Blood and Other Matter

by Kaitlin Bevis

  Mostly him, though.

  “Way better than those creatures you drew in my closet,” he finished.

  “The bunnies?” Josh had been terrified of monsters when he was little, and everyone knew that no self-respecting monster would live in a closet that was decorated with bunnies.

  Mr. Gilbert cleared his throat. “Something I can help you with, Mr. Worthington?” He straightened from where he’d been hunched over Lacey’s table, arguing about alternate extra credit opportunities.

  “Oh, yeah.” Josh drew back, smile fading into a look of faux respect. “Coach Russell sent me to collect some poster?”

  “Ah, it’s . . .” Mr. Gilbert ducked behind his desk, searching the shelves. “One moment.” He disappeared into his office.

  “You going to the bonfire tonight?” Josh planted his hand firmly on the back of my chair.

  I raised an eyebrow, acutely aware that everyone in the classroom was watching and wondering why someone like Josh was bothering to speak with lowly little me. “We have bonfires?”

  “Um . . . yeah.” He laughed. “And I could drive you. If you want.” His eyes danced, indicating there was way more to his invitation than a simple drive.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  The class got so silent, I could hear the air blowing through the vents in the ceiling.

  Josh’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Um . . . no?”

  I stared at him with utter incredulity. “Did you seriously think you could just walk in here, say something nice about my drawing, and act like the last, what, five years haven’t happened?”

  Josh may have stopped imagining monsters lurked in his closet, but only because he became one. Once he hit middle school and discovered he could play football, he’d decided he was too good for Derrick and me. That alone would have sucked, but he hadn’t just ignored us. He’d harassed and teased and made our lives miserable, until his adoring fans forgot we’d ever been anything more than his targets.

  “I was thinking more about the ten before that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’re painting the house, and I found those . . . things you drew in my closet.” His voice lowered. “And I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t paint over them. And I got to thinking about how long it’s been since we hung out, and about how we’re all about to graduate in a few months, and I just, I don’t know. Got nostalgic, I guess.”

  I knew the feeling. In a few months, everyone would drift away, and we might never see each other again. As much as I’d always hated school, the closer we got to the end, the more I felt like I was watching sand slip through an hourglass. What would become of us all when it was empty?

  “I missed you.” Josh admitted, his voice so low I could barely hear it. “And I think sometimes maybe you miss me, too.”

  I glanced up as Mr. Gilbert emerged from his office, muttering under his breath as he fought with a large, laminated poster. A dozen pencils began scratching across paper at once, as the class collectively stopped eavesdropping and got back to work.

  “Careful not to let it fold,” Mr. Gilbert cautioned when he handed the poster over.

  Josh didn’t take his eyes off me as he accepted the poster. “Thanks, man.”

  “You’re welcome . . . man.” Mr. Gilbert’s voice sounded as dry as dust. He frowned when Josh didn’t immediately turn from the room. “Was there something else?”

  Josh shot me an expectant look. “It’ll be fun,” he promised. “Just like old times.”

  I fought back a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter 2: Derrick

  Thursday, September 8th

  AFTER SCHOOL, I waited for Tess outside the double metal doors closest to the parking lot, my mood dark. The whole school was buzzing with the news that Josh had asked Tess to the bonfire. God, I hated him.

  Twenty-four hours ago, Tess would have admitted to hating him, too. She might have been more convincing if she could tear her gaze away when Josh passed her in the hallway, but at least out loud, she had higher standards.

  “Don’t start,” Tess said the second she emerged from the double doors.

  “We have bonfires?”

  “I know, right?” Relief smoothed her features as she fell into step beside me. “So . . . about the eclipse . . . ”

  “You’re not going to make it.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.

  “I didn’t say that. The eclipse won’t get interesting until like, midnight, right?”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, actually.”

  She laughed at my surprise. “No, I didn’t look it up. Lacey was talking about it in art class. So . . . if I do go to the bonfire, then I should still make it in time, right?”

  Fresh from her date and brimming with details? “Nah, it’s fine.” I flashed her a smile, trying to recover my dignity. “Something came up anyway.”

  “Come on, Der. You expect me to believe you’re going to miss a . . . how did you phrase it? ‘Major celestial event?’” She bumped her shoulder to mine, a smirk parting her lips. “I’ll swing by tonight if I can. If I miss it, let’s hang out tomorrow night, instead. We can marathon all those crappy horror movies you love. No school to worry about the next day, so I can stay over all night—”

  My mind went to R-rated places, and I struggled to rein in my thoughts before they showed on my face.

  “—just like when we were little, remember?”

  “Yeah.” I forced a smile to my face, reading her message loud and clear. “It’ll be great.”

  We passed the football team practicing on the field. The way they looked at her, like hawks gazing at a field mouse, raised the hair on the back of my neck. It gave me the creeps, but Tess never seemed to notice.

  “Pick you up at six?” Josh shouted.

  “Still thinking!” Tess shouted back.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to sleep with him, are you?” Josh went through V-cards like Pringles. Once you pop, you—Jesus Christ, why had I gone there? I winced, glad I hadn’t taken that analogy into the verbal realm.

  Tess gave me a look so offended that I worried I’d spoken out loud. “That is so not your business.” She lifted her chin, eyes flashing as she sped up.

  I kept pace, my eyes drawn to a flush of red against her jawline. “What’s that?”

  Tess shrugged and rubbed at the spot. “My skin isn’t a fan of our new dollar store laundry detergent.” She scowled. “I’m out of makeup, so I couldn’t—”

  “You’ve been wearing a lot of makeup lately.”

  “Really?” Tess’s voice went sharp. “Have I gained weight, too?”

  “No, actually, you’ve los—” I broke off realizing what she was getting at. “Shutting up now.”

  “No, no, you’re on such a roll with your super-tactful observations.” She smiled as if to soften the blow, but I got the message loud and clear.

  We fell into an awkward silence until we found the car.

  “I need a girlfriend,” she murmured when the car jerked into drive. She caught my surprised look and laughed. “Like a girl that’s a friend. You know, someone to talk about clothes, hair, makeup, and dating-type stuff.”

  Someone who wouldn’t sulk, she meant. I felt like a rock lodged itself in my stomach. A few months ago, she would have been able to talk to me about going out with Josh or anyone else for that matter. She hadn’t changed. I had, and that wasn’t fair to her. “I don’t mind listening to you.”

  “Liar.” Her dark eyes sparkled as she plugged her phone in, silencing her weird, wordless songs before I could make fun of her for them. “Ever since Ainsley—” She broke off. We didn’t talk about our other neighbor, Ainsley, anymore. Not since the accident. Tess cleared her throat. “I miss having a girl to talk to, is all. You’re great, but—”

  “It’s d
ifferent,” I finished. “Yeah, I get it.”

  “Do you?” She tilted her head. “Need a guy friend, I mean.”

  “Is there something you wish I’d stop talking to you about?” I laughed.

  She shook her head. “But there’s stuff you don’t.”

  I shrugged, keeping my eyes on Highway 5. The lanes were narrow and the curves sharp. It wasn’t unusual to drive past crosses hammered into the banks beside the road. When I was little, I’d tried to hold my breath when we drove by, like you do with cemeteries. That phase hadn’t lasted long. The entire town of Fairdealings was a cemetery.

  “I’m not stupid, Derrick. I know he’s not . . .” She dug her nails into her jeans. “I know it’s never going to be anything. It’s Josh, for God’s sake. Just . . . it sounded fun, okay? A party—”

  “Filled with stupid, shallow people, doing stupid, shallow things.”

  “I’m not above that.” You are, she might as well have shouted. “I just . . .” Tess turned to look out the window, back stiff. “I want to do something fun. To get away.”

  “I didn’t realize hanging out with me was so boring for you.”

  She closed her eyes, sinking back into her seat. “It’s not you I’m trying to get away from.”

  Her mom? I glanced at Tess, then back at the road. She hadn’t mentioned her mom in a while, but I could hear her shouting at Tess from my house sometimes. “You know you’re always welcome at my place, right?”

  “I know.” Her eyes looked too bright when she opened them, and she blinked fast, like she was trying to force back tears. “And I appreciate that.”

  Just not enough to turn down Josh Worthington.

  She sighed, like I’d spoken my thought out loud. “I like hanging out at your house. But don’t you ever wonder if we’re missing out? Like there’s this whole other level of high school, and we’re missing it because . . . because we’re us, and they’re them. We’re graduating in a few months, Derrick. I don’t want to miss anything.” She fell silent for a moment. “We used to be friends.”

  “Yeah, well, that was before he started auditioning for the role of class ass-hat. Remember when he was snapping bra straps and—”

  “He was, like, twelve.” Tess yanked her hair tie free, and her hair exploded into a black poof. She grabbed my rearview mirror and started finger combing. “Back then you were a budding pyromaniac, and I still thought memorizing spells from movies could make me a witch. We’re not the only ones who get to change, you know.”

  Josh had changed all right. Into a Ken doll. Amazing how much people would forgive if you didn’t have acne exploding across your face or hair that could produce enough oil to fuel a car.

  Tess sighed. “Look, I haven’t even said I’d go.”

  “Then don’t. Josh has spent the last six years either pretending you don’t exist or making your life a living hell. Why ask you on a date all out of nowhere? Something is going on.”

  “Oh, yeah, cause the only way he would ask me out is if something weird was going on.” Tess’s dark eyes gleamed with hurt. “Thanks.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Why had I said it like that? Whatever indecision she might have felt would be gone now. She’d go, if only to prove me wrong.

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I just . . . I have a bad feeling.”

  She didn’t scoff or laugh or wave off my concern. Instead she considered it, as if she was turning the words over in her mind. “I’ll be careful.”

  Chapter 3: Tess

  Thursday, September 8th

  AS SOON AS THE kitchen screen closed behind me, I raced through my cluttered home in a desperate bid to escape the stench of stale cigarettes. I filled my room with air fresheners, fans, and scented candles, but I could never tell if that stuff actually worked or if by the time I got to my room, I’d simply become one with the fetid miasma.

  “Come on,” I muttered, rummaging through my closet. “I have to have something.” My look—which at best was praised as artistic and at worst snidely called thrift-shop chic—didn’t lend itself to going out with guys in Josh Worthington’s crowd.

  “Oh, you might work.” I freed a long, off-the shoulder, asymmetrical, black and white shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. By the time every scrap of clothing I owned was hung back up in the closet, I’d managed to cobble together an outfit pairing the shirt to black leggings and lace-up boots that Wren Kepner had passed along to me when she outgrew her awesome shoe collection.

  Satisfied that I had something to wear, I tracked down Josh’s number and sent him a text. After confirming a few details, I threw the ensemble into the wash and jumped in the shower to scrub the smell of my house from my skin.

  I just . . . I have a bad feeling. Derrick’s voice echoed through my mind as I shut off the water, and I shivered despite the steam in the air. He’d had a “bad feeling” the night Ainsley died, too.

  Yeah, but this one’s hatred. Josh hadn’t always been the greatest of human beings, especially to Derrick. Add that to whatever was going on between Derrick and me, and it was no wonder he was catching feelings.

  My stomach twisted with guilt. I hated that I had to question everything I said or did with Derrick now to avoid leading him on or hurting him. Did it hurt Derrick’s feelings when I talked about going out with Josh tonight? Had I rubbed it in? Was I being a tease if I said or did this? Was I callous or insensitive if I ignored that?

  Just another thing to balance. Did Derrick worry about that kind of crap?

  I pulled open my makeup drawer and frowned at the bits of colorful pressed powder clinging to otherwise empty containers. Crap, still out of makeup. There was only one place I’d be able to find more.

  Gathering my courage, I stepped across the hall and opened the door to my mother’s room.

  She lay passed out on the bed, dark hair plastered to her face as she drooled on Random Guy of the Week’s arm. My heart thudded against my chest as I crept through the room, careful not to wake them, and ducked into her bathroom. Rummaging through her top drawer, I found the good stuff. Sephora.

  I loved makeup. The combination of liquid, pressed, and loose powder was every bit as exciting as paint or charcoal. Shading and light and brushstrokes could fix everything. But instead of manipulating an image on a page, I could transform my acne-ridden face into a work of art. I’d just put the finishing touches on my eyes, subtly fading the eye shadow from brown to green with a smoky flair, when the bathroom door opened, and Random Guy of the Week walked in. He, thank God, wore boxers at least.

  He froze in the doorway. “Uh . . . hi.”

  I gave him a tight-lipped smile, tightened my grip on the towel, and put away the compacts and bottles as fast as I could. I’d learned long ago not to engage. Some of the guys got embarrassed when they saw me, others got grabby, and one had just gotten mean.

  “Babe?” My mom called, voice slurred. “Where’d you go?”

  When the man turned toward her voice, I slid past him and bolted out of my mom’s room, closing the door behind me.

  “ . . . she bothering you?” Mom asked as I yanked my clothes out of the dryer, hands trembling.

  “ . . . didn’t tell me you had a . . .” Their voices faded into indistinct murmurs as I locked my bedroom door and dressed.

  My breath hitched. If he left, she’d be furious.

  Josh’s engine roared up the driveway just as my mother’s door slammed open.

  “Theresa!” Mom’s voice sounded sharp.

  I pulled on my clothes, glancing toward my window. It wasn’t the most dignified of exits, but less humiliating than Josh hearing my mother scream at me. She pounded on my door, flimsy wood shuddering against the onslaught.

  Out the window it was then. I crawled through and pressed my fingers against the glass pan
e to slide the window closed just as Josh honked his horn.

  Thanking my lucky stars individually and by name that he wasn’t enough of a gentleman to knock on my door, I rushed to his car.

  “Hi!” I threw open the door, wincing when my voice hit a way too peppy, upbeat note. “I mean—” I cleared my throat and eased into the seat. “Hi. You’re early.”

  He flashed me a grin. “I thought we should grab dinner first.”

  “Uh-huh.” I kept an eye on the kitchen door wondering why he wasn’t driving already.

  “Buckle up,” he reminded me.

  “Right.” I gave an embarrassed laugh and fastened my seatbelt. Now go. Go, go, go, go!

  To my complete and utter relief, he backed out of the driveway before my mom got the door open. If Josh thought my exit was strange, he didn’t say anything.

  Looking away from my house, I caught a glimpse of movement in one of Derrick’s windows.

  I just . . . I have a bad feeling.

  He was just jealous. Situation reversed, if Derrick went out with Felicity Day or something, I’d probably handle it with a lot less grace.

  He’s not yours. And you can’t afford to be his, I reminded myself.

  We were friends. Just friends. Friends who’d grieved Ainsley’s death together. It was natural to cling to each other tighter; it was natural to wonder “what if.” But I couldn’t afford to risk what we had.

  “Everything okay?” Josh glanced at me before turning his attention back to the road.

  “Yeah.” I smiled, glancing at the football player. He hadn’t dressed up, but his hair was gelled into a spiky, messy sort of style. The scent of his cologne, something faintly oceanic, competed with the smell of the leather interior filling the car.

  Heat prickled against the back of my legs. I shifted against the soft seats, searching for the source of the unexpected warmth.

  Josh noticed me pressing a cautious hand against the black leather, and his brow shifted in concern. “Need me to turn that down?” He pressed a button, and I about leapt out of my seat when the thing started buzzing. “Sorry!” He pressed another button, and the seat went still. “New car, still figuring it out.”