“Ten days…,” Professor Piper said.
Instead of sitting in her usual spot on her desk, she was striking a pose at the windows. It was snowing outside—it had already snowed so much this year, and it was only early December—and the professor cut a dramatic figure against the icy glass.
“I’d like to believe that you’re all finished with your short stories,” she said, turning her blue eyes on them. “That you’re just tweaking and tinkering now, tugging every last loose thread—”
She walked back toward their desks and smiled at a few of them one by one. Cath felt a thrill when their eyes met.
“—but I’m a writer, too,” the professor said. “I know what it’s like to be distracted. To seek out distractions. To exhaust yourself doing every other little thing rather than face a blank page.” She smiled at one of the boys. “A blank screen …
“So if you haven’t finished—or if you haven’t started—I understand, I do. But I implore you … start now. Lock yourself away from the world. Turn off the Internet, barricade the door. Write as if your life depended on it.
“Write as if your future depended on it.
“Because I can promise you this one small thing.…” She let her eyes rest on another one of her favorites and smiled. “If you’re planning to take my advanced course next semester, you won’t get in unless you get a B in this class. And this short story is half your final grade.
“This class is for writers,” she said. “For people who are willing to set aside their fears and move past distractions.
“I love you all—I do—but if you’re going to waste your time, I’m not going to waste mine.” She stopped at Nick’s desk and smiled at him. “Okay?” she said only to him.
Nick nodded. Cath looked down at her desk.
*
She hadn’t washed her sheets, but there wasn’t any Levi left in them.
Cath pushed her face into her pillow as nonchalantly as she could, even though there was no one else in the room to judge her for it.
Her pillowcase smelled like a dirty pillowcase. And a little bit like Tostitos.
Cath closed her eyes and imagined Levi lying next to her, his legs touching and crossing hers. She remembered the way her throat had rasped that night and the way he’d put his arm around her, like he wanted to hold her up, like he wanted to make everything easy for her.
She remembered his flannel shirt. And his needy, pink mouth. And how she hadn’t spent nearly enough time with her fingers in the back of his hair.
And then she was crying and her nose was running. She wiped it on her pillow because, at this point, what did it matter?
Simon ran as fast as he could. Faster. Casting spells on his feet and legs, casting spells on the branches and stones in his path.
He could already be too late—at first he thought he was, when he saw Agatha lying in a heap on the forest floor.… But it was a trembling heap. Agatha may be frightened, but she was still whole.
Baz was kneeling over her and trembling just as hard. His hair hung forward in a way he normally wouldn’t allow, and his pale skin glowed oddly in the moonlight, like the inside of a shell. Simon wondered for a moment why Agatha wasn’t trying to escape. She must be dazed, he thought. Vampires could do that, couldn’t they?
“Go. Away,” Baz hissed.
“Baz…,” Simon said, holding his hand out.
“Don’t look at me.”
Simon avoided Baz’s eyes, but he didn’t look away. “I’m not afraid of you,” Simon said.
“You should be. I could kill you both. Her first, then you, before you’d even realized I was doing it. I’m so fast, Simon.…” His voice broke on the last two words.
“I know.…”
“And so strong…”
“I know.”
“And so thirsty.”
Simon’s voice was almost a whisper. “I know.”
Baz’s shoulders shook. Agatha started to sit up—she must be recovering. Simon looked at her gravely and shook his head. He took another step toward them. He was close now. In Baz’s reach.
“I’m not afraid of you, Baz.”
“Why not?” Baz whined. It was an animal whine. Wounded.
“Because I know you. And I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” Simon held out his hand and gently pushed back the errant lock of black hair. Baz’s head tilted up with the touch, his fangs popped and gleaming. “You’re so strong, Baz.”
Baz reached for him then, clutching Simon around the waist and pressing his face into his stomach.
Agatha slid out from between them and ran toward the fortress. Simon held Baz by the back of his neck and curved his body over him. “I know,” Simon said. “I know everything.”
—from Carry On, Simon, posted February 2011 by FanFixx.net author Magicath
EIGHTEEN
“Do you just hang out here now?” Nick pushed his library cart to her table.