“You like Taylor Swift?” I glance at her and she immediately stills her fingers and shrugs.
“It’s got a good beat.”
I grin, feeling like I just mined some gold. No real goth girl would admit to liking the princess of pop. There is definitely more to KC than meets the eye.
She directs me through a couple turns, and a few minutes later we pull through a gated entrance and drive up a curved driveway to a three-story, stone house on the top of a hill overlooking a golf course.
Huh. I was expecting something a little more… lower middle class, I guess. I didn’t figure a goth chick would belong to a country club. I think my dad plays golf here sometimes. I wonder if he knows her parents.
I’m surprised she doesn’t have her own car if her family can afford a place like this. She’s in a couple of my classes, so I assume she’s the same age as me, but maybe she doesn’t have her license.
“Aren’t you old enough to drive yet?”
“I’m 17.” Of course, another vague response that doesn’t answer my real question.
I get irritated and try a different approach.
“So, you weren’t able to pass the drivers’ test, or what?”
She narrows her eyes and looks at me like I’m both a moron and an asswipe. Maybe I am. “I have a license. I just don’t have a car right now.”
I grin, despite her negative assessment of me, because I finally got more than a one-word answer out of her.
She raises an eyebrow and stares at me for a second before popping open her door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime, seriously.”
She nods noncommittally, and I wave as she walks away.
Okay, so it’s not a ton of progress, but seeing how this morning she acted like she wanted to kill me, it’s a big step in the right direction.
I head home, eager to find out everything I can about KC Smith. Thank God for Google.
Chapter Six
KC
I’m standing in line, waiting for my turn at the cash register when I hear my name being called, and I freeze. I whip my head around, not to see who said it since I’d recognize that voice anywhere now, but to find a place to hide.
Crap. I’m totally out in the open here. A dozen feet to my right is a table full of teenagers hanging out. Pretty typical for a Friday night. A few months ago I probably would’ve been doing the same thing. But tonight I’m picking up a pizza to eat with my little brother.
“KC, over here,” the voice calls again, and my eyes land on Jake Matthews. Am I destined to run into this boy everywhere I go? Can I pretend I don’t see him?
Kerri and Mia wave me over from the same table. They’re bookended by cute guys. Their boyfriends? Jake and a couple other guys sit on the other side of the table. I sigh and trudge over to say hello to them.
“Hey KC! Whatcha doing? Getting some pizza? We just got here if you want to join us. Plenty of room.” Kerri waves towards the empty chair next to Jake. No frickin’ way.
“Yeah, stay KC,” Jake says, smiling, and I quirk an eyebrow at him.
“Thanks, but I can’t. I’m babysitting my brother.” I’ve never been so willing to admit that and so glad I can’t bail on it.
Kerri bites her lip. “Oh, well, he can stay, too, if you want.”
I shake my head. “He’s a nightmare. I don’t take him out in public.”
“Oh, okay. Maybe next time.” Kerri smiles at me, disarming me, and I find myself nodding.
I grab my pizza and head back outside where Max is waiting in the car. My mom’s apology for being late to pick me up ended with a request for me to watch Max this evening while she and dad go to a card party at a friend’s house. Mom gave us money for pizza and left her car for me to drive, but there aren’t too many places I want to take my nine-year-old brother.
“Kaitlyn, will you please watch The Walking Dead with me while we eat?” Max begs when we get home. He loves it, but it also freaks him out, which is probably why my parents don’t let him watch it.
“You want to watch zombies eating each other while we’re eating pizza?” I slide a couple slices onto a plate. I never noticed how gruesome pizza looks before.
“Yeah! We can pretend we’re eating somebody’s guts.” Max shoves half a slice in his mouth and starts gnawing on it like a flesh eater — his mouth hanging open, sauce and cheese smeared all over.
“One episode.” I plop down on the couch in the family room while Max turns on the big screen TV and finds the show on the DVR.
He picks an episode somewhere in the middle of the season, but it doesn’t really matter that I don’t know what’s going on because the plot seems to be secondary to the gore factor. On a 90-inch screen, zombies look life-size, and the spraying blood and severed body parts have my stomach turning in no time.
Max clings to my arm at first, burying his head in my shoulder every time one of the characters offs a zombie, but eventually he gets used to it and starts rooting for his favorite people and cheering every time they make a kill.
I pull out my phone to distract myself and text my sole remaining friend, Lindsey, wondering what she’s up to. I’m surprised she hasn’t texted me already.
What r u doing tonight? Wanna come over? I’m stuck babysitting
Sorry! I would, but I’m shopping for a new outfit. I have a date tomorrow
April Fools' Joke (Holiday High Series Book 3) Page 5
