by Stacey Jay
“I didn’t do it. Not even by accident,” I said, panic making me babble before thinking.
“Of course you didn’t. Don’t be a freak. You can’t accidentally raise zombies. Besides, those things the other day stank of wormwood. Someone raised them on purpose, and we’re going to figure out who it was,” she said, opening the door for me and letting me pass before following me to my locker. “We’ll just have to figure out what kind of evidence the Enforcers have and how it might make you look guilty even if—”
“Hold on a second, I—”
“I’ll do some research tonight and let you know if I find anything interesting.”
“Monica, why are you doing this?” I asked, unable to help myself. I was suspicious of everyone lately. “Why are you helping me?”
She froze, looking as surprised as I felt, as if she’d just realized helping was exactly what she was doing. She recovered quickly, however, and her surprised look turned into a glare. “Why wouldn’t I? You didn’t do this. You’re such a goody two-shoes it’s vomit-inducing. SA and the Enforcers are crazy, and I don’t want to see someone innocent go to jail.”
“Even me?”
Monica cocked her head to the side, like she was studying some strange bug she’d discovered under a rock. “I don’t hate you. You know that, right? I mean, I actually thought we were becoming friends.”
“Friends,” I repeated, shocked to the tips of my new Uggs.
“Friends who constantly rip on each other?”
“That’s just kidding around, Meg. Toughen up. I make fun of all the sophomores on the squad.” She shrugged. “But I don’t want to see anything bad happen to any of them, and I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. Especially since the Enforcers are only here for you in the first place. They’ll be gone the second you set foot in jail.”
Ah. Now it made sense. “And you won’t have a leg up on your competition if you don’t keep training with them. Nice to know your motivations are selfish, as always.”
Monica rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. “Whatever, Berry. I’ll text you after lunch to let you know what I find out at the cheer table.” Then she turned to flounce away down the hall.
“Ditto.” I grabbed my English notebook and slammed my locker shut with a smile. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was glad Monica thought we were becoming friends. I could use a few friends, even ones who constantly insulted my lack of fashion sense and thought I was a vomit-inducing goody two-shoes.
Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.
I was in luck at lunch. Only four of the twelve cheer clones had first lunch, so I wasn’t nearly as intimidated as I had thought I’d be. Still, it was awkward figuring out exactly how to insinuate myself with people I’d never dared—or desired—to hang with before. Luckily, I tripped over my own feet and spilled spaghetti all over their table before I had a chance to get too angsty about my method of approach.
“Oh my God, ew!” Kimberly shoved her chair back just in time to avoid a red-sauce splatter, while her twin, Kate, dodged a rogue meatball. Lee Chin just stared at me, her almond eyes clearly unimpressed.
“I’m so sorry!” I blushed as I plunked down my now-spaghettiless tray and grabbed a bunch of napkins from the dispenser at the center of the table. “I just tripped and I—”
“You did that on purpose.” Kate glared at me and snatched the napkins from my hand. “Are you pom losers so desperate to make us look bad that—”
“It was an accident, Kay. Relax.” Aaron, the lone boy on the squad and the only person still smiling, grabbed some napkins and mopped up the noodles on his side of the table. “Hey, I’m Aaron. Megan, right?”
I returned his smile, though I was already a little uncomfortable with the flirt factor of his grin. What was with me and boy-type attention lately? First Cliff and now Aaron. Of the two, most would say Aaron was the more tempting—what with the whole all-American hottie thing and being alive and all that—but he didn’t tempt me for a second. In fact, he kind of gave me a mild case of the “ews.” Now Cliff, on the other hand . . .
Nope. Not going to think about that. Focus, Megan!
“Yeah. I’ve seen you at the Honor Society meetings,” I said as I casually slid into the only seat not splattered with sauce, which happened to be right next to Aaron.
“I’m vice president. Pierce usually insists on me being there,”he said. It was a smart-ass remark, but it was impossible to get my feelings hurt with the way he was looking at me. Aaron was obviously interested. Leaning-close-and-staring-into-my-eyes interested. How weird and uncomfortable was that?
But at least it gave me an excuse to hang around the table, something that would have been difficult without him, given the glares of the three other cheerleaders at the table. The “you’re not wanted here” vibes were pretty intense. I was going to have to think fast if I was going to figure out a way to casually find out where these four had been Tuesday night just before dusk.
“So, how has the fund-raising been going? I heard you all had a great turnout Tuesday night,” I said, my heart racing. I was such a bad liar! I didn’t even know if they’d done anything Tuesday night, let alone how the turnout was.
“It’s none of your—”
“It was pretty good.” Aaron interrupted Kimberly before she could tell me to mind my own business. “But nothing like that topless car wash.” He laughed and leaned even closer, until I could smell the peanut butter on his breath. It wasn’t a bad smell per se, but hello? Had the dude never heard of personal space? “You don’t know how many guys were disappointed to find topless meant you weren’t washing the tops of the cars.”
“Yeah, well, my dad wasn’t disappointed. I thought he was going to bust something until I told him what was really going on.”
“So you were there?” Aaron asked, obviously not getting my “back away from me” vibes. He scooted his chair even closer. “I came by but didn’t see you.”
“Yeah, Aaron left us high and dry at our Parents’ Night Out to go give his hard-earned money to the competition.” Kimberly shook her head in disappointment while her twin sniffed her disapproval.
“He’s a boy. He can’t resist the pull of the Slut Squad.” Lee Chin smirked.
“I was there, but I had to leave early for a . . . family thing,” I said. “What about you guys, how long did you work Tuesday night?”
“From five thirty to almost midnight. Some of those parents really took that night-out stuff seriously. I couldn’t believe it. We still had two five-year-olds at eleven thirty,” Kate said, warming up as the whining about kids ensued.
“It was crazy. I had no idea kids were so much work,” her twin agreed.
“I’m never having children.” Lee Chin shuddered. “They’re so . . . childish. And they smell funny.”
I did my best not to laugh, but almost lost it when I caught Aaron rolling his eyes. He thought the girls at his table were crazy too. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe he had no depth perception or something, or there was some other reasonable explanation for his weird closeness.
“And the whole squad was there the entire time, except Aaron?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know?” Lee Chin glared in my direction. “Were you sent here to spy on us or something?”
“No! No way, I mean, what would be the point, right?” I shrugged and took a bite of my cake. Just act casual and they’ll calm down, and nothing’s more casual than cake eating. “Whoever has the most money Friday wins, so it doesn’t really matter—”
“It matters if you’re trying to psych us out. And if that’s the case, you’d better back off.” Kimberly added her glare to Lee Chin’s.
“Ladies, chill out. Megan here is cool.” Aaron wrapped his arm around the back of my chair and squeezed my face with his free hand. “Look at these chubby little cheeks. Is this the face of a spy?”
“Thanks.” I laughed and acted like I was comfortable with the touchy-feely stuff, but was relieved when
Aaron let go.
Until he started running his finger along my lips, of course.
“You had a crumb,” he said, holding the finger with said crumb on it up between us.
“Oh, thanks. Well . . . guess I should go get some more spaghetti before they close the line.” Aaron was starting to skeeve me out, and it seemed I’d gotten as far as I was going to get with the cheerleaders anyway. “See you guys tonight.” I grabbed my backpack and made a beeline for the entrance to the hot line, pretending I didn’t hear Kimberly call that I’d forgotten my lunch tray and better come back and put it away because she wasn’t in charge of cleaning up my messes.
After all the crap the cheerleaders had pulled lately, leaving them at a spaghetti-splattered table seemed the very least I could do.
CHAPTER 9
“I’ll pick you up around nine,” Ethan said as we pulled up in front of Pizza Pie just before the dinner rush. “I think I found someone at the hospital who’s willing to give us the four-one-one on why the cops were there. She gets off her shift at nine thirty. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect, I’ll see you then.”
“Bye, love you.”
Sigh. Hearing those words coming from his lips still made my heart flip over and do a cannonball into my stomach. In the good way.
“Love you too,” I said, smiling as I opened the car door. I really had the best boyfriend ever. He had skipped all his college classes, gotten someone to cover his Protocol shift, and devoted himself completely to keeping me out of jail.
God. Jail. It seemed more likely with every passing second.
I waved goodbye and trotted across the parking lot toward the entrance, trying not to think about the deep poo I was in. Though, after the past two days, it wasn’t easy.
“You look like heck. Did you eat anything today?” Monica looked me up and down with a critical eye as I joined her and the other girls at the rear of the pizza joint. Geez, it almost made me wish I’d headed to the opposite corner to hang with the cheerleaders. “You didn’t, did you?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said, though I honestly couldn’t remember consuming anything other than a few bites of oatmeal and one nibble of cake. They were out of spaghetti by the time I reached the lunch counter, and I’d been too freaked to think any further about food, which was saying something. I was usually a stress eater. Give me Doritos and sour cream and onion dip in a time of crisis and I can usually find a way to live another day.
“Fine, but you’re getting too skinny. It’s not attractive.”
“Like you’re one to talk.” I glared pointedly at Monica’s size-two body, which was way skinnier than my size-four or six—depending on the brand.
“Honestly, you have no butt anymore. Not that I care, but it’s not a good look for you.”
“Thanks, Monica,” I said, unable to think of a smart response. She was really starting to hurt my feelings with the constant criticism.
“Are you like . . . ” Monica trailed off with a shake of her head, then grabbed my arm before turning back to London. “Get everyone assigned to schmooze a section of the restaurant. I’m going to feed Megan and I’ll be right back.”
“Wait. I’m not hungry. I—”
“I don’t care, you’re eating something. We all ate when we got here and you obviously need some food.” She pulled me through a hole in an accordion partition separating the main restaurant from the party room and back toward a table littered with the remains of a pizza feast. “Now eat. At least two pieces, preferably three.”
“Listen, I appreciate the fact that you think I look like crap,” I said, crossing my arms and refusing to take a step toward the table. I felt sick to my stomach and there was no way I was letting Monica bully me into eating greasy pizza that would no doubt make me yack. “But you’re not going to fatten me up in one sitting. So let’s just go help the others set—”
“You looked like you were going to cry back there,” Monica said, her voice soft. “And you really are getting too thin.”
“Yeah, I got that the first five times,” I said, getting angry. “Could you just lay off? It’s pretty mean to keep—”
“I’m not trying to be mean. You’re usually gorgeous, you know that.”
My mouth fell open in pure shock. Monica telling me I was gorgeous? And seeming to mean it? Where was the punch line?
“Even worn out you look ten times better than most people,” she continued, “but you’re clearly not a hundred percent. You need to rest and take care of yourself.”
“Right, in all my spare time.”
“Taking care of yourself isn’t something you do in your spare time.” With a determined stride, she headed for the pizza table and started loading a plate with cheese slices. “It’s something you make a priority, especially in our line of work. You can’t afford to be run-down—it could get you or someone else killed if this black-magic crap keeps happening.”
“I’m doing the best I can.” I blinked back the tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “Sorry if that’s not good enough.”
Monica shook her head and turned back to me with a sigh. “I’m not saying you’re not good enough. I’m trying to tell you I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Because it would screw up your future?” I sniffed.
“No, because I’m worried and I care about you, idiot,” she said, not a trace of sarcasm in her tone. “Now eat something.”
Monica was being nice to me, not because she wanted something or was afraid I’d screw up her plans, but because I was such a wreck she felt sorry for me. Monica, who was easily the least empathetic person I’d ever met. How low must I have sunk to have earned her pity?
Very, very low indeed.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I reached for the pizza. “Okay. I’ll—”
Suddenly there was a loud crash from the door leading into the kitchen and someone screamed. Then someone else cursed, then a few more people screamed, then the door flew open and a wild-eyed girl with brown corkscrew curls dashed into the room.
“Could I get some help here, y’all?” she asked, as breathless as if she’d run a fifty-meter dash. “I’ve got two OOGPs in here, and they’re freaking weird.”
The girl’s name was Bobbie Jane. I’d seen her two or three times during the fall Enforcer training, though I hadn’t realized she worked at Pizza Pie until now. Her mom and dad worked full-time, and she usually had to watch her little sisters, so she didn’t make it to every training session, but Settlers’ Affairs didn’t stress about her being there. She wasn’t a very powerful Settler to begin with and wouldn’t be going into Enforcement, but she wasn’t a total slouch either. She should have been able to handle a couple of zombies without too much trouble. The two OOGPs—Out-of-Grave Phenomena—must be bad news if she needed help.
Monica and I ran for the kitchen. Even before we burst through the door, I had a horrible feeling I knew what we’d find.
“Shit,” I said, even though I’d been trying my best not to curse as part of my lengthy list of New Year’s resolutions.
My bad feeling was dead-on. Across the room were two zombies exactly like the ones Monica and I had fought in the woods—they looked amazingly lifelike and didn’t reek of grave dirt, and both wore pajamas—crawling over the cold stove and dishwashers in their haste to get to the three of us.
“Yeah,” Bobbie Jane said, agreeing with my assessment of the situation. “And it gets worse. I wasn’t observed, but they were. There were five people in here. They all booked it out the back, but—”
“They’ll be looking for help,” Monica finished. “Which means we’ve got five, maybe ten minutes to reverto their—”
“But the reverto spell isn’t working.” Bobbie Jane shouted to be heard over the moaning and groaning of the zombies headed our way. “I haven’t tried the pax frater, but—”
“It won’t work either. These freaks are different.” Monica grabbed my hand and dropped her shields, not wasting further time explaining
, which was a good thing. Zombie One was already over the dishwasher—sending the dishes on top clattering to the floor—and had nearly cleared the industrial stove. Zombie Two wasn’t far behind.
Taking a deep breath, I focused my attention on pulling Monica’s power inside myself and prepared to cast. This would be cake compared to the last time. There were only two of them. Maybe if I took just a little bit of Monica’s energy and waited until the RCs were close, then I wouldn’t be so messed up afterwards. Then I could follow them back to wherever they came from, trap the person who was responsible for raising them, and clear my name. If I just waited until they were a little closer . . . a little closer . . .
“Do it, Megan!” Monica yelled over the hungry keening filling the room.
“Just a second.”
“Now!” Monica shouted just as Bobbie Jane screamed and hit the floor beside us.
We’d been ambushed from behind!
There wasn’t time to lift my palm and cast before someone ripped Monica’s hand from mine and a thick, solid body knocked me off my feet. I landed on the hard tile floor with a groan but did my best to flip over. I couldn’t see who was on top of me, but I was betting it wasn’t a friend.
“Gunh!” The boy groaned and lunged for my neck just as I shifted onto my back.
He—no, scratch that, she. It was a girl. The bald head had thrown me for a second, but it was definitely a girl’s body under her red flannel pajamas, and decidedly feminine lips curled above her teeth as
I knocked her foaming mouth away.
“Please help me!” Bobbie Jane was crying now, I caught sight of her tearstained cheeks and blood pouring down her arm out of the corner of my eye.
She was fighting the RC who’d taken her to the ground, but she’d been bitten—badly. Bobbie Jane wasn’t one of those wimpy chicks who cried if they broke a nail. She wasn’t the strongest Settler, but she was tough. I’d seen her get the wind knocked out of her sparring with Barker and she hadn’t so much as whimpered. If she was crying, she was seriously hurt. Monica and I had to get hooked up again and get rid of these things before she lost any more blood.
