Dangerous Magic

14. Claire

"Rochelle, it's late. You can't just go waking people up in the middle of the night! Do you even know what room she's in?"

Jackson had some good points; I just didn't want to listen. I was already on the stairs leading to the library's main level, prepared to go bang on every dorm room door until Claire answered one of them.

"No, but I bet you do. I bet you know the room number of every girl who follows you around. Guys like you always do."

"Guys like me?" Jackson scrunched up his face in confusion. I thought his nose was cute when it got all wrinkly like that. "What does that even mean?"

"I don't know." Shrugging, I tried to explain. "I watch a lot of movies. You just seem like you're That Guy. The one who plays with people's emotions. The hot guy who knows he's gorgeous but likes to be told so anyway." I shifted, uncomfortable under his gaze. I tried not to let it bother me when he pursed his lips to keep from laughing out loud. "I don't have a lot of friends."

Jackson grinned. "You think I'm gorgeous?"

I compared him to a basic high-school-heartthrob character trope and that's what he heard?

Ignoring his question, I reminded him: "You said you'd help me."

"I am helping! You would never have found that lead if I wasn't here. You've been here researching for three days and in three hours I made more progress than you."

I hated to admit he was right. Especially when he looked so smug about it.

"So then let's go wake her up and ask her about her family," I insisted. The conversation had come full circle and I wasn't any closer to getting real answers.

We didn't have time for circular arguments. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that even though it might feel like Jackson was enjoying himself, might even seem like he was flirting with me, he still thought I was unstable. And he was right.

"The sooner I get answers, the sooner I can get out of here. I'm sick of you telling me how dangerous you think I am."

The smile fell from Jackson's face. He did not get a chance to retort that he didn't think I was dangerous, he knew it, because the janitor entered the library at that moment. He backed in through the double door, using his hip to open one of them so he could pull his cart into the room. One glance into the library and he spotted me, halfway down the stairs, and Jackson, up on the landing.

I guess it was later than I realized.

"You're here again?" he said gruffly. He didn't seem surprised to find me there for the third night in a row, though the fact that I wasn't alone might have shocked him. He looked from me to Jackson and back. "Everything okay between you two?"

"We're good, Marty. Rochelle wants to go wake our friend up to ask her a question," Jackson looked pointedly at me. He knew the janitor's name. "And I think it can wait for tomorrow morning."

Marty huffed, pushing his cart over to the nearest trash can. There wasn't much in it, but he emptied it anyway, saying, "I don't much care what you do as long as you get out of here. You know you're not supposed to be here this late, missy."

"Call me Rochelle, Marty." I smiled at him, noticing the nametag that was sewn onto his blue uniform shirt. It was the first time I'd actually looked. I was too far away to read it, but now I knew what it said. "Same time tomorrow?"

He huffed again, though I thought I heard amusement in the expression. "If you insist." He didn't sound disappointed.

Heading back up the stairs, I brushed by Jackson to go gather my notes and replace the library books. While I could have checked them out, I didn't want it on record what I was searching for in case anybody decided to snoop.

A thud sounded on the first floor: Marty emptying another trash can into his cart. "You know," he called out, "I've been here four years, and I've seen you in the library more than any other student."

It wasn't a question, so I didn't feel the need to answer. Marty made a statement to which I had no reply.

Jackson didn't have that problem.

"That's because she's not a real student." Jackson handed me a pen that had rolled out of my reach and, smiling, told Marty my secret. "She's just here to learn about teleportation."

There was no stopping my jaw from hitting the floor this time. I froze with my hands halfway to accepting the pen in Jackson's hand.

Marty seemed to consider it for a moment. I heard the sound of a squeaky table shifting as he wiped down the surface. "This library is a pretty good one, as far as magischolas go, but you might want to talk to Mr. Phillips or Ms. Williams if you're looking for something that specific. Both of them have extensive personal collections."

Where did Ms. Williams keep her books? They certainly weren't on display in her stark office; I would have noticed. Not that she would loan me one but I didn't have to be the one who asked.

Maybe Jackson would prove to be helpful after all.

I finished reshelving the books, making a mental note of which ones I still needed to read tomorrow. Jackson, to his credit, did not spill any more of my secrets.

As we left, I turned to wave at Marty. He continued to wipe down tables but grunted a goodbye without looking up.

Jackson said good night and left for the opposite side of the dorm building--where the boys lived.

Thankfully, my dorm was still locked when I got there. That comfort, my lack of sleep, and the lead Jackson had discovered, were enough to have me asleep in minutes. No amount of caffeine could combat that combination.

For the first time since applying to Beatrice Potts Magischola a year ago, I felt like everything was going to work out.