Once Upon Now

by Danielle Banas

  I hit Hood with my hood. Oh, the puns.

  My first instinct was to panic, because I was pretty sure he was dead, and my second instinct was to cry. I was doing both when the brunet senior pushed himself off the pavement and glared at me from the other side of the car.

  I, Annie Marie Mayes, was a dead girl walking. The joys of being me.

  Hood straightened his T-shirt, his movements stiff as he tossed his backpack over his shoulder and staggered to the driver’s-side door. Then, his perfect face proceeded to glare at me with hazel eyes and a murderous expression.

  “You could’ve killed me!” he hollered. “What is it? Hit-the-pedestrian-and-get-five-bucks Day? Did I miss the memo?”

  “You weren’t on the automated phone list,” a masculine voice replied.

  “Yeah?” Hood glanced at the blond male who came to a halt beside him. “Well, next time relay the info. I’m feeling slightly neglected, John.”

  John Little, the more reasonable of the two, put a hand on Hood’s shoulder and pulled him away from my car. John was my lab partner and next-door neighbor, and he was levelheaded. This would ease the tension.

  John’s mouth quirked at the corners as he acknowledged his friend. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Rob, but you’re at the top of the run-over hierarchy. If five bucks would pay for a regular pedestrian, injuring the biggest troublemaker on campus has to be worth at least twenty.”

  “Nice to know my worth.” Hood scowled and crossed his arms. “And what happened to you taking my side on things? You’re supposed to be my wingman. This isn’t very wingman-ish of you.”

  “I am your wingman,” John assured. “Just not when it comes to you threatening my easy route to an A in Anatomy and Physiology. Pick another person to yell at and I’ll support you, but Annie gets a reprieve.”

  “Annie ran me over with a car!”

  “She nudged you. Had she run you all the way over, you’d be stuck underneath the wheels and we’d be speaking with the police right now. I don’t see Sheriff Nott lurking anywhere. I guess that means you lived.”

  Hood raked a hand through his disheveled mop of brown hair and sighed. “Fine. I’m not in the yelling mood anymore, anyway. You took all the fun out of it.”

  “Good. My job here is done.” John tapped the top of my Mercedes and winked. “Let’s give Annie the opportunity to earn some more money, shall we? She failed with you, but it’s not too late to try again. There’s plenty other pedestrians to run over, and I expect a thirty percent share of the profits.”

  “Twenty-five,” I rebutted.

  Hood looked from John to me, then back to John. “John, your concern for my life is amazing. Remind me not to take a vested interest in any future concussions, broken bones, or black eyes you might or might not incur.”

  “You lived. Quit being sensitive.”

  “The bruise on my left butt cheek, where she mowed into me, is what’s sensitive,” Hood growled in return.

  He stepped away and John settled his attention on me. His expression was unreadable, though I detected seriousness somewhere beneath those light blue eyes. “Your dad will have a fit when he sees what you’ve done to this piece of beauty.”

  “It isn’t the first time I’ve wrecked it,” I pointed out.

  He smiled, waved, and stepped away, headed in the same direction his friend went.

  I didn’t linger, either. A brief interaction with Hood, Locksley’s most notorious delinquent, was more than enough to fill my daily bad-boy quota. Plus, if he changed his mind and decided to rag on me some more, John wouldn’t be there to ease his irritation. I’d be a deer stuck in Rob’s figurative headlights. I didn’t doubt he’d run me over eagerly.

  That, ladies and gentlemen, is why I exited the scene without launching into profuse apologies of the third kind. Rob wouldn’t have accepted them, anyway.

  He was impossible, a wild card who rarely acted presentable, and I had no desire to earn his forgiveness. Not today, at least.

  Tomorrow would be different, but for today I’d leave him be.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Revenge

  MY PARENTS ARE SNOBS.

  Some might say, “Wow, harsh words,” but the truth hurts.

  They’re the type of people you’d spot entering into some fancy place, dressed to the nines, with their noses halfway into the clouds. Then, for fear of secondhand snobbery, you’d proceed to get as far away from their general vicinity as possible. Believe me, I’ve watched it happen.

  Fortunately, the snobby genes were ones I was pretty sure I hadn’t inherited. I could’ve been delusional with my assumption, but either I’d been spared that hideous trait or my aunt, Carla, had done a better job of keeping me grounded than I’d thought. Either way, I didn’t share my parents’ need for lofty inner circles and material objects.

  Maybe I was unappreciative in that sense, the product of always getting what I wanted, but I needed their love rather than their gifts. My father didn’t share my opinion. Instead of asking how my day went, he blew a gasket the second he noticed the dent Hood left in the hood.

  “What did you hit?” He gawked, squatting in his tailored dress pants as he ran a hand along the front. I thought about it for a second, trying to discern how to tell him the victim was human, but he groaned and stood before I had the chance. “Never mind. I’ve got a charity event and don’t have time to discuss it with you. I’ll have your aunt call the insurance company and get a claim sorted out.”

  He fastened the buttons on his sports coat and stepped toward a waiting SUV, shortly followed by my mother.

  She was wearing a cocktail dress and her hair was neatly secured at the base of her neck, and I knew immediately this would be another lonely night in the Mayes household. For some reason or another, every night seemed to work out that way.

  “There’s money on the counter,” my mom commented as she passed. “Have Carla order a pizza or something, and make sure you get your homework completed. Poor grades won’t get you into Princeton.”

  “Duly noted,” I said flatly.

  I watched them as they entered the vehicle. Guess tonight I would bide my time with reality television. I could camp out in the media room. I was the only one who used it, anyway.

  Carla was in the foyer when I entered through the massive front doors. She was carrying a vase of flowers from one room to another, and she offered me a warm smile. “Saw the article you wrote for the Locksley Lowdown. Great work, as per usual.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Carla.” While I was thankful someone had taken the time to check out my less-than-amazing attempts at journalism, I was content to sulk on my situation. I’d pick her brain about the article later—when I was full of pizza and better equipped to discuss the topic.

  “Want me to go ahead and order the food?” she questioned, cutting straight through my internal rambling like she always did. When I nodded, she smiled. “Thin-crust cheese, slightly burned, with extra sauce. I’ll get right on it.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “I know.”

  She veered toward the kitchen and I continued up the stairs.

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, we were still waiting on the pizza and I was cursing at my Trigonometry homework. Math despised me, almost as much as I despised it, so I grabbed my cell phone. There was one person in the school who could figure out a math problem like no one’s business. Lucky for me, he lived next door.

  “What’s up?” John questioned, sounding amused as he answered the call.

  “Math,” I grumbled with annoyance. He chuckled and I sighed as I flipped through the pages for some decipherable answer to the problem. “It’s like Mrs. Tuck finds the hardest problems in the book, then decides they’d be a great way to torture us. Will you come over and show me how to work the stupid thing? I’ll pay you with pizza.”

  “Can’t,” he answered quickly. “I’m late for a date and if I don’t get there in the next—I don’t know—ten minutes, she’s going to think I’m not i
nterested. Rob just left. I’m sure he can swing by and help you out.”

  “Yeah, he’ll help me out,” I repeated sarcastically.

  “I think he’s over the whole ‘I ran you over’ thing.”

  “Sure he is.” I pushed a hand through my blonde hair and blew out a sigh. “He’s forgiven me and wants to be besties. That sounds exactly like him.”

  “Your sarcasm is annoying.”

  “So is your optimism.” I glanced at the book again and decided any other attempts would be futile without John’s help. “I could send you a picture and you could solve the problem for me,” I volunteered. “I’ll pay you later.”

  “Deal.”

  I grinned with relief. “Thanks, John.”

  “Thank me later.”

  He hung up and I snapped a shot of the problem. I was sending it off as someone rang the doorbell downstairs. After what felt like a millennium of waiting, my cheesy slices of goodness had arrived.

  I took the stairs two at a time, elated at the prospect of pizza, but stopped in my tracks when I realized who was standing outside the door with the box in hand—Rob freaking Hood.

  “Please tell me you aren’t the new pizza boy,” I groaned as I pulled open the door. “Because if you are, I’m preemptively complaining to the management.”

  “First time a girl’s ever complained about me coming to their house,” he mused. “Figured you’d be nicer after trying to kill me and all. Speaking of which, I think I need medical attention. My neck’s sore.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and I watched wide-eyed as my pizza teetered on his forearm. This idiot was going to drop my food!

  “Look,” I started, retrieving the boxes before he felt compelled to toss them on the ground, “if you had any serious medical issues, you should’ve seen the school nurse at the time of the incident. Who’s to say you didn’t intentionally inflict additional harm upon yourself?”

  “Like what? Throw myself down a flight of stairs?”

  “Wouldn’t put it past you.”

  I glanced around him for the real pizza guy and came up empty-handed. Rob identified my confusion and leaned against the doorway with a crooked smile. “Will was the delivery guy. Talked him into giving me the pizza for free.” He would use his little brother as a means of worming his way into situations. I should’ve known the moment I saw him. “But, you can go ahead and pay me what you’d planned on paying him. You can consider it restitution.”

  “How do you even know that word?”

  “I’m brilliant, duh.” He winked and pushed himself away from the door. “Remember that the next time you decide to hit me with a car, would ya?”

  “Sure thing. Who knows, maybe it’ll be tomorrow.”

  “Funny. We’ll see how well your sense of humor holds up.” I knew it was a warning, but Hood pivoted and waved over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Annie.”

  I closed the door behind him, concerned at the threat, but more interested in the pizza. “Aunt Carla!” I hollered, setting the box on the counter.

  “Finishing the wash,” she answered. “Be there in a few.”

  I pulled two plates from the cabinet, put them down, and moved for the slices. When I opened the box, my jaw dropped.

  Suddenly, I understood the meaning in Hood’s words. The pizza, my greasy promise of happiness, was gone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Theories

  THE NEXT DAY, Hood was waiting for me at my locker.

  It was like he was biding his time, looking for a glimpse of frustration to satiate his need for revenge, but I fiddled with the lock and did nothing more than bump him in the shoulder with the metal locker door. I could’ve hit him harder. Thinking about it now, I should have.

  “So, how was dinner?” he inquired, straightening his posture as I pulled a book from inside. “Oh, wait. I can answer for you. It was delicious.”

  “You owe me a pizza,” I grumbled.

  “Considering you hit me with a car, we’re even.” His mouth tugged upward as he peered inside my locker. Unable to poke fun at the belongings inside, he pulled his attention back to me. “Besides, I didn’t eat the pizza by myself. I have a hearty appetite, but I was inclined to share.”

  “Let me guess: Will ate the rest?”

  “Negative.”

  I rolled my eyes and shut the door. “Just know, the next time you steal from me will be your last. I already think you’re the thief who’s been robbing students. There’s an article in the Locksley Lowdown if you’d like to read my justification.”

  “I read the article, and it had more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese.”

  “Fine. Why don’t you tell me what I missed?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not an idiot. Besides, thieves are sly. Giving you the info you missed would be stupid on my part, don’t you think?”

  “I know you did it, Hood.”

  “Think what you want.” He patted the top of my head and I swatted his hand away. “We’ll see how close you get to the truth.”

  I glared at him as he strolled down the hall. Rob Hood was an idiot if he thought I was going to let this go. The stunt he pulled with the pizza was more than enough to drive my need for justice.

  The rest of my morning I spent contemplating ways to prove he was the thief. By the time lunch rolled around, my plan was almost perfected.

  “Why do you look like that?” John asked, his brow furrowed as I sat in the chair across from him. When I shrugged, he took a bite of his chicken and shook his head. “As long as it doesn’t involve me and won’t have an effect on our A and P grade, do what you want. If I can help, let me know.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I forked a bite of food into my mouth and scanned the lunchroom for Hood. When I didn’t see him, I made a face. “Where’s Rob?”

  “He ran home to grab something. Why?”

  “I had a few questions,” I responded, sounding more aloof than I was. “Guess I’ll ask them later.” John answered me with a curious expression but I paid it no mind. This issue was between Hood and me. Bringing John into it wouldn’t bode well for either of us.

  “Can I ask you something?” he stated, pulling my attention away from the potatoes. “Before you answer, know I mean this in the least invasive way possible.”

  “Should I be worried?” He shook his head and I nodded in agreement. “Fine, ask away.”

  John sat forward, his fingers twined together atop the table. “Do you like him?” I did a double take at the absurd question and he let out a loud laugh. “Try not to look like I offended you beyond measure.”

  “I’m trying to figure out how and why you would even come to that assumption.” I sat my fork down and stared at him. “Rob Hood is nothing but a troublemaker. He’s annoying, awful, and between you and me, I think he’s the school’s resident thief.”

  John choked on a sip of water but I held up a hand to explain. It had to be Hood. It made total sense for him to be the culprit.

  “Look at the evidence,” I persisted. “Tristan Finn was the first person. His cell phone went missing during third period, the same day Rob conveniently disappeared during study hall.”

  “He was having stomach issues—”

  “That was his alibi,” I argued, “but it was a lie. He needed an excuse to exit the room and that’s what he used.”

  John mulled it over for a minute, his lips pursed as he considered the words. “Okay, but how do you explain Richard Lyons’s mysteriously missing football cleats? Rob was absent. There’s no way he could’ve taken them.”

  “I think he came incognito,” I rebutted.

  John shot me a ludicrous expression and I went on the defensive.

  “All he had to do was slip through one of the field house doors, dressed in something that covered his face. The athletics department issues hoodies. He could’ve tossed one on and lain low. No one would’ve noticed.”

  “A bit far-fetched, don’t you think?”

 
; I gave John a narrowed look. So much for theorizing with him. I should’ve known he’d take Hood’s side. “And you wondered why I put the article out without letting you read it,” I complained. “Had you read it beforehand, you would’ve pointed out all the reasons why my theories were flawed.”

  “I’m sorry, Annie, but you know I have a point.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “I tell you what. If it makes it better, I’ll do some investigative work into the locker-room incident. I’m a team captain. I have a little clout with the guys.”

  “Uh-huh.” I took a bite of food and chewed it slowly.

  In the event he did find something, I doubted John would share it with me. He’d address the matter with Rob, fix it, then pretend it never happened. In some ways that made him a great friend. In other ways, it made him detrimental to my investigation.

  That was fine. If John Little and Rob Hood wanted to make my life harder than it had to be, I would gather as much evidence as possible. Then, and only then, could I stand against the pair with my head held high and a theory that would put even the best detectives to shame.

  Annie was getting down to business.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Good Deeds

  BEFORE HOOD, I’d never stalked a guy.

  I didn’t see the need in following someone with the intent to catch them wreaking havoc, but that miserable jerk took it upon himself to cause trouble and left me without any actions but to follow him. After all, I was a journalist. Being a member of the school’s newspaper team pretty much obligated me to stalk.

  My cold cup of coffee was nestled in the cup holder. Long gone was its warmth; the coffee had turned frigid within the first hour of my stakeout. Yes, I was that person who wasted coffee. I’m terrible, I know. Either way, I was so intent on catching him in the act that I’d neglected the caffeine.

  Could I have gone in the house for more? Yes. Why didn’t I? Two reasons:

  One, Aunt Carla would’ve nominated me to help with the dishes.