The Brightest Star in a Constellation

25: Hiding Place

☆ Evan ☆

It turns out that everything can go to shit very rapidly.

Claire doesn't pick me up in the morning. And, to make matters worse, I'm not allowed to take the car.

"Here," Randall whispers when we're both in the kitchen before Elaine wakes. He slips his bus pass for the month into my hand. "There's nothing I can do when she gets into that state of mind. I'm sorry, but we have to deal with it."

I end up on Northwood's direct line to the school an hour before I would usually leave. Bored out of my mind. I have no music and no phone. Carolyn didn't think to give it back, and I'm not about to sneak into her room to find it.

I hold my house key in my hand, turning the hourglass upside down. The bright red sand falls from above, a noise that's barely audible over the bus rumbling as it drives across the bumps in the road.

Most of the buses in the town run at odd hours, heading toward bigger cities. If I stayed on for long enough, I would eventually leave Northwood. It doesn't matter what direction they're headed in. Inevitably, they leave. When I think about June, when I think about graduation, I also think about how I'm getting out. And I've checked—it would take me about six hours to get to Halifax by bus, and a little over three if I drove.

I sit in the middle row, a newspaper with a half-finished crossword on my right. Four letters; not even one, the clue reads. (The answer is apparently 'none.') In the back, a student cracks the window open to smoke without being noticed.

I flip the hourglass over again. Counting the seconds it takes before the sand reaches the bottom.

The bus arrives at school with fourteen minutes to spare. As I make my way to my locker, Claire intercepts my path. She extends her hands to keep me from passing her. And her eyes are glowing with embers so intense that it burns to meet her gaze.

"What the hell did you do?"

Has she ever been this angry before? I don't know that I recognize this version of Claire Lethbridge. Her clothes are different. An oversized hoodie and washed-out jeans, like she grabbed the first two items of clothing she saw. Her hair is different. She's pushed it over to the right side, so it twists in the opposite direction as mine.

"Evan, don't ignore me. I need to know what happened. I've already heard it from Jenny, but... I don't know if I believe it."

Claire doesn't let me move past her. I try to sidestep, but she plays defence. My palms have gone cold.

"Sure. Whatever she said, it was probably true." I dodge underneath her arm to get to my locker.

Claire brushes her hand against my side. For a second, I jump back. Her eyes go wide. The shock is palpable. "Are you okay? You're being... weird."

"We can talk about it at lunch," I suggest.

"I think we should talk now." Her voice grows hushed, urgent. "I came before my free period. Let's go outside."

I agree with her, shutting my locker. We take the exit door to the back garden. Claire sits on the bench that faces the street, under the lazy shade. I think Elaine told me there was a word for it—a frescade. A shady walkway. A place where the shadows reside, where the darkness pounces. Its claws dig into me, never letting go.