Zoe tilted her head to the side, staring at Jensen as if she’d committed a grave sin. “You haven’t even noticed him, have you?”
“Noticed who?” Jensen asked, hoping the second time was indeed a charm.
“Liam Casey. Her ex-boyfriend and the hottest guy … well, second hottest guy in the junior class. They dated for like six months, then you showed up and the rest is Lakeside history.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Zoe shrugged. “You didn’t ask the right questions.”
“Describe him.”
“Were you not listening? He’s hot. Zac Efron hot, except, somehow managing to smolder a twee bit more.”
“I need specs.”
“Well let’s see; he’s maybe 6’2. Blonde. Blue eyes. A junior. And he’s always staring at you like he can’t decide if he wants to kiss you or kill you.”
Jensen nodded. “Oh.”
Zoe gave her a knowing look. “Ah, so you do know who he is Ms. Meadows?”
“Kind of. You had me at kill.” Jensen sipped from her water bottle. “Shouldn’t she take that up with him though?”
“Why, when she can just torture you about it? And besides, they broke up. You kind of lose the right to bitch someone out when you’re no longer slapping groins.”
Jensen coughed, choking on her water. “Language Zoe.”
“What? It’s true.”
“Maybe, but it all seems kind of petty to me.”
Zoe nodded. “As is the way of the high school years, which brings about my next question: What equally petty thing are you gonna do about it?”
“What makes you think I’m gonna do anything?”
Zoe held up her finger until she’d swallowed the bite she took from the sandwich. “Because I can see the wheels turning in that great big head of yours.”
Jensen laughed. No one could ever say that Zoe wasn’t perceptive. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what? Benji asked, managing to startle them both. He dropped down beside Zoe, cherry slushie in hand.
“Well Benjamin Stevens,” she said, snatching it away, “Jensen here is trying to decide how to get back at Shelby. My vote is for hooking up with Liam.”
Jensen gasped. “Zoe!”
“What?” Zoe giggled and laid her head on Benji’s shoulder. “You just might like it.”
Chapter Three
The plan was set. Nervous excitement thrummed through Jensen’s body, causing her bones to dance around in her skin, and making the act of staying seated almost impossible. She’d made up her mind to do the one thing Zoe probably wouldn’t approve of: Steal the stupid pink scrapbook Shelby always lugged around. According to Benji, it was really a slam-book. And since she was dumb enough to bring something like that to school, Jensen was bold enough to use it to her advantage.
She glanced at the clock above Mr. Kelley, the history teacher’s head. Twenty minutes left before class ended. Unable to concentrate, Mr. Kelley’s take on the event that triggered World War I barely registered in her mind. Not that paying attention to his monotone account even mattered. She wouldn’t be around to stumble through the test questions anyway.
“Does anyone have any questions?” Mr. Kelley asked, placing a new lecture sheet on the overhead projector.
Perfect timing. Jensen’s hand flew up.
Mr. Kelley’s dove-gray eyes widened and a smile stretched across his face. “Ok Ms. Meadows, ask away.”
“Can I use the restroom?”
His smile flattened into a tight line. Motions clipped, he grabbed the tiny wooden hall pass from the podium and held it out to her.
Not meeting his gaze, Jensen took it from his hand and trotted outside the door.
***
Jensen pressed her back against the hunter green lockers and peeked around the corner. Her eyes met only closed doors, all except for the last classroom near the fire extinguisher. A choral rendition of “The Dog Days Are Over” filled the air, letting her know the glee club was practicing there. And since they were taking it from the top, she doubted anyone would be leaving the room anytime soon.
She eased forward, snagging her navy tank on the ragged hinge of a locker, ripping a tiny hole at the seam near her waist. She bunched the soft fabric in one hand, tore the thread away with the other, and allowed the tangled string to drift down to the cream and gray speckled tile.
After smoothing the tank back down, she tugged at the hem to inspect the damage. Tan skin peeked through the now thumb-size hole. “Great, just great.” She took a deep breath and released the air in a huff, deciding to focus on getting Shelby’s scrapbook.
Jensen strolled up to the locker and grabbed the single-dial padlock as if it were her own. She had never picked one before, but it couldn’t be that difficult.
She pulled the hairpin from her bangs and tucked the overgrown black and violet strands behind her ear.
After shaping the pin into an L, she swirled the dial of the lock clockwise twice and shoved the flat side of the hairpin into the tiny hole, sliding the pin around.
She tugged on the clasp. Still locked. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she grew more frustrated with each passing second. What could I be doing wrong? she wondered.
There was no way she’d be able to stay in the hall much longer. Someone would come out eventually, then the dog days would truly be over.
She closed her eyes and laid her head against the locker, allowing the coolness of the metal to seep into her skin. She imagined her revenge. The black hairpin becoming a skinny bronze skeleton key, the four leaf clover bow cool between her fingers as she slid it into the newly formed keyhole.
A flame sparked in the pit of her stomach, the prickling heat spreading throughout her limbs.
She twisted the key.
Clink. Barely audible, but nonetheless, a clink. Her eyes flew open at the sound, her shock dragging her back to reality and causing the hairpin to slip from her fingers. The clasp had popped free, spinning away from the lock.
“Call me Ms. Lucky,” she mumbled, reaching for the hairpin. As soon as her skin touched the metal, she yanked her finger back, shoving it into her mouth. The metal was hot.
Jensen thought it was weird, but pushed those thoughts away and opened the locker.
A wave of dizziness crashed down on her and she found herself leaning into the very source of her sour stomach. Her head throbbed like each lobe of her brain had entered a fist pumping contest.
She reared back and slammed the locker shut, backing away with her hand braced against the wall of metal for balance. She blinked and everything became more pronounced—the green of the lockers extra bright, the classroom doors an almost blinking white, like the world had suddenly gone HD and her eyes couldn’t catch up.
Something was wrong with her, but she couldn’t ponder that something for long. The sound of feet shuffling had her heart back-flipping in her chest. Unnerved, she turned to run, or more honestly, hobble to class, and slammed into a brick wall.
Liam. Except—not. The boy in front of her had pale pearlescent skin that shimmered underneath the overhead lights, his eyes no longer the cerulean she had come to adore, but a deeper, more vibrant blue that reminded her of giant sapphires. Tension lines bracketed his mouth, and his gaze darted up and down the hall as if he expected someone to show up.
Jensen found her eyes riveted to his face. She tried to count the number of hairs that made up his golden stubble, looking for something, anything to avoid dealing with the two things that had caused her breaths to come way too fast, and her palms to feel like she had dipped them in the ocean.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, voice just as strained as the cords bunching in his neck.
She shut her eyes. They weren’t working anyway. But the darkness that followed only made her pulse speed up more, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. When she peeled her lids apart, she knew her sight wasn’t the problem because they were still there, still peeking over his
shoulders at her. Still fluttering. Wings. Liam had wings.
He cocked his head to the side. “Did you hear me?”
Her brain felt like mashed potatoes and her thoughts reflected the mush. “Sorry, what?”
“I asked what you’re doing out here?”
Hallucinating. “I had to get something from my locker.”
He looked behind her and frowned. “That’s not your locker.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I know. It’s wrong to steal Jensen.”
It’s also wrong to be a vapid soul stealing whore, but nobody’s chastising Shelby about that, are they? “That’s not an answer.”
“But it’s the only answer you’re getting. Why do you care anyway?”
Jensen crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, hoping the movements made her the picture of nonchalance. “I don’t.”
He laughed, but the sound lacked in the humor department.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Everything and nothing.”
“Well good luck figuring it out.”
“I doubt that’ll happen with you around.”
Jensen’s eyebrows shot up. She never said she wanted to be around anyway. “And why is that?”
“Because looking at you is like falling into a black hole—stupid, confusing, and probably detrimental to my existence.”
“Well, why don’t you just hit the ground and fly?” Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth, tapping the stupid lips that had allowed the word to escape. “I mean, die already,” she finished.
Liam’s gaze widened and he closed the distance between them, his minty breath warm against her face.
Caught off guard, she stumbled backwards, slamming into the locker behind her.
Liam’s hand pressed into her stomach, holding her in place while he gazed into her eyes, as if looking for answers to questions he hadn’t voiced. Then suddenly, his hand dropped away, fisting at his sides. He closed his eyes and shook his head like he was trying to knock his thoughts through his ears. “Stupid,” he muttered, the sound soft, but the meaning all the same.
“Oh, so now I’m stupid?”
He opened his eyes and reached up, bracing one hand on the locker beside her head, then offered her the most famous break up line of all time. “Not you. Me.”
Something about his expression had changed. He smiled, just a sad twitch of his lips, but it almost seemed like he’d resigned himself to accept some miserable fate. He cupped her chin and leaned forward, his nose nearly touching hers.
Her breath hitched in her throat and she knew she wanted it. She would’ve given in, would’ve leaned into his lips—did in fact lean forward, but the sight of his right wing twitching above his shoulder had her hand flying to his mouth, and her body flattening against the locker behind her. “I need to get to class.”
Without waiting for him to respond, she dipped below his outstretched arm and ran away, not looking back even once for fear his wing might twitch again.
Chapter Four
Jensen stepped in front of the Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder poster taped to the lunchroom door and goosebumps pebbled her arms. This part of the school was colder than usual.
With the smell of Pine-sol strong in her nose, she wasn’t surprised by the grimy yellow “Watch your step” sign in the middle of the floor. Doing as it commanded, she eased by it, but stiffened at the sound of hushed voices. Not because students huddled together sharing secrets in high school hallways was abnormal, but because of the odd tone of this particular whispery exchange.
Shoulder to the wall, she peeked around the dusty trophy case and saw a boy with white blonde curls talking with a slim blonde girl, whose face Jensen could not see. Large iridescent wings fluttered on the boy’s back and his skin had the same pearlescent sheen as Liam’s. “What the hell are they doing here?” he growled, the area between his eyes pinched tight.
“I don’t know,” the girl replied. She shook her head, and soft spirals of golden hair cascaded down her shoulders. “Where the hell is Liam?”
“Seeing to Principal Rutland.”
The girl grasped his arm, her other hand stroking his cheek. “We can’t continue waiting love. We should go ahead and dispose of the body before any of the students see.”
Jensen’s hand shot to her mouth. They killed somebody. Maybe even Rutland. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, rattling her teeth. Could they hear it?
Holding her breath, she backed away running her trembling palm across the wall for balance. She slid into the lunchroom and eased the door shut, backing away from it with her hand clutching her chest. She had to do something, but what? Get the hell away from there, that’s what. She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out her cell phone.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” a deep voice asked.
Terrified, Jensen spun around with her fists up, finding the janitor staring at her wide-eyed, his fingers rubbing against the opening of a new trash bag.
Without responding, she ran past him, shoving open the exit to the outdoor lunch quad.
Scrolling past the fast food restaurants she had added on her first day there, she found Lauren’s number and pressed send.
Lauren answered on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Some students killed Rutland,” Jensen blurted out. “They’re trying to get rid of the body and maybe I’m hallucinating or something, but they have these wing-things on their backs.”
“What did you do?”
“I haven’t done anything. Are you not listening? These three kids killed Principal Rutland.”
“My God Jensen,” Lauren said, her voice quavering, saying nothing else.
“I just told you someone killed the principal and all you have to say is “God Jensen.” Aren’t you gonna tell me where to meet you?”
Crickets chirped.
“Lauren?”
“No.”
Jensen stopped dead in her tracks, the ball of her foot still raised on the ground while the word bounced around in her skull. “No? What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not coming. I’m sorry. I can’t deal with this anymore.”
“Can’t deal with what? Look, I know we argued earlier, but—”
“There’s some money in the bank. Go to the ATM and clean it out. Find somewhere else to stay for the night and don’t go back to that school.”
Jensen twirled her ring around her finger. “I don’t understand. I’ll walk home so we can—”
“Don’t! I don’t want you here anymore.”
Jensen shook her head, her eyes burning. “But I didn’t do anything,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Stop whining! I can’t take it.”
“Why are you being like this?”
Silence. A silence that made everything else seem obnoxious. The bright green cicadas screaming their stupid little heads off. The horns of passing cars sounding like bullhorns during football season. Everyone else was noisily going on with their mundane lives, while hers quietly shattered on the dull gray pavement.
She dropped down at a lunch table to ride out the newest wave of dizziness. “Lauren, I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing,” she said, laying her head on the wooden table-top.
“I hope you can forgive me one day Button. Seek the order of the high wizard if need be and whatever you do, don’t take off your ring.” Then she hung up.
***
Jensen couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, or see past the bold black words replaying in her mind.
I don’t want you here anymore. That’s what Lauren said.
She clutched her ring to her hollow chest, rubbing her thumb back and forth across the green gemstone. Her own sister didn’t want to be around her. Burgundy lines on her cheek would’ve been better than that verbal slap in the face.
She dialed Lauren again, but hung up before it rang, sliding the phone back into her bag. Face to face would
be better. Lauren might be mad, but she would never say those things to her face. Never.
Jensen found her feet beating against the pavement, then cutting through manicured lawns with hideous garden gnomes and small painted boulders.
A soft yellow light spilled from the crack in the doorway of the apartment they were renting. Yellows and grays painted the sky and a light drizzle filled the air with a fine gray mist of dreariness. Jensen hated days like this, when the sun’s lazy ass wouldn’t even try to pierce the cold grip of sadness shadowing the world.
Jensen grabbed the knob to push open the door, but a clammy white hand slid through the crack first, shackling her wrist. One that did not belong to Lauren. The scream welling up died in her throat when a very undead face wedged into the crack.
“There you are Ms. Meadows,” Rutland said. “Your sister has been worried sick about you.”
“Principal Rutland, I—”
“You just come along with me little missy,” he said, attempting to drag her through the doorway.
Jensen looked at him then. Glazed eyes bulged out of a sallow face and ice cold hands sent painful chills through Jensen’s body, causing goose bumps to sprout all over her arm. He still wore the gray pinstriped suit from earlier, except soot now covered the material. A lot of it. And he smelled bad. Like rotten eggs drenched in apple cider vinegar. “Principal Rutland, you’re hurting me,” she said, trying to pull herself free of his death grip.
Rutland’s thick fingers bit into her arm and his face contorted in rage. “No sirree, I won’t let this one get away.”
Hitting him with her free arm, she braced her leg on the side of the door. “Let me go!”
He continued pulling, so hard that she screamed in pain. But that sound soon turned into a gasp of horror when a lance of light, no, a knife slammed into his chest. Right into his heart. Rutland released her wrist, falling backwards into the doorway, his glazed eyes still open, though life had already faded from them.
Jensen heard clothes ruffling and then suddenly, Liam appeared at her side, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Are you hurt?”
Jensen stared up at him, unsure if she should scream again or bury herself in his arms. His words finally registering, she shook her head no.
Liam’s eyes swept her body, stopping on a scarlet bruise staining her wrist.
Jensen opened her mouth to speak, but a piercing scream silenced her, almost sending her to her knees.
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