Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [53]
And then there was the other part of me, the part that was so terrified of what I might see in my dreams, it shook me into consciousness when I’d start to slip into slumber.
After dozing off in fitful ten-minute intervals, around the time the view outside my window turned from a dark shadow of the building across the street to a hazy fog, I finally fell asleep.
My eyes felt like they were pried open by crowbars when my alarm went off, the sound piercing into my brain. I stared at the foggy weather through the raindrop-stained window.
Oh, today’s just going to be great.
“Holy sh—sugar, Em,” Ashley said when she saw me, censoring herself as my aunt sat in the floral recliner in her pink bathrobe, sipping a steaming mug of coffee.
“Hey, Ashley,” I croaked. She had come upstairs to get me since she didn’t feel like waiting in the drizzling rain.
“I didn’t really sleep well last night.” Or sleep at all. I figured I had ninety minutes, total, of sleep. And that’s a generous estimation.
I felt guilty as my aunt soothed me with a cup of warm tea, clucking about how hard I had been hitting the books lately. Well, I had been hitting the books, they were just antique volumes filled with supernatural tales, not my Latin books. Christine took pity on us and even though the rain had halted to a fine mist, handed over a crisp twenty-dollar bill for a taxi to school.
“I feel bad for you, dear, lugging all those schoolbooks around,” she said, gesturing to the tote bag filled with Angelique’s books. I had covered the telltale antiques with an old sweater, and I never felt guiltier in my life—especially since I should be focusing on Latin, not doomed medieval romance.
In the cab, Ashley rummaged through her bag and shoved some concealer in my hands.
“Seriously, you look like you just went ten rounds in the ring.” I surveyed the destruction in her mirror and stared, dismayed, at the dark rings under my eyes. I had more bags than Louis Vuitton. I brushed my hair hastily with the tiny plastic brush that Ashley kept in her backpack—seriously, that girl’s bag had more beauty products than books. I couldn’t get rid of the tangles so I just gave up, slipping an old baseball cap on and pulling my damp hair back into a loose braid. I tried covering up my eye bags, but the makeup looked chalky on my skin, and drew even more attention to the shadows. Resigned, I handed Ashley back her mirror.
“You really look like hell,” she said, then made an embarrassed face. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I feel like hell,” I replied. “At least it’s Thursday. Just one more day of this.” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“You stayed up all night studying? Really?” Ashley sounded unconvinced.
“Yep, I just took on this project,” I lied. “It’s an independent study.” Well, it’s kind of the truth.
The cab went too far and dropped us off a block past the school. We walked back the rest of the way, but Ashley may as well have been carrying me as my tired feet—laden with Angelique’s books—plodded forward slowly.
As we approached the school, my heart leapt—then fell.
Brendan was back. The hood on his North Face jacket was up, shielding him from the misty weather as he leaned against the damp mailbox, looking in the direction I normally walked from. My cousin rolled her eyes at me and ran ahead, yelling, “Emma, see you later.”
He turned around, his face brightening when he saw me—then his features fell when he got a good look at me. I self-consciously smoothed my messy braid and suddenly was so thankful for my cap. I pulled the brim lower as I approached.
“Emma, hey,” Brendan said, flicking his hood back and brushing his damp hair off his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I was just up late…reading?” It sounded like a question.
“Oh, reading? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” And suddenly, the easy, breezy familiarity was back. Lord Archer would never play games with Gloriana like this. I stuck my tongue out at him. I couldn