Now he was starting to wake up and take an interest in things again. And he kept noticing with fresh surprise the cute dimple Chloe had in her right cheek, or how shiny her curly dark hair was, or how graceful and pretty her hands were despite the fact that they were often stained with paint.
So far, though, they were just friends. Maybe … maybe it was time to change that.
Chloe snapped her fingers in front of his face, and Matt realized he had been staring at her. “You al right, buddy?” she asked, a little frown wrinkling her forehead, and Matt had to restrain himself from kissing her right then.
“Yeah, just spacing out,” he said, feeling a flush creep over his cheeks. He was smiling like a goof, he knew.
“Want to help with these wal s?”
“Sure, why not?” Chloe answered. “I’l soap down the wal part, and you keep doing whatever you’re doing there with that little toothbrush.”
They worked companionably together for a while, Chloe now and then accidental y-on-purpose dripping soapy water onto the top of Matt’s head.
As they worked further along the paneling, the niche under the baseboard got deeper, until it was not so much a niche as a gap. Matt slid the toothbrush underneath to scrub—man, but it got grimy down there—and felt something shift.
“There’s something under here,” he told Chloe, pressing his hand flat against the floor and working his fingers into the gap. He slid his hands and the toothbrush around, trying to shimmy whatever was down there toward them, but he couldn’t quite get a grip on it.
“Look,” said Chloe after a moment, “I think the paneling might slide up here.” She wiggled the section of wood until it gave a raucous screech and she was able to work it up.
“Huh,” she said, puzzled. “Wow, it’s like a secret compartment. Seems like it hasn’t been opened for a while, though.”
Once she managed to ease the paneling up, they could see the space behind it was smal , only a foot or so in height and width and a few inches deep. It was ful of cobwebs. Inside was something rectangular, wrapped in a cloth that had probably once been white but was now gray with dust.
“It’s a book,” Matt said, picking it up. The grime on the outside of the cloth was thick and soft and came away on his hands. Unwrapping it, he found the book inside was clean.
“Wow,” Chloe said softly.
It looked old, real y old. The cover was flaking dark leather, and the edges of the pages were rough as if they’d been hand cut instead of by a machine. Tilting the book a little, Matt could see the remains of gilt that must have once been the title, but it was worn away now.
Matt opened it to the middle. Inside, it was handwritten, black ink inscribing neat strong strokes. And total y indecipherable.
“I think it’s Latin. Maybe?” said Matt. “Do you know Latin at al ?”
Chloe shook her head. Matt flipped back to the first page, and one word popped out at him. Vitale.
“Maybe it’s a history of the Vitale Society,” Chloe said.
“Or ancient secrets of the founders. Cool! We should give it to Ethan.”
“Yeah, sure,” Matt said, distracted. He turned a few more pages, and the ink changed from black to a dark brown. It looks like dried blood, he thought, and shuddered, then pushed the image away. It was just some kind of old ink, faded brown with time.
One word he recognized, written three—no, four—times on the page: Mort. That meant death, didn’t it? Matt traced the word with his finger, frowning. Creepy.
“I’l show it to Ethan,” Chloe said, jumping up and taking the book from him. She crossed the room and interrupted Ethan’s conversation with another girl. From the other side of the room, Matt watched Ethan’s face break into a slow smile as he took the book.
After a few minutes, Chloe returned, grinning. “Ethan was real y excited,” she said. “He said he’l tel us al about it after he gets someone to translate the book.” Matt nodded. “That’s terrific,” he said, pushing the last of his unease away. This was Chloe, lively, laughing Chloe, and he would try not to think about death or blood or anything morbid around her. “Hey,” he said, pushing away the dark thoughts, focusing on the golden highlights in her dark hair. “Are you going to the party at McAl ister House tonight?”
Maybe not pulled back, Elena thought, looking critical y at herself in the mirror. She tugged the barrette out of her hair and let her golden locks tumble, sleek and flat-ironed, down around her shoulders. Much better.
She looked good, she noted, running her eyes dispassionately over her reflection. Her strappy short black dress accentuated her rose-petal skin and pale hair, and her dark blue eyes seemed huge.
Without Stefan, though, what did it matter how she looked?
She watched her own mouth tighten in the mirror as she pushed the thought away. However much she missed the feeling of Stefan’s hand in hers, his lips on hers, however much she wanted to be with him, it was impossible for now.
She couldn’t be Katherine. And her pride wouldn’t let her just mope around, either. It’s not forever, she told herself grimly.
Bonnie came up and threw her arm around Elena’s shoulders, regarding them both in the mirror. “We clean up nice, don’t we?” she asked cheerful y. “Ready to go?”
“You do look amazing,” Elena said, looking at Bonnie with affection. The shorter girl was practical y glowing with excitement—eyes sparkling, smile bright, cheeks flushed, mane of red hair flying out seemingly with a life of its own—
and her short blue dress and strappy high-heeled shoes were adorable. Bonnie’s smile got bigger.
