I stared after her, aghast. I tended to do that when abandoned by the only person on earth I’d ever tell my deepest and darkest secret to. If I had a deep, dark secret, that is.
Ms. Mullins refolded the note and handed it back. “First of all,” she said with a patient smile, “covalent bonding has a low melting point, not a high one. That would be ionic bonding. Second, we covered our review of physical science two weeks ago, though I am glad to see the enthusiasm linger. And third, I have to agree with your assessment, Ms. McAlister. Supernova, indeed.”
If I hadn’t clamped my mouth shut, my jaw would have dislodged and fallen to the floor. I tried to think of something to say, but the thought of Ms. Mullins ogling Jared was more than a little disturbing. She was elderly. Probably, like, forty or something.
“What?” Ms. Mullins protested. “I’m not dead yet.”
I felt my mouth stretch across my face. I loved Ms. Mullins. The mischievous sparkle in her eyes added a dash of delight to the day, like colored sprinkles on a cupcake.
“Sorry about the note,” I said, actually remorseful.
She smiled. “I know what today is, Lorelei.”
My eyes fluttered in surprise. How could she know?
She placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Her empathy sent an invisible force pressing into my chest as sadness flooded my lungs. I stood cemented to the spot for a solid minute before I managed a soft, “Thank you.”
Then her smile turned a little wicked. “And if I ever catch you writing notes in my class again…”
“You won’t. Never, I promise.” I recovered and tucked the evidence into my back pocket.
She laughed and pointed toward the door.
With a grateful sigh, I gathered my books and headed that way. “See you tomorrow,” I said.
“If you’re lucky,” she shot back.
When I walked out of the classroom, Brooklyn was waiting for me in the hall.
“What happened to you?” I asked accusingly.
“Oh please,” she said with a dramatic roll of her eyes, “Ms. Mullins loves you.”
“True.”
“Besides, I’m much more interested in supernova.” That got my attention. She leaned in to me and lowered her voice to a seductive purr. “So he’s hot.”
“Can you say blazing inferno?”
“Oh, man, I can’t wait to see this guy. Sucks it’ll have to wait. We’re going to be tardy to second hour. If we play our cards right, we might get lunch detention today. I know, I’m aiming high, but—”
I’d stopped dead in my tracks.
Brooklyn looked back at me, bewildered. “I meant we should step it up, not come to a full stop, Ensign McAlister.”
Several things had been bothering me about that morning. The poster. The fact that I caught Principal Davis eyeing that very thing when I asked to be excused to the bathroom during first hour. What I could have sworn Jared said to me before I turned around. Didn’t he say he was stronger? And finally, how I seemed to have floated up from the ground when Jared took my hand. Course, that last one could be chalked up to hormones.
But … “McAlister. My name is Lorelei McAlister.”
Brooklyn pursed her lips. “Lorelei, I’ve known your name since I kicked your butt in the third grade.”
“Right.” I flashed her an astonished look. “Only you didn’t kick my butt, and he’s never met me. He called me Lorelei McAlister. He said, ‘Anytime, Lorelei McAlister.’”
“But you told him your name.”
“I told him my first name, not my last. How did he know my last name?”
Brooklyn grinned and pointed to the back of my notebook. When I turned it over, LORELEI MCALISTER—written in huge black and red letters—jumped out at me.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I shook my head as if trying to clear cobwebs. “This day has just been, I don’t know, weird. Like the world tilted just enough to make me lose my balance.”
“You need a caffeinated beverage.”
I smiled. “Caffeine would be good.”
“Caffeine is always good.”
“You’re so logical,” I said as we headed to second hour.
“Thank you. I was going for logical. It seemed like the logical thing to do.”
“Though we really should get straight whose butt got kicked that day and whose butt did the touchdown victory dance.”
“Your butt can do the touchdown victory dance?” she asked.
“It could the day it kicked yours.”
“Can it do the alphabet?”
I nodded with a giggle, then sucked in a soft breath as my hand brushed against someone and received a spike of energy in return. I looked back, but there were too many kids in the crowded hall to pinpoint the source. An instant later, a vision flashed in my head. It was short, just the smallest image of a scene, but in it someone was standing watching a girl in a ragged apricot shirt and bloodied khaki capris kneel on the side of a road. She was heaving into the dirt, the contents of her stomach pouring onto the ground in one of the most disturbing visions I’d ever had.
As we entered the classroom for second hour, I glanced down at my apricot shirt and khaki capris. A sickly dread came over me as I realized I was the girl heaving into the dirt. I checked my forehead for a temperature. I didn’t feel sick. And why would I be on the side of some random road? Thank goodness my visions were more entertaining than predictive. Still, I totally should have worn my blue shirt.
TALL, DARK, AND FLAMMABLE
“Did you see the new guy?” Glitch slid beside Brooklyn and me at our usual lunch table.
“See him?” I asked. “I almost killed him.” I reached over and stole a fry off his tray.
“Bummer.”
Glitch had to be the geekiest cool kid I knew. He was smart, funny, and short, and everyone at school liked him. It was weird. And he was filling out, becoming manlier. He’d grown three inches over the summer. What the heck was that about?
Even Brooke was developing normally. While she stood on the cusp of womanhood with guns blazing and heart pounding, I seemed to be stuck in the land of bubble gum and lollipops. I still had to pray every night for the girl-part fairy to get off her butt and do her job. I just wasn’t blossoming like the others. And to top it all off, I had infuriatingly curly hair that resembled rusted metal, gray colorless eyes, and translucent skin the sickly tone of baking flour. Other than the fact that my chin was too small, my eyes were too big, and my mouth was too wide for my face, I didn’t have a lot going for me. Unless looking like an elf suddenly took the fashion industry by storm.
But Brooklyn Michelle Prather was gorgeous. An exotic blend of ethnicity gave Brooke an air of dark mystique. She had almond-shaped brown eyes, long black hair, and a delicate feminine build. I had a build too, just not a particularly feminine one.
“Have you heard anything I’ve said?”
I shifted back to the present and squinted at Brooklyn’s cinnamon eyes as they questioned me. I said, “Sorry, I was calculating how much this whole pasty-white-girl thing sucks.”
“Uh-oh.” She turned to Glitch. “She’s on her pasty-white-girl kick. She needs chocolate.” She peeked at the ever-popular snack counter. “Cover me.”
Glitch watched the crowded lunch hall with narrowed eyes, searching for possible enemies. “Okay, but hurry before she starts mentioning the girl-part fairy.”
I chuckled and stayed Brooke with a hand on her arm. “I’m fine.”
With a doubtful expression, Glitch reached over and pulled my lower lid down to study my eye. That’d help.
“Yeah, all right. She looks okay.” He shrugged and added, “Least her eyeball does.”
I stole another fry and leveled a baleful look at him. “No one asked for your opinion, Casey.”
Brooklyn snorted. “I love it when you call him Casey.” She reached over and stole a piece of chicken off my
salad. Eating at our table was kind of a communal effort.
“I don’t,” Glitch said with a pout. “How am I supposed to embrace my Native American ancestry with a name like Casey?”
“Well, maybe your Native American ancestry will benefit from a little Irish temperament thrown into the mix,” she said. “You guys are so calm.”
His eyes widened in horror. “Are you psychotic?”
“You mean today or just in general?”
He glanced around to make sure no one overheard her. “You can’t say crap like that. Do you want to get me killed?”
“You should totally talk with an Irish brogue,” she continued, unconcerned.
“That’s a great idea.” I nudged him and wriggled my brows. “Brogues are sexy.”
He shuddered in disgust. “I’m going to be tomahawked before the day is over.”
“So, did you get a chance to have that little talk?” Brooke asked me, able to switch subjects in a single bound. In all honesty, I hadn’t seen Cameron since he stood glowering at me through the plate-glass windows.
“What little talk?” Glitch asked, his voice muffled from a mouthful of hamburger.
“No, he hasn’t been in class all day.”
“Who hasn’t been in class?”
“I just don’t know about that boy.” Brooklyn shook her head and added a few tsks to emphasize her disappointment.
“What boy?” Glitch took a noisy gulp of soda, then glared at us, annoyed that he’d been left out of the loop.
As I thought about the inevitable confrontation with Stalker Boy, a sickly kind of dread consumed me. What did one say to a stalker? Um, pardon me, Mr. Stalker, but could you, like, not? Frustrated, I let a sigh slide through my lips. “Why does he have to be stalking me?” I half questioned, half whined. “Why couldn’t it be someone like Jaredan Scott or Joss Duffy?” Or Jared, I thought, but dared not say aloud. I could totally deal with Jared Kovach stalking me.
Glitch’s eyes hooded. “Didn’t Joss Duffy try to paste your eyelids shut in kindergarten?”
“Stalking is stalking,” Brooklyn said after licking salt off her fingertips. “Doesn’t matter who it is, it’s creepy. And wrong.”
She had a point.
“Okay,” Glitch said, holding up a finger to get our attention, “I’m going to take a shot in the dark and ask, is someone, perhaps, stalking you?”
“Glitch,” I said, finally glancing his way. “There are some things you just don’t need to know until we’re in trouble and we need your boy abilities.”
That struck a chord. An evil grin spread across his face. “Speaking of my boy abilities,” he said under his breath, “they’re available to either of you twenty-four slash seven, for a small processing fee.”
“Noted,” Brooklyn said. “Next time I need a jar opened…”
He raised his hands and mimicked choking her.
I couldn’t help but snicker as my two best friends went at it. I also couldn’t help my gaze from roaming the area for the thousandth time, looking for Riley High’s newest arrival, wondering where he might be. It hadn’t escaped my attention that Tabitha Sind was absent as well. If he was with her, who could blame him? Tabitha was gorgeous, even with her bobble head. It was hard to compete with near physical perfection. Now, if Jared was more interested in IQs, I might have a chance.
“That’s an interesting look for them.” Brooklyn gestured with a nod toward the door as the Southern twins, Ashlee and Sydnee, walked in. They looked utterly exhausted, their clothes disheveled and their hair barely combed. Until about a month ago, the Southern twins rarely looked like anything less than cover models, but lately, they looked more like homeless teens. Since their father was the richest man in town and they rarely wore anything but designer shoes, I doubted they’d gone belly up. Their shoe collection alone could buy me a new wardrobe. Or a car. Or a house on the Riviera.
“What’s up with those two anyway?” Glitch asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, “but something’s not right.”
“Hell-o.” Brooklyn waved a hand in front of our faces. “Their mother practically abandoned them, running off with that investment broker like she did. And I heard the divorce was heartbreaking. She didn’t even ask for custody of the girls.”
“That had to be painful, I know, but that was months ago, Brooke. This is different. They’re different. Desperate.” I tapped my fingers on the table in thought as Brooke took another bite of my salad. “I’m telling you, something is very wrong.”
“That’s too bad. I’d be more concerned if I weren’t so busy breathing.” When I cast her a look of amazement, she continued, “Those two are evil, Lor. Did I ever tell you about the time they tripped me in the sack race?”
Only 729 times. While my archenemy was Tabitha Sind, Brooke had always felt a tad resentful toward Ash and Syd. Things had never been the same since they took the sack race trophy at the fall festival. True, it happened in the third grade, but things like that were hard to get over. Apparently.
“Well, here,” Glitch said, interrupting our conversation to hand me a small box.
“What’s this?” Glitch wasn’t exactly the gift-giving type. I had to force him to buy Brooklyn a birthday present every year, and I was pretty secure in the knowledge that she had to do the same thing for me on mine.
He shrugged. “Just something to maybe help you feel better.”
Feel better about what? I opened the lid to find a shimmering gold pendant on a delicate chain. It was a sculpture of a mother and a father with a child in their arms. After a soft gasp, I lifted it out of the box and turned it over. It read FOREVER.
I sat stunned for a solid minute, astonishment sucking the air from my lungs, before looking back up at him.
“It’s nothing really,” he said, playing it off as only a guy could. “You know, for your parents and all.”
After swallowing back the lump that suddenly formed in my throat, I said, “Glitch, I don’t know what to say.”
“Neither do I,” Brooklyn said, baffled. “Way to score brownie points, G.” She raised her hand for a high five, but he hit her with an annoyed glower instead.
Lifting her brows in pure attitude, she took the necklace from me and fastened it around my neck as I held up my hair.
I turned toward them when she’d finished. “What do you think?”
Brooklyn nodded. “You did good, Glitch.”
He shrugged again and stuffed the last of his burger into his mouth. Boys were so funny.
Letting the cool metal slide between my fingers, I was just about to thank him when a thick hush blanketed the cafeteria. I looked up just in time to see Jared walk in. My stomach clenched at the sight of him.
“Holy Häagen-Dazs,” Brooklyn said, repeating her earlier sentiment. Every head swiveled toward the new guy as he strolled to the counter serving pizza. Brooklyn sighed. “He wears jeans so well.”
I nodded, mesmerized.
“And his muscles gather in all the right places.”
“Please,” Glitch said with a snort, “my muscles gather just as well as his.” We both gave him a quick, dumbfounded look, and he hugged himself self-consciously. “Stop.”
Slowly the dull roar of conversation gained volume again. Everyone around us seemed to be talking about Jared. Except for the Goths. They were still staring. Then again, so was I.
“You know, when you told me he was good-looking,” Brooklyn said without taking her eyes off Jared, “I had no idea you meant godlike good-looking.”
I simply nodded again and continued my vigil. Jared’s white T-shirt hung past the slim waistband of his jeans, gathering at his hips. His biceps rose and stretched the material at the sleeves, and his forearms corded with taut muscles as he stepped into the line for pizza. Then I locked on to the dark hair that curled over his ears, the touch of shadow along his jawline.
The server said something, and he looked to the side, appearing bashful. My heart stopped in response.
> “Heaven help us,” Brooklyn said.
He clearly affected Brooke the same way he did me.
“Uh, Lor…,” she said, elbowing me again.
I was right there with her. Jared had turned with his tray and was staring straight at me as though wondering if he should join us or not.
After a moment—and a light head rush—I resupplied my red blood cells with oxygen and waved him to our table rather enthusiastically. If the bashful smile he flashed me was any indication, he didn’t seem to mind.
“Oh, my god,” Brooklyn said. She swung a surprised look at me. “Just what did you two talk about this morning?”
I beamed, not daring to breathe, as he walked toward us. “Oh, you know, the usual. School. The weather. How many children we want.”
I expected Brooklyn to at least giggle, but apparently her current state of shock had immobilized her vocal cords. What I hadn’t expected, however, was the faint laughter from Jared. He lowered his eyes like before, as though embarrassed by what someone had said. As if embarrassed by what I’d said. No way could he have heard me. Not from that far away.
“Jared,” I said when he got close, “sit with us.”
But before he could respond, Cameron cut him off. He stepped right between us, his tall frame blocking my view of Jared. I had to scoot to the side to see past him.
“Cameron, what are you doing?” I asked, stunned by his behavior.
But Jared didn’t seem the least bit surprised. He eyed Cameron for a moment, seeming more curious than alarmed, then turned to put his tray on our table.
Cameron saved him the trouble. He knocked the tray out of Jared’s hand with a sweep of his arm. It flew several feet before crashing onto the floor. The loud clatter brought all conversation to a standstill as part of the tray’s contents landed on a table of freshmen. Three of them jumped up and swiped at their clothing until they too saw what was happening. They stilled and looked on in fascination.
I glanced back at Jared, but he only sighed, as though Cameron’s outburst was more of a nuisance than an outright attack.
My feelings were a bit stronger. “Cameron, are you nuts?” I yelled as I bolted out of my seat.
Death and the Girl Next Door Page 4
