The Fake Eye (Time Alchemist) Page 4

  Though I heard the occasional “he’s tattoo is so rad!” or “she’s just like a little doll, isn’t she?” to “they must be with the witness protection program—

  it’s totally the only way they could be here so late, you know?”, I found out pretty much nothing about the UMD—the Unidentified Mysterious Duo.

  As the bell clanged out, signaling the end of our last class for the day, I shoved through crowds of clustered students and made my way out into the humid air. The only hunch I had was to check out the boy’s dormitory, see if maybe Leon had heard or seen the new kid. And then after that, scour around at my dorm for any sign of a small girl with strange, mesmerizing eyes.

  But I hadn’t even gotten down three steps when an arm clamped around my shoulders, pulling me back with such ferocity I almost choked. Light hair tickled my cheek, and I smelled airy, strawberry scented perfume that only

  belonged to one person: Karin Foster.

  A junior, Karin was one of the first (and probably only) friend I had made here at St. Mary’s. She was president of the Humanities Club last semester, but had cancelled the remainder of the meetings last week so we could all focus on finals. She’s witty, charming, and bubbly—but a little bit pushy. However, she knows more about Savannah than any other student here, and she’s damn proud of her family heritage and the city’s history. If it wasn’t for her, I would have never known about a certain secret that probably saved my life last Christmas. I owed her a lot more than my life, believe me!

  “You,” she sighed, a teasing smile played on her lips, “Are one hard girl to find, you know that Emery? Come on, then, we’re gonna be late.”

  I shot her a quizzical look. “Are we having a meeting today at club? I thought they were cancelled until ‘further notice’.”

  “Not that meeting,” Karin said with her thick Southern accent I had grown to admire, pulling me rather away from my goal and headed to the massive four-story brick building that we called the library. “This is something special, alright? Just trust me.”

  She had that sly look on her face that made me not want to trust her, but whatever she had to show me would be quick. Right? Besides, I hadn’t talked to her a lot recently, what with all the training and heavy school work. Karin was always busy with other things that she would never speak of, so it couldn’t hurt to see what she wanted.

  We headed into the library, marched past the little coffee shop nestled in the corner, past the librarian’s desk (which was conspicuously empty), and down a familiar hall that I had walked by every Saturday morning of every weekend last semester. Just when I thought it was a crazy coincidence, Karin stopped in front of the oak door that lead to the basement level of the library.

  The archives and storage level.

  A shrill of fear ran down my spine.

  Karin grinned and pressed a finger to her lip before opening the door.

  Inside, the room was pitch black; I had to put a hand on the wall so I didn’t trip down the stairs. I hadn’t even taken two steps when the door slammed shut, shutting us in complete darkness.

  I reached in front to grab Karin, but she was gone. Vanished, like she was just a ghost. Just as I turned, ready to kick the door down, the room below suddenly glowed in a calming, blue-green light.

  And then I saw it.

  The archives—which were heavily packed with mismatched and broken furniture, boxes of files and papers and a whole lot of dust—had been cleared away or shoved into the far corners. The windows, high above our heads that would have been impossible to reach without climbing on a ladder, were draped over with thick black curtains. On the ceiling, a few dozen paper lanterns were strewn about, casting off the bluish-green light…that showed the faces of twenty-something girls, all sitting on cushioned chairs…staring right at me.

  I couldn’t even move. What the hell was this? A hand grasped my arm lightly, and I saw Karin smile, that wide, Cheshire-like smile, and led me to the opposite room, where about a dozen other girls—small, terrified and clueless

  —were standing with their backs pressed to the wall so stiffly it almost looked as if they wished they could sink into the stone and hide.

  I was pushed against the wall too, and Karin walked away, coming to rest on a podium I had missed that was nestled in the far corner. She didn’t need a microphone to speak—everyone had their complete, undivided attention on her.

  Except one girl sitting in the audience section: Mallory Wells, sending a

  look so burning and toxic I had to turn away.

  I felt something soft brush against my hand. Startled, I looked sharply to my left and saw a familiar, friendly face: Samantha Penwell, a girl who had formerly been one of Mallory’s ‘friends’ last semester, but had slowly come out of her cocoon and became a sweeter, kinder person when not in Mallory’s shadow. She started running in her own little circles, so we never really spoke much after the Winter Formal, one of St. Mary’s biggest dances.

  She was giving me a scared, but assuring smile. I gave one back, glad to know I had at least one girl on my side.

  “Welcome, Sisters,” Karin began. And I stared in complete awe. The sweet, optimistic girl had transformed into a beautiful goddess almost; a stern but calm expression on her face. In these strange lights, she looked ethereal.

  Nobody could touch her. “The meeting of the Magnolia Bells have commenced.”

  The Magnolia Bells? Sounded like a hippie band name. But when other girls chorused in their greetings, I realized, with a jolt, that this wasn’t some silly club—

  This was a sorority. A sorority that Karin had mentioned to me so long ago, I had completely forgotten about it. And with good reason: according to her, only juniors and seniors had access to the elite groups. I was just a sophomore; a last minute transfer. Why would I be concerned about it?

  If I were the “old” Emery Miller—the Emery Miller who would have done anything to get into such a circle—I would be doing a little goofy dance right there in the corner. But I wasn’t her anymore.

  But that didn’t stop the fact that I was now totally one hundred percent riveted.

  Karin turned to the girls plastered by the wall, and smiled. “Let me give

  you a little history of the Magnolia Bells. Long ago, in the early 1940’s, a young student named Isabella Thompson came to St. Mary’s Academy and started a secret society for the few women of the Academy. At that time, it was very rare for a girl to get a good education—especially in a school that was also shared with men; though the grounds were at once split down the middle.

  Isabella gathered her closest friends and created the Magnolia Bells. And they made a pact: no matter what sort of obstacle, they, as sisters, would all overcome it together.

  “Over time, the Magnolia Bells grew. And every year, twelve new students are selected to partake in the Trials of Isabella, to see if they are worthy of becoming a Sister and carrying Isabella Thompson’s name.

  Although we have evolved since—there are some rules that shall never change: so, to you twelve new ducklings…if you are truly serious about becoming part of the Magnolia Bells, you must take these tasks seriously. Because only five of you will be selected to join our society. Do you understand?”

  The silence was crushing; I could feel the crackle of electricity shift through the room. The Magnolia Bells were huge, filled with all powerful, rich girls who could…help me. If I got into the Magnolia Bells, I could get into any college I want—get any job I wanted. I’d be one step closer to fulfilling my goals.

  This is what I had wanted when I came to St. Mary’s. To belong to something, to be a part of the in crowd; the circle. I would be untouchable. I would get the respect I needed. The Magnolia Bells would have been the steps I needed to climb in order to get to the top.

  But, as Karin continued with smaller issues, going on with a little more history and such, I knew deep in my heart that I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.

  I was an alchemist. I didn’t belong in some s
ecret society.

  I had bigger things to take care of.

  Even though I wished so much that, for once, I could go back to the days of when I was a normal, boring kid again.

  The meeting ended, and we, the twelve little lost sheep, were ushered out quickly and quietly. We had our instructions: just sit, wait, and don’t say a word about the meeting. Or else. No problem with me, considering I wasn’t going to join (even though I wanted to!). By the time I reached the library doors, the sky had turned a flaming, soft orange, melding in with bursts of red.

  How long had that meeting lasted? It couldn’t have been more than an hour.

  But it was probably too late to go searching for the transfer students.

  Feeling glum, I shouldered my bag and did a one-eighty, deciding to go see Dad again, when the library doors burst open and Karin stomped out, followed by a red-faced Mallory.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, Karin Foster!” Mallory yelled,

  “Answer me! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to destroy the reputation of the club?!”

  Karin flashed her a smile. “There’s nothin’ to destroy, Mals. Quit getting your panties all twisted up.”

  “Don’t you tell me that, Foster!” Mallory hissed. “We have a legacy to uphold, and I find it insulting that you’re dragging some filthy half-baked scholarship student into our organization.”

  I wanted to say something, boy, did I. My blood felt like it was boiling.

  Karin or Mallory hadn’t noticed me yet; they just kept walking away. I followed. It wasn’t my fault that Dad’s apartment was in this general direction.

  And I wanted to jump in if Mallory got super nasty with Karin—though I’m pretty sure Karin could take care of herself blindfolded and with one hand tied behind her back.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Mals,” Karin replied coolly. “Just because

  she’s here on a scholarship doesn’t mean she can’t have an equal chance of becoming a member. And she might not be the same as us—but I know for a fact that her great-grandmother and her grandmother both attended this Academy. Just cause there’s a little bump in the family line doesn’t mean anything.”

  I was floored. How did Karin know about all that? The reason I had wanted to come to St. Mary’s was because my grandmother had boasted about it. See, my mother even went to the elementary and middle school branches of St. Mary’s, but when my grandfather got a job up North, they had to pack their bags and move. And that’s why I could only get in during my sophomore—just when the time was right.

  But Mallory went on as if Karin had simply recited the Gettysburg Address instead of giving proper evidence to come to my defense and justify her actions. “It doesn’t matter, Karin! What kind of reputation would we have if we started letting scholarship students in? Or worse—students whose own father cleans our filthy toilets. What kind of man who has any respect would do that?”

  Something inside of me snapped, like a tight rubber band pulling my heart until it popped. Everything turned red, and I wanted to rush Mallory blind and slam her into the dirt and shove her perfect, oil-free skin into the earth.

  But even then I couldn’t do a thing, because both girls had disappeared into the Administrative Building, slamming the door with such a force I felt my insides crack in two.

  Mallory wanted a war? Bring it on. I was getting into the Magnolia Bells. I’d get in just to show that spoiled brat (and I use that term lightly) that she will regret insulting my Dad.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Respect? What the hell does she know about respect? My Dad has more respect in his whole being than you have in your fake pinky nail. Give me an opportunity and I’ll show you respect.”

  I was ranting to the woods again, but I didn’t care. I was still pissed; Mallory’s snide words bouncing inside my head like children in an inflatable bouncy castle. Lineage and bloodlines don’t mean anything if that’s the only thing you rely on in life. It’s all about blood, sweat and tears. It’s about family that cares about you and the efforts you put into your work.

  Screw Mallory Wells. I’d make her eat her words when I became an official Sister of the Magnolia Bells. Maybe she’ll be so furious she’ll quit. If she does I hope I have a camera ready to capture her shocked face—I’d mount it on the freaking bedroom wall.

  But I knew that Mallory didn’t’ just hate on me because I was a scholarship student, or the fact that my Dad was a janitor—those were just two stupid excuses that she could flaunt in my face. She hated me since the first day we met—and it wasn’t because who I was…it was who I was with.

  A boy who swept me off my feet, like some old fashioned Prince Charming come to life in a grand fairy tale. A boy I had befriended in this lonesome place, a person who became my rock in this abnormal world, and who became my first serious, painful crush. A boy who stole my heart—then ripped it out with poisoned tipped claws, crushing it to bloody bits.

  I let out all my pent up frustration on a harmless pinecone, kicking it so hard it scuffed my shoe. It flew like a lost missile in between the oak trees, catching in a bit of hanging Spanish moss like a soccer hitting the net. But beyond the moss, I saw the faint glimmer of white stone. The Old Chapel.

  Feeling a small burst of nostalgia slide under my skin, I took a sharp right and tromped through the woods. I don’t know what I was expecting, really, but maybe the sight of a Church of God would put my mind—and heart

  —at ease.

  Though it was one of the oldest buildings on campus, it was abandoned some years ago. However, its seclusion, hidden perfectly in the shades of the looming oaks, made it the perfect spot for secret rendezvous and drunken parties. Luckily, with the breath of finals and overly demanding teachers at everyone’s necks, the parties had been on temporary hold. With its pristine white walls, boarded up windows and brown grass, it seemed like the perfect spot for a horror fan.

  But it was peaceful, a perfect solitary place to collect my thoughts—

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  —I take that back. Instantly my heart froze, my hand hovering just inches from the white stone walls. That was Leon’s voice echoing from the opposite side of the Chapel. What was he doing here so late in the day? I stepped forward, until I heard a second voice, so soft it sounded like a whisper, drift from the same direction.

  “You know what’s going on here, Leon.”

  That was Dove’s voice, cool and low, like the sweet sound of a trickling waterfall. Despite myself, I crept closer, straining my ears to the conversation. I shouldn’t even be snooping around; heck, I should have just walked away, or even jumped in to see what this fight was about. And just as I was about to do…

  something, Leon’s next words cut me cold, like an ice pick had stabbed through my ribs.

  “This is about Guinevere, isn’t it? How many times do I have to explain myself? She gave me those pages, Dove. I can’t explain why she did it, but

  that’s the whole story!”

  “Then why can’t I believe you?” Dove replied, her voice sounding strained and tired, as if she were just mere seconds away from crying. “It doesn’t make sense why she would do that…unless she knew what was going to happen—”

  “There’s no way she would ever let something like that happen!” Leon snapped. “Why would she let that man attack us on purpose if she could have prevented it? I can’t explain the reason why she left me those pages, Dove! I just can’t! Why can’t you trust me?”

  “Because you’re being evasive with me!” Dove yelled back. I flinched. I had never heard Dove scream like that. Oh sure, she’s raised her voice plenty of times before, but never on this level. It was as if she was treating Leon like some criminal. “Lately, all you ever do is practice and lock yourself away in your room, Leon. I don’t expect you to be around all day, but you’ve just been…off. Something’s wrong with you, but I can’t place it. I’m worried about you, Leon.”

  Leon said something i
naudible, forcing Dove to raise her voice an octave. “Don’t think I don’t know what this is really all about.”

  “And what’s that?” he replied, sounding tired.

  There was a long pause, so long that my knees began trembling. “You want to go find her. You want to leave and go look for Guinevere.”

  I expected something. Him snapping like a caged lion, a sort of denial or even an angry outburst, but not this painful silence. My own heart seemed to swell in my throat when he didn’t immediately reject her accusation.

  Finally, after what seemed like a full minute, Dove spoke, “Leon…I don’t blame you for wanting to. If I could, I’d go in a heartbeat. But we have bigger priorities right now—we need to stay here and protect Emery. And I

  can’t do that alone—I need you here. I need you to trust me.”

  A choked laugh came out of Leon. “Trust? How—how can you even ask me that when you called me out here and basically accuse me of lying? Trust works both way, Dove. And even though we are working towards the same goal, it feels like all you’re doing is pushing me farther and farther away. I’m just…tired of this.”

  Dove sighed. At that moment, the wind picked up, blowing hot air through the woods, rustling the bright green leaves in harmony. I missed Dove’s words, but I could easily guess what she said.

  “I’m done with this.”

  “Leon, wait!” Dove called out. I heard the rustling of fabric. “I’m sorry

  —I know I shouldn’t pry; I have no right to after all we’ve been through. But something’s wrong with you, Leon. You haven’t been acting like yourself since that night in the cemetery—”