“Heeyyy, Mike.” Chelsea managed to drawl the two words into several long syllables as Mike slid into the car. The syrupiness of it sounded so foreign oozing from Chelsea’s mouth.
“Hey,” Mike said back to her. One word, one syllable.
“So I guess it’s just the four of us tonight,” she purred.
“Really? I thought we were meeting a buncha people.”
“Nope. Just us. Everyone else bailed.”
Violet smiled to herself as she listened to Chelsea’s account, amazed that her words came out sounding so . . . sincere.
But Violet knew better. And she realized from the look Jay flashed her that he knew too.
Mike, on the other hand, was too new to understand the disturbing way that Chelsea’s mind worked. There was a brief pause, and then Violet swore she could hear a smile in his voice when he answered, “That’s cool.”
He might rethink that later, Violet thought, when Chelsea stops holding back and decides to assault him right in the middle of a crowded movie theater. Unless he’s into that kind of thing. She grinned wickedly to herself.
And then she wondered if Jay would attack her.
She hoped so.
Chapter 11
The real show of the night happened when they stopped at Java Hut to kill some time before the movie.
Java Hut had first opened its doors as an internet café before there was a computer in every home. But as the concept became obsolete, Java Hut managed to stay open by becoming the perfect after-school and weekend hangout. Now, instead of just coffee, they served burgers and fries and ice cream, and along with the computers, there were also gaming stations. And that night, like most Saturday nights, it was busy and loud.
When they walked through the front door, Violet wondered if she’d ever get used to the attention Jay drew whenever they were out. Girls—of all ages—seemed to be drawn to him, and Violet thought she understood why. There was something about his utter lack of awareness of his charm that was universally appealing.
And women seemed compelled to abandon all good sense just to garner a moment of his notice, even if it was purely utilitarian.
Waitresses fawned over him. Cashiers lingered with his change, drawing out that moment when their hands would brush. And even the female teachers were inclined to give him a little leeway . . . giving him extra time to turn in assignments and neglecting to hand out a tardy slip when he was late.
Jay was oblivious to it, even when Violet pointed out the obvious. He thought they were just “being friendly” or “doing their jobs.” But Violet never got free dessert or an open hall pass to roam the school during class time.
So it wasn’t a total surprise that Jay would turn a few heads while they were out tonight. She just hadn’t anticipated the power of the two of them together. Two good-looking guys more than doubled the attention they drew. Even among people they knew at the Java Hut that night, Violet and Chelsea became instantly invisible.
Girls not only noticed the pair of boys but also giggled behind cupped hands and waved at the two of them.
Jay was either unaware or chose to ignore them altogether. Mike, on the other hand, was not. And did not. Not only did he notice the interest he attracted, he seemed to enjoy it.
Violet recognized it immediately for what it was: Mike was as much an attention whore as Chelsea.
Violet was fine with that. Chelsea, not so much.
Violet let Jay draw her through the crowds that bottlenecked near the entrance. She liked knowing that he belonged to her while all those envious eyes looked on.
“I guess Chelsea’s not the only one who’s into Mike,” Violet whispered while Jay dragged her over to stand in line at the counter.
Jay glanced back to where Chelsea stood on the outskirts of three girls from school who were animatedly chatting with Mike.
“Yeah, she’s not doing too good, is she?” Jay agreed.
“I thought she’d have him eating out of her hand by now.” Violet wrinkled her nose, worrying over her friend.
“You mean like you have me doing?”
Violet smiled up at him and then bumped him with her shoulder. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
Chelsea caught the two of them spying on her, and Violet flashed an apologetic smile. Chelsea rolled her eyes in response. She sulked as she made her way over to join them.
“Get me some fries.” The lack of a question in her statement was somewhat reassuring. She was still Chelsea. Disheartened but bossy.
“Giving up already?” Jay asked Chelsea, after the girl behind the counter took his order.
Chelsea shrugged. “Nah, just taking a break. I’ll wear him down eventually—it’s just gonna take longer than I thought.”
“There!” Violet exclaimed, shoving Jay. “Do you see that? That’s what I’m talking about!” She pointed at the girl getting his fries. Obviously she didn’t realize they were for Chelsea. “You only ordered a small, and she’s getting you a large. She probably won’t even charge you for it.”
Jay shook his head. “She’s just confused, that’s all. If it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure I pay for the large.”
“Ugh! I give up. That’s not even the point! She’s only doing it because she thinks you’re hot.”
“You’re crazy.” Jay laughed at Violet, and the girl behind the counter laughed along with him as she set down the overflowing basket of fries. There was no way she’d heard what they were talking about.
“Can I get you anything else?” She cocked her head to the side. She looked like she could be a cheerleader, very peppy.
At least she wasn’t openly suggestive. Perky and flirty, Violet could deal with.
“Nope,” Jay answered, handing her a twenty.
She counted out his change and slipped it back to him in slow-mo. And there it was . . . the drawn-out hand brush.
Violet grinned on the inside, keeping her expression perfectly blank. Predictable.
“Well, let me know,” the girl bubbled hopefully.
Jay handed Chelsea her fries, and Violet reached for his milk shake.
“So is he following you or what?” Chelsea asked, shoving several fries in her mouth at once.
Violet looked to Jay: Is who following him?
But Jay wasn’t listening. In fact, Jay wasn’t even there anymore; it was just her and Chelsea. Jay had gone to get Mike, so they could find a table.
Violet gave her friend a baffled look. “You’re so weird sometimes. What are you even talking about?”
Chelsea’s confused frown mirrored Violet’s. Her voice was thick with impatience. “Hello? Right front corner table? The guy from the other day.”
Violet turned to look. A sea of faces churned around her, moving in and among the tables, but she still didn’t see who Chelsea was talking about.
She twisted around to face Chelsea again. “Who?”
“When you were talking to that lady after school.” And then, exasperated, because it was so obvious to her, she added, “The hot guy who was waiting outside your car.”
Violet’s mind worked quickly, and when she figured out who Chelsea was describing, alarm seized her stomach. She spun back, this time scanning for someone in particular.
And there he sat, staring back at Violet. Violet could feel his dark blue eyes cutting through her, dissecting her. She felt as if she were crumbling beneath the weight of his penetrating stare.
Violet wasn’t sure what to do, wasn’t sure how she felt. Was it possible to be burning up and icy cold at the same time? Or was she just numb?
The boy watching her didn’t move, didn’t do anything. He scarcely acknowledged that Violet had spotted him. There was just the slightest tightening at the corner of his eyes to give away that moment of recognition.
Violet glanced over to Jay and Mike, who were coming back now, heading right toward her. Dread squeezed her throat, and she winced.
She hadn’t told Jay about the FBI. She’d kept it to herself, like so many thi
ngs lately.
Maybe he would worry. Or tell her parents. Or maybe she still felt guilty about everything they’d been through this past year . . . all because of her.
And now this. Here.
She shot Chelsea a warning glance and hoped Chelsea would understand the meaning: Don’t say anything!
But Chelsea didn’t notice her pleading look. Mike was back, and Chelsea was on again. Smiling, flirting, charming.
The real Chelsea was gone. And that was good news for Violet; her friend would be too preoccupied with Mike to blurt out anything about the other day.
“Are you guys ready to go?” Violet asked as she grabbed Jay’s arm, steering him toward the exit.
Jay chuckled but shrugged his arm away. “Violet, the movie doesn’t even start for an hour. Let’s find a place to sit so we can finish eating.”
Violet blinked, trying to think of an argument against staying, but she couldn’t. And before she could protest, Jay, Mike, and Chelsea were already headed for an open table.
Violet sighed, defeated by her crippling inability to think quickly.
Her legs felt unsteady as she gave in and followed the three of them. She stopped once, to glance over her shoulder. But the boy was no longer sitting at the front of the café.
Violet’s heart leaped into her throat as her eyes scanned the room. She’d thought it was paralyzing to have him sitting there, watching her. But this feeling was worse: not knowing where he’d gone, yet knowing he could still be nearby.
She hoped that he’d decided to leave her alone. But somehow she doubted it.
Violet sat silently at the little round table while the others ate and talked and laughed.
Thankfully the numbness, that deadened sensation that had gripped her from the moment she’d first spotted FBI Sara’s friend sitting there, had lifted. It had been replaced by something else, something closer to outrage. Violet felt as though her personal space had been invaded, her privacy violated.
She felt clearer now. Too clear, as a heightened sense of awareness infiltrated her mind. Her head reeled with questions and theories, suspicions and doubts. She worried as she scanned the other customers, and as she warily eyed the café’s entrance.
She couldn’t stop herself from wondering: Why did he come here? What does he want?
If Jay noticed, he didn’t mention it. He was enjoying himself. He and his friends were having fun, even without her participation.
Violet didn’t care. She had other concerns at the moment.
She was relieved when it was time to go, and she led the way out to the parking lot, pushing through the crowd, rushing to get out of the confined space. And, somehow, Jay managed to keep up.
She felt better once she was outside, like she could breathe again. They were already at Jay’s car when Mike and Chelsea caught up with them.
Chelsea stopped grinning at Mike long enough to scowl at Jay. “Are you two trying to ditch us or something?”
But it was in that brief moment, while Chelsea wasn’t staring at him, that Violet saw the fleeting look cross Mike’s face as he glanced down at Chelsea.
It was so quick that unless someone had been looking directly at him, like Violet was, they would have missed it. But it had definitely been there. The corner of his mouth had twitched upward, his eyes crinkling just slightly as he watched her.
And Violet knew: Mike liked Chelsea.
As soon as Chelsea’s gaze slipped back to him, Mike’s cheeks turned pink and he looked away as if she didn’t exist. Neither Jay nor Chelsea noticed.
The absurdity of it broke through Violet’s apprehensive mood, and she couldn’t help grinning to herself. Chelsea had been falling all over herself to get Mike’s attention, never realizing that she’d had it all along.
By the time they reached the theater, Violet was feeling much more like herself. She even teased Jay for being so choosy about where he parked his precious car and managed to find her appetite again . . . for popcorn and licorice, at least. She loaded up on both at the concession stand.
When they got to the dim hallway outside the theater, Violet hesitated.
“Here.” She handed the tub of popcorn to Jay. “Why don’t you give me my ticket stub and I’ll meet you guys inside? I’ve gotta use the bathroom.”
She knew it was pointless to ask Chelsea to come with her, because Chelsea had no intention of leaving Mike’s side, even for a few short minutes. Instead, Jay handed Violet her stub and she disappeared into the restroom.
Inside, she was all alone, which always bothered Violet. And as usual, she wondered if she were to scream, would anyone actually hear her above the pounding bass from the surrounding theaters? Someday she thought she might try it, just to find out.
No, you won’t, she chided herself. You’re such a chickenshit.
She tried not to think about things that might make her scream while she hurried to use the bathroom and wash her hands. And when she was finished, she rushed through the door, nearly running into the person waiting in the hallway.
Violet jumped, startled. And then recognition dawned, and screaming became an all too real possibility.
If only she could find her voice.
“What are you doing here?” Violet glowered at the boy in front of her, lifting her chin. “Are you following me or something? And don’t try to tell me it’s a coincidence we’re both here at the same time. I saw you at the Java Hut.”
He shrugged, his hands buried in the pockets of his scruffy jeans. “I just came to deliver a message from Sara Priest.”
She blinked. “So she sent you?” Violet squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t let him see how much Sara Priest’s name affected her.
He shook his head, his black hair falling across his eyes. “Not exactly. But I was hoping that maybe you’d be more willing to talk if I came instead of her. You have to return her calls eventually.”
Violet’s outrage lessened. For days she’d been ignoring the messages from Sara Priest, each of them reminding Violet that this was an urgent matter.
“Just tell her I don’t want to talk to her.”
She tried to brush past him, but he reached for her sleeve, stopping her. She knew she should jerk her arm back, away from his grip, but instead she let him draw her toward the exit doors at the end of the hallway. It was dark there, private.
He glared down at her, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Come on, Violet, this is serious.” Hearing her name on his lips made her pause, and suddenly he had her attention. “You can’t just ignore this and hope it goes away. Sara has a job to do, and she’s serious about it. And whether you like it or not, it involves you.”
“I’m not sure what I can tell her that she doesn’t already know,” Violet lied, taking a step back. There was so much that Sara didn’t know about her, and that Violet had no intention of confessing.
“The thing is, that’s really not for you to decide.” His face softened, just a little. “I promise it gets easier.” He moved closer to her. “You just need to learn to trust someone.”
A door nearby opened softly, like a whisper, but Violet didn’t look up. What was he trying to tell her? That he knew what it was like to be . . . different? Or that she should confide in him?
Violet was more confused than ever. “I really don’t have time for this. I’m here on a date.”
The boy frowned as he shoved his hair away from his eyes, and then he handed Violet another one of Sara’s business cards while he studied her. “Just call her, Violet. Please. You never know, maybe if you help Sara, she can help you.” And then he handed her something else, a slip of paper with a phone number and a name—Rafe—scrawled in ballpoint pen. “If you’re more comfortable, call me instead,” he explained, his eyes searching hers. “Believe me, I know how scary this can be.”
Violet shoved the card and the phone number into her pocket, not wanting to look at them or to consider the meaning behind his words. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know if Rafe truly unders
tood her—or what it was exactly that he did for Sara Priest.
So when he turned to go, Violet stayed where she was, in the dim shadows of the doorway, and watched him leave.
She closed her eyes, wondering what exactly he thought Sara could do to help her. Several seconds passed before she opened them again, just to make sure he was really gone.
She glanced down the hallway and hesitated.
She wasn’t alone.
Jay stood there, examining her. Without saying a word.
Violet was unnerved by the accusation she saw in his gaze, and she wondered if it was real or if it was her own guilt she was sensing.
Finally, when Violet had lost track of how long they’d been standing there, he turned and went back inside without waiting for her.
She could feel the tears coming then. Shame and regret flooded her, burning beneath her skin, until she would have preferred the numbness to return.
She escaped to the bathroom once more to splash some water on her face—and to wash away some of the guilt she felt for keeping things from Jay.
Why couldn’t she talk to him?
Why was she keeping so many secrets?
Violet slipped into the shadows of the theater and searched for her friends. When she found them, she made her way to where they were sitting, squeezing past feet and knees and trying not to kick over popcorn or drinks.
Jay didn’t look up when she stepped over him and sat in the open seat.
But she was surprised, and relieved, when she felt his arm slip around her shoulder. She knew he was upset with her—she’d seen it on his face when they were in the hallway—so his unexpected touch was comforting, reassuring. It was so Jay.
He leaned in toward her ear, his voice barely a whisper. “You can’t keep hiding things forever. Eventually you have to tell me what the hell’s going on.”
Violet blinked away tears and nodded against his warm lips. He sat back and started watching the movie again.
On the other side of her, Chelsea and Mike were making out.
Chapter 12
Violet approached the police station hesitantly. She’d been there dozens, maybe hundreds of times before. Her uncle Stephen was the chief of police in Buckley, so it would have been a tough place for her to avoid. Still, her steps were sluggish.
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