The Dead List

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “I’m sure there’s enough room for you to walk around.” Linds gestured at the empty area next to us. “So walk around.”

  “Or you could just move?” Wendy snapped back.

  Linds came down a step, folding her arms. “Or not.”

  Knowing that this was going to escalate as quickly as a rocket ship, I stepped aside. “Come on, Linds, we’re going to be late.”

  She didn’t move.

  Wendy’s bright blue gaze snapped toward me. “You really should cover up your face.”

  My eyebrows flew up. “Excuse me?”

  “Your face.” She pointed at my face as she moved her finger in a circle. “It’s gross. It looks like you shoved a vacuum hose against your cheek.”

  As I stared at her, I kind of wondered what the hell Jensen was smoking when he dated her. “Wow,” I said, because really, what could I say to that?

  Linds had something to add. “That’s funny, because at least the ugliness will fade on Ella’s face. That shit on yours is forever.”

  “Oh!” someone shouted from below us.

  Wendy’s cheeks flushed pink, but before she could reply, Linds leaned over, shoved her middle finger right in her face and then spun around. Gripping my arm, she all but dragged me up the stairs.

  “God, I have no idea what crawled into her ass, but I am so not dealing with it,” Linds said as the doors swung shut behind us.

  I glanced over my shoulder, but I didn’t see Wendy or Shawna. It was weird—her attitude toward us. Without Monica by their sides, they were usually like little fluffy bunny rabbits, especially Wendy. I didn’t get a chance to put a thought to it.

  Gavin was there, waiting at my locker. He practically pounced on Linds and me. “Mom said there were cop cars at your house last night. I called, but—”

  “I know. I just forgot to call you back. I’m sorry.” I opened the locker door and yanked out my English text. “They were over… um, to just check out the house. Nothing major.”

  Doubt crossed his face. “She said there were like three cop cars there.”

  “They roll deep?” I said, shrugging. How many people on our street noticed? Gavin lived further down than Jensen. “Really, everything was fine. They were just checking out the house.”

  “God,” Linds exhaled deeply, tipping her head against the nearby locker. Two red circles blossomed across her cheeks. “She’s such a bitch!”

  Gavin looked at her, confused. “Huh?”

  “Wendy,” I told him, closing my locker door. “She’s talking about Wendy Brewer.”

  “Oh.” He didn’t look surprised to hear that name as he straightened the hem on his dark blue polo shirt. “What did she do?”

  Linds pushed off the locker beside me. “Breathed her bitchiness on me?”

  Sliding the strap of my bag up my shoulder, I laughed. “I’ve got to go to class. See you guys later?”

  “Yeah.” Linds started down the opposite hall, but whirled back around. “Oh! Before I forget, you’re helping out with the haunted house this year.”

  “What?” I stared at her while a slight grin appeared on Gavin’s face. “It’s like, not even September. Why are we even talking about this?”

  “Because I had my Leadership of Tomorrow meeting yesterday, and they’re already planning for this year’s Halloween crap.” She didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed as she trotted backward. “And they need volunteers. So thank you for volunteering.”

  I gaped at her.

  Holding her notebook close to her chest, she grinned like a cat that ate an entire cage full of canaries then moved onto a poor family of mice. “Our first meeting is Saturday afternoon. Of course, I’ll give you more details later. Bye!”

  Tipping my head back, I groaned. “What in the hell?”

  Gavin chuckled as he draped an arm over my shoulders. “Well, that should be fun.”

  I slid him a dry look. “Last year I ended up being—”

  “The girl dissected on the table,” Gavin finished, grinning down at me. “I remember. You were so thrilled about being covered with corn syrup and food coloring.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I groaned again. “I refuse to play the stupid half dead chick this year.”

  There was a pause and then he said, “Too close for comfort kind of thing?”

  I smacked his arm and a sheepish look crossed his face. “Yeah. That.”

  #

  Spying the redhead I was looking for, I hurried to where Heidi Madison was sitting at the end of the table, her bag in her seat beside her. I picked it up, setting it aside, and then dropped my tray down.

  Heidi raised her chin as she pulled out her white ear buds. She dropped them into the lap of her flowery, flowing dress that was a multitude of pinks and purples. A headband pushed vibrant red hair back. With her baby face full of freckles, she looked like a freshman instead of a senior, something that bugged the hell out of her. I told her all the time that when she turned forty, she’d appreciate the fact she always looked younger.

  Linds and Heidi couldn’t be any more different. One was loud while the other only spoke when she had something to say. Linds loved the outdoors and hated animals. Heidi preferred books to people and wanted to be a veterinarian. Linds was a meat lover and Heidi was a holy granola roller. I was somewhere in-between the two, kind of like the glue that forced the two opposites together.

  “You’re late,” she said, closing the paperback she was reading. Her food sat untouched.

  Picking at the bottle of water I grabbed, I glanced over to the table full of jocks when I heard Brock laugh, and then there was the sound of a tray hitting the floor. I turned around just in time to see a smaller student bending down and chasing peas across the floor. Why did the guys have to be such jerks? And why did I even think for two seconds that Brock was cute? A sense of betrayal slushed through me, because Brock and his crew of boys had always acted like that, ever sense I knew them. This was nothing new, so it was more of a case of me forgetting.

  Forcing myself to forget a lot of things, actually.

  I flipped back to Heidi. “I couldn’t get my dumbass locker open.”

  “I don’t know why you have so many problems with it.” She slid her tray closer and picked up a fork. Interest sparked in her light green, almost hazel, eyes. “It’s like every year, the epic battle of the locker for you.”

  “I know.” I sighed, feeling pitiful. “Hey, did Linds corner you over the stupid haunted barnyard crap?”

  “She knows better than that.” She laughed softly. “She got you again, didn’t she?”

  “Yes!” I picked off a slice of pepperoni and then another, resisting the urge to beat my head off the table. “It’s not even September and I have to think about this.”

  She giggled. “And you know you guys will start building the props within weeks.”

  “Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Over my shoulder, I scanned the cafeteria. Not that I was looking for anyone in particular, but my insides twisted in a funny way when I stopped at Brock’s table.

  Wendy was sitting beside Monica, flashing super white and super straight teeth at the guy next to her, who just happened to be Jensen. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was leaning back with his arms across his chest and looking pisstastic, I’d be a lot less….

  That very second he looked over to where I sat, and I swear that even though there were several tables separating us and many heads in the way, our eyes met.

  One side of his lips quirked up.

  My cheeks flushed as I flipped back around, meeting Heidi’s look. “So,” she said, drawing the word out. “Were you just eye-screwing Jensen Carver?”

  “What? No.” I picked up my pizza. “Why would I do that?”

  “I can think of a few good reasons,” she said dryly.

  I coughed out a laugh. Heidi didn’t know about my history with Jensen and, as much as I loved the girl, I was so not going there. “Whatever. I mean, he is good looking—okay, he’s more than good
looking and you know, very few girls or guys would kick him out of their beds, but eye-screwing?”

  Her gaze flicked over my shoulder. “Uh, Ella—”

  “If I’m going to eye-screw someone, it would not take place in the cafeteria. That just seems unsanitary.”

  “Um—”

  “I would eye-screw in class,” I decided, winging my pizza around. “Like in biology. While we’re dissecting frogs, I’d eye-screw the hell of him then, but he’s not in the class and that also seems unsanitary, so I guess I’m not eye-screwing—”

  “Me?”

  I swallowed the mouthful of pizza as I squeezed my eyes shut. He was not standing there. He was so not standing there. Oh no, no, no, no.

  The chuckle that came next was too familiar, and I forced my eyes open. He dropped in the next seat, angling his body toward Heidi and me as he propped his chin on his palm. “I have bio after lunch, but you tell me when your class is, and I’d do all kinds of terrible things to get my class changed.”

  Oh, my God, even the tips of my ears burned.

  Heidi took a hefty drink of her all natural root tea or whatever gross concoction was mixed in her plastic bottle. “Well, we now know that Jensen is a fan of eye-screwing.”

  His eyes darkened to a blue on a bright sunny day. “That I am.”

  I wanted to crawl under the table and die.

  Stretching his leg out, he knocked his knee against mine. “So I hear you had a little run in with Wendy this morning.”

  Heidi placed her bottle on the table, frowning. “You did?”

  I sighed. “I didn’t think it was a big enough deal that anyone would hear about it.”

  “She was regaling the entire table with tales of your viciousness,” he added, eyes glimmering.

  “Me?” Forgetting about my whole eye-screwing thing, I twisted toward him, which caused his knee to slide against the inside of my leg. My breath caught in my throat, and our gazes locked. I waited for him to pull back, but he didn’t. Neither did I. The grin on his face went up a notch.

  His lashes lowered. “You.”

  For a moment I had no idea what he was talking about. Something to do with….ah, yes. Bitchiness. “Wendy said I needed to cover up my face.”

  The corners of his lips turned down. “She said what?”

  I pointed at the strawberry mark. “Said I was grossing her out.”

  “Well, that’s rude.” Heidi stuck out her lower lip. “It’s not like you could help it.”

  “She’s a charmer,” Jensen murmured.

  “And you dated her.” I grinned when his lips thinned a bit. “Just saying.”

  He shifted in the seat, dragging his leg alongside mine, and I thanked God and Buddha that Heidi couldn’t see it, because I was convinced that Jensen was leg-screwing me. “I wouldn’t say I dated her.”

  My skin prickled. Wasn’t jealousy. Absolutely not. “That’s nice.”

  He shrugged his shoulder as he glanced over at Heidi, who watched us like she needed a bowl of popcorn in front of her. “So Ella was eye-screwing me?”

  “Oh my God!” I shot her a death glare when she started to respond. “I was not eye-screwing anyone. What are you doing over here anyway? This is not your table.”

  “We have assigned tables?” he asked.

  Heidi pursed her lips. “I don’t think we do.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have always sat with them since you came back.”

  His eyes had regained that playful, lazy quality. “So.”

  “So?” I took a drink of my water. “You’re here.”

  “I am.” He knocked his knee off mine again. “I wanted to visit you.”

  Heidi made a cooing sound. “Aw, that’s so sweet.”

  Fingers curling along the edge of the table, I shot her another look.

  “What?” She pouted. “It is sweet. He crossed the brutal sea of the cafeteria and he’s visiting you.”

  “I think it’s incredibly sweet, too,” Jensen said, biting down on his lower lip.

  My mouth twitched as I fought a smile. “You know, both of you—”

  A high pitched shriek cut me off. The sound was so loud and clear that it whipped through the noisy cafeteria, silencing everyone. I jumped to my feet just as Jensen did the same.

  The shrieking sound came again and it was coming from Brock’s table. Without thinking, I stepped forward, but suddenly Jensen was there. He wrapped his hand around mine as he pulled me back.

  At Brock’s table, Wendy was standing up, her hands pressed to her pale cheeks. She was still screaming—she hadn’t stop screaming. And everyone at the table had scattered, backing away with identical expressions of horror and disgust. Someone—Monica—had bent over at the waist, her long black hair shielding her face as she started to gag.

  “What the…?” I trailed off as I saw what lie on the table, next to Wendy’s book bag. “Oh my God.”

  Pulling my hand free from Jensen’s, I smacked both over my mouth. Lying on the table was a red bird—a cardinal, the state bird. Its wings were tucked neatly behind its back, and in the center of its little chest were a handful of mini stakes. Dozens stabbed clean through it.

  Chapter 7

  A horrible prank.

  That was what the staff said once one of them had decided to check out why Wendy was screaming. That was what the teachers had said in the afternoon classes, where each one lectured us on the virtues of maturity.

  I’d never known anyone to stab a bird and place it in someone’s book bag as a prank. It was sick and disturbing, and not even remotely funny. Not to mention, when had it happened? Wendy had to have the bag on her all morning. Wouldn’t she have, I don’t know, noticed a dead bird in there before lunch?

  The sight of the dead bird lingered all day, which I imagined it was the same for everyone. Well, everyone except Linds, who, while in art class, had expressed her disappointment at not seeing Wendy freak out. But it was more than just the grotesque sight. The bird—the type of bird—made me think of the past, a place I didn’t need to dwell on.

  When I got home that afternoon, the house was quiet and empty. Normally Mom would be driving to Huntington tonight, but after what happened this weekend, she was not making the trip.

  But I was still alone until she got off.

  Trying to concentrate, to have some sort of normality in my life, I’d plopped myself down on the couch and cracked open my history text and started my homework. It wasn’t until I read the same two pages four times that I dropped my highlighter in the crease of the book.

  I pressed the tips of my fingers against my temples, massaging away the slight ache there. Weariness tugged at me, urging me to curl up and take a nap, but the idea of falling asleep while I was alone in the house wasn’t on the top of my to do list.

  Maybe seeing Dr. Oliver really wasn’t going to be a bad idea.

  Opening my eyes, I shifted my attention to the archway leading out into the hall and to the stairs. Coldness seized my insides. I stared at the open walkway, unsure if I’d heard something or if it was just my imagination, but the tips of my ears tingled.

  There had been a noise, a soft thud upstairs—

  The doorbell rang, throwing my heart against my ribs. “Jesus,” I gasped, popping to my feet. I hurried to the door and stretched up, peering through the tiny peephole.

  “Whoa,” I murmured, spying the chiseled and striking profile of Jensen.

  Two visits in less than twenty-four hours? Er, well, three if I considered the lunch thing a visit. Maybe four if I added in the self-defense class.

  Beyond curious, I quickly unlocked the door and opened it. When he turned, the late afternoon sun kissed his cheek. “Hey,” I said lamely.

  A half smile appeared. “Can I come in?”