A Tale of Two Proms (Bard Academy) by Cara Lockwood Page A

had different priorities.
    “I’m fine, though, so it doesn’t matter.”
    “You were almost flattened. Yeah, that does matter to me. You nearly died .”
    “Yeah, but what else is new? How many near death experiences have I had at this place? Or you for that matter? I’m kind of over it.” Actually, I wasn’t. My knees still felt a little wobbly every time I thought about that plummeting concrete gargoyle, but I figured there wasn’t much to be gained by dwelling on it. I would much rather just pretend it didn’t happen.
    “You think it was Catherine?” Hana distractedly grabbed an apple from the line and put it on her tray.
    “All I saw was a plaid skirt. For all I know, it could’ve been Parker.”
    “I doubt it was Parker,” Hana said. “I think she was ahead of us when she exited the chapel.”
    “Yeah, maybe she cut out early so she could take the back stairs up to the roof,” I said, but even I didn’t believe it. Parker hated me, true, but she had no real reason to want me dead, at least not right now. I wasn’t making the moves on Ryan or stealing her popularity or any of the other things that tended to make Parker homicidal.
    “Or, one of her clones could’ve done it,” Hana said. “You know? Maybe trying to impress Parker.”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Could be, I guess. But it seems like Catherine’s the likelier suspect. No matter what Heathcliff says.”
    “Why would she want you dead, though?”
    “Because I’m in love with her soul mate.”
    “Yeah, but she wouldn’t care – unless…”
    “Unless?”
    “Well, unless Heathcliff loved you back .”
    “You’re saying that if Catherine tried to kill me then that’s proof Heathcliff loves me more?”
    “It’s possible,” Hana said. “If you’re worried about whether Heathcliff loves you, then you might not be the only one. Maybe Catherine is worried, too.”
    “Hmmm,” I said, thoughtful.
    “So, the upside of nearly getting crushed by a two-ton stone gargoyle is that your boyfriend cares.”
    I had to laugh at that. I hadn’t thought there’d be an upside. “I’d rather he just come with me to prom to show he cares so much.”
    “What I think you should do,” Hana said, “is try to get Heathcliff to tell you what he knows.”
    “He said to trust him. That he’d take care of it.”
    “Yeah, like the time he handled the campus stalker?” Hana was referring to a debacle a year and a half ago, back when Heathcliff himself had been kidnapped and the ghost of Emily Bronte had terrorized the campus. She may not have had a body, but she had enough presence in this world to fill up a hooded sweatshirt and scare the grilled cheese out of half the student body.
    “He was kidnapped—he couldn’t help anybody, even himself!”
    “That’s what I’m saying. He needs to tell us what’s going on. He’s not invincible even though he thinks he is. We need to know what he knows, so we can help if something happens to him.”
    I nodded. Hana was right. Heathcliff owed me an explanation.
    Outside, I saw a flash of a dark Bard blazer walk by the window. I sat up a little straighter in my chair. I recognized the broad shoulders as they cruised by.
    Heathcliff.
    Except he didn’t look exactly like he had this morning. His hair was messier, his shirt was stained with something dark, and his black eyes were bleary, like he’d just woken up from an extended sleep. He wobbled a little in his steps, too. This morning, he’d been crisp and put together—as neat as you could be after you just saved someone from falling architecture. What had happened? It looked like he’d saved me from the gargoyle and then gone to sleep for three hours and had just gotten up.
    “Speak of the devil,” Hana said, nodding out the window. “He looks terrible,” Hana noted, as Heathcliff ran a stiff hand through his hair.
    I dropped my sandwich. I needed to talk to Heathcliff. I needed to know what he was thinking.
    “I’m going to go