Warped (Maurissa Guibord)

the word. Smitten . So struck with love you couldn't function? She didn't think it applied to Hunter Scoville. Certainly not to his tongue. "That sounds so old-fashioned," she said softly. "I wonder if people even get smitten anymore."
    "Fine. Tell me the rest later," Opal whispered as Mr. Lawner walked in the door.
    "There is no rest," Tessa hissed back.
    Opal gave a "yeah, sure" smirk and turned around but whipped back. "I just remembered," she said. "I've got a chemistry test next period."
    "Right. Good luck," Tessa said.
    Opal put out a hand. "Ahem?"
    "Ahem?"
    "The pig?" Opal gave an impatient huff.
    Tessa's eyes widened. "Oh my gosh. Sorry." She slipped the pig off her wrist.
    It was a bracelet of green jade beads knotted together on a black cord. The central, largest bead was carved into a fat, happy-looking pig. As a good-luck charm, the pig had been through math tests, piano recitals, even dentist appointments. When Tessa was wearing it, Opal kept her in her thoughts, and vice versa. Sometimes Tessa thought that was the real luck of the pig--having a friend who worried about you, who hoped you didn't screw up or get hurt.
    "Here you go," said Tessa. "Though he wasn't much help last night."
    Opal shrugged as she put it on. "Maybe the pig had an off night."
    Tessa shook her head. "No. I think it's just me." She thought about the unicorn tapestry and the blackouts, or whatever those weird episodes had been. "Can you come over later?" Tessa asked. "There's something I want to show you."
    "Sure."
    Mr. Lawner gave the girls a stern glance as he finished removing some papers from his desk drawer. "Morning, people," he said. "Sorry I'm late. Now let's get started."

Chapter 6

Hartescross, 1511
    William de Chaucy reined his horse to a halt but sat forward in the saddle, peering down the grassy slope. It was her. That girl from the village. He frowned, watching as she pulled at a bit of something in her hands and let it drop to the ground. What was she doing?
    His eyebrows rose in surprise and then astonishment as she hoisted her skirts and went tearing across the edge of the meadow. Her hair was loose, and it swirled behind her like a dark, liquid banner. And then she disappeared into the northern woods. What was she thinking?
    Will's horse, Hannibal, blew a gusty breath and stamped. He was impatient with this interruption of their ride. But another rider was approaching, and Will held the horse in check. He turned in the saddle and let out a sigh. It was his older brother, pounding up on his charger.
    "Where are you going?" Hugh de Chaucy demanded, panting as he reined in. Hugh always rode, Will had observed, as if he were doing the work, not the horse.
    Will quickly surveyed the meadow. He relaxed slightly--there was no sign of her. Hugh hadn't noticed anything. "Going?" he repeated distractedly, "Oh. Right. Just going for a ride. No need to follow me."
    "Alone? Why?" Hugh looked truly puzzled.
    He never understood. Hugh liked to be surrounded by friends and noise and laughter. An hour's worth of quiet contemplation entailed two things he particularly despised: quiet and contemplation. But sometimes these things were all Will desired.
    "I just wanted to ride," said Will, shrugging off his brother's watchful gaze and examining the distant line of trees. Yet he could feel the weight of Hugh's assessing look. Will wore a shirt of rough cambric, doeskin breeches and soft boots. A woolen cloak so old as to be of uncertain color was slung across his broad shoulders.
    "You're not dressed to hunt," Hugh observed. His voice held a faint but unmistakable air of disappointment.
    "No," Will said firmly. If Hugh thought there was the least chance of killing something, he would insist on coming along. "I just want to ride." He glanced to the meadow again, where jogging along awkwardly now was a portly youth who stopped and peered along the ground. He seemed to be searching for something. Will watched as the youth scratched his head and then his crotch.
    "I just want to think, " Will amended. Surely that would put Hugh off.
    "Hmm. It must be a girl," said Hugh. When Will shot a frown at him, Hugh gave a triumphant grin that broadened his ruddy face and made his blue eyes nearly disappear in sparkling crescents above his cheeks. "It is a girl." He slapped his meaty thigh.
    Will didn't reply but raked an impatient hand through his hair and silently cursed his brother. Would Hugh never leave? Will peered down the slope and frowned.