When he brought the rope behind his ankles just before he began to jump, Luce was slammed with a wave of déjà vu. It wasn’t exactly that she felt like she’d seen Daniel jump rope before, but more that the stance he took seemed entirely familiar. He stood with his feet hip-width apart, unlocked his knees, and pressed his shoulders down as he filled his chest with air. Luce could almost have drawn it.
It was only when Daniel began twirling the rope that Luce snapped out of that trance … and right into another. Never in her life had she seen anyone move like him. It was almost like Daniel was flying. The rope whipped up and over his tall frame so quickly that it disappeared, and his feet—his graceful, narrow feet—were they even touching the ground? He was moving so swiftly, even he must not have been counting.
A loud grunt and a thud on the other side of the weight room tore Luce’s attention away. Todd was in a heap at the base of one of those knotted climbing ropes. She felt momentarily sorry for Todd, who was looking down at his blistered hands. Before she could look back at Daniel to see whether he’d even noticed, a cold black rush at the edge of her skin made Luce shiver. The shadow swept up on her slowly at first, icy, tenebrous, its limits indiscernible. Then, suddenly rough, it crashed into her body and forced her back. The door to the weight room slammed in her face and Luce was alone in the hallway.
“Ow!” she cried, not because she was hurt exactly, but because she had never been touched by the shadows before. She looked down at her bare arms, where it had felt almost like hands had gripped her, shoving her out of the gym.
That was impossible—she’d just been standing in a weird place; a draft must have shot through the gymnasium. Uneasily, she approached the closed door and pressed her face up against the small glass rectangle.
Daniel was looking around, like he’d heard something. She felt certain he didn’t know it was her: He wasn’t scowling.
She thought about Roland’s suggestion that she just ask Daniel what was up, but quickly dismissed the notion. It was impossible to ask anything of Daniel. She didn’t want to bring out that scowl on his face.
Besides, any question she might pose would be useless. She’d already heard all she needed to hear last night. She’d have to be some kind of sadist to ask him to admit he was with Gabbe. She turned back toward the locker room when she realized she couldn’t leave.
Her key.
It must have slipped from her hands when she stumbled out of the room. She stood on tiptoes to look down through the small glass panel on the door. There it was, a bronze blunder on the padded blue mat. How had it gotten so far across the room, so close to where he was working out? Luce sighed and pushed the door back open, thinking if she had to go in, at least she’d make it quick.
Reaching for her key, she sneaked one last look at him. His pace was slowing, slowing, but his feet still barely touched the ground. And then, with one final light-as-air bounce, he came to a stop and turned around to face her.
For a moment, he said nothing. She could feel herself blush and really wished she wasn’t wearing such a horrible bathing suit.
“Hi” was all she could think to say.
“Hi,” he said back, in a much calmer tone of voice. Then, gesturing at her suit, said, “Did you win?”
Luce laughed a sad, self-effacing laugh and shook her head. “Far from it.”
Daniel pursed his lips. “But you were always …”
“I was always what?”
“I mean, you look like you might be a good swimmer.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”
She stepped toward him. They were standing just a foot apart. Drops of water fell from her hair and pattered like rain on the gym mats. “That’s not what you were going to say,” she insisted. “You said I was always …”
Daniel busied himself coiling the jump rope around his wrist. “Yeah, I didn’t mean you you. I meant in general. They’re always supposed to let you win your first race here. Unspoken code of conduct for us old-timers.”
“But Gabbe didn’t win either,” Luce said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And she’s new. She didn’t even get in the pool.”
“She’s not exactly new, just coming back after some time … off.” Daniel shrugged, giving away nothing of his feelings for Gabbe. His obvious attempt to look unconcerned made Luce even more jealous. She watched him finish looping the jump rope into a coil, the way his hands moved almost as quickly as his feet. And here she was so clumsy and lonely and cold and left out of everything by everyone. Her lip quivered.
“Oh, Lucinda,” he whispered, sighing heavily.
Her whole body warmed at the sound. His voice was so intimate and familiar.
She wanted him to say her name again, but he had turned away. He hooked the jump rope over a peg on the wall. “I should go change before class.”
She rested a hand on his arm. “Wait.”
He wrenched away as if he had been shocked—and Luce felt it, too, but it was the kind of shock that felt good.
“Do you ever get the feeling …” She raised her eyes to his. Up close, she could see how unusual they were. They seemed gray from far away, but up close there were violet flecks in them. She knew someone else with eyes like that…
“I could swear we’ve met before,” she said. “Am I crazy?”
“Crazy? Isn’t that why you’re here?” he said, brushing her off.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Daniel’s face was blank. “And for the record”—he pointed up at a blinking device attached to the ceiling—“the reds do monitor for stalkers.”
“I’m not stalking you.” She stiffened, very aware of the distance between their bodies. “Can you honestly say you have no idea what I’m talking about?”
Daniel shrugged.
“I don’t believe you,” Luce insisted. “Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong. That I’ve never in my life seen you before this week.”
Her heart raced as Daniel stepped toward her, placing both hands on her shoulders. His thumbs fit perfectly along the grooves of her collarbone, and she wanted to close her eyes at the warmth of his touch—but she didn’t. She watched as Daniel bowed his head so his nose was nearly touching hers. She could feel his breath on her face. She could smell a hint of sweetness on his skin.
He did as she asked. He looked her in the eye and said, very slowly, very clearly, so that his words could not possibly be misunderstood:
“You have never in your life seen me before this week.”
SEVEN
SHEDDING LIGHT
“Now where are you going?” Cam asked, lowering his red plastic sunglasses.
He’d appeared outside the entrance of Augustine so suddenly that Luce almost plowed right into him. Or maybe he’d been there awhile and she just hadn’t noticed in her haste to get to class. Either way, her heart started beating quickly and her palms began to sweat.
“Um, class?” Luce answered, because where did it look like she was going? Her arms were full, with her two hefty calculus books and her half-completed religion assignment.
This would have been a good time to apologize for leaving so suddenly last night. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was already so late. There hadn’t been any hot water in the locker showers, so she’d had to trek all the way back to the dorm. Somehow, what had happened after the party didn’t seem important anymore. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to her leaving—especially not now, after Daniel had made her feel so pathetic. She also didn’t want Cam to think she was being rude. She just wanted to steer past him and be by herself so she could move on from this morning’s string of embarrassments.