Sugar & Squall Page 3

  “What did you do over the break, Kat?” Eyes focused, genuine interest. It took me by surprise. She must have picked up my name in class, bitch. I tried to remain casual.

  “You know, the usual, shopping and stuff, wishing I was on an island.”

  Mild amusement.

  “With Logan, I bet,” another newcomer said, snaking her eyes back to Jemma. News travelled fast. I was already in over my head.

  Again, I tried to play it down. “He’s okay.”

  My green eye was itchy from the contact. I wanted to rub it.

  Newcomer one was incredulous. “Okay? He’s hot as fuck. I’d sell a kidney for five minutes alone with him.”

  A safety mechanism kicked in. Logan was in demand. Buyers were lining up. I dared not risk any potential friendships, no matter how trivial, by joining the queue. I kept my mouth shut.

  A short period of silence followed in which every girl at the table seemed to be having their mental way with him. I almost couldn’t believe it myself when I tried to change the subject.

  “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

  Newcomer one spoke up again. “The usual stuff. There’s the rat’s nest, on the way to the beach. Sometimes we sneak down there after lights out with some of the guys. Not down the actual hole, just near it. Some idiot first-years got busted there last year. The screws have made it pretty tough since, but if you know where to go, it’s easy.”

  Rat’s nest? It didn’t exactly sound appealing from a sightseeing perspective.

  “What about the security guards?” I suggested.

  “Guard, singular,” Newcomer two corrected, “and a fat fucker at that. He couldn’t catch a cold.”

  “The nest’s a deathtrap, you know,” Jemma added, with a deep voice for extra foreboding. “Once a girl was walking there at night, fell to the bottom and broke her leg. It took them three days to work out she was missing.”

  “That’s such a load of shit,” newcomer one said. “Next you’ll be telling us the Loch Ness monster lives in the pool. After all, God knows there are much scarier things out here on this island than a big old sinkhole.”

  Jemma piqued up again, a spoonful of yogurt jiggling on her spoon. “There’s the beach. It’s over on the far side of the island, about two minutes past the hole. It’s ghost season, too.”

  “Ghost season?” I queried.

  I didn’t believe in ghosts. Once you died, you were dead – dust.

  “No one told you?” Newcomer one started.

  I shook my head. The other girls leaned in.

  “Before Carver was a school, it was a mental asylum.”

  I looked to the others for a sign of skepticism. They were serious as cancer.

  Newcomer one continued. “Some of the dorm rooms still have the restraint bolts in the walls. The admin office was where they did the shock therapy.”

  Others nodded in agreement.

  “Anyhow, so all these loons are out here on the island. They take the place over, kill all the staff and then drown themselves in the ocean, possessed.”

  Why newcomer one had suddenly flipped from being a skeptic I couldn’t work out.

  I did my best to look serious, stifling internal laughter. “You’re not for real, are you?”

  “She’s serious,” Jemma interjected. “And it’s true. Carver was once a big crazy bin, and the ghosts are real. I’ve seen them.”

  “Me too,” a girl said to my right.

  “And me,” another to the left.

  Newcomer one sat back on her chair, her arms folded. “It’s a bit early for the beach, though, isn’t it, and a bit bloody cold?” letting the Brit in her come through.

  Jemma remained casual, slipping spoons of yogurt between words. “It’s perfect, actually. The skies are clear, there’s a full moon tonight and I’ve already spoken to those guys about it.”

  She used her spoon to point over her shoulder at a bunch of senior boys huddled together at a nearby table. Her expression was smug.

  “Fine,” newcomer one said. “The beach it is.” I sensed a bit of a rivalry in the air, social butterflies flitting, flirting with power.

  Jemma turned her eyes back to me, kicking me under the table. “You’re in too, Kat. All for one, one for all and all that. Maybe Logan might be there? No guarantees but.”

  “Maybe you’ll get to cross skinny-dipping from your little black book,” newcomer one mused, with a little pout, soon scooting away when I lunged across the table.

  Jemma grabbed my arm and forced me back. “Hey, hey,” she said, throwing ocular daggers newcomer one’s way. “Nothing’s private here, Kat. We don’t keep secrets. It’s a sisterhood thing, share and share alike – prison rules.”

  I was fuming, and sat chin to my chest glaring at newcomer one. Anger radiated through me. “You’ve been through my things?”

  Jemma went back to her yoghurt. “We had to. It’s almost policy. We have to be sure we aren’t rooming with a serial killer or something.”

  “You think I’m a serial killer?”

  “Of course not, but we have to be sure. You’re welcome to go through our things. We’re the same size, so borrow whatever you need – except for that cute little jacket in my top drawer. What’s mine is yours and yours is mine,” she said, bringing her left hand back and forth like she was passing a gift.

  I was still angry, but simmering. I decided to change the subject again.

  “How do you get down there at night, this beach?” I asked, more to the group than one person in particular. “Is there a secret tunnel or something?”

  Everyone laughed in unison.

  “This ain’t Hogwarts, honey,” Amy chipped in, “but we have ways of getting around. Besides, it’ll be good for you to get out and have a bit of a meet and greet.”

  I was surprised such a night life could exist at all. “You don’t get caught?”

  Amy turned her lip up like it was nothing at all. “Once or twice. The girl that left got weekend detention last year for getting sloshed at the sinkhole with one of the older guys, but if they get you at the beach it’s usually just a slap on the wrist. Besides, we have escape routes, backups. It’s a fine art.”

  Art or not, I was in two minds.

  If I wanted to do my own thing, I damn well did it. No one would tell me otherwise. Here, it was different. That was evident. I was outcast already, left here on the island, and for once in my life I genuinely did not want to be alone. I rationalized it in my head. What was the worst that could happen? Detention? Walk the plank?

  “I’m in,” I announced, lifting my head. “I love ghosts.”

  Jemma gave me a wink and stood up. “Good. Some of them like to play.”

  #

  The rest of the day seemed to fly past now I had this insider information on board, a reckless act in waiting. Logan was in my next class. I spotted that face, those eyes, as soon as I walked in. Again, I acted like a coward, seating Jemma and I right at the front, much to her protest. I didn’t look his way. I didn’t embarrass myself when class broke, and I didn’t see him again that day.

  It seemed like mere minutes before I was back in the room with the girls, throwing on a sweater and swapping pajama pants for jeans. Toothpick girl was already in bed. She didn’t want a part of it, and the other girls had pulled out, so it was just newcomer one, whose name I discovered was Sam, myself, plus roomies Jemma and Amy.

  Jemma had gone the whole hog. Make-up, bracelets, bomber jacket. It looked like she was auditioning for a music video rather than running out into the night.

  “It gets cold out there,” she informed me. “Grab something warm.”

  “Maybe she won’t have to,” Amy said. “Xavier’s coming.” She exchanged a quick look with Jemma.

  “Who’s Xavier?” I asked.

  “Just some guy, not Logan, but not too bad either. Come on, it’s time to go. Remember, heel first, roll it forward.”

  I was amused. “What are you guys? Ninjas?”


  Jemma gave a little laugh. “Not quite, unless you mean ninjas that make out with hot guys in the middle of the night. We’ve been doing this for years,” she said, patting me on the head on her way past. “Don’t worry.”

  “Right,” I replied. “Let’s go then.”

  We padded out into the hall. It had been lights out for a half-hour, so things were dead silent except for the odd snore.

  As discussed, the four of us carefully made our way towards the end of the dorm. To our left, a door opened.

  We hugged the wall, flat up against it in the shadows. I could feel the stone against my back, the cold seeping through my sweater.

  It was a girl going to the bathroom. She hadn’t seen us.

  When we reached the end of the hall, we headed down the side stairs. Boards creaked underfoot. Jemma said the whole place moaned like a ship at night, so extra noise wouldn’t be construed as anything out of the ordinary.

  The teachers occupied rooms at the end of each floor. Some left their doors ajar, and there was a hall check on the hour according to a roster. The first was right after lights out, so we still had at least twenty minutes to make it outside. The security guard was supposed to do rounds as well, but I was assured he’d be too busy jerking off.

  I followed the others, careful to remain as quiet as possible.

  We reached the ground floor. It looked just like the others. The hallway was there to the left, long and narrow. To the right was a single door.

  “Ames,” Jemma whispered.

  Amy came up from the back and knelt down by the door knob. She reached up and pulled two pins from her hair, letting it fall in ashen curls down her back.

  She kept one pin in her mouth, jiggled the other into the lock, a fierce look of concentration on her face. Jemma watched the staircase.

  Amy inserted the second pin. There was a short pop as the door released and then a rush of cold air reached its way inside.

  “Let’s go,” Amy said, and she was gone. We followed, Jemma closing the door gently with two hands behind us.

  The girls were right. The combination of a full moon and cloudless night meant the landscape was bathed in light. The beach was a fifteen-minute walk. There was a path that went straight there, but it was out in the open, could be seen from Carver and was much too conspicuous. Instead, we made our way through a tree line that ran right out from the back of the school to the water.

  We walked in silence. Whether it was the thrill of being out or just the physical exertion, I breathed hard, clouds of cold forming in front of my mouth and then dissipating into the semi-darkness.

  Ten minutes in, we reached a hill. The girls said the beach could not be seen from the school, and this was why. The hill buckled up right out of the earth, obscuring view of anything beyond it.

  Descending, Sam pointed out the rat’s nest. I hadn’t noticed it at all, but once we got closer it was clearly there, an almost perfectly circular hole plunging straight down. In circumference, it looked like it was quite large, but it was hard to be sure.

  “How do you get down there?” I asked, bent over and trying to get the sentence out completely between breaths.

  Jemma pulled up beside me. “You don’t. There’s no way to get back up. Like I said, it’s a deathtrap.”

  “Why don’t they fence it off?”

  “They did a year or two back, but the hole got bigger after a storm, pulled everything down with it. You think with all the money they’re getting it’s the least they could do, but the school board is too busy sipping champers to worry about any of that.”

  We moved on, the sound of waves rolled in, and then, there before us, was the beach.

  It was at least a mile long, shaped like a scythe. The moon was directly over the water, sending an ivory staircase across it.

  At first, I mistook the boys for a boulder given the way they were seated together on the sand. We walked over.

  I noticed there were four as we got closer. Four of them, four of us. Fan-friggin’-tastic.

  Jemma spoke out, no longer whispering. “Hey, fancy seeing you guys here.”

  Three of the boys nodded or grunted. The other replied, “You too. Have a seat?” he said, motioning at the sand.

  We sat and talked for a while, but I wasn’t concentrating. I’d already ruled the guys out. They weren’t my type. I was disappointed Logan hadn’t come. But why would he?

  I noticed Jemma was holding hands with one of the larger boys.

  “I can’t stand having group every day,” he was remarking, “having to give them the same crap about why I’m so messed up, how much I hate life.”

  Jemma nodded. “It was bad enough three times a week. They probably want us to click it, you know, go nuts and stab someone to keep us here, filling their bank accounts.”

  “I think I see something,” one of the guys said, pointing back up to the hill.

  Sam slinked up to his side. “Where? I can’t see anything.”

  “I’m telling you. One of them’s up there.”

  Amy shivered. “I think one just walked right through me.”

  “We’re going for a walk to the rocks,” Jemma said, pointing to the right of the beach. “That’s where we’ve seen them before.”

  The other girls took this as a cue, moving closer to the remaining boys.

  “Why don’t you two go for a walk?” Sam was referring to me and one of the guys, Xavier.

  “I don’t know,” I said, pushing sand back and forth with my sneaker.

  Sam was persistent. “Oh, go on,” she said, throwing seaweed at me.

  Xavier stood up. “I’ll behave. I promise. Just come and have a look.”

  It was late. Any defense mechanisms I might have had ebbed away with daylight.

  “Fine,” I agreed, getting painfully to my feet.

  “This way,” Xavier said, a step or three in front of me already, heading off to the sunken section of the beach to the left.

  “Have fun,” Sam smirked.

  I was most definitely not planning on fun of that sort.

  After a short walk, we sat next to a giant boulder. I could only just see the others. They merged together in what sparse light there was. Still, they were there. I’d be able to handle myself, had a few choice choke holds up my sleeve, so it mattered little either way.

  Admittedly, Xavier wasn’t too bad. In the moonlight I could see he had high cheekbones and a dusty collection of hair most girls would associate with surfer types. Unfortunately, he was wearing that body mist stuff. Like toilet spray, it did little but merge with the dominant odor underneath.

  He didn’t have too much to say, asked me the odd question or two, questions I answered with a single yes/no. I wasn’t about to make it easy for him. I was of the mind guys should work for a girl’s attention and completely against the whole ‘treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen’ BS. What kind of misogynist jerk-off came up with that one?

  Silence had fallen over us. Xavier reached over to his bag and pulled out a can of beer, cracking it open. I heard the ‘glug, glug, glug’ of it plunging down his throat.

  “Where’d you get the brew?” I inquired, which seemed to pick up his demeanor.

  “You want one?”

  I was thirsty. The trek out here, the cold and the excitement of it all had seen to that. Beer wasn’t my preferred beverage, but it’d do.

  “If you’ve got one.”

  “Sure, sure, hang on.”

  Now with a purpose, Xavier seemed positively chirpy. He rummaged through the bag. I heard him crack open a can, a bit more messing about before he passed it my way.

  I took a swig. It was extremely fizzy, soapy almost. I would remember this detail later.

  Xavier was looking directly at me. I could see his eyes flaring with the moonlight in my peripheral vision. I continued to look ahead.

  “You’ve got sick eyes,” he said. “They’re sweet.” He put emphasis on the ‘T’ like he was congratulating his mate on a skateboard move. And ‘sic
k eyes’? He’d have been better off telling me I had a huge ass. I said nothing back. My indifference didn’t stop him.

  “You’re not like these other chicks. I can feel it.” If he continued with this ‘you’re special’ muck the only thing he’d be feeling would be my knee in his groin. Thankfully, my non-response saw him back off.

  Suddenly, I felt faint. I looked at Xavier. He didn’t seem concerned. There was a quiet calm on his face that started to unnerve me. Just past the rock to the right of us I could see the others, but they’d moved further away, tiny little spots of white, too far to call to.

  Everything started to skew sideways. I reached out and grabbed Xavier’s shirt, but lost grip, before slumping over.

  I felt sand in my mouth. Xavier was moving around, pulling my sweater up. The button on my jeans popped free, zipper running down, slowly. I felt a hand, cold. I tried to scream, but couldn’t.

  The waves were rolling in horizontally, huge, terrifying. They blurred together with the sky in a phantasmagorical soup and then I was out completely, nothing but black.

  3. UNCONSCIOUSNESS

  The sun had just broken when I woke. It cast muted orange light over everything. First, I noticed the beach looked entirely worse for wear not cloaked in night.

  Large clumps of seaweed were strewn across the sand, sand that was such a somber hue of grey it was like the waves had risen up overnight and washed the color away.

  I pushed myself upright off the sand and instantly regretted it. My head felt as if it had been bunking with an impact drill. It was a thick pain. I pressed my hand to my forehead to ward it off.

  Beside me I noticed two beer cans and a blue backpack. The night came back in fragmented pieces.

  Was there something in the beer? Vodka? But I’d had vodka, and it didn’t taste like that. He opened the can himself. That much I remembered.

  I saw a small white baggie flapping under the backpack.

  Drugged. Great.

  A horrible sinking feeling came over me as I considered darker intentions, but nothing felt out of place, and surely I’d notice that.