Fallen - Lauren Kate [80]
She spun back around, terrified to face it, terrified of what it meant. Something was happening to her, and she could tell no one about it. She tried to focus on the lake, but even it was growing darker and difficult to see.
She was alone. Daniel had left her. And in his place, this path she didn’t know how—or want—to navigate. When the sun sank behind the mountains and the lake became a charcoal gray, Luce dared another glance back at the forest. She sucked in her breath, not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. It was a forest like any other, no quivering light or violet hum. No sign of Daniel’s ever having been there at all.
THIRTEEN
TOUCHED AT THE ROOTS
Luce could hear her Converse sneakers beating hard against the pavement. She could feel the humid wind tugging on her black T-shirt. She could practically taste the hot tar from a freshly paved portion of the parking lot. But when she flung her arms around the two huddled creatures near the entrance to Sword & Cross on Saturday morning, all of that was forgotten.
She had never been so glad to hug her parents in her life.
For days, she’d been regretting how cold and distant things had been at the hospital, and she wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.
They both stumbled as she plowed into them. Her mother started giggling and her dad thwacked her back in his tough-guy way with his palm. He had his enormous camera strapped around his neck. They straightened up and held their daughter at arm’s length. They seemed to want a good look at her face, but as soon as they got it, their own faces fell. Luce was crying.
“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” her father asked, resting his hand on her head.
Her mom fished through her giant blue pocketbook for her stash of tissues. Eyes wide, she dangled one in front of Luce’s nose and asked, “We’re here now. Everything’s fine, isn’t it?”
No, everything was not fine.
“Why didn’t you take me home the other day?” Luce asked, feeling angry and hurt all over again. “Why did you let them bring me back here?”
Her father blanched. “Every time we spoke to the headmaster, he said you were doing great, back in classes, like the trouper we raised. A sore throat from the smoke and a little bump on the head. We thought that was all.” He licked his lips.
“Was there more?” her mom asked.
One look between her parents told that they’d had this fight already. Mom would have begged to visit again sooner. Luce’s tough-love dad would have put his foot down.
There was no way to explain to them what had happened that night or what she’d been going through since then. She had gone straight back to classes, though not by her own choice. And physically, she was fine. It was just that in every other way—emotionally, psychologically, romantically—she couldn’t have felt more broken.
“We’re just trying to follow the rules,” Luce’s father explained, moving his big hand to squeeze her neck. The weight of it shifted her whole posture and made it uncomfortable to stand still, but it had been so long since she’d been this close to people she loved, she didn’t dare move away. “Because we only want what’s best for you,” her dad added. “We have to take it on faith that these people”—he gestured at the formidable buildings around campus, as if they represented Randy and Headmaster Udell and the rest of them—“that they know what they’re talking about.”
“They don’t,” Luce said, glancing at the shoddy buildings and the empty commons. So far, nothing at this school made any sense to her.
Case in point, what they called Parents’ Day. They’d made such a big deal about how lucky the students were to get the privilege of seeing their own flesh and blood. And yet it was ten minutes until lunchtime and Luce’s parents’ car was the only one in the parking lot.
“This place is an absolute joke,” she said, sounding cynical enough that her parents shared a troubled look.
“Luce, honey,” her mom said, stroking her hair. Luce could tell she wasn’t used to its short length.