“Sure, sure. Let’s be serious.” He scooted his chair toward her and leaned forward.
“Crow . . . don’t.”
“Don’t what, princess? I gotta ask a question, and I gotta get close to ask it.” He grabbed the underside of her chair and pulled it toward him, so close their faces were just inches apart. “If it’s impossible, why the hell do you think I showed up that night when I did?”
Em opened her mouth to speak, then realized she didn’t know how to answer that. Why was he there? The timing seemed suspicious. . . .
And then, all of a sudden, he was leaning in to kiss her. A piece of her wanted this—badly—but she couldn’t have everything. Em pulled away and felt the armrest jam awkwardly against her back.
“No,” she said shakily, placing her palm against his chest. “We—this isn’t right, Crow. You know that. We’re—we’re friends.”
He swayed backward a little. But not that far. His lips were still so close. . . . She could feel the heat from his body. “What’s the matter, angel?” he said. “I’m not good enough for you?”
“You know that’s not it,” she said quickly, softly—almost like she was pleading with him. “It’s just . . . ” She couldn’t finish. JD, she wanted to say. But she felt like an idiot speaking his name out loud, when he had barely even spoken to her in a month.
“You’re drunk, Crow. And I don’t want to mess up our friendship. . . . ” The bench dug into her shoulder blade.
“I don’t believe that’s all you want from me,” he said. His eyes were still on her. Burning. Sending a leap of warmth through her stomach, a spinning, dizzying heat through her head.
What did she want from him? Reassurance? Protection? Help? She didn’t know anymore.
He reached up and traced her face lightly with two fingers. Everywhere he touched was like fire. “Tell me,” he said in that low voice, like a song. “Tell me what you really want.”
What did she want? She wanted information. She wanted his secrets. To see his visions. To learn from them. To know the truth.
She wanted everything to be different.
Em tilted her face to his, trying to read his eyes, trying to understand what was happening—what his role in it was. And that one small gesture was all Crow needed. He reached out and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her slowly toward him. Their lips were so close that she could taste him—that smoke, that sweetness.
The booze.
“No,” she said, suddenly realizing how wrong it was. “Really.”
“Everything okay over here?” Suddenly a bouncer, big and thick-necked, was behind them, pulling Crow back by the collar of his plaid shirt. “I don’t think you’re wanted here, buddy.”
Every ounce of gentleness Crow had had just moments before was gone in an instant. “Get your hands off me.” He stood up, shrugging off the bouncer’s arm roughly.
Em put her hand on his arm. “Let’s just go, Crow.” Em needed to get him out of there in one piece.
“You hear that?” He ignored her, getting in the bouncer’s face. “She’s fine. Everything’s fine. So I suggest you stop acting like I’m some kind of criminal.” He punctuated the word with a nice, hard shove.
The bouncer was thrown off for less than a second, which was all the reason he needed. “You’re out of here!” he yelled, clipping Crow’s shoulder and herding him forcefully toward the door.
“What are you doing, man?” Crow argued. “It’s early. I’m not even that drunk.”
“You can’t kick him out,” Em said, chasing after them. “He’s in no shape to drive.”
“You’re right, he isn’t,” came the bouncer’s surly reply, “but he sure as hell can’t stay here.”
“Asshole,” Crow muttered. The doors burst open and Em was relieved by the crisp air.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.
“He started it,” Crow said pointing in the direction of the Armory. He got out a final round of expletives, then repeated: “I’m not even that drunk.”
“You are that drunk.”
They stood in silence. Crow looked up at the sky. He interlaced his fingers behind his head so his arms splayed out like wings. It was cool enough that Em could just barely make out his breath in the air. “Fine, I am drunk.”
“Good. We’re in agreement. Now give me your keys,” she said, holding out her hand.
“You know how to drive stick?” he asked aggressively. “I don’t want you bottoming out on the Ridge.”
She didn’t. Dammit. Why hadn’t she taken JD up on those lessons this summer? “Crow . . . I . . . ”
“You don’t,” he said smugly. He grabbed the keys out of her hand.
She still wasn’t going to let him drive, manual transmission or no. “Well, then, I guess you’ll have to call someone to pick you up.” Em went for the keys, which he held up high and just out of her reach. “I’m not letting you get behind the wheel like this,” she said jumping for them.
His eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell me what to do,” he said. “You can’t tell me you don’t want me and then tell me how to act.”
Em stopped jumping. The words stung. They were standing so close she thought he might try to kiss her again. But instead he turned and started stalking across the parking lot in the other direction. “Crow!” she called after him. “Stop! You can’t drive!”
“I feel like they’re poisoning me.” Crow wheeled around and his voice broke into the quiet. He threw the keys at her feet and winced, like he had a sudden headache. “The visions . . . I want them to stop. It’s like blackness inside me.”
A car came around the bend and waited for them to get out of the way. Illuminated by the bright white glow of the headlights, Crow looked almost otherworldly. “I want to help you, Em,” he said, “but I think I’m going to get hurt if I do.” Then he ran off into the night, leaving Em with his keys on the ground in front of her.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Yup, you’re totally becoming one,” Melissa said, standing in the doorway to JD’s room and pulling her strawberry-blond hair back with a headband.
“Huh?” he asked. He’d been in another world, thinking about Em, and specifically of that book on her nightstand and wondering if he should ask her about it. He didn’t even know how long Melissa had been standing there.
“See? Case in point,” Melissa said, putting her arms out straight in front of her and staggering theatrically around his room. “I said, you’re totally becoming a zombie. You need a life.”
“A liiiiiiife,” he said, sounding the word out for effect. “How does one procure such a thing? Teach me, oh social one. Does it involve faking injuries to make friends?”
“I was not faking it,” Melissa said. “I really twisted my ankle and you know it. It was pure serendipity that Ali and I met. Speaking of which, I need a ride to Pete’s. Ali invited me for pizza.”
“Didn’t she leave, like, two hours ago?” JD said. “You’re a little too young for an exclusive relationship.”
She chucked a pillow at his head. “I texted to thank her again. And she invited me.”
He swiveled back toward his computer. “Tempting, but no. First of all, I have homework to do. Second, I’m not—not—a chauffeur.” Even saying the word—Gabby and Em’s old nickname for him—made anger spark inside of him. He pushed it aside. “And last, there’s pasta on the stove. Why are you going for pizza?”
“Let’s start with the last one first,” she said. “I’m going for pizza because I’d love to get out of the house. Even zombies need to socialize, you know.” She plucked a hat off his bed and chucked it at him.
He didn’t want to admit that she was right.
“And I know you’re not a chauffeur,” she added. “You were invited.” She smiled brightly at him.
JD tried to keep his voice neutral, but he knew he’d already given in. “By whom?” he asked.
“By Ali, silly,” Melissa said. “She said she wants you to meet her cousin l
ater or something. So let’s go already.”
* * *
When they arrived at Pete’s Pizza, Ali was already waiting for them in a red vinyl booth. Her skin shone flawlessly under the reddish lights of the restaurant. She had on a low-cut turquoise tank top, despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly beach weather. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and again he had no trouble picturing her rolling around in a bikini on the beach with cameras flashing. Everything about her was perky and oddly—almost eerily—perfect.
“Hey guys,” she said, smiling.
“Thanks for the invite,” he said as he scooted into the booth, trying not to stare too long into Ali’s ice-blue eyes. He tugged off his peacoat and adjusted the collar of his cable-knit fisherman’s sweater, hoping he looked at least semi–put together.
“I ordered a large pepperoni with mozzarella sticks on the side,” she said once they’d settled in. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Perfect, I was actually praying for a heart attack tonight,” JD said, grinning but making a mental note: Someone likes to be in charge.
“Well, luckily you have a nurse nearby if it happens,” Ali responded. “Speaking of which, Mel, how’s your ankle?”
“A little better than it was,” she said. “I’ve been icing it like you said to.”
“And making me run back and forth getting things for her,” JD interjected.
Mel glared at him while Ali laughed. “I bet I’ll have to sit out of practice for a while, though. . . . ”
JD tuned out while his sister chatted, letting his gaze fall unfocused on the windows and the parking lot outside. He bent his head to one shoulder and then to the other, listening for the snapping cracks at the base of his neck. He did that sometimes when he was stressed, despite the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Winters both told him it was bad for his posture or something.
Em. He thought of how much she loved Pete’s Pizza, especially her favorite combo of pepperoni and pineapple. He was halfway through his second set of cracks when he took in a sharp breath: As though he’d conjured her, Em Winters was coming through the door of the restaurant.
“Oh, good,” Ali said just as JD was about to call Em’s name. “Ty’s here!” She waved to the newcomer and patted the bench next to where she was sitting.
As the girl came closer, JD could see it wasn’t Em after all. Her cheekbones were wider and her eyes were green and catlike, nothing like Em’s, which were big and brown and varied in darkness according to her mood. (They got lighter, weirdly, when she was angry; dark and chocolate brown when she was relaxed.) This girl didn’t have the single freckle above her left eye.
But otherwise, Ali was right: Ty and Em were total doppelgängers.
“This is the cousin I was talking about earlier,” Ali said, introducing JD to Ty, who stuck out her hand for him to shake, which made him feel awkward. Maybe she was older? He was surprised at the firmness of her grip.
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
“The famous JD,” she responded, as though she’d been hearing about him for ages, which didn’t really make sense since he’d only met Ali today. She spoke with a casual drawl, as if she was from the South or someplace where time moved more slowly. “Meg is going to be jealous!”
“Oh yeah, meeting me. That’s on everyone’s bucket list,” he said drily. “Who’s Meg?”
“Meg’s the third one of our little trio. We’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time,” she repeated. Again, it was an odd thing to say, but JD still felt kind of flattered.
Once introductions were made, Ty joined the group, chiming in seamlessly as Ali and Melissa discussed the intricacies of some dance-tumble move for the cheerleading squad. JD sat back, unable to take his eyes off of Ty. Of course, as soon as he studied her more closely, the differences between her and Em became sharper: her voice was deeper, her mannerisms more extravagant, her laugh louder and throatier. She wore a bright red flower in her hair, and it reminded him of something, though he couldn’t remember what.
He was simultaneously attracted to her, immediately and instinctively, and put off at the same time. Like he was looking at a mirage, a mist that might vanish if he tried to touch it.
“So, what do you do around here?” Ty asked JD as they waited for the food to arrive. “Other than school, I mean.”
Nothing, he nearly said, but he could see Melissa looking at him, silently praying for him not to be a geek. So he said: “Well, I like messing around with old cars . . . and right now I’m helping my friend do the lighting for a school play.”
“Oh, cool,” Ty said, flashing him a smile that showed off her perfectly white teeth. “I’ve always been interested in theater. Lighting, especially. Isn’t it funny how one thing can look completely different depending on what light you shine on it?”
The pizza arrived, steaming and greasy, and as soon as Ty took a bite, her eyes practically rolled back in pleasure. “Ummm, thisissogood,” she said, her mouth full, eyes wide.
JD nodded and finished chewing. “Pete’s never lets you down.”
She wolfed down the rest of her slice and grabbed another one. “No, really, this is de-lish,” she said. Meanwhile, JD noticed that Ali had barely touched her own pizza.
“I guess I’m less hungry than I thought,” she said offhandedly when she saw him eyeing her plate. “Mel, want to come get refills on the soda? Then I’ll play you at Big Buck Hunter,” she added, pointing toward the handful of arcade game consoles in the corner.
“She literally has no idea what she’s missing,” Ty said when Ali and Melissa had gone off toward the counter. “I’m totally going to have a third piece!”
“Eat up,” JD said. He liked girls who could eat. That was one thing he’d always loved about Em: her crazy sweet tooth and obsession with all things chocolate. “I think I’m done. A little too grease-heavy for me.”
She looked at him seriously for a moment. When he stared back into her eyes, it was almost like looking into the center of a fire, where embers smoldered black-red. It sent shivers down his spine. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had pizza,” she said, going in for another bite. “You must think I’m such a freak, huh?”
“I think you’re hungry,” JD said.
Ty threw her head back and laughed, but it was different from before. Now the sound was surprisingly hoarse—like the laughter of a much older woman. Like she had dust in the back of her throat. The happy, hazy feeling surrounding JD dissipated momentarily.
“So, how long have you and your family been in town?” he asked. “Ascension’s a little screwed up right now. . . . ”
“Oh, you mean because of all the murders?” She dabbed at her mouth with a paper napkin, leaving a smear of red lipstick behind.
“Well, they weren’t murders, technically. There were two suicides and two accidents and . . . ” He trailed off. “This is a kind of morbid conversation topic, huh?”
“When bad things happen, you can’t just pretend they didn’t,” she said.
He nodded, reaching for the stack of napkins. “That’s true,” he said. “Although lots of people seem to be good at doing that.”
“Oops, don’t take this one,” she said, whisking her lipstick-marked napkin away from him. “You don’t want to end up like Chase Singer did. . . . ”
JD’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
She smiled, looking temporarily embarrassed. “Sorry, that really was morbid. I was just thinking of that lipstick mark they found on Chase’s cheek.”
“Oh . . . I didn’t . . . ” JD trailed off, wondering if he’d heard that specific detail before. It seemed like something he would remember, but he didn’t. “You—you knew Chase?”
“Just by sight,” she said casually.
And just then, it hit him where he recognized Ty’s flower from: Drea’s service. Bright crimson, like the one that had ended up in Drea’s casket.
He was hit with a wave of nausea. “Where did you get that?” he asked, pointin
g to her hair. It occurred to him that perhaps she had sent all those orchids. He remembered how strange they had looked against the other bouquets: just like droplets of blood.
Ty removed the flower from where it was tucked into her hair and twirled it in her fingers.
“Isn’t it pretty?” she said.
“Were you at Drea Feiffer’s memorial service?”
“For a little bit. I kind of hung back. Were you close with Drea?”
“We were friends,” JD said, feeling his throat constrict. “It’s been a hard week. It just doesn’t seem right. Doesn’t seem fair.” He looked down at his lap. Jesus. This is why he didn’t go out—he’d just met this girl and so far they’d talked about nothing but death. “How did you know Drea?”
“Old family friends,” Ty said vaguely. She held her hand out as if to give him the flower, but when he reached for it she withdrew her hand quickly. Ty spoke again, but softly this time, as though through a sheet of silk. “You mention fairness . . . and I was always a big believer in justice. An eye for an eye, and all that. But these days, I’m seeing things differently. Some things just aren’t fair—you can’t make them fair. You know? Some things just happen. . . . And all we can do is let them.”
As she finished speaking, she placed the flower back in her hair.
JD nodded slowly. Her speech had left him feeling a little overwhelmed, like he’d been hit by a wave, or put under a spell. A good one. And she was right. Some things just weren’t fair, and he had to accept that and move on—whether it was Drea’s death or the fact that something was going on between Em and Crow.
“Don’t you two look serious,” Ali said teasingly as she and Melissa came back toward the table.
“You know me,” Ty said with a surprising edge. “Always—” She was interrupted by a low wolf whistle from across the restaurant.
JD swiveled around. Some frat boy in a baseball cap with a puffy beer face and squinty eyes was leering in their direction. Melissa was fidgeting uncomfortably. JD felt the impulsive desire to leap up and cover her.
“Hey, man, keep your eyes on your food, okay?” He made his tone good-natured yet firm, praying the guy would turn back to his pizza.
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