“Danny,” I whisper. He looks at me, but shakes his head. Mandy is already turned toward the door. I follow.
Natalie’s voice rises behind us, like she’s the victorious one. “Yeah, get out of here, and take this spic with you.”
Way. Too. Far.
I swish around just in time to see Danny’s crumpled, hurt face. Mandy blows by me to get to Natalie. She raises her hand and unleashes a slap that ricochets along the frat’s walls.
I rarely condone violence. Okay, I don’t condone violence. But a speck of warm pleasure hits me as the red blossoms across Natalie’s cheek.
But then, dammit, tears glisten along the rims of her eyes. I scrunch my face and look to the floor, focusing on the splashes of beer and chunks of mud here and there. I shake myself and tug on Mandy’s hand and whisper our mantra, “Don’t be afraid.” But it’s hard to speak loud enough to overcome the applause. Yes, people actually clap. Natalie has been on her tiring tirade for weeks.
As Natalie recovers, she lunges toward Mandy. A brother grabs Natalie’s arms, holding her back. My mind fumbles for ways to mediate this when the frat president motions to some guys.
That’s how Mandy gets escorted out.
It makes sense to pick Mandy. Politically, what frat president wants to kick out the grieving townie sister of the dead girl? Even if she is a racist. There’s already enough tension between college kids and Allan kids.
Mandy squirms away from the brothers as they take her toward the door. “At least let me finish my beer.”
“You need to leave now,” one brother says. Not as a directive. It’s just sound advice.
She smacks her red Solo cup into my free hand. “Drink this. I’ll meet you outside.”
I check on Danny first, but he’s good, surrounded by his pledge brothers. I look in the drink. I don’t want it. But Mandy stares at me as she’s pulled away. It’s the principle of the thing. So I take a big swig so she can see. But once she’s out the door, I set both our not-quite-empty cups on the counter.
As I follow Mandy into the cool September night, I rub my rosy pink flats against the grass. They’re sullied from the disgusting swirl of swill that pools on frat floors. We journey down a back road toward a much more civilized arena—the row of bars along Main Street, the height of the thriving, or not so thriving, social life in Allan. We crush over the pine needles until we get to the brick walkway. “Let’s just go to Sally’s,” I say.
Mandy rubs her eyes vigorously.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, my eyes just feel sort of, I don’t know, weird.”
I pull some eye drops from my purse.
Mandy looks to the sky and squeezes the liquid into her eyes. When she hands the drops back, her hazel irises look violet next to the purple stones on her necklace. Light rays can achieve mischievous feats.
“I shouldn’t have slapped her.” She circles her fingers around her wrist and whispers, “But I had to.”
“I know.”
Don’t miss HEARTSICK by Caitlin Sinead.
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Copyright © 2014 by Caitlin Sinead Jennings
Acknowledgments
Thank you, Kerri Buckley and Stephanie Doig, for your thought-provoking comments and marvelous edits. Thank you to everyone at Carina Press who helped make this book what it is. Thank you, Andrea Somberg, for advocating for my work and indulging me on my many questions about the publishing process.
My writers’ group was invaluable in bringing this story to fruition. Thank you, especially, Jeremiah Goulka, JD Mayrant, Jon Moffat, Elizabeth Nellums, Barbara Reck, Melody Schreiber, Kellie Small, Chrisi West and Jeff West for your support and feedback.
Ava Jae, Laura Rueckert, Phil Stamper-Halpin, Lisa Terry, and Wade Albert White, you’ve all helped me rethink aspects of those early drafts in order to tell a better story for Peyton and Dylan. Thank you not only for your insights but for being fun and supportive critique partners.
Adriane, how could I write a political book without your input! Thank you for taking the time to read it and supply me with your informative comments.
Dana, you’ve read every book I’ve written so far and I couldn’t be more grateful. Thank you for all of your support.
Mom and Dad, thank you for encouraging me to write as soon as, well, I could write.
And Patrick, thank you for helping me to refocus when I really need to refocus.
Also available from Caitlin Sinead
and Carina Press
Heartsick
About the Author
Caitlin Sinead’s writing has earned accolades from Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Glimmer Train, and Writers & Artists. She earned a master’s degree in writing from Johns Hopkins University and lives in Alexandria, Virginia, with her husband and two cats.
Twitter: @CaitlinSineadJ
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Quinn is looking forward to her senior year at Poe University. She has big plans to hang out with her best friend, flirt with a certain boy genius, party at her favorite dive bar and figure out what she’s going to do after graduation with her not-so-useful art major. But that’s before she meets Luke, a hot townie who’s moved back home to help take care of his dying sister. And it’s before a weird epidemic sweeps across campus, mysteriously turning people’s eyes purple.
Soon the town starts blaming the university, and the student religious group becomes frighteningly aggressive in their on-campus accusations. Quinn and Luke are caught in the middle—until a tragic accident forces Luke to reveal the one part of himself he’s kept carefully hidden. That he’s so much more than the happy-go-lucky boy next door Quinn had believed him to be isn’t a surprise...but this truth might be too dangerous for her to handle.
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ISBN-13: 9781459290044
Red Blooded
Copyright © 2015 by Caitlin Sinead Jennings
Edited by: Kerri Buckley and Stephanie Doig
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Red Blooded Page 24
