“We’re all going to your house!” Sarah cheered from the middle of the mob.
Amy gaped. “What? Susan, you never said anything about this.” First the detention incident, now a surprise party? She and her sister were having serious communication issues.
“Really? Oops. Can we please still have my party? Please!” Susan’s soft gray eyes begged her to allow it. With one sorrowful look, she brought back all the times she had come home crying because she didn’t have any friends at her new school.
“All right.” Amy put a hand to her head in anticipation of a migraine.
She led a parade of fourth graders up her street after a long, chaotic bus ride. She quickly counted heads and breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone had survived.
“Hey, did you guys get a new car?” Sarah asked over her shoulder from the bottom of their driveway.
Susan giggled. “Half the time we can’t even afford Froot Loops. How would we buy a car?”
A sleek new Mercedes sat majestically in front of their house. Amy halted next to Sarah and stared at it in wonder. “A 2019 Mercedes-Benz,” she said in a breathy voice.
“It’s pretty,” Sarah agreed.
“With over two hundred and fifty horsepower and a new nine-speed automatic transmission, the turbocharged C three hundred can accelerate to one hundred kilometers per hour in under six seconds!” she crooned.
“Huh?” Sarah tilted her head.
“Ignore her.” Susan laughed. “I never understand her when she speaks car.”
“That’s Chelsea’s dad’s ride,” Chris chimed in.
“What?” Amy recoiled, her Mercedes lust forgotten.
“You snapped her out of it!” Susan high-fived Chris.
“Let’s toilet paper it!” Chris beamed, his eyes alight with mischief.
“No!” Amy gasped. As pissed as she was at Chelsea, she shuddered at the thought of defiling the Mercedes’s flawless exterior.
As if sensing the impending danger to her car, Chelsea stepped gracefully from the Mercedes and regarded the group imperiously from the top of the driveway’s gentle slope.
“Crap, she’s in it,” Chris whispered. “Amy, you distract her while we get the toilet paper.” His flock of friends giggled and nudged each other forward.
Amy strolled up to Chelsea with a confident grin. Screw her imperious tallness and screw her fancy car. Amy thrived on intimidation. “Hey girl, you lost? This neighborhood don’t look too kindly on outsiders.” She played up the trailer-trash, tough-girl act.
“No.” Chelsea smiled. Her tone dripped sickening, syrupy sweetness. “I thought I’d take a trip down memory lane and revisit my humble roots.” Amy blinked at her in confusion. What was she blabbering about? “You’d know what I mean if you had the slightest chance at prosperity. Poor Amy Evans, doomed to live life in financial ruin. Now you don’t even have your rich boys to buy you pretty things.”
Amy studied Chelsea from her honey blonde hair to her new designer shoes and belatedly made the connection on a cold ripple of shock. “Long time.” She met the other girl’s sly green gaze. No wonder Chelsea had been unfazed by her tough-girl talk. She had grown up down the street from Amy in the heart of Vancouver’s downtown east side. “I see your acne has cleared up.” When Amy had last seen Chelsea, she had been a freaky eighth grade loser with frizzy hair and horrible skin. She used to follow Amy and her friends around like a dog begging for scraps.
Chelsea curled her lip. “My dad made it big in the oil industry. We moved to Toronto around the same time you did. Guess that’s karma, hon.”
Disconcerted whispers had broken out behind them. She tossed Susan her keys. “You guys go inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Aww, is this little Susan?” Chelsea turned her malevolence on the nine-year-old. “You look just like Amy, before the drugs. Where’s the other little brat?” Chelsea lazily drifted her gaze over the ragtag group of kids. Her green eyes sparkled as they settled upon Amy. “Oh, that’s right. She died, didn’t she? Poor sweet Katie.”
A giant fist squeezed Amy’s heart. It constricted her chest and made it hard to breathe. “Susan, take your friends inside.” Her sister fled up the steps with tears in her eyes.
Chris glowered at Chelsea. “You’re a bitch. I don’t care if you tell Zack I said that.”
Amy waited until the door had closed behind Susan and her friends. “Don’t ever speak to my sister again.” Her voice was deadly calm, her words tense with fury. “Get back in your stupid fancy ride and never set foot on this street again.” Her fingers flexed with the urge to claw out the other girl’s eyes.
Chelsea held her ground but rested a protective hand on her Mercedes. “I’ll leave her alone when you leave Zack alone.”
Anger bubbled inside Amy like a pot of boiling water. All this was over her nonexistent relationship with a football star? “This is about Zack? He’s almost as stuck up and pretentious as you are. How many times do I have to tell you people? I am not interested!” She shook her fist at Chelsea, something she had only seen done on TV.
“Well, good.” Chelsea stomped the two steps to the driver’s side door. “He just wants a hookup, anyway. Don’t flatter yourself. It wouldn’t mean a thing, even if he did waste his time on you.” She slammed her door and fumbled with her keys.
Amy marched to her open window. She gripped its edge to keep from punching Chelsea in her smug little mouth. “Girl, you don’t mean anything to Zack either.” She forced the fakest smile she could muster and leaned into the car. “I’ll let you in on a secret. You might have learned how to brush your hair since eighth grade, but you sure as hell haven’t learned much about boys. If a guy spends this much time obsessing over someone else, even if it’s just to hook up, he’s far from happy. It’s only a matter of time before he dumps you.”
“You bitch!” Chelsea raised a manicured hand to slap her.
Amy stepped back in the nick of time. “Have a nice ride home alone. You’d better get used to it. It’s how you’ll be spending the rest of your life.” She strolled into her house.
A dozen anxious little faces peered down at her from the staircase. They had been listening in and hadn’t fled fast enough to avoid being detected.
“Guys, this is supposed to be a party. Go have fun!” She waved her hands in a shooing motion. Everyone scattered but Susan. “You okay?” Amy swept to the landing to hug her sister tight.
“That girl was mean.” Susan’s voice was thick with tears.
She stroked her sister’s hair. “I know. I was mean to her in middle school so now she’s being mean to us. It’s okay, she’s gone now.” Susan stared at the floor. Amy gently cupped her chin. “Do you want to talk about Katie?”
“No.” Pain flashed in her sister’s gentle eyes. “Not with my friends here.”
“Okay.” She gave Susan a squeeze. “I’m always here if you change your mind.” Susan nodded and scampered upstairs.
Thorns of grief pierced Amy’s heart. Susan had been old enough to remember Katie, yet too young to understand her death. She blinked back tears of her own and wandered into the kitchen in search of a snack to cheer everyone up. Chocolate chip cookies ought to do it.
The cookies did it all right, and more. She soon had twelve sugar-high children charging manically through her house. They were demolishing the place with enthusiastic gusto. She needed to contain them with an activity.
“Hey, you guys, I have an idea.” A dozen kids stampeded toward her. “Do any of you know how to dance?”
“I know how to break-dance,” Chris said.
“Amy knows ballet,” Susan piped up.
“Are you going to show us?” Sarah whooped.
Amy smiled at their infectious enthusiasm. “We’re all going to dance. We’ll have a prize for whoever pulls off the best or craziest moves.” She dragged the furniture out of the way and cranked the music on a thunderous cheer. “Okay, everyone! Three, two, one, dance!”
Complete pandemoniu
m ensued. The boys were outnumbered three to one, so they formed rings of girls and slid around in giggling groups. Hooray for the timeless entertainment of socked feet on a slippery wood floor.
Chris bounded up to Amy. “Want to dance?” He bowed.
“Why, of course, fine gentleman.” She took his hands and twirled him onto the floor.
Fifteen
ZACK, JESSIE, KEN, and Chelsea stood in a shocked cluster by Ken’s locker as Amy stalked away with her head held high. She had a brave type of honesty Zack had never even glimpsed in anyone else. She didn’t give a crap where she came from. It was part of who she was, and she was proud of it. Her spirit was unquenchable, her soul alight with fire. Amy drew people in without even trying. He and his friends were the four most influential juniors at THS, and she had them staring after her in awe. He was jealous of her jeans and the way they hugged her butt. He was even more jealous of Dominic Carter, who checked her out as she passed. Zack shook his head to clear it. What the hell was happening to him? He didn’t get jealous. He was with someone else!
“Chels, she heard you,” Jessie murmured as Amy disappeared around the corner.
“So?” Chelsea refused to lower her voice. “Bitch needs to learn her place. She’s nothing but a sneaky little slut.”
“She is not.” Jessie held up her hands, placating her friend. “Amy doesn’t even like Zack.”
Zack huffed out an indignant breath and shot Jessie a reproachful look.
Chelsea jutted out her hip and scowled at her best friend. “She hit on my boyfriend, and she’s not even that pretty.” The boys exchanged a doubtful look. Chelsea lived in denial.
Jessie crossed her arms. “Will you please stop calling her names? You’re making a scene over nothing.”
“I’m making a scene?” She puffed with fury. “I’m making a scene? I have the right to be upset when some slut makes a play for my boyfriend! You don’t understand. You don’t know what she’s like.” Her high, shrill voice was strained and filled with tears. “I went to middle school with her. I know what she’s capable of.”
“Oh my God, Chelsea! The girl is not out to get you.” The crowded hall quieted as their classmates turned their attention to the arguing queens.
“She’s nothing but a bitch!” Chelsea shrieked, her voice raw with pain. “Why do none of you see what she is? Amy manipulates people into thinking the way she does. She plays with your emotions for the fun of breaking you down.” Tears filled her eyes.
“Chelsea, you’re acting crazy.” Zack slipped an arm around her waist, trying to calm her. “Amy’s just a friend. There’s nothing going on.” Except that he had been fantasizing about her all week. He shoved the guilty thought into a box in his mind and padlocked it shut. He was not a cheater. He wasn’t Ken.
Chelsea shrugged free of his arm. Her eyes narrowed into furious green slits. “Have you slept with Amy yet?”
“What? No!” He staggered back a step and gaped at his girlfriend.
Her face twisted into a sneer. “Well, when you do, you’ll probably get an STD.”
Zack opened his mouth to speak up in Amy’s defense, but Jessie beat him to it. “Oh, shut up!” Her emerald eyes blazed. “You’re just jealous that everyone’s talking about Amy instead of you. Everything’s not about you!” She shook a manicured fist for emphasis.
A gawking circle of prying eyes had surrounded the foursome. Ken and Zack looked on, unable, and a little unwilling, to break up the chick fight.
“I never said it was!” Several strands of Chelsea’s curly hair had escaped their elegant twist and clung to her forehead and flaming cheeks. “Why are you on her side? You’re supposed to be my friend.”
Jessie drew herself up to her full height of five foot six. “Right. I’m your friend when you want your homework done, or when you need to borrow money, or when you’re itching to start a rumor about someone who disses you. I overheard you talking about Amy with Claire and Raquel in the washroom. You’re so insecure, you made up tons of lies about her. You told people about her old school. You called her a whore and said things I never want to repeat. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Jessie resembled a righteous goddess, heaping condemnation upon a sinner. It was a welcome change from Chelsea bossing her around.
Chelsea held up both hands to silence her. “I am not ashamed of telling the truth.”
“God!” Jessie furiously tossed her auburn hair, nearly whipping Zack in the face with it. “That’s half your problem! You never, ever know when to shut your mouth. Come on, Ken.” She grasped his arm and towed him down the hall. “Oh, and Chelsea,” she screeched from twenty feet away. “I also heard what you said about me!”
“High school drama at its finest,” a student said to her friend and giggled. “Go, Jessie!”
Chelsea had been rendered temporarily speechless. “We’re leaving.” She shouldered her designer handbag and beckoned Zack with a finger. He skewered her with an icy glare and stayed rooted to the spot. “Hello?” Chelsea tugged on his sleeve. “You coming or what?”
“No.” The word sliced through the tension in the hallway like a sword through a paper shield.
“What did you just say?” Lightning bolts of rage shot from her eyes.
He pressed his lips together in a hard, unyielding line. “I said no, Chelsea. It’s over.” The chatter that had begun with Jessie’s dramatic exit died away. All heads swiveled back to the arguing couple. Dominic caught his eye and made a run-for-it gesture toward the fire doors.
“What? What’s over?” Chelsea’s green eyes were pools of skittering panic.
“Us.” As if she didn’t already know. He stared at her with no emotion.
“I knew it!” She cut the air with one narrow hand. “This is about her, isn’t it?”
“This has nothing to do with Amy. This is all because of you.” He snatched his arm from her grasp. Her acrylic nails dug painfully into his skin before her hand fell away. “I’m dumping you because of your annoying personality, your selfish attitude, and your the-world-revolves-around-me mindset. I’m sick of it, honey, so find your own way home.” He strode to the end of the hall and slammed the door on her apology. A smile split his face. He was free! Chelsea Brookes was dead to him, and he felt nothing but relief. No girl was worth the continual drama she put him through. He ought to have listened to Chris sooner. His kid brother hated her, and he liked everyone.
He parked in front of Parsons Elementary and scanned the crowded grounds for Amy. He was worried about her after yesterday and wanted to drive her home. Amy needed someone, and he wanted that someone to be him.
Chris’s teacher told him that his brother had gone to Susan’s for the afternoon. Keeping tabs on a nine-year-old was harder than it looked.
He blared the radio, Amy’s hard rock station again, and cruised home in a state of smug delight. Two girls had made an enormous scene. Over him. People were going to be talking about it for weeks. He puffed out his chest and played the guitar solos against his steering wheel. A chick fight raised anyone’s popularity, and his had reached an all-time high. Even Dominic Carter would be impressed.
What if he invited Amy to watch the eclipse with him tomorrow? There was nothing more romantic than a lunar event. Her frosty exterior would melt beneath its mystical glow.
Sixteen
CHARLES HAD PULLED a stalker-like move. He had wanted to speak with Amy in person, so he had sifted through his mother’s client files and found Amy’s home address with alarming ease. His mom really ought to quit using his birthday as her password.
He climbed the steps to Amy’s shabby front porch and stopped to work up the courage to knock. The rickety boards vibrated beneath his feet with the thrum of thunderous hip-hop music. Shadows flitted to and fro behind thin, ratty curtains. Was Amy throwing a party? Should he ditch her history book and run? The door was thrown open before he had the chance to flee.
A miniature version of Amy stood in the doorway to a dimly lit living room where a swarm
of grade school kids bobbed and weaved to Ariana Grande. The little girl was cackling at her friends. “Hi!” she said, clutching her stomach.
“Hi. Is Amy here?” His voice squeaked on the word here.
“Amy!” the little girl bellowed. “Your boyfriend’s outside!”
Amy stalked from the kitchen, her eyes blazing with rage. Her expression shifted to confusion at the sight of him. “Charles? Why are you here?” She plucked an iPhone off the table and silenced the deafening hip-hop. A clamor of protest rose from the crowd. “There’s more cookies and milk in the kitchen. Help yourselves, but don’t make a mess.” The herd of children stampeded from the room. The mini Amy waved goodbye and ran after her friends.
Charles handed Amy her history book. “I accidentally mixed this up with my stuff.”
She flipped it open and held up the note. “You didn’t read this, did you?”
He ducked his head. “I did.”
Amy snapped the book shut. “Okay, thanks for bringing it by.” She opened the door and motioned him out.
“What? I’m dismissed?”
“In a word, yes!”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have a few ideas,” she said and shrugged. “It’s my problem. I’ll handle it.”
“You have no idea what they’re like.” He clenched his jaw against a burst of frustration and worry. Alex and his gang could kill her without issue. Discounting their threats was a fatal mistake.
“I’ve got this. I don’t need help from you.” Amy threw his own stinging comment in his face with a toss of her ebony hair.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” He put a foot in the door to stop her from slamming it in his face.
“You never did.”
He frowned. “Yeah, but—”
“Okay then.” She raised her chin, her eyes flashing with triumph. “I have nothing more to say to you. Get out of my house.”
“Why are you mad? Besides the fact that I got you mixed up and involved with the most ruthless gang in Toronto.”
Blood Moon's Fury: A Young Adult Fantasy Thriller (Curse of the Blood Moon Book 1) Page 10
