Crave (Crave Series)

by Tracy Wolff

  “I’m such a jerk.” Macy rolls her eyes at herself. “Planning a party on your first couple of days here was a bad move on my part. I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re not a jerk. You were just trying to help me meet people.”

  “I was trying to show off my fabulous older cousin—”

  “I’m older by, like, a year.”

  “Older is older, isn’t it?” She grins at me. “Anyway, I was trying to show you off and help you get acclimated. I didn’t think about the fact that you might need a day or two to just breathe.”

  We make it to our room, and Macy unlocks the door with a flourish. Just in time, too, because my stomach revolts about two seconds after I walk in the door. I barely make it to the bathroom before I throw up a noxious combination of tea and Dr Pepper.

  Looks like Alaska really is trying to kill me after all.

  14

  Knock,

  Knock, Knocking

  on Death’s Door

  I spend the next fifteen minutes trying to throw up the inside of my stomach and hoping that if this godforsaken place is trying to kill me, it just gets it over with already.

  When the nausea finally stops about half an hour later, I’m exhausted and the headache is back in full force.

  “Should I get the nurse?” Macy asks, walking behind me, arms outstretched to catch me as I make my way to the bed. “I think I should get the nurse.”

  I groan as I climb under my cool sheets. “Let’s give it a little while longer.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Older-cousin prerogative.” I shoot her a grin I’m far from feeling and snuggle onto my pillow. “If I’m not better in the morning, we’ll call the nurse.”

  “Are you sure?” Macy dances from foot to foot as though unsure what to do.

  “Considering I’ve had more than enough attention since I got to this school? Yes. Definitely.”

  She doesn’t look happy by my refusal, but eventually she nods.

  I drift in and out of sleep as my cousin washes her face and changes into her pajamas. But right around the time she turns off the light and crawls into bed, another wave of nausea rolls over me. I ride it out, trying to ignore how much I wish my mom were here to baby me a little, and eventually fall into a fitful sleep, one I don’t wake from until an alarm blares at six thirty the next morning. It goes off just as abruptly as someone hits Snooze.

  I wake up disoriented, trying to remember where I am and whose godawful alarm was beeping in my ear. Then it all comes flooding back. After one additional trip to the bathroom around three to dry heave my guts up, the nausea receded, which was a giant plus. And everything else feels okay now—my head has stopped spinning, and while my throat feels dry, it doesn’t hurt, either.

  Huh. Looks like the internet was right about the whole twenty-four to forty-eight hours to acclimate thing. I’m good as new.

  At least until I sit up and realize the rest of my body is another story. Nearly every muscle I have aches like I’ve just climbed Denali—after running a marathon. I’m pretty sure it’s just dehydration combined with how tense I was yesterday, but either way, I’m in no mood to get up. I’m certainly in no mood to put on a happy face for my first day of classes.

  I lie back down and pull the covers over my head, trying to decide what I want to do. I’m still lying there ten minutes later when Macy wakes up with a grumble.

  The first thing she does is slap at her alarm until it stops again—something I am eternally grateful for, considering she picked the most grating, annoying sound ever created to wake up to—but it takes her only a second to climb out of bed and come over to me.

  “Grace?” she whispers softly, like she wants to check on me but doesn’t want to wake me up at the same time.

  “I’m okay,” I tell her. “Just sore.”

  “Yuck. That’s probably dehydration.” She crosses to the fridge in the corner of the room and pulls out a pitcher of water. She pours two glasses and then hands me one as she settles back onto her bed. She spends a minute texting—Cam, I figure—before tossing her phone aside and looking at me. “I have to go to my classes today—I’ve got tests in three of them—but I’ll come back and check on you when I can.”

  I’m pretty much loving her assumption that I’m not going to class, so I don’t argue. Except to say, “You don’t have to go out of your way to check on me. I’m feeling much better.”

  “Good, then you can consider this a mental health day, of the Holy crap, I just moved to Alaska! variety.”

  “There’s an actual mental health day for that?” I tease, moving around until I’m sitting up with my back against the wall.

  Macy snorts. “There are whole mental health months for that. Alaska’s not easy.”

  It’s my turn to snort. “No kidding. I’ve been here less than forty-eight hours and I’ve already figured that out.”

  “That’s just because you’re afraid of wolves,” she teases.

  “And bears,” I admit without a flicker of embarrassment. “As any sane person should be.”

  “You have a point.” She grins. “You should take the day and do whatever you want. Read a book, watch some trash TV, eat my stash of junk food if your stomach feels up to it. Dad will let your teachers know you’ll be starting tomorrow instead of today.”

  I hadn’t even thought of Uncle Finn. “Will your dad be okay with me skipping class?”

  “He’s the one who suggested it.”

  “How does he know—?” I break off when a knock sounds at the door. “Who—?”

  “My dad,” Macy says as she crosses the room and throws open the door with a flourish. “Who else?”

  Except it’s not Uncle Finn at all. It’s Flint, who takes one look at Macy in her tiny nightshirt and me in last night’s dress and smeared makeup and starts grinning like a dork.

  “Looking good, ladies.” He gives a low whistle. “Guess you decided to take the tea party up a notch or four last night, huh?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Macy taunts as she makes a beeline for the bathroom and the privacy it affords. I don’t bother to answer, just stick my tongue out at him. He laughs and raises his eyebrows in response.

  “I would like to know,” Flint tells me as he crosses over to sit on the end of my bed. “Where’d you run off to? And why?”

  Because telling him the whole reason involves trying to explain my bizarre reaction to Jaxon—not to mention everything that came after—I settle for part of the truth. “The altitude really started getting to me. I felt like I was going to throw up, so I came back to the room.”

  That wipes the smile off his face. “How are you now? Altitude sickness isn’t anything to fool around with. Can you breathe okay?”

  “I can breathe fine. I swear,” I add when he doesn’t look convinced. “I’m feeling almost normal today. Just had to get used to the mountains, I guess.”

  “Speaking of mountains.” Flint’s appealing grin is back. “That’s why I came by. A bunch of us are having a snowball fight after dinner tonight. Thought you might want to join in…if you feel okay, I mean.”

  “A snowball fight?” I shake my head. “I don’t think I should.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t even know how to make a snowball, let alone how to throw one.”

  He looks at me like I’m being silly. “You pick up snow, you pack it into a ball, and then you throw it at the nearest person.” He uses his hands to mime his words. “It’s not exactly hard.”

  I stare at him, unconvinced.

  “Come on, New Girl. Give it a try. I promise it’ll be fun.”

  “Careful, Grace.” Macy comes out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel. “Never trust a…” She trails off when Flint turns to her, brows raised.

  “They’re having a snowball fight af
ter class today,” I tell her. “He wants us to join.” He hadn’t invited Macy in so many words, but there’s no way I’m going without her. And from the sudden smile on her face, I’m guessing I made the right choice.

  “Seriously? We have to go, Grace. Flint’s snowball fights are legendary around here.”

  “That doesn’t exactly raise my confidence level, considering I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “It’ll be fine,” they both say at the same time.

  It’s my turn to raise my brows as I look back and forth between them.

  “Trust me,” Flint implores. “I’ll take good care of you.”

  “Don’t trust him,” Macy tells me. “Put a snowball in that boy’s hand and he’s utterly diabolical. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be fun.”

  I still think it’s a bad idea, but Flint and Macy are my only two actual friends at Katmere. Who knows what will happen with Lia, and as for Jaxon… Jaxon is a lot of things, but I definitely wouldn’t call him a friend. Or even friendly, for that matter.

  “Okay, fine,” I give in gracefully. “But if I end up dying in the middle of the fight, I’m going to haunt both of you forever.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ll survive,” Macy assures me.

  Flint, on the other hand, just winks. “And if not, I can think of worse ways to spend eternity.”

  Before I can come up with a response to that, he leans over and drops a kiss on my cheek. “See you later, New Girl.” And then he’s gone, slipping out the door without a backward glance.

  I’m left with a wide-eyed, openmouthed Macy, who is all but clapping her hands in delight over one little peck. And the sad knowledge that no matter how adorable Flint is, he doesn’t make me feel anything close to what Jaxon does.

  15

  So Hell

  Actually Can

  Freeze Over

  “Did he…” Macy gasps out after he shuts the door behind him.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I assure her.

  “Flint just…” Apparently the word is still failing her, because she taps her cheek in the same spot where Flint kissed mine.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I say again. “It’s not like he planted one on me or anything. He was just being friendly.”

  “He’s never been friendly like that to me. Or anyone else I’ve seen.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve got a boyfriend. He’s probably afraid Cam will kick his ass.”

  Macy laughs. She actually laughs, which…okay. The idea of her thin, lanky boyfriend kicking Flint’s ass does seem a little absurd. But still, shouldn’t she at least pretend to defend him?

  “You want me to talk to him?” I tease. “See if he’ll kiss you next time?”

  “Of course not! I’m very happy with Cam and his kisses, thank you. I’m just saying, Flint likes you.” She grabs a brush, starts running it through her hair.

  Despite her words, there’s something in her tone that has me narrowing my eyes. “Wait. Do you have a crush on Flint for real?”

  “Of course I don’t. I love Cam.” She avoids looking me in the eye as she grabs some product.

  “Yeah, because that’s real convincing.” I roll my eyes. “Look, if you want to be with Flint, shouldn’t you just break up with Cam and go for it?”

  “I don’t want to be with Flint.”

  “Mace—”

  “I’m serious, Grace. Maybe I used to have a crush on him, way back in ninth grade or something. But that was a long time ago, and it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Because of Cam.” I watch her face closely in the mirror as she starts to style her short, colorful hair.

  “Because I love Cam, yes,” she says as she spikes up a few strands. “And also because it’s not like that here.”

  “Not like what?”

  “The different groups. They don’t mix much.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that at the party. But just because they don’t doesn’t mean they can’t, right? I mean, if you like Flint and he likes you—”

  “I don’t like Flint,” she groans. “And he definitely doesn’t like me. And if I did like him, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because…”

  “Because what? He’s popular?”

  She sighs, shakes her head. “It’s more than that.”

  “More than what? I’m beginning to feel like I’ve fallen into Mean Girls, Alaska version or something.”

  A knock sounds on the door before she can answer.

  “Exactly how many people stop by your room before seven thirty in the morning anyway?” I joke as I cross to the door. Macy doesn’t answer, just kind of shrugs and grins as she starts on her makeup.

  I pull open the door to find my uncle looking down at me worriedly. “How are you feeling? Macy said you were throwing up last night.”

  “I’m better, Uncle Finn. The nausea’s gone and so is the headache.”

  “You’re sure?” He gestures for me to climb back into my bed, so I do—a little gratefully, if I’m being honest. I’ve gotten so little sleep the last two nights that I feel like I’m in a fog, even if the altitude sickness has finally gone away.

  “Good.” He puts a hand on my forehead, like he’s testing if I have a fever.

  I start to crack a joke about altitude sickness not being a virus, but as he follows the hand on my forehead with a kiss to the top of my head, I get choked up. Because right now, with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth curled into a frown that only makes his dimples more apparent, Uncle Finn looks so much like my dad that it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to cry.

  “I still think Macy’s right,” he continues, oblivious to how broken I suddenly feel. “You should spend the day resting and start class tomorrow. Losing your parents, the move, Katmere Academy, Alaska—it’s a lot to get used to, even without altitude sickness.”

  I nod but look away before he can see the emotion in my eyes.

  He must recognize my struggle, because he doesn’t say anything else. Just pats my hand before wandering back to the built-in vanity where Macy is still getting ready.

  They talk, but they keep their voices so low that I can’t hear anything, so I just tune it all out. I crawl back into bed, pull my covers up to my chin. And wait for the pain of missing my parents to pass.

  I don’t plan to fall asleep, but I do anyway. The next time I wake up, it’s after one, and my stomach is grumbling pretty much nonstop. This time, though, the discomfort is because it’s been more than twenty-four hours since I’ve put anything that even resembles food into it.

  There’s a jar of peanut butter and a box of crackers on top of the fridge, and I glom onto both of them. A ton of peanut butter and an entire sleeve of crackers later and I finally feel human again.

  I also feel trapped—inside this room and inside the school.

  I try to ignore the restlessness, try to watch one of my favorite shows on Netflix or read the magazine I didn’t finish on the plane. I even text Heather, though I know she’s at school, hoping she can message back and forth with me for a while. Except—according to the one text she does manage to send back—she’s about to take a calculus test, so definitely no distraction there.

  Nothing else I try sticks, either, so finally I decide to just go for it. Maybe a walk around the Alaskan wilderness is exactly what I need to clear my head.

  But deciding to go for a walk and actually getting ready for one are two very different things up here. I take a quick shower and then—because I’m a total newbie—I google how to dress for an Alaskan winter. Turns out the answer is very carefully, even when it’s only November.

  Once I pull up a site that looks reputable, the clothes Macy made sure I have make a lot more sense. I start with the wool tights she got me and one of my tank tops, then add a layer of long underwear—pants and shirt. After the underwear, I slip into fleece pant
s in hot pink (of course) and a fleece jacket in gray. The site gives me the option of another, heavier jacket to go over this one, but it’s nowhere near as cold as it’s going to get in a couple of months, so I decide to skip it and go straight for the hat, scarf, gloves, and two pairs of socks. Finally, I finish with the down-filled hooded parka my uncle got me and the pair of snow boots rated for Denali that are at the bottom of my closet.

  A quick look in the mirror tells me I look as ridiculous as I feel.

  But I figure I’ll look even more ridiculous if I freeze to death on my second full day in Alaska, so I ignore the feeling. Besides, if I end up getting really warm during my walk, I can take off the fleece layer—or so the online guide suggests, as sweat is the enemy up here. Apparently walking around in wet clothes can lead to hypothermia. So…just like everything else in this state.

  Instead of texting her and interrupting one of her tests, I leave Macy a note telling her I’m going to explore the school grounds—I’m not foolish enough to actually wander out past the wall into the wilderness, where there are wolves and bears and God only knows what else.

  Then I head out. As I walk down the stairs, I ignore pretty much everyone I come across—which is almost nobody, since most of the school is in class right now. I should probably feel guilty that I’m not, but to be honest, I just feel relieved.

  Once I’m on the ground floor, I take the first outside door I can find and then nearly change my mind as the wind and cold all but slap me in the face.

  Maybe I should have put on that extra layer after all…

  It’s too late now, so I pull my hoodie up over my head and duck my scarf-covered face down into my parka’s high collar. Then I set out across the yard, despite the fact that every instinct I have is screaming at me to go back inside.

  But I’ve always heard you’re supposed to start something how you plan to end it, and I am not going to be a prisoner inside the school for the next year. Over my dead freaking body.

  I shove my hands in my pockets and begin to walk.

  At first, I’m so miserable that all I can think about is the cold and how it feels against my skin, despite the fact that nearly every inch of me is covered in multiple layers.