me.

“Calliope Louise Bellflower!” she says sharply. She and the headmaster are staring at me, so obviously wondering when Rational Callie left the room and this Bizarro Callie took her place.

“Think before you continue,” O’Brien says. His fingers drum the desk blotter. Parrump, parrump, parrump…

“I…I…” I start to say. Parrump, parrump, parrump…the rhythm knocks against my temples. Parrump, parrump, parrump…

I look from O’Brien’s hand up to his face and then over to Beatrix. What am I saying? Why am I so…defensive? I slide my gaze away from them and onto the floor and let my arms lay limply in my lap. A moment later, I feel my aunt’s hand on mine, like a cool breeze blowing against my skin, she gently wraps her palm around my fingers and squeezes.

I feel my heartbeat slow and my breathing deepen. The headmaster’s drumming no longer resonates in my head.

Oh my, look at the lovely pattern on this carpet.

Bea is right, of course, I did all of those terrible things to Julia. I was not just a bad person, I was a bad friend and roommate.

“Calliope?” My aunt asks me. “Are you prepared to accept responsibility now?”

Picking my head up, I say quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“Headmaster O’Brien,” my aunt declares, “Calliope will gratefully accept any punishment you deem appropriate. And rest assured, she will carry it out under my guidance if necessary. I will see to it that she understands the consequences of her actions.”

O’Brien nods, satisfied that someone will be doing something about me. “Thank you, Ms. Bellflower. Calliope, since this is your first offense at the school—”

“And at Sisters of Mercy,” my aunt adds helpfully.

“I believe the most appropriate disciplinary action will be to suspend you from classes and all student activities including sporting events, for three days. You will also stay with your aunt in her room in MacAllister.” He looks to my aunt for her approval, which naturally she gives.

“That will be fine, Headmaster O’Brien. Thank you for not involving the police.”

“Yes, sir, thank you,” I say. Beatrix rises from the chair and subtly pushes me toward the door, but I have one more question. “Sir? What about Julia?”

“What about Miss Poole?”

“Will we be roommates again?”

“Callie,” Beatrix starts but the headmaster interrupts her.

“Once the suspension is over, you’re free to ask her,” O’Brien says, apparently a magnanimous offer.

“Oh. Okay.”

We’re at the door when O’Brien calls to me. “If I were you, Callie, I wouldn’t be surprised if she says no.”

“Right. Of course.”

Beatrix marches me back to her room in silence. To her credit, she doesn’t take us through the busy quad but instead goes the long way around to get to MacAllister. In the foyer of the dorm, though, we run into a huge group of boys headed out to class. I keep my head down, feeling like a criminal running a gauntlet of cameras, until we get to Bea’s room.

Inside, I collapse onto her bed, partly from exhaustion, partly from sheer hunger.

“God, Bea, that was horrible. Do you have any food here?” I glance over at her tiny fridge, willing it to open and reveal its contents to me.

Beatrix ignores me and pulls her desk chair around to face the bed. “What happened last night, Callie? What did you do?”

“What did I do…” Again my instinct is to defend myself, to blame Julia, but it’s no one’s fault but mine. How much to tell her? How much is enough to answer the question but not enough to multiply my punishment? I slide back against the wall and look my aunt in the eyes. “I shifted.”

She bites down on her lips and nods. She knew that. “Who was it?”

“Fiona.”

“Fiona Geddes? The MG?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh god, Callie, you got lucky, very lucky. Fiona’s due back on campus soon.” She squirms in her chair, knitting her hands in her lap. “So you were in the shift and when you returned to yourself, you felt…agitated?”

“Something like that.”

“The residual effect,” she replies smoothly, clinically. “Your mother suffered from it too.” She harrumphs. “I’m not surprised Fiona’s tendency to be cruel left its mark on you. No wonder you lashed out at Julia.” Then she frowns. “But that’s still no excuse for your actions. How long were you in the shift?”

“Well…I don’t really know. An hour or two. Maybe three.” Or five or six.

My aunt is a calm woman but this is too much for her; she lifts her hand but then lowers it quickly. “Three hours? I warned you, Callie. I told you what happened to your mother and you promised me – “ she holds my gaze for a long moment before continuing – “you wouldn’t do it again.”

“I know but—”

“Look at what you did,” she exclaims. “You hurt your roommate and you stole my car—”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You tried. Security saw you on the parking lot camera.”

“I just wanted to give Trey a ride home. I was going to come back.”

Bea gives me a quizzical look. “Who?”

“Trey. He’s…a guy I know.” Still Bea looks puzzled. “He was the guy with me in the car. Didn’t Security see him?”

“If they did, they didn’t mention it to me.” She shakes her head, impatiently. “Calliope, this can’t continue. I told you I would have you committed if you did this again—”

“No!”

“Did you not see how you talked to the headmaster this morning? That was rude and childish and…not you.” She offers me a weak smile; such disappointment in that smile. “I just want the old Callie back.”

“I’m the same person I was, Bea. I am. Please don’t send me away.”

“Callie—”

“Beatrix, please. I promise I won’t do this again.”

“You’ve promised before.” She crosses her arms over her chest but I can tell she’s doing this for herself, not me. She wants to be stern, perhaps mean, but I know she loves me.

“Bea…”

“This isn’t just about you, Callie. This is my school too. This is where I live. It’s my job at stake.”

“They wouldn’t punish you,” I say, but I know my actions reflect badly on her. How could O’Brien justify keeping Beatrix Bellflower on when her niece is beating people up? It would be far easier to replace Bea than to discipline me.

Bea stands then and grips the back of her chair; her knuckles whiten under the pressure. The room – the dorm – the campus – all are still while she considers my fate. I try to send her my pleas along mental airwaves.

Don’t send me away, don’t send me away, I’m not crazy…

Finally, she comes to a decision. “Three days, Calliope. You have three days to convince me while you’re suspended.”

“Convince you? How?”

“I want to see you focused on school, on your work.”

“Yes, Bea.”

“No phone, no TV, no iPod.”

“Yes, Bea.”

“And you will not leave this room without asking me first. No Rat – and most definitely, no sorority.”

“You got it, Bea.”

She stops then and cocks her head to one side in thought, no doubt wondering if there are additional punishments she should levy. I quickly jump in and express my gratitude.

“Thank you, Bea, thank you. I swear I will stay here and I won’t give you any reason to lock me up.”

A pained look crosses my aunt’s face then. Evangeline was a long time ago, chronologically, but not emotionally.

“I have to get to class,” she says, hurrying to gather her books and purse and hiding everything under a sweeping black swing coat with a velvet collar. “I’ll be back to get you for lunch. And I’ll have your class assignments, so don’t think this is going to be a vacation for you.” She wags a finger at me.

“Hardly,” I say under my breath.

“I heard that,” Bea says, as she fastens the coat’s buttons. “You’re welcome to what’s in the fridge. But clean up after yourself. No messes in here.”

“No messes. Thanks, Bea.”

I swear I’ll be good. I swear I won’t do anything that compromises Bea’s job. I don’t really care about myself but Bea…

And just as I start to imagine all the ways I will convince Beatrix of my worthiness – cleaning, for starters – I remember her words:

Fiona’s due back on campus soon.

And I have to get that book back to Mrs. Gibson. As Fiona.

Uh-oh. Looks like my worthiness will have to be postponed.