Part 21 (2/2)

”There could be an electrical short somewhere in this room. And that smoke detector needs to be replaced.

There was a bonfire directly beneath it, and it didn't so much as beep!”

”Deep breaths,” Ash instructed her friend, and plopped down beside her on the bed. ”I told you that it was probably just my heating blanket malfunctioning. Next week, when the room no longer smells like the inside of a charcoal grill, we can have buildings and grounds install a new smoke detector. The residence hall 260 is made of plastic anyway, It's not going to burn down over the weekend.”

”You're not made of plastic,” Jackie reminded her.

”Well, I must be made of asbestos, then, because there's not so much as a grill mark on me. See?” Ash rolled up her sleeves to show Jackie. ”So stop worrying, go hydrate yourself, and GO BACK TO BED.”

”Fine.” On her way out of the room, Jackie picked up one of the fans and aimed it directly at Ash. Her hair billowed around her.

Ash laughed and held her hands in front of her face.

”Brat!” But as Jackie was leaving the room, she couldn't help but say, ”Believe it or not, these days it feels like you're my last anchor to humanity . . . and for that I love you.”

”You know,” Jackie said, ”sometimes you say things that creep me out. But I love you, too.”

At this point Ash was growing far too accustomed to having her day descend from normalcy into chaos . . . and earlier and earlier each day. For now she could only hope there was a limit of one strange incident per morning.

So that left one lingering question as she sat in French cla.s.s. Did her bed igniting count as late Monday night or early Tuesday morning? She had fallen asleep, and she had dreamed, which meant she had at least entered her REM cycle before she'd woke to find herself engulfed in flames. That had to count for today, right?

261.

As she stared at her reflection in the glossy screen of her cell phone, the exhausted ragam.u.f.fin that stared back at her said, ”Wishful thinking, kid.”

For once Monsieur Chevalier wasn't picking on Ashline, or hara.s.sing her to answer him in a language she could barely comprehend let alone speak competently; she guessed this charity was some combination of pity for her drowned-rat appearance and grat.i.tude that she'd watched his rehearsal with Serena on Monday.

Just when she was counting down the moments until lunch so she could head back through the rain to East Hall for a lukewarm five-minute shower, the intercom buzzed at the front of the room. Monsieur Chevalier, who was in the middle of describing some film called Jules et Jim, audibly muttered ”Merde” before slogging over to the door and picking up the phone. He said four words, three of which were ”Oui,” before he slammed the phone back onto its cradle and leveled Ashline with a look of disapproval. ”Madame Wilde. The headmistress kindly pet.i.tions your presence in her chambers, posthaste.”

Ash stood up and gave him a curtsy on her way out.

”Merci, monsieur.” As soon as the door was shut, she found herself scowling at the empty hallway. If Jackie had ratted her out to the headmistress, then so help her G.o.d . . .

She didn't even bother to greet the receptionist as she stormed through the waiting room. It was time to just meet her fate and resign herself to whatever conse-quences would follow. How was the headmistress going 262 to spin this one to make it look like her fault? Playing with matches? Smoking in bed? At least she wouldn't have to spend her Wednesday throwing up with nervous-ness over her impending match against Patricia Orleans, or worrying about finding a dress for the masquerade ball.

”Headmistress,” she said as she stepped through the door, ”I-”

Headmistress Riley was not alone. Ash couldn't see the person sitting in the other chair, only a sleek feminine hand gripping the armrest.

To make matters stranger, the headmistress had a bright smile on her face. ”Ashline. Just the girl I was looking for.”

Ash coughed. ”And here I was thinking there was a warrant out for my arrest.”

The headmistress opened her mouth, and Ash could all but hear the accusation in her head- Oh, Lord. What on earth have you done now?

But she stamped out any further suspicion for the benefit of the third party in the room. ”I know you're not officially part of our student amba.s.sador program, but we have a prospective student visiting Blackwood just for a morning tour, and she specifically asked if there were any other students from New York whom she could shadow today. Allow me to introduce Elektra Quentin.”

”h.e.l.lo,” Eve said, rising from her chair. She held out her hand across the divide. ”Pleased to meet you . . .

Ashline, was it?”

263.

Ash said nothing. Visions danced in her mind's eye, of the lightning shooting out of Lizzie's open mouth, of waking up to her bed on fire. But Eve extended her hand a little farther, and Ash finally seized it.

She squeezed firmly, hoping to inflict some pain on her older sister, but Eve merely squeezed harder until Ash was forced to retract her hand with a wince. ”Welcome to Blackwood, Elektra Cute.”

”Quentin,” Eve corrected her, but grinned smugly.

She had traded her usual black and gloomy apparel for a s.h.i.+n-length tartan skirt and a conservative blue top, b.u.t.toned all the way up to her neck. Ash had never seen her sister's hair up before, but she had fas.h.i.+oned it into a large bun on the top of her head, with what looked like chopsticks holding it in place.

The headmistress came up behind Eve and placed a hand on her shoulder. ”Elektra doesn't want to impose on your day in any way, so just go about today like any other Tuesday. You can escort her to the front gates after lunch so she can catch her limousine.”

Eve released a small giggle. ”I perked right up when Headmistress Riley said you had physics today. Although I have to say, I was a little disappointed to hear you don't offer a cla.s.s in meteorology.”

”Well, off you go.” The headmistress ushered them both toward the door. ”If you hustle, you might be able to make the last part of what I'm sure is a riveting French cla.s.s with Monsieur Chevalier.”

264.

”Golly,” Eve replied.

Ash lingered in the doorway. ”Um, Headmistress?”

The headmistress had crossed the room to her giant world globe. ”Yes, Ashline?” Her thumb lingered somewhere in the sprawling blue of the Pacific Ocean.

The fingers of Eve's right hand blossomed open, revealing an orb of electricity s.h.i.+ning like a pearl in her palm. The threat was clear. One word, and . . .

”I . . . I just wanted to say thank you for this opportunity.” Ash took Eve firmly by the arm and dragged her out of the room and through the reception area.

They weren't three steps into the hall before Ash grabbed two fistfuls of Eve's blue s.h.i.+rt and shoved her up against the wall, hard. ”Are you out of your mind?

Masquerading as a prospective student in my new school?”

Eve peeled herself off the wall and fixed her s.h.i.+rt.

”You know my education has always been high priority to me, and I think that with Blackwood's reputation for stimulating the intellect-”

”Eve!”

”I hate to break it to you, cupcake, but this was your idea.” Ashline's face wrinkled with a combination of bewilderment and nausea. Eve continued anyway. ”You said you wanted to spend time with me but you needed to finish your school year first. So I thought I'd give you the best of both worlds: the Wilde sisters, reunited, while you pretend to be a mortal for another month.”

”This is not what I had in mind,” Ashline growled.

265.

”How can you expect me to play make-believe like everything is honky-dory between us after you sabotaged the smoke detector and lit my G.o.dd.a.m.n bed on fire?”

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