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

it’s your lucky tree,” Hana suggests at morning assembly.
    “I don’t know, but I think the dream is telling me Heathcliff is in trouble,” I say.
    “How can he be in trouble? He’s back in Wuthering Heights ,” Hana says as she looks straight ahead and pretends to be listening to Headmaster B give morning announcements. She turns and looks at me. “Isn’t he?”
    “Right,” I lie, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. I should tell Hana the truth, I know. I just don’t know how.
    “Anyway, maybe it’s just the stalker stories that are getting to you,” Hana says. “Is it true about last night? Samir said you guys saw the stalker — up close and personal.”
    “Yeah, for about two seconds, then he bolted.”
    “Still, creepy,” Hana adds. “And all this time I thought Parker was just making him up.”
    “Yeah, weird, huh?” I say, just as a Guardian to our right shushes us.
    With only three hours of sleep after our little snooping adventure, I pretty much bomb my geometry test, and manage to walk through the rest of my morning classes like a zombie. This is the last time I let Blade talk me into anything.
    I’m still feeling a little out of it by the time my counseling session with Ms. W rolls around, but at least maybe she’ll have some answers. I want to tell her about the stalker, and about finding him in Coach H’s room. I can’t shake the feeling the two are linked somehow.
    But Ms. W seems even more distracted than I am during our session. I try to talk about how we snooped around Coach H’s room and about the stalker, but I get the distinct impression that she’s not even listening.
    I decide to test her.
    “So,” I say, as she glances off into space, “my dad sent in that permission form. He’s so happy with my progress here at Bard that he’s going to buy me a brand-new Maserati.”
    When Ms. W doesn’t react, I know I’ve got her.
    “Um, hello ? Ms. Woolf?”
    “Ms. W,” she corrects absently. The teachers here don’t like to go by their real names, since they’re famous ones. Not that most of the Bard students would pick up on them anyway. Most of them aren’t exactly voracious readers.
    “Are you even listening?” I ask her. For once, I’m in the mood to talk about real problems and Ms. W isn’t paying attention.
    “Sorry, Miranda,” Ms. W says, shaking her head. “I’m a little distracted. We’re all a bit worried about Coach H.”
    “So something is up then?” I ask.
    “What do you mean? What have you heard? Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
    “Whoa,” I say, holding up my hands. “I don’t know anything. Blade suspects foul play. Do you?”
    “I don’t know what to think. You’re sure you didn’t have anything to do with Coach H’s disappearance?”
    “Me? No! Why?”
    “And you haven’t been near the vault, have you?”
    “No. Now what’s going on?”
    Ms. W hesitates, as if not sure she wants to confide in me.
    “Coach H’s book is missing from the vault. And some faculty suspects you may have taken it.”
    “Me? Why?”
    “So you could trap Coach H because of the F he gave you,” Ms. W adds, looking down at her lap. “I don’t think it’s true, but it’s hard to convince the others…”
    “What! But how does everyone know?”
    “Plagiarism must be reported to the entire staff,” Ms. W says. “It’s Bard policy.”
    “Okay, but I’d never do anything like that. Is this just about me and my friends knowing about the vault? Because you can trust us, really.”
    “I know that, but some of the other faculty have reservations about you in particular.”
    “Why?”
    “To be honest, they don’t trust you. Because of your, uh, fictional roots. Few faculty members feel fictional characters can be trusted. Especially a descendent of Catherine Earnshaw. Who could be willful, and possibly, selfish.”
    “But I’m not Catherine Earnshaw. I’m Miranda Tate. We’re two different people.”
    “I know that, and you know