Coldhearted (9781311888433) Read online

  Ravenna gasped again, and then started to cry. “Ro will hear about this! We don’t care she’s a witch. She’ll get what’s coming to her!” Edie watched as Ravenna stomped to her white Fiat, got in, and then sped away.

  Mason sighed and turned back toward Edie. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I don’t know why they have it in for you so badly. I’ve never seen them so…determined to ruin someone’s life.” He held her in his arms. “Are you okay?”

  Edie nodded. “Yeah, being called a witch doesn’t bother me, although it might explain all the weird things that have been happening lately. I mean, what if I’m not going crazy? What if I’m…supernatural or something?”

  Mason smiled, despite her concerns. “Well, I know you’ve put a spell on me, Edie. You did the first day we met. And now that we’re together, well, it’s just too good to be true. Out of all the guys out there, you’ve chosen me.”

  “And out of all the girls out there, you’ve chosen me. Why am I so special, Mason?”

  He grinned, exposing his dimples. “Oh, that would take hours and we have to get back to school, like it or not.”

  Edie grinned back. “What about our kiss?” She did a quick scan and discovered the parking lot was empty. “There’s no one to interrupt us.”

  He reached out and held her face in his hands. His smile faded, as his lips puckered to kiss her. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, softly, gently, not rushing into anything, before giving her a chaste kiss. She thought that the kiss was over, disappointed, until he lunged, making her gasp from the urgency of his lips, smothering hers, taking her breath away, as his passion threatened to consume her. When it was over, they were both gasping for air to reach their lungs. Her heart was pounding as she was sure his was too.

  “Sorry,” he apologized, and then licked his lips. “I wanted to be gentle, but I also wanted you too badly.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. She gave him a crooked smile. “Besides if I didn’t like it, I would’ve turned you into a toad already.”

  Mason chuckled. “Well, I’d better not disappoint you, then.”

  “I think you’re impossible of that, Mason Fenwick. If the whole world were to turn against me, I know you’d stand my by side.”

  He cupped her cheek with his hand, the scarred finger caressing her skin. “Always, Edwina St. John, I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

  She removed his hand from her cheek and held it against her heart. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

  ****

  Diana and Madelyn were Edie’s only true friends in psych class.

  All the other girls had been giving her the evil eye, believing Rochelle’s story that Edie and Russell were together. It made no difference that they’d witnessed Mason kiss her when he’d dropped her off. In their eyes, Edie had who they couldn’t: the hot, young Mr. B.

  Russell, for his part, had been keeping his distance from Edie. When she’d tried to hand him back his lectures notes at the beginning of class, he’d shaken his head, telling her, not now. The class had taken their pop quiz. Edie was sure that she’d failed because even though she’d copied the notes, she hadn’t studied them.

  He was grading them at his desk while the class was supposed to be writing down the day’s lecture notes, but it seemed Edie was more fascinating than today’s topic: The History of Sexual Attraction.

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Diana snapped at Candie.

  The pink-dyed, ponytail-wearing Candie wouldn’t stop judging Edie with her narrowed eyes. Edie had learned her last name was Sweets, but she was positively sour right now.

  “I can’t,” Candie snapped back. “Witches don’t show up on film.”

  “Witches?” Madelyn repeated. She held out her hands. “Has all the girls in this school gone completely insane?”

  “She is a witch,” Candie reasserted. “She’s stolen Mason. She’s stolen Mr. B. She’s stolen Quinn. She nearly killed Rochelle.” She’d been counting off Edie’s offenses on her fingers. “And Ravenna’s been in a car accident,” she added, bringing the total to five, as she held up her hand, fingers splayed.

  Edie gasped. “What? Is she okay?”

  Candie flipped Edie off, before lowering her hand. “Ugh, like you care.”

  “Wait, Quinn McDermott?” a nearby girl spoke up. “She’s gone after him too?”

  Edie held up her hands. “This is nonsense. I haven’t stolen anyone.”

  Soon, all the girls were erupting in accusations and rumors, pointing fingers and making the sign of the cross.

  They were all silenced by a loud bang. Russell had slammed the psychology textbook on his desk.

  “What the hell is going on?!” he demanded, darting his furious eyes back and forth across the room. He pointed a sharp finger at Candie. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I-I, um, well, Edie’s...” Rattled, she couldn’t remember her earlier accusation.

  “Edie’s what?” he demanded.

  “N-nothing,” Candie stammered, nervous and embarrassed.

  Russell angrily picked up the stack of pop quizzes, and then slammed them on his desk, causing them to fly in multiple directions like misguided birds, until they finally crashed on the floor.

  “Stop acting like children,” he berated. “Stop with the rumors, stop spreading malicious lies, and stop behaving like brats! If you would’ve adopted these qualities, before, you’d have passed this very simple quiz! With the exception of three,”—he held up three fingers for emphasis—“just three, you all FAILED! You’re seniors. You’re about to go to college. And in college, they don’t play around, you hear me? They’ll kick you out. And they don’t care if you cry to your mommies and daddies. You’re supposed to be adults, seventeen, eighteen years old.” He slammed his fist against the table. “So act like it, dammit!”

  Everyone’s shoulders slumped, even Edie’s, and they sat in silence. The bell rang and they still didn’t move, waiting for him to dismiss them. He did with a sharp wave of his hand and everyone scampered out.

  Diana grimaced. “Ooh, boy. I wonder who passed.”

  “I know I didn’t,” Edie said. “I didn’t even study.”

  “Well, no more gossiping in Mr. B’s class,” Madelyn cautioned.

  “But I do want to know about Ravenna,” Edie said. “Who would know, besides Candie? I don’t think she’ll give me the 411.”

  “I’ll ask around,” Diana said, “then text you and Maddie the details.”

  Edie realized that neither of them had her number.

  She gave it to them, and said, “Let me know the second you hear something. I’ve never liked Ravenna, but I’ve never wanted anything to happen to her, either.”

  “What was Candie going on about you being a witch?” Madelyn asked.

  Edie sighed, shaking her head. “It’s something Rochelle came up with to explain why she’s such a failure in life. Blaming others for her problems, I guess.”

  Although maybe she was right, but Edie wouldn’t dare tell Diana and Madelyn that she might be a witch. That’s worse than admitting I’m possibly insane. I think.

  The warning bell rang for everyone to hurry to their next class, and the three girls said their goodbyes. But Edie turned back inside Russell’s classroom, to return his lecture notes. He’d already picked up the papers that’d fallen on the floor. Now he was sitting at his desk, staring at a blank space on the wall. He looked disheveled. His hair was messy like he’d been running his hands through it. His tie was undone and she noticed that he hadn’t shaved that morning.

  Without saying a word, she placed the stack of papers next to his arm, and went to turn away, but he grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

  “Did I make a big fool of myself?”

  She smiled and he released her wrist. “Well, you’ll give them something to talk about for a while. I’m sure yelling at them has caused much of their attraction for you to wear off. So…maybe it was a good thing yo
u pitched a fit.”

  Russell chuckled. “Yeah, well, they had it coming. I’ve been biting my tongue for so long, but today, I just…lost it. I think it had to do with you. Candie, the others, the looks they were giving you, and then Candie calling you a ‘witch’…I couldn’t take it. I was defending you, but I also realized how it would look—taking sides and adding more to the suspicions—so I just tacked on all the other things I’ve always wanted to say.” He looked into her eyes. “Are you all right, Edie?”

  “Yeah, I already knew about the witch thing. Ravenna accused me of that during lunch when I was with Mason. Rochelle started the rumor, thinking I’m one.” She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe that would explain all the strange things that have been happening to me.” Edie paused, and then asked, “Who passed your quiz?”

  “Diana, Madelyn, and you,” he said without a beat.

  Edie shook her head. “No, that’s impossible. I didn’t even study. I didn’t even know what to write. I was just rambling on, making stuff up, really.”

  Russell reached over on his desk and pulled her quiz aside. It had a big one hundred written in red ink at the top. “Well, here it is, Edie, and you got every question right.”

  She snatched up the quiz and scanned it thoroughly. “I don’t remember writing any of this.” She handed it back to Russell. “Seriously, I didn’t write that, and to be honest, that doesn’t even look like my handwriting.”

  “Well, your name’s on it,” he said, showing her flowing cursive script: Edie St. John.

  She shook head. “My life is just so…out of control.”

  “But you seem happier,” he said. “I saw you with Mason. Are you two together?”

  She smiled, unable to contain her glee. “Yes, we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend.”

  Russell wasn’t smiling. “I’m happy for you, Edie.”

  “Really?” she asked, because he didn’t seem very happy.

  Russell furrowed his brow. “Of course, why would you think otherwise?”

  She shook her head again. “Sorry. Rough day. I’d better go.”

  She checked her phone. No texts from Diana or Madelyn.

  “Waiting for a call from Mason?” Russell asked in a seemingly cold voice.

  She dismissed his tone, thinking that she’d imagined it. “Um, no, from my friends,” she said. “They were supposed to find out what happened to Ravenna, about her car accident. I saw her speeding away from Jack’s. She was going awfully fast, mad at me, mad about everything, it seemed. I just hope she’s okay.”

  “After accusing you of being a witch, slandering you, you wish her good health?”

  His voice was cold, as it’d been before, and his face was dark and menacing. Edie backed away, scared, all too familiar with that transformation in his demeanor. She’d encountered it last night at her house and didn’t wish to go through that again.

  “Whatever she’s said she doesn’t deserve to be hurt,” Edie pointed out. “She’s just loyal to her friend, that’s all.”

  “Loyalty,” Russell spat, disgusted with the word. He stood, but didn’t advance. Instead he placed his clenched fists on the desk, and hunched slightly over, staring coldly at her. “Once upon a time, someone was loyal to me, or so I’d thought. Have you ever been betrayed, Edie? Do you know how it feels to know your loved ones are plotting against you?”

  Her heart was racing, scared. “Russell? Is that you?” She hesitated, then reached out, and placed her hand on his cold arm. A chill shot up her spine, as a cold-tipped finger danced along her bones. “Russell?” she called out again, praying for him to come back to her.

  The shadow vanished from his face and warmth flowed from his arm again. Russell looked down at her hand on him. He pulled away. “Edie, you shouldn’t be touching me,” he warned in his normal voice.

  She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. “Sorry, you, just, well, I was concerned...”

  Russell was no longer hunched over, his arms now at his sides, palms open. “Concerned about what?”

  She withdrew her hands and slid them across her face, hoping to wipe the crazy off. “N-nothing,” she stammered. I-I need to get to class.”

  “Wait,” he said, when she turned to leave. “You’re already late. I’ll write you a pass.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?” she asked. “Given the rumors about us?”

  “You’re still my student, and I’m still your teacher. If I can’t write you a pass, then I might as well pack my bags and leave,” he said with a lopsided smile.

  When he was done, he handed her the slip of paper, and their fingers touched. Despite their need to be cautious, they let the moment linger, until she was the first to break contact.

  “In all seriousness, do you think I’m a witch?”

  “No, Edie, I don’t, but I do think you’re very special, unique. And you’re not crazy, either.” He gave her a small smile, devoid of happiness. “If anyone’s crazy around here, it’s me.”

  Not too long ago, he’d acted scary, not crazy, and he remembered nothing about his previous behavior. Edie thought that she’d imagined it, but perhaps Russell Ballantine wasn’t quite right, either. It would explain why he was willing to risk his job and reputation to be close to her.

  “Why do you think you’re crazy?” she asked.

  “You’d better get to class, Edie,” he said, refusing to answer her question.

  She could see the look in his dark, gray eyes: he wasn’t in the mood to reveal anything.

  “See you tomorrow, then,” she said, letting him be.

  “Tomorrow, then,” he returned.

  He should’ve relaxed, but he didn’t, seeming anxious. He resumed his seat and pretended to be busy, shuffling papers around, avoiding her.

  She caught a glimpse of his lesson plan book. The handwriting was familiar. It looked exactly like the handwriting on the quiz that she’d supposedly taken. She said nothing, made no accusations. Russell was bent on protecting her even to the point of losing his job.

  She wondered why, when it seemed at times, he was threatening her.

  ****

  As she went to economics—with her thoughts heavier than her backpack—she came to dismiss the possibility that Russell had any ill will toward her. He was absolutely incapable of that, she just knew it. She was either crazy and had imagined him transforming into a hateful person, or she really was a witch (or something supernatural of that sort) and her powers—if she had any—had caused Russell to act strangely, as if he were a different person.

  Yes, these were crap theories, but it was all she had to go on at the moment.

  “Hey, Edie!”

  Edie turned before entering her next class (that she was late for) to see Jules, smiling, as she approached with wide eyes behind thick glasses.

  “Hey, Jules,” she greeted back. “I’m surprised you want to be near me. Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

  Jules waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, I heard, you being a witch and all. Actually, it’s kind of cool. Witches are known to be conduits to the other side.”

  Edie furrowed her brow. “Conduits? The other side?”

  Jules gave her a look. “Specters, Edie!”

  “Specters?” Edie repeated, as if she’d never heard the word before.

  “Ghosts, Edie, ghosts! After someone dies and they don’t go to Heaven or Hell, they get stuck here, wandering around, trying to communicate with the living. I’ve encountered spirits on my investigations, but I’ve only gotten audio proof, no visual. Sometimes, nothing registers on our instruments, but I’ve heard voices, and I’ve seen things move, as if invisible hands were touching them. There are bad energies and good energies. Oh, and once, I captured an event of automatic writing, but Quinn”—she rolled her eyes —“accidentally burned up the evidence with a match, so he could see when his flashlight went out.” She shook her head, reminiscing.

  “Wait, what’s automatic writing? And Quinn McDermott’s a ghost hunter?”


  Jules nodded. “Yeah, Quinn’s been in GPS since its inception. At first, he joined because he was into ‘Goth chicks’—his words, not mine—but then, when he realized there are spooky things out there, he was on board with investigating. There’s nothing like being possessed to make you see the light,” she said with a wry smile. “Oh, and automatic writing is when a ghost takes control of you, to communicate by duh, writing; or you can take a piece of paper and spill some ink on it, and a ghost, if powerful enough, can write a message. I’ve only seen the latter. The sample of automatic writing I got before Quinn destroyed it was: help me.” She shivered, despite wearing a chunky sweater, and then smiled. “Isn’t that just awesome?”

  Edie was silent, processing what Jules had said, the flood of information.

  After a few seconds or minutes or hours, Edie wasn’t sure, she asked, “Did you hear about Mrs. Featherstone writing ‘fat girl’ over and over on the blackboard?”

  Jules nodded. “Sad,” she commented succinctly.

  “Well, I was wondering…could that be a ghost, writing?”

  Jules considered this, and then replied, “Well, if it was, I’d say it was a poltergeist, you know, a mean spirit, but why would the poltergeist communicate through Mrs. Featherstone? What’s so special or should I say vulnerable about her?”

  Edie took Jules aside. “Can you keep a secret?”

  Jules nodded fiercely. “I have a vault,” she said, tapping her temple. “It’s full of secrets. Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” She smiled. “Besides I lost the combination,” she joked.

  Edie wasn’t smiling. “I’m serious, Jules.”

  “Okay, okay, go ahead.”

  Edie told her about the-you’re-going-crazy-page that’d been inside her notebook.

  “Can I see it?” Jules asked, intrigued.

  “No, I threw it away.”

  Jules groaned. “Well, no big deal, except for the very likely possibility it was a ghost, a poltergeist, actually,” she corrected. Jules’s eyes went wide and she grabbed Edie’s arms. “The voice you’ve been hearing! It’s a mischievous ghost!”