Ferry met Ben in the school's corridor. They haven't spoken in nearly two weeks, and he had so much to tell him. A lot had happened in such a short time: Anne, Mrs. Jones, Andrew, Thyme's leaving ... But especially May's secret. He was sure that if he told Ben, he would have found out who told her secret. He had to do this until the Spring Fling. May had to know that he was innocent and she would have forgiven him by then. Ben would have definitely found out—he was the smartest boy he'd ever met.
"Ben! Ben!" he shouted behind him, but Ben didn't stop. Ferry had to run after him. Ben was walking incredibly fast for a human. Ferry managed to reach him when he stopped near his locker.
"Ben," Ferry said between gasps, "where's the hurry?"
"I have things to do, Ferry," Ben said, searching for something in his locker. "Make it quick!"
"I need to talk to you. You have to help me. We need to find out who could've found out about May's secret. Because it surely wasn't me ..."
But Ben seemed absent-minded; even irritated by Ferry's request. He, who liked to play the detective more than anything. Now, he seemed upset even by his presence.
"I can't," he said, closing the locker's door. "I'm busy."
"Busy doing what?" Ferry wondered.
"Well ... I have to study. For some of us, school is important, you know?" he frowned, avoiding his gaze.
Ferry was speechless for a second. "But Ben, you were busy studying before. What happened? Is it because of Steph? I hear you have problems ..."
"Steph and I broke up," Ben said softly.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," said Ferry. "You looked so fit for each other."
"Actually, no," Ben put it shortly. "We should have split up a long time ago. We didn't really have that much in common ... After all, not what two people have in common keeps them together. Sometimes, the biggest differences can make two people work, complement each other, discover each other, learn from each other ..." said Ben barely breathing.
Ferry was a bit confused," Ben, you could've told me. You're my friend ... I could have listened to you."
"Maybe if you weren't so busy with Celia, you could've listened to me," Ben replied, looking him dead in the eye.
Ferry's jaw dropped, "What is Celia got to do with this?" he asked. But in his mind, things were beginning to make sense.
Speaking of the devil! Ben opened his mouth to say something when Celia appeared as if from nowhere and got between them, her bright presence making everything look pale around her.
"Elf," she said loudly, in the spoilt tone that defined her. "What would you say if you and I met tonight at my place?" she added, arranging the collar of his shirt.
Ferry was still under the impression of what he had just discovered, "Not now, Celia," he said, removing her hands.
Ben, who was now with his nose stuck in Celia's shiny hair, took a few steps back. "I have to go," he said softly, moving away from them.
But Ferry had to settle things. "Ben wait!" he shouted behind his friend.
Ben didn't stop, so Ferry had to run after him again and cut his way. He pulled him toward a narrower corridor leading to the Biology classroom. The voices and the uproar were quieter in that corner.
"Ben, do you like Celia?" Ferry asked without taking his eyes off of him.
Ben didn't look at him when he said, "What difference does it make? It's s pretty obvious she's interested in you. And you in her..."
Ferry put his hand on Ben's shoulder, "Ben, I'm not interested in Celia. I mean ... she's beautiful and smart, and she's so much more than she appears to be. But I'm not interested in her. Not the way you think, anyway."
"Then why did you invite her to the prom?" Ben asked, this time looking into his eye.
"I just wanted to make May jealous," Ferry said softly. "It wasn't the best solution, apparently ..."
"But maybe Celia likes you," Ben added.
"I don't think so," Ferry said, shaking his head. "In fact..."
But he didn't get to say anything more because a voice roared from the other side of the corridor, covering the voices and the uproar around.
"There you are!" Matilda shouted as soon as she laid her eyes on him.
Then, she set off towards him like a storm. She seemed so angry, that Ferry thought if he should run. Ben took the opportunity and a left, becoming unseen at the end of the corridor and mingling in the crowd of students.
Now, Matilda was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips, her foot tapping nervously. That wasn't a good sign.
"Is it true you invited Celia to the prom?"
Ferry took a deep breath. It was clear that his choice was the worst thing he had ever done. "Yes, it's true," he said, sighing. But did you know Ben likes Celia?" he asked in turn.
Matilda rolled her eyes, "Ben likes Celia since third grade," she said as if it were the most natural thing.
"How come I didn't know?" Ferry wondered.
"Well, maybe if you opened your eyes and you weren't so concerned about your own person," she said between gasps, "you might have seen it," she added, squinting.
"But Matt, you said I should invite another girl to the prom to make May notice me ..."
"Yes, but not Celia!" she said, stressing the words. "God, sometimes you can be so clueless. I swear, sometimes, you're the dumbest boy I've ever met. And that has nothing to do with your nature, so don't blame it on that."
"But, Matt ..." he said softly, trying to hold her hand.
But Matilda kept her hand away from his touch. "You ruined everything," she said, and two tears sparkled between her eyelashes.
Then, she ran away from him, slipping through the crowd that began to gather around them. The bell rang and the corridors turned empty. Ferry was now alone.
*
Ferry was standing in the large drawing-room of the Haughty residence. She had insisted they had to see each other to talk about the preparations for the Spring Fling. She made it clear that to him that the prom's Queen was to be chosen and she would be that. But for that, she needed to have a proper partner.
While waiting for Celia, Ferry studied the pictures on the walls from which the four members of the family were smiling: Mr. and Mrs. Haughty, Celia and her ten-year-old sister, Amelia. Behind them, there were lush landscapes that Ferry has never seen before: fine sands, green trees, turquoise waters. Everyone seemed happy, satisfied with their lives. But somehow, the smiles were frozen, the jaws tightened, and above all, their eyes did not smile.
Celia finally arrived. She wore a light pastel green dress and matching ballerina shoes. Her hair was styled in a ponytail. She smiled when he saw him, and the boy wondered how this girl could be so different from the one who flirted, gossiped, and created intrigues everywhere around her.
"Come on, Ferry, help me up with this," she said, pushing a tea trolley; on the trolley, there was a new phonograph, newer than the one that Ferry had seen at the Pride mansion.
She then took a disc from a shelf of the trolley and played it. A piece of music with rhythmic guitar chords filled the room. Ferry has heard that music before on the radio in his living room. Celia began to dance to that music with swift movements of her arms and feet. Ferry remained in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do.
"Do you like it?" Celia shouted from the middle of the musical uproar. "It's called rock and roll and it's very popular in the Big City," "she said, still dancing. Ferry couldn't say he particularly liked it. He loved more melodious and less loud music.
Celia came closer and took him by his hands and began to move them in his place. But Ferry remained just as stiff.
"Come on, dance with me," she said. "Close your eyes and let the music drive you."Ferry tried to do as he was told. But instead of the light movements, he could only bring out a bouncing accompanied by hands and feet accidentally thrown into the air as if he was a scarecrow blown by the wind.
Seeing Celia's shocked face, he realized he was far from what was called dance.
Celia turned off the phonograph. "I'll have a lot of work with you," she said, squeezing her lips."I'm sorry, Celia," said Ferry. "It's just that I'm not really good at things like that."
"Have you ever been to a party?" she asked.
Ferry shook his head no. He remembered his parents' parties in the back yard. Of course, his mother had everything properly made, with plenty of food, and his father made sure that the wine was always at the best temperature. Then, his parents dressed in the best clothes and welcomed their guests, most often their father's working mates and their wives. That's what a party of the Donovan family meant.
"Don't worry, I'll teach you," she told him.
"To be honest, I don't see why we should strive so much. Shouldn't Spring Fling be just for fun and nothing more?"
"Are you joking?" Celia frowned. "Everything must be perfect. We must both look impeccable and behave impeccably. This prom is important to me. I will show everyone, once and for all, that I am worthy of a queen."
Ferry shrugged at such a shallow wish. He had never wanted to be in the spotlight, and yet, ever since he knew himself, he had always been the subject of discussion in town for one reason or another. Now, he had no desire to be that again. He imagined the Spring Fling to be something different.
"Does that mean I need a new suit? Should I go to Mr. Button to have my measures taken?"
She looked at him as if he was talking about the greatest sacrilege. "Do you want to wear a suit tailored in a poor tailor shop from the neighbourhood? No way. My father's personal tailor will come from the Big City especially for this. You will have the most expensive suit tailored from the best materials," she decided.
"But, Celia, I haven't gotten money for an expensive suit ..."
"Don't worry, Papa will pay for it."
Ferry shook his head, "I can't accept that ..."
Celia shrugged. "There's nothing for my father. He would do anything to make his little girl happy.
"But, Celia--"
His protests were interrupted by small steps approaching. Amelia, Celia's sister, made her appearance in the room, as radiant as her sister. Her hair was just as blond, her eyes just as blue, her attitude just as arrogant.
He began to walk around Ferry, studying him from head to toe. "Is this your boyfriend, Celia?"
"Amelia, get out of here! Can't you see I'm busy?"
"He's nice ..." she said. "In a weird way ... He's not like the other boys ..."
"Amelia, how can you talk like that?" Celia scolded her. "What if Papa hears you?"
"I think Papa would be rather curious to know why Billy is not your partner for the prom?"
"Stop sticking your little nose where you don't belong! Go away!" Celia shouted.
Amelia left the room giggling and laughing.
Celia was ready to start the dance lesson again when the sound of heels was heard approaching. Mrs. Haughty made her flamboyant appearance. She wore in a pastel pink dress, too tight for her generous figure.
"Oh, I see you have a visitor," she said, her voice suddenly becoming languid. "Hello, Ferry!"
"Hello, Mrs. Haughty," Ferry said, stepping back in front of Celia's mother who took over his personal space. Her strong perfume gave him a sudden headache.
"Celia, darling, let me tell you that you will have a wonderful partner for the Spring Fling," she said, measuring him. "Obviously, his manners need a little more work, but I think he will do great. I'm sure you'll be the Queen of the ball. However, I do not understand how Billy invited that little peasant girl of the florist instead of you."
Ferry felt a heatwave taking him over. He clenched his fists, trying to control himself.
Celia sighed. All the good mood was lost since her mother entered the room. "Billy can invite whoever he wants, Mum," she said.
"I know, dear, Do not worry. Just give him time, let him fly free for a while. He'll fly from one flower to another until he'll see you're the most beautiful of all. You'll have a lifetime to spend with each other."
Celia's breath accelerated. He took Ferry by hand and pulled him up the stairs. "Let's go, Ferry. I'm lacking the air all of a sudden."
In her room, Celia seemed to calm down.
"I'm sorry you had to hear my mother," she said, sighing. "She is awfully bored with everything. She's all that I despise most: the wife of a former chauffeur who knew how to flush his boss and get into a high position that he doesn't even know how to handle. She doesn't realize she's just a puppet in all this charade."
"Can't we get out of here?" Ferry suggested. "What would you say to go to the lake house?"
"No!" Celia rushed to answer. A little too quick which gave Ferry the thoughts. "I mean," she tried to smile, "it's all dirty and boring ..."
"But I thought it was your favorite place," insisted Ferry.
"Not anymore," she put it shortly, keeping her gaze away. "It's time to become someone else's favorite place."
She turned her back to him and looked through the large window that led to the lake. In the white room, with white curtains and white furniture, silence fell. Ferry thought all that bright white that should have meant the status and luxury of the Haughty family was nothing but emptiness. A huge void, as big as the void in their souls.
"Why did you agree to come to the prom with me, Celia?" Ferry asked, stepping closer. You refused everyone before me. Why me?"
Celia turned to him and until she was arrogant again, Ferry caught a curious look in her eyes. Sadness? Contemplation? He couldn't say. He didn't know Celia that well. In fact, he didn't even know if there was anyone in front of whom Celia would open up.
"Don't flatter yourself, Ferry," she said, trying to bring her arrogant smile back to her lips. "Of course, you are a nice-looking boy with your white hair and your grey eyes; you have a good soul and you treat those around you with kindness, and that is the credit of your mother, for the most part. But I like clever boys. And to be honest, you're not among the smartest boys I've ever met ... In fact, quite the opposite."
Ferry felt his blood rushing to his head, "Listen, Celia, if you brought me here just to get rid of boredom or to annoy your parents or to insult me ... Well, you've got the wrong person."And he turned to leave.
"I'm sorry," she said, hurrying to stop him on his way. She spoke in a gentle tone that Ferry had never heard before. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that sometimes you don't see what's right in front of you. Now, stop being grumpy, and let's learn how to dance."
"Without the music?" he wondered.
"We don't need music. Can you count up to four? That's all you need to know. Then, you'll just have to follow my lead.
And she put her hands on his shoulders and placed his hands on her thin thighs. Then she started moving on unheard music, counting. Ferry tried to imitate her. Celia encouraged him with a smile.
"You see, it's not that hard. In a few days, you will be a master of the dance. May will die of jealousy when she'll see us," she said, winking at him.
*
When Ferry left the Haughty residence, it was already dark. The hours he spent with Celia turned out to be enjoyable, in the end. Ferry had even managed to master some dance figures. Celia prepared sandwiches and milk and they ate in her room, then played scrabble. Ferry thought that Ben was right to like her--under the spoilt surface, there was a big heart beating.
Now, Ferry was made to leave the villa, refusing to be taken home by Celia's driver. Instead, he started for the house by the lake. After passing the wild hedges at the edge of the Haughty domain, he decided it was dark enough for him to fly. It was a pitch-black, moonless night. The lake seemed to blend with the wind's blow, as dark as the sky above. The wind rattling among the branches with young leaves, which hit each other, made him feel the cold. The place made him feel lonelier than ever. He slowly descended near the lake house.
Through the glass wall, flickers of light were breaking. Ferry approached carefully and looked inside--the last flames were still burning in the fireplace. Someone was sleeping on the couch in front of it, wrapped in a thick blanket. Ferry recognized Andrew's ebony hair and his white face. But his presence there did not surprise him. Celia had proved to be a good friend to Billy, offering shelter to his secret lover without expecting anything in return. Moreover, she had given up her favorite place which said a lot about her kindness. It was not his job to get his nose into a story as intricate and complicated as the love story between Billy and Andrew.
Instead, something else caught his eye. Near the old couch, something was glistening: a drop of silver trembling in the playful light cast by the flames.
*
The next days were quiet. Even at the Pride mansion, it was peace. But the silence was heavy and overwhelming. Mr. Pride was still at the manor, but the spirits between him and his son had calmed down with Andrew's departure. Ferry had seen Billy several times standing on the terrace of the guest room where Andrew lived and looking in the distance. But his blood still ran to his head every time he remembered Billy would be May's partner for the Spring Fling. Billy would be the one to smell the sweet scent of jasmine and feel her hair touching his cheek as they danced. Besides, all of those would mean nothing to Billy whose heart was completely and irrevocably given to Andrew. Life was not fair, that was for certain
Each day after work, Ferry was going to Celia to rehearse for the prom. He didn't have anyone to spend the time, anyway. Ben and Matilda avoided him both. If Ben's reaction was fully understood now, Matilda's reaction seemed exaggerated. It wasn't her business whom he invited the prom. Once in a while, he would remember the last time he met Matilda before the storm when he felt her fingers trembling on his lips. Then, he would shake off that memory which eventually turned into a muffled dream from which he understood nothing. What had happened (or rather had not happened) between them, stayed in the fog. It remained just an impression of his. It was better that way ...
At Haughty residence, Celia kept her word--she had called her father's tailor to take Ferry's measures for his new suit. The rest of the evening, they repeated all sorts of dances, rhythmic or slower. Ferry had dropped the hopping and bouncing, and he could now say he was a pretty good dancer.
"See? It wasn't that hard, wasn't it?" Celia said, excited about the result of the dance lessons. "I think you should put your name on the list for the prom's King. It could be our evening. Everyone would die of envy."
Ferry shook his head. He didn't care what the others thought. He had never cared.
"Are there lists for that?" he wondered.
"You're joking? Celia laughed. "In high school, there are lists for everything. You're also on a few."
"Is that right? Which one?" he asked, suddenly becoming curious.
"Well, I know you're on the list of cute boys. Among the first five, at least. You have more admirers than you think."
"Who's making that list?"
"The girls, of course. The boys have theirs."
Ferry was now curious. "Who's on the boys' list?"
"Obviously, I," she said. "And your friends. May and Matilda."
"Matt?" Ferry wondered. "How can she be on the list? She hates all these things: dresses, makeup, how to style her hair ..." Talking about it, Ferry felt that warmth again. "She is stubborn, naughty, and does just what she wants, without caring about anyone or anything," he added.
"Maybe all this makes her so interesting," Celia said, smiling meaningfully. "But under all the heavy shield she puts on every time, I'm sure there's a sensitive soul hiding."
"Matt, sensitive ..." Ferry snorted. How had they come to talk about Matilda, in the first place?
Celia stepped closer and looked him in the eye, "Poor elf, so clueless ... If you could only open your eyes, Ferry ... If you could see what everyone sees ..."
Ferry frowned. What did she mean? A light knock on Celia's door interrupted his thoughts. At Ferry's sight, Tom Haughty, Celia's father, stayed in the door's frame. He was tall and lean and Ferry now realized to whom the Haughty girls resembled.
"Celia," he said, in a critical tone. "What is this boy doing in your room?"
Celia rolled her eyes, "We are rehearsing for the prom, Papa," she said.
"You can do it as well in the drawing-room," he said coldly.
"Yes," Celia said, "if not everyone would spy on us."
"Careful with the tone, Celia!" he raised his voice. "After you're done with rehearsing, I'm waiting for you in my office, young man," he added, then turned away and left.
"Don't worry," Celia said. "He'll teach you how to behave with his precious little girl. You just have to nod. It'll be over soon."
But Ferry was still nervous. If he only knew from the beginning what inviting Celia to the prom meant...
Ferry didn't know much about Thomas Haughty, the other owner of the sawmill. His father envied and admired him at the same time. He had started from the very bottom, as a driver of Albert Pride Sr. In a short time, showing an out of the ordinary loyalty, he had become his right hand, so that he entrusted the management of the factory to him, along with his son. Loyalty, ambition, and flattery, not necessarily in that order, were Thomas Haughty's keys to success. Although he did not travel as often as Mr. Pride Jr, Tom Haughty was the second most important man in Goodharts.
Ferry felt his heart racing as he knocked on his office's door.
"Come in," Mr. Haughty's authoritative voice commanded.
Ferry took a deep breath and entered. Mr. Haughty's office was rather austere. The walls were not covered with shelves like at the Pride Mansion. Instead, they were adorned with modern paintings in which shapes and colors intertwined, creating strange compositions. Apart from the white desk, the equally white beverage cabinet and the massive cream leather armchairs in front of it, nothing else existed; so Mr. Haughty's voice hit the walls, its echo becoming even louder.
He invited Ferry to sit on one of the armchairs with a short gesture; as he sat, Ferry had the feeling of sinking.
"So ... You're the famous Ferry Donovan," he said, penetrating him with his small eyes that cast cold sparks like an ice pick. "I believe you'll want to know why I called you here."
Ferry nodded.
"Well, I want to know what are your intentions with my daughter."
Ferry cleared his throat before answering, "Mr. Haughty, I have no intentions with your daughter. We're just friends ..."
Mr. Haughty laughed. His loud laughter echoed beyond the walls of the room. "Let's be serious. A boy of your condition must have a hidden interest ..."
Ferry shook his head, "I can assure you I have no hidden interest," he said. He couldn't tell him he had invited Celia just to make May jealous.
Mr. Haughty stared at him, tapping his fingers on his office. "Tell me, young man, what do you like to do? Besides gardening, that is, which I heard you master quite well, he said with a grin.
Ferry didn't understand what he was saying, "Well ... I like to spend time with my friends, to ride a bike, to--"
But Mr. Haughty didn't seem too interested in Ferry's hobbies. "Do you have more ... unusual passions?" he asked, looking closely at him, his eyes on Ferry's pointy ears.
Ferry frowned, "Such as?"
"I don't know," said Mr. Haughty lighting up a cigar and blowing the thick smoke toward him. For instance, have you ever been interested in where you come from? Who are your natural parents?"
"No," said Ferry, feeling his whole body tense. "I never needed to know. My parents ... I mean my Mum, she always gave me everything I needed. And more."
His answer did not seem to satisfy Celia's father who suddenly became nervous. He got up from his desk and began to walk back and forth behind Ferry. Ferry's hands tightened on the armrests. What did this man want from him? It was clear that he didn't consider him worthy of his daughter. Then why was he there?
Mr. Haughty came back to his desk and tried to show that he was in control. Ferry was already on alert.
"Almost seven years ago," he said in a tone that wanted to sound indifferent, you went in search of your schoolmate who had disappeared into the woods. Have you met anything or anyone ... weird in that place?"
So that was it! Celia's father wanted to know more about his adventure into the Shepherd's Forest. But why? Maybe because they were soon seven years since?
"I don't know ..." Ferry stammered. "I don't remember ... It's been a long time..."Mr. Haughty leaned over the desk. His face was so close, that Ferry felt his expensive cologne. It smelled of money, mixed with the smoke of cigar which made him even dizzier.
"Oh, come on," he said in a low voice that seemed threatening to Ferry, "don't you really remember anything? Have your dreams been ever haunted by the beings you met ... there?"
Ferry's breathing sped up, "I was only a child ... A child with a lot of imagination..." he mumbled.
Mr. Haughty slammed his fist into the desk so hard, that the glass of drink and ashtray clanged.
"A child!" he roared. "But one who has certainly broken a lot of things with his ignorance!"
Ferry had enough. He pushed his chair back and rose from it, "I think it's time for me to leave."
"I didn't give you permission to leave!" barked Mr. Haughty.
"With all due respect, sir, I didn't ask for your permission," Ferry said before storming out the door.
Well, it seems like several people in Goodharts have a big part in the grand scheme of things. What do you think Celia's father is? Can't wait for your theories ;)