The Scarlet Letterman Read Online Free Page B

time.
    I hate study time. It’s two hours of sitting in complete silence. I can barely find the stamina to watch two hours of Laguna Beach , much less do something like read. But at this point, I would literally kill someone just to hear ten minutes of a radio. Even if it was a country station. That’s how desperate I am for a sound other than the wind blowing against our window.
    It’s enough to make me want to cry, I’m so bored. For the first ten minutes of study time, I read and reread the letters from home — one from my friend Liz, and one from Mom. I reread them each ten times. That’s how desperate I am for entertainment. Liz, bless her, has taken it upon herself to give me TV updates, so I can almost imagine the finale of Veronica Mars. As usual, though, there’s no letter from Dad. He’s still pissed that I wrecked his new BMW, but I don’t really care. I was trying to save Lindsay from a school bully, which is technically his job anyway. Besides, Dad took the insurance money and bought a Range Rover, so it’s not like he’s got a right to have a pity party. Not when I’m stuck on Shipwreck Island without even so much as a single copy of Teen People.
    Thinking about Dad makes my blood pressure rise, so I put him out of my head and focus on Liz’s loopy handwriting, which calms me. She’s giving her own opinion about her new must-see show, My Super Sweet 16 on MTV. The last part of her letter outlines what she would do with $100,000 instead of throwing a lame birthday party. This reminds me that my own birthday is coming up in little over a month. I’m going to spend my sweet sixteen in purgatory with a bunch of ghost teachers. This thought makes me hate my dad even more.
    “God, I’m bored .” Blade sighs, voicing my own thoughts. She throws up her hands and shuts the book on her desk. “I’m going to bed,” she declares.
    “It’s only eight-thirty,” I point out. At this rate, she’ll get eleven hours of sleep.
    “I’m either going to sleep, or slip into an ennui coma,” Blade says. “And I prefer sleep. My dreams, at least, can be like television.”
    Blade falls right to sleep, but I can’t sleep until lights out at 10:00. And even then, I lie awake thinking about Heathcliff. Did he attack Parker? Is he even still alive? Maybe the piece of paper in my locket isn’t enough to keep him in this world. Maybe he’s faded to oblivion like his creator, Emily Brontë, who disappeared after most of her book was destroyed last semester.
    With all these questions swirling around in my head, I fall into a fitful sleep, and I dream about Heathcliff.
    He’s carrying me in his arms, just like he did when he saved me from a fire in the library last semester. His arms are strong and thick, and I feel like I can stay there forever. His eyes are the same — dark and ambiguous — and as usual, I don’t know what he’s thinking.
    He’s taking me deep into the woods, just like Ryan did, but this time Heathcliff doesn’t stop until he takes me to a river. He puts me down by a horseshoe-shaped tree, and disappears into the forest. Alone suddenly, I know something very bad is coming, and when I look up, I see the two red eyes again, peering at me.
    Distantly I hear Heathcliff call for help, but I can’t get to him somehow, and I know he won’t be able to help me. I have to face whatever is attached to those eyes alone.
    The eyes start to move closer to me, and that’s when I wake up, cold sweat trickling down my back. I find myself nearly face-to-face with a white demon, and that’s when I realize I’m facing the window and looking at the gargoyle sitting on the ledge.
    My heart nearly leaps out of my throat before I realize I’m just at Bard, where the campus decor is like Fright Fest.
    The full moonlight glints off the gargoyle’s sharp fangs. I shiver and turn away. One of these days I’ll remember to go to sleep with the blinds down. No wonder I’m having nightmares. In the dark, Blade