Pepped Up and Ready (Pepper Jones #3)

by Ali Dean

  We won Districts last year, but my freshman and sophomore year we placed third, and didn’t qualify as a team. Without me racing, our odds of placing first or second are low. If everyone has a great day, it can happen, but it’s far from guaranteed. How I had avoided facing this reality until now is extraordinary. Perhaps I needed to hold on to some hope, any hope, that my goal remained attainable. I had to believe I could race at State in order to get through the cross training. Otherwise, the hopelessness of the situation would have been too much.

  The first crowd of runners is coming my way. I hear them before I see them. I’m away from most of the other spectators, about a half mile in to the course. Most of the runners are still pretty close together, and I shade my eyes, trying to make out the blue and gold colors of Brockton Public. Jenny’s tiny frame is out in front, and my mouth curves into a small smile.

  When I collapsed at State last year and missed qualifying for Regionals by one spot, Jenny gave up her spot for me. Judging by the look of determination on her face as she races along with girls I recognize as the top competitors in our District, I know she’s not just racing for herself today.

  Over the last couple of weeks, Zoe has focused on cross with a renewed vigor, apparently recognizing this season likely will be her last ever. She’s realized she doesn’t have the commitment to the sport to continue in college. And Zoe is right there, on the heels of the top group. She flashes me a smile when she sees me and I cheer loudly.

  It’s the top five girls on each team who score points, with six and seven only counting if there’s a tie. Though our other runners aren’t super strong, they consistently place in the middle of the pack. They will need to do better than that today.

  I cheer with a ferocity that probably scares some of the runners, but I don’t care. I’m all over the course, probably running more than I’m supposed to in order to get to each spot to cheer, but I’ll sit out the cool down if I need to.

  Jenny is battling two girls who are twice her size when she hits the home stretch. I can see her digging deep, seeking that something else inside her that not everyone can find. She’s a true competitor, and when her stride begins to surge, I know she’s got what it takes. The two other girls (who are certainly not big by any means, but who appear as giants compared to Jenny), notice that Jenny is pulling ahead. They pump their arms harder but they can’t hold on. And when she crosses the finish line in front of them, I’m the first to embrace her.

  Zoe joins us a moment later, having placed higher than ever before at the District meet. More girls from our team filter across the finish line, until we’re squeezed to the side in a group circle. They are sweaty and dirty and the joy on all of their faces, knowing they’ve raced their hardest, brings tears to my eyes.

  These girls did their best and they know it. I’m incredibly proud to be their teammate, their captain. Whether we make the cut for State or not, I’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay.

  Though I’m at peace with whatever happens, waiting for the results to come through is a new test in patience. The boys’ team is strong enough this year to be quite confident they either won or at least placed second. They’ll be at State. But the rest of us can’t stop fidgeting as we sit on the grass attempting to talk about plans for the night. We’re all too distracted to pay much attention to the conversation, yet we keep talking anyway. Nerves will do that.

  The guys have declared a celebration either way, especially once I told Omar and Rollie – the boys’ captains – that the girls raced awesome today, no matter what place they end up getting.

  Coach Tom is running toward us and I jump up from my cross-legged position. Coach often jogs around the course at races and even occasionally at practice to help motivate us. But the pep in his gait tells me all I need to know and I’m grinning before he even announces the news.

  We’re going to State. The dream is still alive.

  ***

  “We’re going to State!” Zoe chants for the hundredth time. She’s drunk. And very excited for the State meet.

  We’re standing around a campfire about a mile from anywhere else. It’s a campsite that has been closed for the season, but given that it’s the cross country team, we hiked a mile in with beer in backpacks. Our cars are parked where a gate blocks the road, and we know the odds of anyone checking things out is slim to none.

  It was Omar’s idea, and I love it. It’s cold out, and we’re bundled in parkas and hats, but this is just the cross team tonight, and the celebratory vibe in the air is contagious. Even though I didn’t participate in getting us to the State meet, I feel a part of it.

  I’m holding on to a thermos of hot chocolate and watching the fire, glad that enough of us aren’t drinking so we can get all the cars back, when I jump at arms wrapping around my waist. Though they are strong and familiar, I have to spin around to confirm it’s him.

  “Jace,” I breathe out. “What? How did you get here?”

  He laughs. “How do you think? We parked where the road closed and walked the rest of the way.”

  “We?” I frown, looking around.

  “Me and Wes,” he tells me. “Omar told me what you guys were up to tonight so I decided to surprise you.”

  My expression must not be what he hoped for because he loosens his hold a bit.

  “I know it’s supposed to be just the team and everything, but Omar said you guys have been here since eight or so, and I figured people would be heading back soon,” he explains. He’s right. It’s nearly midnight and a lot of people have curfews.

  “No, I’m glad you’re here, just surprised,” I tell him. It’s true. His warmth feels good. But there’s tension between us. I haven’t seen him since Tuesday morning, the morning after I was hit by the car. I’m not sure who has been avoiding whom, but there’s definitely a distance between us.

  He knows these things are probably happening to me – terrible things – because I’m with him. I know it too. And neither of us knows what to do about it. We aren’t giving up. Whoever is doing this wants to hurt us, and as much as neither of us wants to admit it, they’ve succeeded. We can’t ignore what’s going on.

  “Can I talk you into spending the night?” Jace murmurs. I’ve twisted back around to face the fire. It’s a welcome distraction. I love being in his arms, but I don’t want to talk right now.

  “You don’t have to talk me into it, Jace.” I tilt my head back to tell him and he takes my lips in a brief kiss. But that kiss tells me so much. Jace holds me and touches me in a way that communicates he’s still deeply in love with me, and probably always will be. But how do we handle whoever wants to hurt him by hurting me? Can we fake a breakup and stay together secretly? The only solutions I’ve contemplated over the past few days are simply too extreme. Too heartbreaking.

  When I break my eyes from his I see that Wes is by Zoe, who is even happier than she was earlier, which is saying something. Our teammates don’t hide their amazement that Wesley Jamison and Jace Wilder are at our little celebration, and they stare in open fascination. Being a spectacle in front of my own teammates doesn’t bother me like it might have a year ago. Instead, I find it amusing. Omar and Rollie are used to Wes and Jace by now, and they are the only ones who don’t seem dumbstruck. And maybe Jenny. She’s too interested in being seated on Rollie’s lap to care.

  After making sure everyone’s ride home is accounted for, Jace and I make our way back to his Jeep. Though I didn’t race, the emotions of the day have taken their toll, and I’m yawning all the way back to Jace’s dorm.

  He doesn’t stop holding my hand. He holds it as we walk to his car and while driving, and all the way up the stairs to his room. “My roommates are out,” he tells me as he unlocks the door to his common area, which is generally unlocked.

  “I’m just going to run to the restroom real quick. I’ll meet you in your room.” I kiss him on the cheek as he makes his way to his dorm room and I slip into the bathroom the four boys share.

  Despite how sl
eepy I am, my stomach flutters in anticipation of alone time with Jace as I wash my hands after doing the business I came to do. It’s eerily dark and silent in the dorm. Usually at least one of the guys is home, and the building itself is generally full of the sounds of dozens of college students living under one roof. But it’s Saturday night, and most of the athletes are either asleep, partying, or away at a game.

  After drying my hands with a paper towel, I open the door and glance up to see light coming from Jace’s doorway. The door is partially open and Jace is standing there, facing inside, a grim expression on his face. I stop in my tracks when he puts his hand out behind the door, a stern gesture to stay away.

  Gulping, I open my mouth to ask what’s going on when I hear a girl’s voice. My knees begin to quake. It’s a voice I know. Savannah, the amazon.

  I can’t hear what she’s saying and very slowly I inch my way closer to the door. Jace tenses when he senses me beside him, but she can’t see me. I’m still shadowed by the door. Jace doesn’t look at me, and it dawns on me that he wants her to keep talking. He doesn’t want me to interrupt her.

  When I hear what she’s saying, I jump into action. I’m filled with a sense of purpose and I grab my phone from my back pocket, frantically searching for the app that records conversation. My movements are jerky, but with determination I hit the record button. And just in time.

  Chapter 22

  “The first time I saw you, I knew that you had to be mine,” Savannah says in a strangely trance-like voice. “It was two years ago and you were at my high school for a football game. I was leaving the locker room after practice and you almost ran into me in the hallway. You remember that, don’t you?”

  Jace’s face remains carefully expressionless, but she clearly imagines a response because she continues confidently, “I knew you noticed me then. You looked at me like you loved me even then. It was love at first sight,” she sighs dreamily and my stomach lurches. “Of course, I’d already heard all about you. I knew who you were. But we couldn’t be together then. It wasn’t time.”

  Jace’s breathing is steady and if it wasn’t for his white-knuckled grip on the doorframe, I might mistake him for calm. His stance is deliberately casual, though he has made no move to step closer to her.

  “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know you want me too. But your childhood friend is holding you back.” She says childhood friend like I’m already in the past. Like I’m nothing. Nobody. It’s hard not to storm in right there and then. But I know I have to wait. She will admit to everything. I’m sure of it. The crazy in her voice tells me she’s responsible for everything.

  “It’s okay, Jace,” and her voice is closer now. A pale hand touches Jace’s chest and I inhale sharply. Though every bone in my body wants to slap her hand away, I take a step back. Very slowly.

  “You can let her go now. I know you feel a duty to stay with her and I respect that, but it’s our time now. She can’t fight me. She’s pitiful.” Her eerie voice turns hard now. Bitter.

  “Did you send Pepper the flowers?” Jace asks quietly.

  “Don’t!” She holds up a hand. “Don’t say her name when we’re together.”

  Jace nods, showing no reaction.

  “I did.” And then she lets out a high-pitched giggle that sends shivers down my spine. “That was just for fun. But the roofies in her soda did not work out how I wanted.” She sounds annoyed. “I must have given her too much because Clayton didn’t have time to make a move.”

  “Dennison?” Jace can’t hold back the threat in his voice.

  “Or Ryan,” she says casually. “Or anyone, really. It didn’t matter.”

  Jace is losing patience now. The rapid ticking in his jaw muscles tells me he won’t be able to hold it together for long. But we have enough now, even if I stop recording.

  “And hitting her on the bike?” he asks softly, in a tone I’ve never heard from him before. He’s trying to show no emotion, but there’s a darkness in his depths that is unmistakable. “Was it you driving?”

  “What do you think?” And it’s a seductive voice from Savannah now. I can hardly keep up. She’s all over the place. “She’ll stay away now. She hasn’t been here all week, has she? She’s afraid. I’m the one with the power. And I think you need to be with a powerful woman.” Her fingers touch just below his collarbone and run down the length of his chest. “You are a powerful man.”

  Jace closes his eyes and it almost looks like it’s from pleasure. Why doesn’t he stop her?

  “How did you get in here?” Jace asks, still seeking more information.

  There’s a pause before Savannah answers, and when she does, she sounds confused. “You left them out for me, don’t you remember? It was last week, and you stopped to talk to all of us in the common area before leaving one afternoon. I thought,” she hesitates, second-guessing herself, “you gave me a knowing look when you put your keys on the table, and then you never picked them up.”

  Jace doesn’t say anything. The color is beginning to drain from his face as he loses his composure. I do remember him looking for his keys and I ended up giving back the spare pair he had given me when he couldn’t find them. Savannah reaches for him again and I suck in a breath. What is he planning to do? He can’t communicate with me though. I’m not leaving, if that’s what he expects. I want to confront her.

  I’m about to do just that when the common area door swings open. Frankie flips on the lights and I notice he is tugging the hand of the soccer girl who was watching him the other night. Not pigtail girl, but one of the two who didn’t seem bothered by me being there.

  He freezes when he sees Jace standing in his doorway, a hand reaching out from the other side while I hide close by, my phone outstretched.

  “Uh, hey guys, what’s going on?” Frankie asks hesitantly.

  Jace shoves the door open and I can hear Savannah stuttering as she crashes to the ground. I rush to his side, on the offensive, but a laugh of disbelief erupts from my chest when I find Savannah sprawled on the ground. She’s wearing the kind of lingerie you might find in a kinky sex store. Not that I’ve ever been to one, but all I can think is that she looks ridiculous. His room is lit with an array of candles, and rose petals litter every surface.

  With her hair wild and askew, her face pale in shock, I can’t help but take pity. My reaction startles me. But there’s no doubt that this girl is sick. This isn’t just a mean girl with a jealous vendetta like Madeline Brescoll. This girl is crazy. Certifiable.

  Just as pity sets in and I let my guard down, she launches herself from the floor at me. Her eyes are set on my wrist with the cast, and she reaches for it with a snarl, but only her fingernails touch me, ripping skin from my arms. Jace has already grabbed her and pulled her away. Her arms and legs flail.

  Frankie is pulled from his frozen disbelief and rushes toward us.

  “Take her, man.” Jace shoves Savannah at him, which is no easy feat given her size. “I don’t want her near me.” Frankie easily handles her. The right guy for the job.

  The girl who was with him is already on her phone, and I can hear her talking to campus security. Though I imagine the police will need to be called into this one. When Jace takes me in his arms, pulling me away from the situation, all clear and rational thoughts escape me. I begin to gasp for air and a sob escapes.

  He rubs my back and though it brings me some comfort, I’m lost in the utter absurdity of what just happened. A girl obsessed with my boyfriend. Driven crazy by it. Again.

  Again.

  My sobs stop and my breathing begins to return to normal as I process that this is not the first time a girl has been driven to do crazy things over Jace Wilder. Madeline Brescoll’s behavior was tame compared to Savannah’s, and I can’t help but wonder if this will only get worse. It seems impossible and likely at the same time. Jace’s celebrity status is bound to continue growing. Will there be more girls like Savannah in the future?

  At that thought, my heart tur
ns cold and a strange numbness settles through me. Slowly, I pull out of Jace’s arms and take a step back. He watches me closely, his eyes giving away nothing. I can hear Savannah struggling behind us with Frankie, but it doesn’t affect me. I don’t feel pity or fear anymore. I can’t feel anything at all.

  Campus officers arrive and the police shortly after that. Savannah is taken away and all four of us are questioned. Frankie and the girl, whose name I learn is Lizzie, are dismissed at some point, but Jace and I remain until the early morning hours. They have the recording, and it seems that should answer all their questions, but they need us to make statements and sign papers. I remain detached throughout the entire process.

  Jace asks me where I want to go at some point and I tell him home. If he thinks I’m staying in his dorm room he’s nuts. I’m not sure I’ll ever stay there again after Savannah contaminated it with rose petals, candles, and… her body. But those thoughts don’t make me queasy like they should. I simply feel empty. The idea that I might not go back to Jace’s dorm, and what that means, causes a small tug in the pit of my stomach but nothing more. I’ve completely shut down.

  And Jace knows it. He doesn’t push. He helps me into bed, and as I fall asleep, I can hear him talking in hushed tones with Gran, who must have heard us coming home. It’s a wonder I can sleep at all, but I fall into a long, deep, dreamless state.

  I sleep for nearly twenty-four hours. Well, I’m not sleeping the entire time. I can hear people talking in the apartment at several points, but I stay in in bed. The cops have my cell phone, which I handed over so they could take the recording into evidence. I’ll get it back in a couple of days. But really, I’m grateful that I’m unreachable right now.

  I get up once to use the restroom and brush my teeth late Sunday night. Gran left food on the kitchen table with a note to wake her whenever I want. But I’m not hungry. When I wake early Monday morning, I still have no appetite, but I eat a banana and drink some tea before heading to school.