by Deanna Chase
“Cain.” Mr. Wickham held out his hand for the note Cain dropped into it. “Just in time for the pop quiz.”
She had no problem groaning along with the rest of the class at that.
Cain walked past her, and she tried to pretend like she wasn’t sucking in air just to catch a whiff of his woodsy cologne. He dropped into his seat and Flint looked down at her book because she felt his eyes on her.
For the first time in weeks, she knew he was looking at her.
His breathing was even as he stretched out his legs, and from the corner of her eye she saw his boots and couldn’t help but study them. Biker boots, they looked sturdy and had rings going up the side.
She swallowed hard and started tapping her pencil on her kneecap.
“Princess,” he whispered and she hated herself that just the sound of his deep voice made her body hum and burn.
Almost disbelieving, she turned to glare at him, battling the sudden antagonism she felt for all the weeks of silence. Knowing if she continued to look at him, she’d do something stupid, she looked back down at her book.
“What?” she hissed.
He didn’t answer, which of course forced her to look up.
Cain was wearing a smug grin. “Hi.”
She wouldn’t have been more shocked if he’d punched her.
“Excuse me. Are you talking to me? Why?”
His grin curved higher.
“Ms. DeLuca, do I need to keep you after class today?”
Mr. Wickham was all frowns and she rolled her eyes.
“No.”
“Good.” He crossed his arms, leaning back against his desk. “Then put your book away. It’s time for a quiz.”
Ignoring Cain’s hot stare, she shoved her book into her bag.
“You gonna talk to me?” he asked, and again she had to wonder how Cain always seemed to get away with murder. He wore glasses, dressed like the Unabomber, and talked in class, none of which ever seemed to get him in trouble.
But the second she opened her mouth, Mr. Wickham was all over her. She huffed and crossed her arms. Mr. Wickham passed out the tests.
“I like your sandals,” Cain said, leaning in so close his scent of pine and spices overwhelmed her senses. “Looks like something a princess would wear.”
Hissing, she turned to give him a snappy retort, but his face was within inches of hers, his lips so close she felt his breath brush against her own.
“What are you doing?” she whispered as she dug her nails into her leg to help ground her and force her to remember kissing Cain would be bad.
Very, very bad.
She licked her bottom lip. “You told me to stay away from you.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“You ignored me for weeks.”
“I know.”
“I hate you.”
His smile was slow. “I know that too. But it’s not working.”
Pulse thumping like a rabbit on crack, she waited for him to laugh and say “just kidding, loser,” but he never did. He just continued to stare at her and her throat squeezed tight.
A shadow fell over them. Mr. Wickham glanced down at her. Flint pulled back with a jerk; Cain, looking cool as a cucumber, settled back in his seat and took the sheet of paper, getting to work.
Flint stared at the strange symbols on the white sheet and still couldn’t believe he’d said that. Maybe she’d misheard him.
And for a second it’d really seemed like he was going to kiss her.
Couldn’t be.
She rubbed cold fingers across her still-tingling lips.
She’d been leaning in, ready to do it, forgetting everything he’d done to her, everything he’d said before. Forgetting for a second that Cain wasn’t a nice guy, just a jerk who liked to yank her around, make her forget that not all guys were like Abel or her dad.
“Five more minutes, class.”
With a sigh she scribbled the first things down that came to mind, knowing she’d be lucky to get a C.
She was right—she got a D.
Chapter Seventeen
The day had sucked. Flint knew as she wound the combination on her locker that she really needed to study tonight and wondered if she’d be able to get out of girl’s night. She opened the metal door and was rummaging around for her last book of the day—English Lit—when a soft-spoken voice made her pulse jump in her throat.
“What’s your name?”
It was the strange girl with the bloodshot eyes from the cafeteria. Flint hadn’t seen the girl in weeks. Actually, most of the kids from that table had been absent recently. And it hadn’t even been something she’d noticed until the girl came up to her now.
Up close, the girl looked a lot older than she had before. Her eyes were still completely bloodshot, the veins big and red and looking like they pulsed with blood. Her skin was cracked along her hairline and peeling on her nose.
Flint swallowed her immediate gag reflex. “What’s yours?”
The girl blinked, but it was a strange sort of twitch that seemed more reptilian than human. It made Flint take an involuntary step back.
“Tamara.” The r sounded like a snake’s rattle. “What’s yours?” She wasn’t smiling, didn’t even seem all that friendly. Which was bizarre, not to mention totally creepy and just plain weird.
“Umm, it’s Flint.” She hugged her giant tome of a book to her chest and pushed her hair behind her ear. Refusing to give into her fear, she asked, “What do you want? Why do you keep looking at me during lunch?”
Tamara just stared at her, eyes wide-open, almost doll like in that she hardly blinked. And again that sensation of yuck crawled over Flint’s skin.
“You look like someone I know.” Her words droned—there was no life, no scale or pitch to the tenor of her speech. It was flat and breathy.
Flint frowned when Tamara attempted to push a strand of her pixie-cut hair behind her ear. Not because there wasn’t enough hair to do it, but because the motion seemed forced.
Flint’s nose curled when a sickly-sweet scent drifted toward her. Like sour milk, it made her want to gag. Tamara’s eyes zoomed in toward Flint’s neck.
“Oh, Fliiiint.” Janet breezed up, throwing her small arm around Flint’s shoulder and then eying Tamara with a scornful glare.
For a second, Flint could have sworn she’d seen color flicker in her friend’s dark eyes.
Tamara didn’t say anything, just turned aside and walked away, leaving Flint with a serious case of the heebie-jeebies and the oddest desire to bleach her eyeballs.
“What was that all about?” Flint whispered, shuddering as she stared over Ja’s shoulder at Tamara’s slim retreating form.
Janet waved a hand. “Chick’s on meth or something—you see the way she peels. Eww. Anyway, you ready for chick flicks and nails?”
Earlier she’d have been tempted to say no, but now she was grateful and eagerly nodded. “Yup, though I gotta warn you, I sob at chick flicks. Just sayin’.”
Janet laughed and steered Flint away from the lockers and toward class. “Not to worry, I’m a world-class sobber myself.”
As they were headed to class, Flint spied Cain turning the corner and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been staring at her again.
~*~
“How many times can you watch Pride and Prejudice before you get tired of it?” Rhi asked, digging into the huge bowl of popcorn between them.
All three girls were wearing their pajamas even though it was barely five in the evening. Rhiannon was dressed in white cotton stretch pants with hearts on them and a plain white tank top. Her toned arms and golden hair somehow made the boring clothes chic and stylish. Janet was wearing something obnoxiously loud and bright— neon-blue pants with a striped shirt in shocking pink and neon green. Her thick black hair was gathered back in a messy bun as she shoved another handful of white-cheddar popcorn in her mouth.
Because they’d been so casually dressed, Flint didn’t feel so bad in her faded
flannel top and shorts.
Flint’s dad had made a drive-by appearance. A quick kiss, some cash for pizza later, and off he’d gone in all his bedazzled glory to practice with “the girls.”
“Sigh. Never.” Janet giggled just as Mr. Darcy blundered his way through the first proposal.
And while the movie was great and Flint’s toes were an amazing shade of glittering chartreuse, her mind was a million miles away.
Rhiannon pinned her with a steely-eyed glare. “Spill, Flint, because you are totally ruining my Darcy buzz.”
Flint laughed and rolled her eyes. This was her first time ever watching Pride and Prejudice, and she seriously didn’t get the appeal of all the frilly dresses and men in breeches. Then again, she seemed to be the only one who didn’t, judging by all the sighs and giggles both Rhiannon and Janet had been making the past hour.
Janet paused the movie.
“Yeah, what’s up, girl? Your karma is seriously bad right now, all black and gray and… ugh.” She mock-shuddered and Flint tossed a pillow at her head.
“It’s nothing. Just my dad and his… thing.” She rolled her wrist, still not sure why she was having such a hard time even mentioning Katy’s name.
“She’s not all that bad.” Rhi smiled. “She taught me a few tricks on the rope once. She’s kind of quiet, but what’s the big? Don’t you want your dad to be happy?”
Janet frowned and shook her head while Rhiannon shoveled another handful of popcorn in her mouth. “No, I don’t think that’s it.” She stared at Flint with soulful brownish-black eyes, her gaze penetrating so forcefully that for a moment Flint got sweaty and dizzy. “Would you be pissed if it was someone other than Katy?”
Flint thought about it for a moment, staring up at the blank ceiling. What if Dad had brought home the blonde; would she still have been so upset? She’d totally spazzed that night she’d seen the girls, thinking it was the blonde and feeling an edge of protective insecurity. But would she have been so wigged out?
Flint sighed. “I’m not sure. It’s just… I don’t know. Something about her bugs me. And every time I keep telling myself I’m nuts, get over it, I just can’t seem to. The weird thing is, she’s never done anything wrong. Always super understanding. She’s patient. She’s perfect.” Her lips thinned.
Janet nodded and handed Flint the nearly empty bowl.
“No,” Flint mumbled. “Not hungry.”
“Chocolate?” Rhiannon shook a box of Milk Duds at her. “Chocolate always makes me feel better. It’s like a gift from the gods.”
“You would.” Janet snorted.
Flint gestured for Rhi to hand it over. The second the box was in her hand, she was ripping it open and chewing thoughtfully on a gooey piece of chocolate-covered caramel. “It’s just he spends so much time there, and he promised he’d try to hang out with me more. And the worst part is that I’m not sure I’d really even want him in my hip pocket, but I’m worried he’ll fall into bad habits again. The drinking… it was a nightmare. And wow”—Flint eyed the hard nub of candy—“what is in this stuff? Did you dope me up with truth serum?”
Rhi wiggled her eyebrows.
Janet smiled and patted Flint’s knee. “Well you know, Rhiannon and I have to practice a lot in the same area they do. If it makes you feel better, I can keep an eye on things.”
Which only made Flint feel worse. She wasn’t used to being so whiney or mopey. And she hadn’t lied when she said she didn’t want her dad always hanging around. She liked her freedom too, had gotten used to it over the past year. Which was another reason why she couldn’t understand her feelings on the situation.
She’d opened her mouth to say something when Rhi’s phone rang.
Rhi held up a finger. “Hold that thought. Hello,” she said into the phone.
The soft smile on her face morphed into a serious frown. Janet sat still and quiet, her eyes shifting back and forth slowly, as if she was trying to listen in on the conversation. Then she smiled and grabbed Flint by the hand.
“Hey, Flint, I just realized”—she stood up—“you’ve never shown me your room.”
“What?” Flint was confused. It almost felt like Janet was trying to deliberately divert her attention.
“I see,” Rhiannon said, and her eyes were looking crazy weird. It was nothing Flint could get a fix on, but they seemed less shiny all of sudden. Flat and dull.
Janet tugged on her hand, helping Flint off the couch. “Hello, friend here, doesn’t like being ignored.”
“What’s going on with Rhi? She okay?” Flint whispered, glancing over her shoulder while Janet continued to pull her down the hall.
“She’s fine. But her parents are kind of, well… Russian.”
Flint shook her head. “What does that mean?” She’d worked with tons of Russians in her life and found them to be some of the funniest people to be around, especially after a couple of rounds of vodka.
“They’re intense.” Janet dropped her voice. “She told me she got their permission to hang out, but if they know she’s not studying, they might blow a gasket.”
It made sense, but something still didn’t feel right about any of this.
“Hey guys, I’ll be right back okay?” Rhiannon smiled and waved. “Gotta make a run to the store for my umm… mom. I’ll be back.”
“’Kay!” Janet chirped and waved back.
Flint stopped at her door, shaking Janet’s hand off. “Are you sure she’s okay? You’re acting weird, and so is she.”
Janet’s smile couldn’t have looked more fake as she bobbed her head. The front door opened and closed behind Rhiannon, who hadn’t bothered to change. Who went to the grocery store in their pajamas? In see-through ones at that? With no bra?
Flint started to work her way back to the front door.
“Flint,” Janet called and her voice was no longer chipper or perky. It was serious, almost deep. “Leave her alone. She’ll be fine, seriously. Look, we lied—she’s not running to the store. Her sister does this all the time.”
Surprised, Flint cocked her head. “Sister?”
“Yeah, look, her sister is a total tweaker, okay? She’s messed up on meth and comes begging all the time for cash. She doesn’t hang at the circus ’cause Adam threatened to gut her once. So she dials Rhi up and begs to meet her someplace instead. Only way to get rid of her is for Rhi to meet her and give her some cash.”
“But isn’t that wrong? Shouldn’t we help her?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried. This is the best way. Also, Rhiannon is really embarrassed about it, which is why she doesn’t want us out there.” She pressed her lips into a grim smile. “Now, you wanna show me your glass-figurine collection you promised to show me the last time. Or am I gonna have to barge in there and see them myself?”
Suddenly embarrassed that she’d made such a spectacle of herself, Flint nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Go on in, I’ll be there in a sec. Drank too much Coke.”
Flint walked into the bathroom feeling bad for Rhiannon and all sorts of stupid. But as she was locking the door, she caught sight of Rhi running barefoot across the parking lot.
The sun had already gone down and the streetlamps were just starting to flicker on.
A shadowy shape pulled away from the hedge of bushes and what Flint saw next made her pulse stutter and fly straight to her knees. Rhiannon was running one second and the next she was a blur of shadow.
Not that she disappeared into the dark—she literally became one with it. Like she shook off her skin and was nothing but a living, breathing, black film of smoke. Flint pressed her nose to the window, jaw hanging open, unable to believe what she was seeing. Because the shadow that’d been Rhiannon was now swirling around the lone figure that was swatting and slapping at it frantically.
It was driving Flint nuts that she couldn’t hear anything. She unlocked the window and slid it up, but they were still too far away for her to hear anything other than a terrifying humming sound. Like the buzz of thousand wasps
swooping in too close.
Flint stuck her head out the small window, gripping the tile wall.
The figure looked dead at her and the eyes were glowing a bright shade of bloody red. Then the shadow swirled tighter, faster, and like a cyclone from Hell, it rammed through the figure’s mouth, killing the hum instantly, and then they were gone.
Just gone.
It took a second for Flint to finally pull her head back inside, and when she did, she realized that not only were her hands shaking, so were her thigh muscles. They were spasming and twitching.
A strange sound spilled from her lips, a mixture of a croak and a sob. She pressed her hands to her mouth, breathing so hard she knew she’d start hyperventilating soon.
She was tired. Tired and crazy.
No way had she just seen that.
No way.
Shadows didn’t kill.
Didn’t move and breathe and… “Ohmygod,” she wheezed, squeezing her eyes shut.
A knock sounded on her door. “Flint, you okay in there?”
It was Janet.
“I’m… I’m fine, start…ed my period,” she said, stuttering her way through the words.
“Okay, well…” Her voice sounded hollow through the door. “You need me to ask Rhi to run to the store? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“No!” she shrilled and then cleared her throat. “I’m fine… just, can you bring me a new set of pajamas? Top drawer in my nightstand.”
“Okay.” She heard Janet pad off and Flint knew with every breath and fiber in her being, that Janet was part of it.
That was why she’d tried to make her show her the glass-figurine collection. Like who even cared about those things? It was just a bunch of stupid glass animals.
Flint jerked to her feet and somehow was at the sink, splashing water on her face, not sure how she’d walked the short distance between the toilet to there. She couldn’t let them know she’d seen that.
Water dripped off her face; her brown eyes stared back at her. Shock was clearly written on her slack brows, her red hair clinging to her forehead. What was that? What was going on? How was she going to get through the rest of the night?
