Dana regarded her new school with a cold eye. It was huge, twice the size of her last school. Everything about it filled her with dread: the prison-gray stone, the hostile glint of the tall windows, the interminable number of steps that fronted the building. The big doors stood open like a gaping maw to swallow the steady stream of youth. Judging by the noisy greetings and laughter, most were willing victims.
Slowly, reluctantly, Dana joined the crowd. Her steps were leaden. The knapsack on her back seemed weighted with rocks. She wore a loose-fitting jacket and black baggy pants that trailed over her running shoes. Her hair fell lankly over her face. A small silver ring shone in her left nostril.
"Out of the question," was Gabriel's decree on body piercing of any kind.
"You wear an earring," she had pointed out hotly.
The dispute was unexpectedly settled by Aradhana. "There is a Western prejudice, husband, against piercing the nose. In India it is a fashion for girls and women to wear an ornament in this manner. I think you should allow her."
Though she would deny it if challenged, Dana's appearance was a silent protest against her life. The dark and bulky clothes cocooned her from the world around her. On the other side, in Faerie, she emerged like a butterfly, resplendent with fairy glamour. But the moment she returned to the Earthworld, she hid away again.
Head down, shoulders slumped, Dana shuffled through the long corridors. Lockers clanged. Friends hailed each other noisily. Squeals of excitement pierced the air. Forcing herself to stay calm, resisting the urge to flee, Dana located the classroom assigned to her on orientation day.
There were already a number of students there, most of them seated and talking quietly. Some were strangers, enrolled from other neighborhoods. With a sinking heart, Dana recognized the small group of girls who gathered near the door. Fashionably dressed, loud and pretty, they were a notorious clique from her old school. One of them raised an eyebrow as she passed by. The remarks were meant to be overhead.
"What's with all the black?"
"Is she a Goth?"
"Hardly. That would make her interesting."
Dana cringed, but told herself she didn't care. These were not people she envied or admired. Janis, the leader, was popular but not very bright. She had barely managed to pass grade eight. The other two were her lackeys, incapable of independent thought or action. While they had ruled the small kingdom of junior high, they were now little fish in a much bigger pond. Dana saw through their show of bravado. They were just as nervous and anxious as she.
Moving to the back of the room, she chose a desk in the last row. In her old school she had been known as a quiet girl, a loner without the protection of a circle or best friend. She had grown used to standing by herself at recess, leaning against the fence, usually lost in daydreams. She didn't want to mix with others and had rebuffed the few who tried to make friends with her. Unless specifically asked, she didn't participate in class, nor did she join in school activities, sports, or clubs. She resisted all efforts by her father and teachers to encourage her out of her shell. She did not want to be part of this world; she did not want to make friends.
"Some children are solitary," the principal had finally conceded to Gabriel. "You can either accept that or consider a psychologist."
Gabriel had decided to accept it, for now.
It helped that Dana did well at school. She liked to study, and her projects were always well researched and presented. With tutors and hard work she had caught up on Canadian subjects to earn high marks. The French language was still a weak point. Her father wanted her to learn it to be fully Canadian, but she had yet to reach the level of those who had begun the stream in earlier grades. Since she was already bilingual, being fluent in Irish, she was confident she could.
It was only when she had settled into her seat that Dana noticed the other student in the back, a few rows over. Now she understood why Janis and her coterie were making such a fuss. Here was surely the one whom they hoped to attract. Even Dana, who had no interest in boys, was not unaffected.
His raven-black hair fell loosely around his face. The narrow cheekbones and firm jaw hinted of strong character. His clothes jarred in the urban classroom but seemed to suit him: an outdoors look of rugged denim, dark-green shirt, and brown leather boots. He appeared older than the class average, but perhaps it was just his self-assured air. He did not look around, but sat relaxed at his desk, reading a book. Dana tried to catch a glimpse of the title. She was surprised at herself. There had been cute boys in her class before, and she had never paid them any attention. But this one was different. There was something about him…
Dana caught her breath. He had looked up suddenly to catch her gaze. His eyes were startling, a cool wintergreen. He seemed surprised to see her, as if he recognized her from somewhere, and he searched her features curiously.
The blood rushed to Dana's face. She turned away. It was not just from shyness. She was unsettled by that look, so keen and intense. When she found the courage to glance back again, he had returned to his reading. She was relieved, but also a little disappointed.
· · ·
Once the school bell rang and the day officially began, Dana settled into her usual state of "betwixt and between." With half a mind, she listened to what she had to learn and made notes when necessary. With the other half, she looked out the window, lost in thoughts of Faerie.
Beyond the asphalt grounds of the schoolyard, a line of old oak bordered the road. Where their leaves were beginning to turn, faint stitches of bronze trimmed the green. Gray squirrels scrabbled in the branches, busy with their work. Dana smiled as she watched them. But what was that above the treetops? A white blur in the sky. At first she thought it was a bank of clouds herded by the wind, then she realized it was a great flock of birds. A mild shock ran through her. What were they? There were so many of them, all different shapes and sizes, but every one was snow-white. She felt her heart lift like a bird that wanted to fly too, and she followed their movement with longing.
A harsh voice broke Dana's reverie, followed by an outburst of laughter from the class. Words filtered through Dana's confusion.
Woolgathering…daydreaming…featherbrain.
To her horror, she found herself in the glare of exposure. The whole class was staring at her with open amusement while the teacher scowled from the front.
It wasn't just the unwanted attention, the unkind words, or even the embarrassment. Something else alarmed Dana. She knew instantly in a way she couldn't explain that she was under attack. Struggling through her bewilderment, she faced her tormenter.
Mr. Crowley. When he had first entered the room, the universal reaction had been shock and dismay. He was not the jolly, pink-faced man who had made them all laugh at orientation. In a few short weeks some awful change had come over him. For one thing, there had been a drastic weight loss. Was cancer eating away at his insides? His skin seemed to hang on his big-boned frame, like the hide of a dead animal. And his hair was much thinner, falling in oily gray strands to his shoulders. There was a greenish tinge around his lips that pressed thinly together in a perpetual sneer. When he spoke, spittle gathered in the corners of his mouth and his tongue darted like a lizard's. And even his voice had changed; from a friendly baritone to a creepy whisper. But worst of all was the dead look in his eyes.
Dana shuddered as she met the cold gaze. There was something awful here, something far worse than his appearance. She could sense the ill will bearing down on her; an implacable hatred. It made no sense. What had she done? A buzzing noise rang in her ears, growing louder and stronger till her head began to ache.
She felt as if she were falling…falling backward…
It is dangerous to approach evil. The best thing you can do is run away.
Dana had no idea who or what was speaking to her, but the soft voice fluttered through her thoughts like wings. It was all the encouragement she needed. Mustering whatever resolve she could, she made her escape, journeying in her mind toward Faerie.
Despite her panic, Dana got there easily. In a matter of moments, she was running up the hill to reach the great portal. Music and laughter echoed from within. The warmth of the Summer Country bathed her face. But before she could step inside, it happened.
There was a blinding flash of light and a monstrous roar.
And her world blew apart.
As if in slow motion, she saw the great stones leap into the air. Then they crashed to the ground, shattering like glass. The pieces flew everywhere, strewn like bones in the grasses. Nothing was left standing.
Though reeling with shock, Dana grew aware of a second horror. The air was singed with a sour metallic smell. A sickly green mist whispered over the stone ruins. The buzzing sound rang out again, like a giant wasp about to sting her. She sensed a malevolent presence that didn't belong there. And in one heart-stopping second of clarity, she knew it was after her.
Too late, she tried to back away, to return to the Earthworld. The green mist was beginning to thicken, to take shape. Tendrils snaked toward her and curled around her throat. She began to choke. Drowning in terror, she clawed at the thing wildly, but the more she struggled the tighter it gripped. She couldn't scream. It was cutting off her windpipe. The buzzing sound was inside her head. She was losing consciousness.
· · ·
Then words rang out like bells in the distance.
"Tabernac, So she look out the window. What's the big deal?"
It was like a splash of frosty water from a mountain stream.
With a sickening lurch, Dana fell into her body and was back in the classroom. She clutched her desk as she gasped for breath. Quickly she looked around. What was going on?
Mr. Crowley's face was contorted with fury, but his attention was no longer directed at her. It was trained on the young man a few rows over.
"Ah. Jean Ducharme. Or should I say, Monsieur Ducharme? Our transfer delinquent from Quebec. Swearing in class already. Have you been introduced to your peers who are hardly that since they are so much younger than yourself?"
The words oozed like an oil slick over clean waters, but their target was not in the least perturbed. Jean Ducharme returned his teacher's glare with a mild look of disdain.
"I have fifteen years, un peu older than the others, oui. But my English is not good, so I am agreed to be here. In one year, I will meet my class. Mais peut-être, you cannot see this. You cannot see intelligence."
For a moment Crowley looked as if he might explode. Shuddering visibly, he regained control. His face cooled to a mask. His tone was icy.
"I wouldn't advise you to keep up that tone. I've seen your record. I could have you expelled in an instant."
A light smile played around Jean's lips, but he didn't bother to reply. Instead, he simply shrugged.
With a scowl, the teacher turned his back on the class and began to write on the board.
Wide-eyed, the rest of the class didn't hide their delight as they exchanged furtive glances. The year had barely begun and it was already showing great promise. They had all been immediately intimidated by the change in their teacher, but here was a new player challenging him. The girls cast approving glances at the hero in their midst. Dark-haired and handsome, older than the other boys, with a French accent and a shady past, what more could they ask for?
Only Dana was unhappy. Her thoughts raced wildly. She hadn't begun to absorb the horror of the attack against her and the destruction of her portal, when she found herself facing another dilemma. Like electricity in the air before a thunderstorm, she could sense it around her: the presence of magic. It was in the classroom. Had something followed her from the portal? Was it her attacker? She looked first at Crowley and then at Jean. Her mind was on fire. When the two glowered at each other, a look of recognition had passed between them. Or had she imagined it? No, they were connected, she was sure of it.
As the first shock wore off, Dana went on the defensive. There might be another assault. For the remainder of the class, she kept a careful eye on both her teacher and Jean. The two did not clash again, but settled into an uneasy truce, ignoring each other. Crowley also appeared indifferent to Dana, sometimes looking right through her as if she weren't there. She was beginning to think she was mistaken about him, when the bell went off. As she grabbed her books to leave, she caught him staring at her. A cat watching a mouse. The threat burned in his eyes before he could hide it. I'll get you. Trembling, she hurried from the room. She no longer doubted that he was her enemy. But why? How?
And what about Jean? She was not the only one interested in him. As the morning progressed, he was showered with glances like handfuls of confetti. Notes were passed among the girls. In the halls, spurts of French could be heard wherever he walked, as his admirers hoped to woo him with his own language.
In the cafeteria at lunch hour, clusters of girls hovered near his table. Some stood around awkwardly where he might see them, while others approached him directly to converse in French. The latter included young women from the higher grades. Word had spread like wildfire about the handsome new student who stood up to teachers.
Jean, for his part, was courteous to everyone who came near him. Those who spoke French, however badly, were rewarded with a half-smile and a fluent response that left them dazzled. He was so French. He was so hot. But despite all the fuss, he remained aloof, like a visitor who knew he would be leaving soon. As the circles of girls eventually drifted away, he went back to reading his book.
Dana had no desire to join the crowd around Jean, but she wanted to thank him for defending her in class. She was hoping to get closer, to investigate her suspicions. There was definitely something different about him. Could he be linked to the attack at the portal? But he seemed so…nice. A wolf in sheep's clothing?
As usual, Dana ate her lunch alone in a secluded corner. Like Jean, she had brought a book to read; but she couldn't concentrate. She was too upset. What had happened at the portal? What was after her? Along with her terror raged a deep sense of betrayal. Where was Faerie when her portal was destroyed? Where was Edane? Why hadn't anyone mentioned danger? And why did no one come to help her? The more she thought about it, the more her heart beat wildly. The room seemed to close in on her. The din of too many voices. The screech of chairs scraping the floor. Like an icy hand around her throat, the truth seized hold of her.
My portal is destroyed. My bridge to Faerie is gone. I'm alone and defenseless against an unknown enemy.
A cold shiver ran through her. She felt sick with fear. Instinctively she glanced across the room. Once again Jean met her gaze. Was that a question in his wintergreen eyes?
Before she knew what she was doing, Dana was on her feet and walking toward him. Barely able to breathe, she willed herself across the unending stretch of floor. His quizzical smile seemed to encourage her.
She had almost reached him, when her way was blocked.
· · ·
Janis had not seen Dana coming, as she was busy fixing her hair, and before she could finish the French phrase she had practiced, Jean interrupted.
"Excus'-moi, but we wish to speak," he said, indicating that someone was behind her.
Surprised and annoyed, Janis turned to find Dana. In one scathing glance she took in the rumpled clothing, the lank hair, the face without makeup. Curling her lip, she flounced away.
· · ·
Dana was already regretting she had come this far, but Jean's voice was kind. "S'il te pla?t, sit down."
She remained standing, and managed to stammer out her words. "I…I…wanted to say…merci beaucoup…thank you…for speaking up this morning. It was…"
"Ce n'est rien," he said, with a slight shrug. "Monsieur Crowley is not so nice, eh?"
As the calm eyes appraised her, Dana found herself mirroring Janis's scorn. If only she had made some effort with her dress and hair! If only he could see her in a fairy gown with jewels! For the first time since she could remember, she cared how she appeared in the Earthworld. He himself had a certain flair, though his clothes were casual. She noticed his watch had a wristband of beaded design. It showed a black bird, perhaps a raven. There was also a Native look to his boots.
She couldn't begin to know what he was thinking, but she was certain he found her unattractive, maybe even repulsive. She began to edge away.
"Dis-moi," he said. "What is this, your accent?"
"I'm Irish."
His smile was so swift and embracing that Dana felt her face go red.
"Irlandaise! Magnifique! The French and the Irish, we are always good friends. C'est un beau pays, l'Irlande."
"Yes, it's a beautiful country," she said.
He caught something in her tone.
"You are not happy here?"
"Yes. No. It's…complicated." She didn't want to explain. She had yet to decide if she trusted him, this mysterious and charming stranger. "What about you? This isn't your home either?"
"I am Québécois. Born in Rivière-du-Loup, but we move around a lot. My parents, they are artistes. They get good jobs in le théatre here. I choose this school to learn English better." A wry look crossed his face. "Maybe not a good idea."
"I'm so glad you did!" she exclaimed.
Dana thought she would die. Her face burned. He was so easy to talk to, she had been lulled by their conversation. Her stuttering had stopped, and in a natural progression, she had sat down at his table. Now she couldn't believe she had blurted out her feelings like that! Worse still, she grew suddenly aware of all the eyes that were watching.
Dana jumped up, almost upsetting her chair. She had to get away.
Jean looked surprised by her panic, and frowned. Before she could leave, he caught her arm. His voice was low.
"I want to say to you, about Crowley. Beware this man. For you, he is dangereux."
Before she could ask what he meant, he nodded toward the entrance of the cafeteria. There in the corridor, staring through the glass doors, was their teacher. He looked from Jean to Dana and back again, eyes dark and furious.
"Prends garde," Jean said softly as he released her arm.
Confused and disturbed, Dana hurried away.