But we just keep going faster.
“Josh.” He ignores me, drumming the steering wheel to the beat, so I grab his arm. “I really want to go back to school.”
Throwing me a look, he changes lanes—far left now—without even glancing in the rearview mirror, accelerating enough for me to feel glued to my seat. Blood pulses even louder in my ears and I turn to Tyler for help, but he’s oblivious. I can see enough that the needle is well clear of seventy. It feels like eighty. Ninety. Oh, God.
This wouldn’t even technically be an accident. He’s doing this on purpose. Chills explode all over me, at war with the heat of terror that’s making me sweat.
“Josh …” My voice cracks. What the hell was I thinking getting in this car? I wasn’t thinking—not at all. I should have thought about the possibility of an accident. Me, of all people. I just forgot.
I breathe slowly and look out the window at a rush of browns and red autumn oaks, surely the fastest I’ve ever witnessed scenery passing when not in an airplane.
Everything blurs with the first sting of tears, and I curl my toes hard to fight the fear bubbling up inside me.
Dystychiphobia. Maybe I have it as badly as my mother.
We’re flying now, but the car’s so smooth it’s impossible to gauge our speed. I look anyway, leaning to the side to make it obvious I want to know how fast we’re going.
“Just passed three digits, babe,” Josh says with a broad grin, weaving around much, much slower cars.
“Hell yeah!” Tyler hollers, slamming his hand on the back of Josh’s seat. “Stomp that thing, dude!”
I manage a ragged breath. “Please, please, slow down.”
He just laughs. “You can trust this car.”
But can I trust the driver? Panic wends through me, wrapping my chest in bands of pain, a wholly different kind of suffocation from what I feel with my mother.
“Dubya-V-A!” Tyler calls out over the loud music. “We have crossed into beerland, my good man.”
“Screw beer,” Josh says. “My girl drinks the good stuff, right, Kenz?”
I can barely talk. My knuckles are white on the seat and I’m staring straight ahead.
“Hey, come on.” He taps my arm, making me gasp.
“Watch what you’re doing,” I warn.
“It’s cool.” But he doesn’t slow down. “This is fun, Kenzie.”
Fun. Fun? I feel something snap in my head when I turn to him. “How is this fun? Two girls have died in the last forty-eight hours from accidents—two girls I’m on a list with—and you’re driving a hundred?”
“And ten!” He leans over. “Kiss me.”
“Watch the road!”
He glances at it for a split second, then back at me. “Kiss me!” he hollers over the deafening music.
Anything to make him look back at the road. I lean over and give him a peck, and instantly his hand curls around my head, pulling me harder into his mouth. Our teeth crack and I can barely hold in my scream as I feel the car accelerate and veer to the left, then the right, the wheel being controlled by a man paying absolutely no attention to the road.
“Give ’er tongue!” Tyler hoots, clapping his hands.
Nausea and horror collide in my chest, but Josh has a death grip on my head, smashing our mouths together. We’re careening all over the highway and all I hear is one long, endless wail of a truck’s horn as Josh jerks away. We both whip around to face front, inches—no, a centimeter—from sideswiping an eighteen-wheeler in the next lane.
Josh flings the wheel, jerking the whole car to the left, inches from an SUV. I let out the scream I’ve been holding in, automatically covering my face and eyes and bracing for certain death.
“Son of a bitch!” he cries, then rights the car and gives the truck driver the finger.
Tyler whoops and slaps the back of Josh’s seat. “Hell yeah, man! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
My pulse is hammering so hard I can barely hear over the rush of blood in my head. “What are you doing?” I shriek at him. “Trying to kill us?”
Josh throws his head back and howls. “I’m invincible, baby!”
I glare at him, stunned by his stupidity and the thought that I ever imagined this idiot was attractive. “No one is invincible,” I say softly.
He doesn’t hear me. He and Tyler are reliving the thrill of their brush with death. But he’s slowed down to a relatively reasonable eighty miles an hour while I will this joyride to be over.
My heart finally starts to settle as he glides onto an exit ramp, still going way too fast, but I do believe a car this well made can handle the turn. Holding on to that hope for dear life, I brace into the curve. In less than a minute, we’re pulling into a gas station with a convenience store called Kipler’s that looks like it was built around the turn of the century … the last century.
“Come with me,” Josh says, turning off the ignition.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman walking away from the side of the building, giving me an idea.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say.
He guffaws again. “I scared the piss out of her, Ty.”
Fueled by how much I hate that he thinks that’s funny, I grab my door handle and try to get out, fumbling with the latch.
“It’s locked,” Josh says.
“Let me out,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“You need to remember, Kenzie, I have the control.”
My whole being clutches as I narrow my eyes at him. Anger won’t work with this guy, nor will tears. I need to be creative. “I’m gonna puke all over your brand-new Audi in about five seconds.”
He mumbles a curse, and the lock clicks open. I thrust my whole body at the door, somehow having the smarts to grab my purse and tear off in the direction the woman came from, praying I don’t need a key. A rusted, graffiti-covered metal door sails open when I yank the handle, the pitch-black inside only slightly less frightening than that heartless prick who drove me here.
Inside, I pat the wall frantically, looking for a light. I find one, but the bulb emits about as much light as a cell phone, leaving the room little more than shadows. I slide the lock and look around to see the floor is wet, the rust-stained sink has no hot-water handle, and the toilet might not have been flushed in the last few weeks.
I retch a little and twist the faucet to run cool water over my hands. What should I do? Get back in that car with them? Drive back another twenty miles on the hairy edge of certain death, with Josh sipping a beer?
I pull out my phone and stare at it, debating who I could call for help. Absolutely not my mother. My dad, who might be more understanding, is at work and couldn’t leave. Molly? No, she’s in class and won’t answer. One of the girls on the list? At least they’d get why I’m scared to death.
While I’m staring at it, my phone lights up, startling me. I suck in a breath at the name of the incoming caller, more in disbelief than anything.
Levi Sterling.
Without hesitation, I answer, praying he’s help and not just the devil’s other hand.
CHAPTER XX
“Kenzie, I have to talk to you.” His voice is soft, clear, and comforting. I press the phone harder to my ear, the putrid bathroom disappearing around me.
“What’s the matter?”
“We just need to talk. I have to … you have to know the truth. Before you hear anything that says otherwise.”
I’m stunned by how much the words—and the way he says them—affect me.
“What happened today?” I ask. “Did you …” Get arrested? I don’t even want to put that into words. Plus, how could he be calling me? Surely I’m not his one phone call. Or am I? “Did you talk to the police?”
“Yeah, for a few minutes.” I hear him let out a sigh and I feel relieved. “Kenzie, I barely knew Chloe. I have no idea why they’d question me.”
I believe him. Deep in my gut, in a place I trust, I believe him. Doesn’t make it right or smart, bu
t it’s what I feel. “What did they want to know?”
“If I knew where she was that night, and where I was. I told them I was with you, at Starbucks, so they might want to talk to you next.”
Oh, Lord. That will make my mother so happy. “You were with me … for a while.”
“I went home after I left you.”
Is he lying? Or can I trust him? “Did you see that truck?” I ask.
“What truck?”
“The one in the parking lot at Starbucks. Did you see it?” If he lies, then I know he’s a liar. Because I am dead certain he saw that truck and left because of it. To meet the driver or …
“Yeah, I saw it.” His voice is low and so honest.
“Why did you lie about it?”
“Because …”
I brace on the metal door, the vile closeness of the bathroom penetrating my whole being as I wait for him to complete the explanation. When he doesn’t, I say, “I saw that truck at the house—”
“Stop, Kenzie. Don’t say another word.”
“Why?”
“Just … don’t. Not on the phone. Not to anyone. Where are you?”
I cringe before answering, not even considering a lie. “Right outside of Wheeling at a place called Kipler’s.”
He snorts. “This whole mess drive you to drink?”
“How’d you know?”
“Everybody buys beer there.”
“Look, Levi. I need help,” I admit. “The kids I’m with are …” Trying to kill me. “Nuts.”
“I’ll come and get you.”
His instant answer and desire to help washes me with an unspeakable happiness. But what about Josh … who is probably shotgunning a Budweiser right now.
A loud thud on the door makes me jump back. “Hey, Fifth, you okay?”
“Are you with Josh Collier?” Levi asks.
“Yes.” I answer them both.
I hear one of them swear, but my heart is pounding so hard I’m not sure if it was Josh or Levi.
“Don’t move,” Levi says. “I’ll be there in half an hour, tops.” The phone beeps with the disconnection before I can even agree to that. He’ll pick me up on a motorcycle?
“Kenzie, what the hell?” Josh bangs again. “You puking?”
I close my eyes. What’s worse? A kid drinking beer and driving a hundred miles an hour in a sixty-thousand-dollar car or one who cares about me on a motorcycle?
Neither option is exactly thrilling right now, but I go with my gut.
“Josh, I’m getting a ride home,” I say. “You can go.”
He’s silent for two, three, four heartbeats and I don’t move, waiting for the argument.
“You sure?”
“I just need to be alone for a while,” I tell him. “A friend is getting me, so you and Ty go party. I’ll be fine.”
He jiggles the handle. “Open up. Lemme see you.”
I don’t move. “Really, I don’t want you to.”
“Babe, I’ve seen a barfing chick before.”
“I’m not barfing. I’m …” Oh, damn it, just leave me. “It’s girl stuff.”
“Oh.” After a long silence, he says, “You need something from the store? I can get it.”
The suggestion surprises me and suddenly makes me doubt my decision to wait for Levi. Maybe Josh was just showing off in the car. Maybe he was trying to impress me and feels bad about making me sick. Or maybe he is an accident waiting to happen.
I have to go with my instinct on this. “Really, Josh, I’m cool. You guys go.”
A good fifteen seconds go by; then I hear him tap the door. “I don’t like leaving you like this, Kenz. Come on out.”
I reach for the door handle and slowly open the door. He’s about a foot away, concern on his face, a beer can in his hand. He doesn’t look scary or wild or like he’d cause an accident, and I’m torn with doubt about my decision.
“Listen, I’m sorry about the driving.” He actually sounds like he means it.
I nod. “It’s okay. I’m just going to get a soda and wait for my friend.”
“Come on, I’ll take you inside and buy it for you.” He reaches out his hand, the gesture conciliatory and sweet. I take it.
“Thanks for understanding.”
He smiles at me while we walk around the building to the front of the store. “Who says I understand? Women baffle me.”
Inside, I grab a Coke from the cooler and he gives the clerk some money and turns to me. “You sure you want to wait for your friend?”
“I’m sure,” I tell him, popping the can. “Go have fun.”
He strokes my cheek, pushing back my hair. “You really do deserve to be on that list, Kenzie.”
I can’t pinpoint what I see in his blue eyes. Regret? Confusion? Maybe he just feels like crap for driving like a lunatic and scaring the hell out of me.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
He leans down and brushes my mouth with his, a halfhearted kiss that leaves my lips cold. After a second, he leaves, heading out to the car with enough bounce in his step that I don’t think he really regrets stranding me in a dump in West Virginia.
His tires squeal on the way out, tossing up some gravel, and I’m instantly convinced that I made the right decision. Just as I start to sip the Coke, the clerk slams his hand down and scowls.
“Hey, you know that guy? Is he coming back?”
“No, why?” Did he leave his phone or wallet? I walk closer to the cash register.
“This.” He holds up a coin. “I’m not an idiot and this is America! I don’t take foreign money. What the hell do I do with this?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Embarrassed, I dig into my bag to get a quarter to give him.
He snorts and flips me the other coin, which bounces off the counter and lands on the floor. I bend over to pick it up, noticing instantly how shiny and yellow it is, almost like … No, even rich kids like Josh Collier don’t carry real gold.
It’s heavy and thick, unlike any coin I’ve ever seen. I tilt it to the sunlight to see what country it’s from.
No country. Unless ancient Rome counts. I stare at the words on the coin.
NIHIL RELINQUERE ET NIHIL VESTIGI
The same phrase Levi had me translate for him.
To leave nothing behind and no trace.
But Josh just left something behind, and I have only one question: why?
Levi made it in under half an hour—I shudder to think how fast he drove his little red Kawasaki. Even though he brought me a helmet, I was hesitant to start the ride home, so now we are standing on the side of the convenience store next to the parked bike. The coin Josh left behind is warm from being passed back and forth between us as everything—absolutely everything, from the first accident to the gas leak to the last wild ride—pours out of me as fast as I can talk.
Screw curses; I need another brain on this.
As he listens, Levi studies the coin. The Latin words are wrapped around an ornate scroll that says NR, decorated with a laurel wreath like an ancient Olympic champion would have worn. He hasn’t explained how these happen to be the same words he asked me to translate, but he will. He has to.
Little about my story really surprises him. Until I tell him about the curse. Then he’s torn between being incredulous and fighting not to laugh out loud.
“They really think there’s a curse? Like a voodoo curse?” He shakes his head, the laughter in his voice fading as he looks at my expression. “Do you?”
“No, but …” I sigh. “Every death is a freak accident.”
“There’s no such thing as an accident,” he says ominously, flipping the coin in his fingers. “Damn, this thing is heavy.”
“Real gold is,” I say. “I can’t believe Josh carries it around like pocket change. And then leaves it by accident.”
He looks up, his eyes saying what his mouth just did: There’s no such thing as an accident.
“You think he left it here on purpose?” I ask. The possibility had cross
ed my mind, but it made so little sense I’d disregarded it. Now I think maybe Josh had a reason to leave this coin.
Levi just shakes his head, and my frustration grows.
“Where have you seen those words and why did you ask me to translate them?” I’m tired of waiting for this explanation.
“He must have made it pretty far to have this.”
Far … how? “What are you talking about?”
For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. “Mack,” he finally says. “What I’m about to tell you”—he takes my hand, pressing the coin between our palms—“you can’t tell anyone. I mean it. I’m not kidding.”
“This theme is repeating itself today.”
“This time you have to follow the rule. It’s a matter of life and death.”
I give him a solemn nod. “I swear.” And I mean it.
“There’s a source … of money.” He looks at the coin. “A place full of coins like this.”
“Like buried treasure?” I fight the urge to laugh. “Only slightly more ridiculous than a voodoo curse.”
“It’s not ridiculous and it’s not really buried, but it is treasure. One person every year gets it in the form of a fat, juicy, secret scholarship.”
I gasp. “The one named after Josh’s dad?”
He jerks back like I’ve burned him. “How do you know about that?”
“I don’t think it’s so secret,” I tell him. “I met Josh’s grandfather at his party the other night and he offered me a chance to apply. Only I’d have to finish some kind of obstacle course he has set up. Is that what you’re talking about?”
“He told you that? I don’t believe it.”
“Why, is it some big secret?”
He raises his dark brows. “Have you ever heard this scholarship mentioned? Read about it in the papers? Know anyone who ever got it?”
He’s right, I haven’t. “But aren’t some scholarships private like that? Especially when they’re given by an individual?”
“Yeah, but this one—”
The screech of tires steals our attention, making us both spin to see a vehicle careening into the parking lot at about sixty miles an hour. For a second, I can’t breathe. I stare at the pickup truck, stunned into speechlessness.
They All Fall Down Page 15
