Read Online The Scarlet Letterman by Cara Lockwood - Free Book Online Page A

inspect it, I see that it’s about the size of a quarter, and it looks like another ripped piece of paper, like the one I found outside the gym and on the path near the commons. It’s too dark to see exactly what the piece is, but I’m pretty sure it’s part of the same picture. Before I can compare it to the other two bits, it dawns on me that this is Hooded Sweatshirt Stalker’s calling card. He was here at some point. And if he was here, in Coach H’s room, maybe he did have something to do with Coach H’s disappearance.
    And then, suddenly to my right, the entire wall seems to move. It’s only belatedly that I realize the big shadow next to me isn’t the bureau I thought it was. It’s a man. A big, brawny guy. In a hooded sweatshirt.
    “Ack” is the only sound I can manage as I jump back from the figure. Part of my brain tells me it’s Heathcliff and I have nothing to be afraid of, but the other, louder part of my brain says Hooded Sweatshirt Stalker could plan to hack me to pieces. He did something to Coach H, and he could do something to me.
    “What the hell…?” Blade starts, whipping her head around and seeing Hooded Sweatshirt Guy.
    It’s too dark to see his face, but the stalker turns and looks at me, then at Blade and Samir, and then bolts straight out of the room. I try to follow, my legs coming to life a few seconds too late. By the time I get my feet moving, I nearly collide straight into Mr. B, who reaches into Hemingway’s room and flicks on the light.
    “The Hooded Sweatshirt Stalker,” Blade says. “He just went that way. Did you see him?”
    Blake eyes me, then Blade and Samir.
    “I didn’t see anyone,” he says.
    “But he was right there,” Blade sputters.
    “Yes, well,” Blake adds, clearing his throat. “He’s not here now. Are you trying to tell me you’re out, after curfew, searching through the room of a faculty member because you’re trying to trap the campus stalker?”
    “Well, uh, no,” Blade says.
    “Did you students find what you were looking for?” he asks us calmly.
    For a full minute, we’re entirely silent. We’ve been busted by Blake, the teacher on campus voted most likely to have run out of his antipsychotic drug prescription, because of his habit of seeing things that aren’t there. Unfortunately he does see us.
    “Um…we were just, uh…” Blade stammers, desperately trying to think of an excuse.
    “We were looking for our homework assignment,” I say. Okay, so this is totally lame. But it’s better than “we were snooping around pretending to be Veronica Mars because Blade has this idea that we should form a mystery society.”
    “Yes, right, well then,” Blake says, clearly not believing us. “I’m not certain, but I believe you all have beds to go to.”
    “You’re not punishing us?” Samir says, bubbling to life next to me. Blade promptly kicks Samir in the shin and gives him a look that says, “thanks for reminding Blake of his options.”
    “No, I’m not going to punish you,” Blake says. “But I suggest you get back to your rooms as soon as you can. I’m sure our friends the Guardians won’t be so lenient.”
    He doesn’t need to tell us twice. In seconds, the three of us scatter.
    “What the hell was the stalker doing in Coach H’s room?” hisses Blade as we trot back to our room.
    “I dunno,” I say, but now I’m really not so sure it’s Heathcliff. I’m not so sure at all.
    That night, I drift into a fitful sleep, where I’m running through the woods, lost, looking for something, and it’s only middream that I realize I’m looking for Heathcliff. In the woods, I find that church by the river. In front of it, there’s a big boulder and that tree again — the one that’s shaped like a horseshoe.
    And inside, I hear Heathcliff calling me.
    I wake in a kind of panic, my heart racing. Why am I dreaming of Heathcliff nearly every night? And what does the church or the horseshoe-shaped tree mean?
    “Maybe