So I headed in the direction of the music wing instead, in search of Gabriel.
The music wing was in the oldest part of the school. I heard singing coming from the main hall, so I pushed open its heavy paneled doors. The hall was vast with a high ceiling and portraits of grim-faced headmasters lining the walls. Gabriel stood in front of a music stand, conducting the junior choristers. All the choirs had grown in popularity since Gabriel’s arrival; in fact, there were so many new female recruits to the senior choir that they had to rehearse in the auditorium.
Gabriel was teaching the juniors one of his favorite hymns in a four-part harmony, accompanied by the music captain, Lucy McCrae, on the piano. My entrance interrupted the singing. Gabriel turned to determine the source of the distraction, and when he did, the light from the stained-glass window merged with his golden hair so that for a moment he looked ablaze.
I waved to him and listened as the choir resumed their singing.
Even with some of the singers out of tune and the accompanist a little loud, the purity of the voices was transporting. I stayed until the bell signaled the end of lunch. By then I felt I’d been given a well-timed reminder of the bigger picture.
The next few days blurred into one another, and before I knew it, it was Friday and the end of another week. The rowers had reportedly gotten back after lunch, but I hadn’t seen any sign of them and decided they must have gone straight home. I wondered whether Xavier had concluded that I’d lost interest as he hadn’t heard from me. Or was he still awaiting my call? It bothered me that he might wait for a call that wasn’t coming. Now I wouldn’t even get the chance to see him and explain.
Packing my schoolbag at the end of the day, I noticed that someone had wedged a little scroll of paper into one of the metal louvers at the top of my locker. It fell to the ground when I opened the door. I picked it up and read the message, written in a loping, boyish hand.
I read it several times. Even via a piece of paper, Xavier managed to have the same dizzying effect on me. I handled the note as delicately as if it were an ancient relic. He wasn’t easily deterred; I liked that about him. So this, I thought, is what it feels like to be pursued. I wanted to leap around in excitement, but I managed to remain calm. Nevertheless, I was still grinning when I met up with Gabriel and Ivy. I couldn’t seem to force my face into a mask of serenity.
“You looked pleased with yourself,” Ivy said when she saw me.
“Good result on a French test,” I lied.
“Did you expect anything else?”
“No, but it’s still nice to see it in black and white.”
I was surprised to find how easily I could lie. I must be getting better at it and that wasn’t a good thing.
Gabriel looked pleased to see my previous mood had lifted. I knew he’d been feeling guilty. He hated to witness distress, much less be the cause of it. I didn’t really blame him for his sternness. It was hardly his fault he couldn’t relate to what I was experiencing. His focus was overseeing our mission, and I couldn’t imagine the strain that must accompany that task. Ivy and I depended on him, and the powers in the Kingdom were relying on his wisdom. It was only natural that he should try to avoid complications, and that’s exactly what he feared contact with Xavier might bring.
The elation of receiving Xavier’s message lasted through the rest of the afternoon and the evening. But by Saturday I was again wrestling with my conscience over what to do about it. I desperately wanted to see Xavier, but I knew it was reckless and selfish. Gabriel and Ivy were my family and they trusted me. I couldn’t willingly do anything that might compromise their position.
Saturday morning was relatively uneventful and made up of chores and taking Phantom for a run along the beach. When I got home and looked at the clock, I saw that it was already mid-afternoon and I started to feel edgy. I managed to hide my agitation through dinner, and afterward Ivy sang to us with her melodic voice, accompanied by Gabriel on an old acoustic guitar. Ivy’s voice could have reduced a hardened criminal to tears. As for Gabriel, every note he played was smooth and hummed like a living thing.
Around eight thirty I went up to my room and pulled everything out of my closet to rearrange it. No matter how hard I tried, thoughts of Xavier pushed themselves into the foreground of my mind with the force of a speeding train. By five minutes to nine, all I could think of was him waiting for me, the minutes ticking by. I visualized the moment when he realized I wasn’t coming. In my mind’s eye I saw him shrug his shoulders, walk out of the cinema, and go on with his life. The pain of this thought proved too much; and before I knew it, I had grabbed my purse, pulled the balcony doors open, and was climbing down the lattice to the garden below. I was overcome by a burning desire to see Xavier, even if I didn’t speak to him.
I stumbled along the dark street, took a left, and kept going, heading straight for the lights of the town. A few people in cars turned to stare at me, a pale, ghostlike girl streaking down the street, hair flying like streamers. I thought I saw Mrs. Henderson peering out through the blinds in her living room, but I hardly gave her a second thought.
It took me about ten minutes to find the Mercury Cinema. I passed a cafe called the Fat Cat, which seemed to be full of students. Music was pumping from a jukebox and kids were sitting in deep couches, drinking milk shakes or sharing bowls of nachos. Some of them were dancing on the checkered floor. I passed the Terrace, one of the ritzier restaurants in town, set up on the first floor of an old Victorian hotel. The best tables were on the balcony that ran along the front of the building, and I could see candles glinting in their holders. I sped past the new bakery and the general store where I had met Alice and Phantom just weeks earlier. When I reached the Mercury Cinema, I was going at such a speed that I ran straight past it and had to double back when I realized the street had come to an end.
The cinema dated from the 1950s and had recently been redecorated in keeping with the fashion of that time. It was full of retro memorabilia. The floors were polished black-and-white linoleum; there were sofas in burnt orange vinyl with chrome legs and lights like flying saucers. I caught sight of myself in the mirror behind the candy bar. My breathing was ragged from excitement, and I looked flustered from my run.
The foyer was empty when I got there, and no one was milling around the coffee lounge. The movie posters advertised a Hitchcock marathon. It must have already started. Xavier had either gone in alone or gone home.
I heard someone behind me clearing his throat exaggeratedly, the way someone does when trying to get your attention. I turned.
“It’s no longer fashionably late when you miss the movie.” Xavier was wearing his wry smile, navy chino shorts, and a cream polo shirt.
“I can’t make it,” I said between breaths. “I just came to let you know.”
“You didn’t have to run all the way over here to tell me that. You could have called.”
Xavier’s eyes were playful. I struggled to think of a reply that wouldn’t make me look ridiculous. My first impulse was to say I’d lost his number, but I didn’t want to lie to him.
“Since you’re here,” he continued, “how about a coffee?”
“What about the movie?”
“I can see that anytime.”
“All right, but I can’t stay long. No one knows I’m out,” I confessed.
“There’s a place just two blocks down, if you don’t mind walking.”
The cafe was called Sweethearts. Xavier put his hand between my shoulder blades to steer me inside, and I felt the heat of his palm seep through to my skin. A strange warmth bubbled up inside of me until I realized his hand was directly on the place where my wings were carefully folded. I quickly edged away with a nervous laugh.
“You’re a strange girl,” he said, looking bemused.
I was grateful when he asked for a booth as I wanted privacy from prying eyes. We had attracted a fair bit of
