Avalon High Part 20

"It's too late, Elaine," Mr. Morton said, shaking his head. "He's already lost Guinevere. He hasn't the will to live anymore-"

"But that's what I was trying to tell you this morning," I all but shouted, fighting for patience. Not that, even for a minute, I believed in any of this hogwash. But just for the sake of argument.... "Will is fine with Jen leaving him for Lance! Really. He told me he was relieved when he found out."

Mr. Morton smiled down at me sadly.

"And if we did tell him, Elaine, do you think he would believe us-much less take the necessary steps to protect himself, which would, in any case, be a fruitless effort? Do you think it would make the slightest difference? You have no idea what we're up against. The battle for Arthur between the Light and the Dark has gone on for centuries. Evil won't stand for any interference from the Light. It will throw insurmountable obstacles in our path-deadly obstacles. Mordred, with the help of the dark side, will find a way to kill his brother no matter what we-"

"Marco doesn't want to kill Will," I cried, still not believing I was even having this conversation. "Why would Marco possibly want to kill Will?"

"Besides the fact that, through his own greed and selfish disregard for others, he's fallen into the embrace of the powers of darkness?" Mr. Morton frowned. "Think about it, Elaine."

I thought about Marco, his earrings and snide manner. Sure, he was mean, and with that ice-cold skin of his, more than a little creepy.

But a murderer? Sure, he'd tried to kill Mr. Morton-but the guy had been telling him he was the reincarnation of one of the most detested historical figures of all time. Why would he want to kill Will? I mean, he had even admitted himself that since he'd come to live with Will and Admiral Wagner, his life had improved dramatically. He'd even gotten a boat. Or at least, the use of one. What was it he'd said that day?

I'm not the lucky one. Will is.

Could that be it?

"You think Marco's going to try to kill Will," I said to Mr. Morton, "because he's jealous of Will? And angry about what Will's father did to his? Is that it?"

"This time?" Mr. Morton nodded. "There's a great deal more to it than you can possibly imagine, but I would think that might be part of it."

"It's different every time?" This was the part that was making it so hard to believe it really was paranoid delusions, as I'd first tried to insist. The fact that, taken as a whole, the story was so well thought-out, it actually sort of made sense.

"Variations," Mr. Morton said, "on several themes. Mordred hated Arthur, you see, because he wanted the throne. He turned his back on his own people, not caring an iota for their concerns, seeking only to cater to his own self-gratification. That's when the Dark took him completely, and made him one of their own-"

"Stop it!" I threw my hands up over my ears, beginning to feel overwhelmed. "I don't want to hear any more about the dark side, okay? What I want to know is how-if you're so sure this is what's going to happen-you think you can just run away and let Will get murdered. I understand that you're afraid of...of the darkness." Now I sounded as insane as he did, but I didn't care. "But for Pete's sake, won't you even go to the police?"

"And say what, Elaine?" Mr. Morton's smile was rueful. "That according to an ancient prophecy that has been fulfilled time and time again, this young man is going to kill his stepbrother some day, and then wreak havoc upon the world? I can't do that. You know they wouldn't listen."

No. They wouldn't listen. I didn't even want to listen. Because it was all completely psycho.

"And even if they did," Mr. Morton went on, "there's nothing the police could do about it. Revolvers and nightsticks are useless against the wrath of the dark side. And I would be guilty of risking innocent souls in a war they can never hope to win. The commonly held belief-though it's yet to be proven-is that only those in Arthur's closest circle can put an end to the dark side's reign, in any case."

"So..." I pushed some of my hair away from my eyes. "Who, then? Lance? Jennifer?"

"Certainly," he said. "Either of them. Just not...well. You."

I gave him a dirty look. "Because Elaine of Astolat never even met King Arthur historically, is that it?"

"I told you that you were better off not knowing," Mr. Morton reminded me in a sad voice.

"I'd be b.u.mmed," I a.s.sured him, "if I actually believed any of this."

Mr. Morton looked at me, concern softening his craggy features.

"Elaine," he said gently. "Go home. Get your parents to take you somewhere far away from here. Back to Minnesota, perhaps. It might be better for you if you...well, if you simply went back home."

Something about the way he said the word home caused me to snap.

Simply put, I lost it. I'd tolerated all the rest. Talk of the powers of darkness and the dangers of attempting to thwart it. Jennifer as Will's reason for living. Even Tahiti.

But this I simply could not take.

"Home?" I echoed. "What do you know about home? Home isn't just a place, you know. It's people who make a home...people you care about, and who care about you...or who would, if you didn't turn around and abandon them for Tahiti because you believe in some dumb prophecy. I don't know if this Light and Dark thing is for real, Mr. Morton, but I do know one thing: if you and this so-called Order really were on Will's side, you wouldn't just leave him without even trying to help. He would never do that to you. He would never say, 'Oh, well, this is the way it's always happened, so I guess I better not even try to change things, because I tried that once and it didn't work, and the dark side always wins.'"

My voice broke, but I didn't care. I just kept right on yelling.

"Because isn't that what made your precious Arthur so popular in the first place? He was supposed to be this great innovative thinker who wouldn't do things the way people told him they had to be done, because that's the way they'd always been done. If Will really is Arthur-and I'm not saying he is, because I think this whole thing is wack-would he really just sit back and say, 'Oh, well, I can't change this, because no one's ever done it before,' and just leave you to die? No, he wouldn't. And you know what, Mr. Morton? I'm not going to, either."

And without another word, I turned around and walked out of Mr. Morton's apartment with my head held high and my shoulders thrown back as if I, and not Jennifer Gold, had been a queen in a past life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Lying, robed in snowy white

That loosely flew to left and right-

The leaves upon her falling light-

Thro' the noises of the night

She floated down to Camelot:

I knew from my brother Geoff, who'd been a practiced cla.s.s-ditcher, that it generally took the administration a full workday to catch up with delinquents. So I knew I was safe from any summonses to Vice Princ.i.p.al Pavarti's office to explain my absence from fifth through sixth periods for at least a day.

Still, I thought it safer to hide in the ladies' room until the next period bell rang, rather than risk being discovered roaming through the halls.

So I ducked into the nearest restroom.

The first thing I was going to need to do, I realized, was find Will. I had no idea what cla.s.ses he had for seventh and eighth periods, but I was going to have to find out somehow, then catch him and let him know that at least one member of the Avalon High faculty suspected that he was the reincarnation of an ancient medieval king, and that he was in grave and mortal danger from his stepbrother.

Mr. Morton had been right about one thing: Will wouldn't believe it, of course. Who in his right mind would?

But that didn't mean he didn't have a right to know.

I was busy redoing my ponytail in the mirror above the sinks when I realized I wasn't alone in the restroom. I heard sniffling from behind the last stall door, which was closed. Ducking down to look beneath the part.i.tion between the stall door and the floor, I saw a pair of white aerobics shoes, onto which were tied a pair of Avalon High's distinctive blue and gold pom-poms.

There was a cheerleader weeping in the ladies' room with me.

And, just given how my day had gone so far, I had a pretty good idea which cheerleader it was.

"Jennifer?" I said, tapping on the stall door. "It's me, Ellie. Are you okay?"

I heard a particularly slurpy sniffle. Then Jennifer's throaty voice said, "Go away."

"Come on, Jennifer," I said. "Open up and talk to me. It can't be that bad."

There was a pause. And then I heard the lock slide back, and Jennifer-still exquisitely lovely, even with red-rimmed eyes-stepped out of the stall, wiping her eyes on the long sleeves of her cheerleading sweater.

"D-don't tell anyone," she said, looking up at me with huge, worried blue eyes, "that you caught me in here crying. Like those gossipy girls from the track team you hang out with? Okay? Because they hate me enough, and that'll just make things worse."

"I won't mention it," I said, grabbing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and wetting them a little from the sink before handing them to her. "But they don't hate you."

"Are you kidding?" Jennifer dabbed at her red eyes with the paper towels. "Everybody hates me. On account of what I did to Will."

"Not everybody hates you," I said. "I don't hate you. And Will doesn't hate you, either."

To my dismay, this only made Jennifer start crying again, just when I thought she'd stopped.

"I know!" she burst out tearfully. "That's the worst part! Will came up to me this morning and was so totally sweet! He said he knew Lance and I hadn't meant to hurt him, and that he was completely fine with us b-being together. He even said he th-thought we made a good couple. Lance and me! Oh my G.o.d. I wanted to die!"

"Why?" I asked, patting her on the arm-to comfort her, I guess. "Don't you believe him?"

"Of course I believe him!" Jennifer said, with an incredulous laugh. "I mean, that's the one thing about Will-he never lies. Not even to make someone feel better. Well, maybe, you know, if you were sick he'd say you looked great or whatever. But not about-not about big stuff. So I know he was telling the truth. That's the thing. He really doesn't mind about me and Lance. He's just so...nice."

Something cold gripped my heart, but I told myself I was being silly. And selfish.

"So you want to get back together with him?" I asked her, way more lightly than I felt. Because of course I suddenly realized how much I'd been hoping that now that Will was free, he might possibly stop thinking of us as just friends, and more of...well, whatever.

But if he and Jennifer got back together, that would never, ever happen.

"I don't know," she said miserably. "A part of me will always love him. But the rest of me.... Do you think it's possible to love two boys at the same time?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," I said. "I mean, I've only ever loved one-"

"Will, right?" Jennifer asked, as she wiped her eyes.

I stared at her in total shock. "Wh-what? No! Of course not! I meant this other guy. Um, this guy named Tommy-"

"It's okay," Jennifer said. She'd stopped crying, and now whipped her makeup bag from her purse, and was trying to make repairs. "I mean, I don't blame you. And you two would look cute together. You're both so dark. And so tall."

I felt as if I were choking. "I don't-I don't feel that way about him."

"No?" She pursed her lips, then dotted lip gloss onto them. "Well, he likes you. I mean, from the first moment he saw you, that day at the park, remember? It's like he knew you from another life, or something."

I smiled ruefully. Because, of course, if what Mr. Morton believed about me was true-which it wasn't-I wasn't the one Will had known in his past life. That honor was entirely Jennifer's.

"He just likes me as a friend," I said, for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Jennifer said a little darkly. "I mean, he invited you to go sailing with us. He doesn't invite just anybody onto that boat of his. And he says that stupid dog of his likes you. Plus, he says he can talk to you. Will's gotten very into talking lately. He's...changed, you know." She glanced at me meaningfully.

But I was clueless.

"Changed how?"

"Since we started dating," she said, with a shrug. "It used to be, all he cared about was sailing and football. Then he got into student council. Sometimes"-she threw me a horrified look-"he even wants to talk about politics. Politics! Over the summer, he was talking about not going out for the football team, so he'd have more time for the debate team, or something. Can you imagine? Lance talked him out of that one, thank G.o.d. But the truth was, I felt like he was turning into somebody I didn't even know....

"That's the one thing I like best about Lance," she went on, snapping her makeup bag closed. "He's not into talking all the time, the way Will's been, lately. I swear, sometimes it was like he'd rather talk than-well, you know."

I did know. And the thought made me blush.

"It would be so cool if you and Will started going out," Jennifer said, her eyes lighting up. "Because then people would get off my back about the whole Lance thing. Because, you know, even though Will's turning into a bit of a weirdo, with this quitting-football-and-going-and-sitting-in-the-woods thing, he's still as popular as ever. Think about it, will you?"

She gave her bouncy blond curls a toss, then turned to face me instead of the mirror. "Well, what do you think? Can you tell I was bawling my brains out a minute ago?"

I looked at her. And my heart sank.

Because she was gorgeous. Even after, as she put it, bawling her brains out. I could never in a million years compete with that, no matter what she said.

And it wasn't just that she was so pretty. If it had just been that, I'd have been able to hate her, and without guilt.

But it was impossible to hate her, because it wasn't as if she were a phony. She cheerfully volunteered that she thought that the boy she was still partly in love with was actually more interested in me...and then-again without the slightest twinge of conscience-urged me to date him, because it would make things easier for her socially. How could you not like someone like that?

"You look great," I said, meaning it.

"Thanks." Jennifer tilted her chin to look up at me.

"You really won't tell anyone, will you?" she asked.