Wicked

by Addison Moore

  “I sold my soul to the company store.”

  “What does that mean?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

  “I’ll explain another time.”

  “What about Gage?”

  “He’s out here with me. He says he’ll be over as soon as he drives his car home.”

  Marshall cocks his head to the side. Tell him it’s not necessary. I’ll stay the night. It’s the least I could do after you spent the night at my place.

  I avert my eyes at his offer. “Tell Gage to get here as fast as he can,” I whisper into the phone.

  Marshall looks indignant. I’m not taking no for an answer. I won’t relish having to alter your boyfriend’s limbs in a horrific accident. These things are known to happen.

  “On second thought, tell Gage I’ve got Brielle, and I don’t think he should come.” I don’t think those lines were quite as easy to read between.

  “OK. Hey, Skyla?” Logan sounds winded.

  “Yeah?” I watch as Marshall flops onto my bed backwards and fans his arms out.

  “I would have done anything to save you,” he whispers almost secretively, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

  “Thanks.” For once I believe him.

  I hang up and toss my phone on the nightstand.

  “Get up.” I make sure my irritation comes in clear.

  Marshall vaults up to the top of the canopy and watches as I get under the covers and turn off the lamp. His body illuminates a gentle shade of butter, and he dims it just right until I can look up without hurting my eyes.

  “Where the hell was I?” I’m hoping Marshall will demystify the events of the last few hours.

  “None of your business,” he says it curt, lets me know he means it.

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Second verse same as the first.”

  “Emerson was in one of those holding tanks.”

  “You wield aggressive observational powers. That, and I believe the tank was labeled.”

  “Is she alive?”

  “Did she wave hello?”

  “No,” I pause. “Did you come because I called you?” A cold shiver runs through me as I anticipate his answer.

  “I was conducting business.”

  That’s exactly what I was afraid of. I draw the covers up around my chin and try not to move as Marshall lands soft besides me.

  It’s going to be a long, long night.

  ***

  In the morning, I wake to a silent room with no Marshall, and no Gage, and very little light emanating from the outside world. A steady stream of rain pats softly against the window as I pull myself up to get a good look at the bleak pines on the other side of the glass. Their branches dance and sway to the rhythm of the wind. They look more than eerily alive, capable of anything, even launching me into wherever the hell it is I went.

  I pick up my cell and call Gage.

  “Hey.” He sounds beyond tired like I just woke him up.

  “Were you in Ezrina’s lair?”

  “No. Chloe had us climb down to the waterline. She wanted to see where they found her.”

  “Oh.” That’s morbid—hardly romantic if you ask me. I tell him all about the walk through the haunted forest and falling flat on my ass in Ezrina’s little shop of horrors, Logan’s sudden conversion to Counthood, and Emerson’s involuntary suspension in liquid blue mouthwash. Then reluctantly I let him in on how Marshall swooped in and saved the day. Deep down inside I know Gage hates Marshall.

  “Can you come over? We can get breakfast if you want,” I say hopeful.

  “I want—but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have to get an early start,” he gives a heavy sigh into the phone. “I need to run down and pick up Chloe.”

  “What?” I hiss a little too loud while jumping back on the bed. “Is this because of Marshall? I swear I didn’t want him here.”

  “No, no. It’s something else. Look, I can’t really talk about it,” he depresses into another heartfelt sigh. “You need to find a ride.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “I wish.”

  “Tell me right now why you’re doing this. Is it because you can’t help playing Mr. Nice Guy, or does she have you by the balls?”

  There’s a lengthy pause.

  “Look, I gotta go. And Skyla?” There’s a tempered silence. “I love you.” He expels the words with rendered sadness, just before the line goes dead.

  He hung up on me.

  I sit there in disbelief just vegging out at the wall until my mother thumps against the door and sings something far too chipper to care about.

  Leave it to Chloe to so effectively and quickly turn everything to shit.

  ***

  I pull on my tightest jeans and a cropped white sweater before examining myself in the mirror. I pull off the sweater and try on three more, before settling back on the white one. I can’t let Chloe get the upper hand with Gage. No matter what she has in mind there is no way in hell I’m letting her steal my boyfriend from underneath me.

  I race downstairs to let Drake in on the fact I’m hitching a ride.

  “Well here’s the birthday princess.” Tad screws the lid back on a jar of orange marmalade. “You enjoy yet another jaunt around the island? What time did you finally drift in? Five? Six in the morning?”

  “Two-thirty,” I say, heading over to Drake seated at the bar. “Can I catch a ride to school with you?”

  “Maybe. Take a shower, show the world you care.”

  “I did.”

  A tiny quiver of flesh lands on my foot.

  “Sprinkles!” Mia drifts in and picks up the tiny furless beast.

  “Sprinkles.” I test his name out before giving him a quick pat.

  “You don’t hump Skyla,” she scolds, leaning in close, “that’s her boyfriend’s job.” She gives an obnoxious grin before disappearing back down the hall.

  “Skyla, what’s going on with you?” My mother stands at the stove frying up eggs for Tad who salivates by her side.

  “It’s just this whole Chloe thing.” That, and the fact you’re all Counts. “It’s sort of freaky.”

  “Mr. Dudley said he found you asleep in the barn Saturday night. You kids sneaking in there and partying or something?” She scrutinizes my features for clues.

  “Sure.” Tad plucks a dish out of the cupboard. “It’s called a party for two, otherwise known as a roll in the hay.” His lip curls up on the side as though he were certain.

  Maybe I should blow them away and tell them I’m sleeping with Dudley, that Brielle is too, hell—that everybody is.

  “I’ve invited Mr. Dudley over for Thanksgiving,” Mom says shoving a piece of toast in her mouth. “The Olivers, too. I really like that Emma.” She stares off dreamily as she moves the eggs around in the pan. I admire the way she didn’t acknowledge any of the insults Tad hurled my way. It’s as though the words from his lips were as irrelevant as he is.

  “That’s great.” I’d rather have them here anyway.

  I turn to head back up.

  “And Skyla?” Tad shuffles over with his arms still folded tight. “When you get home from school, your mother and I have a gift for you.” He narrows his tiny eyes in on me, and for the first time I feel the undeniable presence of evil.

  “No, it’s OK, whatever it is, you can take it back. The party was more than enough.” The less I have to do with them the better.

  “We can’t take this back.” He tips his head and peers at me through slotted lids. “But you might wish we could.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  My Boyfriend’s Back

  First thing I do when I spot Gage at school is leap on him with my legs wrapped around his midsection and indulge in a deep throaty kiss that lets him know exactly how much I’ve missed him.

  He pulls back and gives a naughty grin that assures me Chloe is the last thing on his mind. His dimples explode as he lands me safe on the ground.

  “So
why the ride? And can you please stop being so damn nice?” I push in another quick kiss. “Except to me.”

  Gage straightens. He scans the area as though he were looking for little miss bitch herself.

  “What’s going on?” He’s scaring me.

  Gage doesn’t say anything. So I pick up his hands.

  “Tell me.”

  I can’t.

  ***

  The hallowed halls of West Paragon High are alive with the demonic whispers of Chloe’s name. It echoes off the walls like a Gregorian chant, moves through the courtyards like a voodoo rattle.

  A film crew has set up shop in the quad and interviews Chloe before the start of first period. She sits on an elevated canvas chair across from a woman I recognize from local TV. Chloe is poised and well versed in her lies. She reminds me a lot of Logan in that respect.

  I can’t watch, so I tuck my arm around Gage, and we head off towards the English building.

  Every person I see gives me a mistrustful eye. The death rays come from every direction. I’ve quickly become the girl who tried to asphyxiate Chloe Bishop.

  Gage, too, continues to give me the mysterious cold shoulder. We head into second and find Chloe standing at the desk nodding into Marshall as though it were perfectly normal for her to be living and breathing and in my Algebra Two class. I hope she’s been rendered speechless by his beauty. Marshall could ignite a forest fire with his cutting good looks—just touching him is explosive.

  As if on cue he reaches over and lays his hand over hers. He’s saying something to her—sympathizing. I watch Chloe’s face light up like a glowing coal. She’s feeling it. Maybe she is the one who’ll procreate with Marshall. Maybe he’ll get his dream race after all.

  Gage and I take our seats behind Ellis.

  “You think she’ll sit next to me?” Ellis appraises her with his glazed eyes.

  I’m surprised Ellis would want her anywhere nearby after the way she treated him, or mistreated to be exact. But then knowing Ellis, he’s probably up for some midnight visits and impromptu light drives despite Chloe’s erratic behavior.

  “Don’t know, don’t care, ” I say, digging into my backpack.

  Chloe heads on over.

  Great.

  “So where we sitting?” She doesn’t bother acknowledging either Ellis, or me.

  Gage glosses over the room before hitching his thumb at the empty seat behind his back.

  “Skyla,” Chloe twirls her fingers through her long, dark ponytail. “Would you mind sitting in front of Ellis?”

  “Yes, yes I would.” I open my notebook and settle in.

  “Have it your way.” She ticks her head, and Gage gets up and follows her clear across the room.

  “Holy. Freaking. Shit.” I’m so stunned I can’t breathe.

  “Looks like the wicked witch cast her spell.” Ellis blows a breath through his cheeks.

  “Yeah, only I don’t think it’s a spell.”

  The bell rings as the last few stragglers file in.

  Well Skyla, Marshall gives a gloating smile in my direction. Looks like your competition has eliminated you with minimal resistance.

  I cut my eyes in the opposite direction. There is no way I’m going to watch Marshall thrive over this.

  Aren’t you the least bit relieved to know that the final Oliver standing has a fondness for corpses? It’s best to be apprised of such wicked fetishes at this stage of the game before he promises to marry you then leaves you at the altar for a casket. He’s probably got the entire cemetery mapped out of long departed beauties.

  I catch Gage sitting there staring off at the wall with a clear look of irritation. No, he’s definitely not into this.

  Chloe’s got him by the balls.

  But with what?

  ***

  Gage pretends he doesn’t even know me for the better half of the day. He spends lunch in cafeteria with Chloe as the other students continue to glom onto her every word as though she’s just been dropped back onto the planet after an alien abduction.

  Before sixth, I do a lightening change into my cheer uniform and wait outside the boy’s gym for him to emerge.

  Gage and Logan come out at the same time.

  “Hi stranger,” I say, pulling Gage back by the elbow. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No.” His eyes soften into twin pools of cobalt sky. His dimples tremble before digging in, but he doesn’t say a word.

  “So can I have a ride home?” A heavy feeling coats me from the inside—already I know the answer.

  Gage squints across the field. I can see Chloe flagging him down with a big toothy grin.

  “I’ll come over tonight,” he rubs the side of my cheek with his fingers. I love you.

  He takes off running in her direction.

  “You have a funny way of showing it!” I shout after him. Clearly my role as clueless girlfriend has just begun.

  “You’re on the schedule for tomorrow.” A single beam of sunlight casts its light across Logan. He shrugs as if to ask if I still want the hours. Of course I do, just not with him.

  “Will you be there?” A part of me is hoping he’ll say yes—explain everything to me.

  “I will.”

  “So, do you know what’s going on here?” I glance over at Gage who’s busy speaking with Chloe.

  Logan shakes his head. “He won’t say a word.”

  I’m slightly relieved to know it’s not just me he’s keeping this from.

  “I’ll be there,” I say as we walk out onto the field together.

  ***

  I land on a patch of wet grass next to Brielle.

  Ms. Richards blows her whistle and claps her hands together to get our attention.

  “I want to welcome back one of the most competitive and best disciplined team captains the West Paragon Dawgs have ever seen.” She breaks out into spontaneous applause as Chloe steps up.

  I look over at Michelle, our newly dethroned leader, and I swear it looks as though she’s scowling at Chloe. She slides the rose of deadly dreams across the chain on her neck, over and over as though it were an act of sorcery—and the birth of an idea starts to percolate in me.

  “So,” Chloe begins, “I just want to thank all you guys for all the support since I’ve been back. I want to apologize for taking off and letting you guys worry about me—bury me. I feel terrible. Anyway, one of my best friends, Emily Morgan,” she flexes her fingers in her direction, “was nice enough to organize a get together at her house this Saturday night, and it would really mean the world to me if all of you guys would come.” She leers over at me when she says it.

  “No way Messenger is going,” Emily barks. “Not after she jumped you and tried to twist your neck off.”

  “Skyla!” Ms. Richards’ red hair dances up above her head like a fire. I’m still dying to find out more about her great, great grandmother a.k.a. Ezrina.

  “I thought she was someone else,” I say, half convincingly.

  “Oh no—I want Skyler there.” Chloe gives a quick wink. “We haven’t had the chance to sit down properly and get to know one other. I think that’s just what we need.”

  “It’s Skyla,” I smear the correction heavy with attitude.

  “Well, Skyla,” she hides her true intentions behind a thin veil of benevolence. “I have a feeling we’re going to be fast friends. In fact, I think you’ll fit in real well with my inner circle.”

  The bitch squad gapes openly as though Chloe were unaware of the social demotion she were impinging on them.

  I fall back on my hands and take it all in.

  Chloe wants Gage as her boyfriend and me as her bestie. I don’t believe that last part for a minute.

  I can’t stomp her out of existence because she’s got a protective hedge around her neck that rivals the missile shield, and she single-handedly ruined my family and my birthday party.

  I may not be able to kill Chloe, but for sure I’ll have fun trying.

  Chapter Fifteen

/>   The Surprise

  “OK!” After school, momma Count leads me by hand as I pretend to keep my lids shut.

  Tad and she have lured me out into the backyard—probably to a giant stone altar where they plan on tying me to a pile of brush and setting me on fire.

  We head off into the desolate tip of the property far away from the house. I can feel the air cool around me significantly. The scent of crushed fern and pine needles is so robust—the fragrance sets off a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

  It feels blank out here, too quiet. It’s doubtful any human foot has trekked into this distal portion before, perhaps a cartographer studying the lay of the land, then after him just the three of us. I open my lids a little more, only I don’t see a stone altar, I see something shiny and purple?

  “Open!” My mother shouts with glee.

  It’s a bike. A brand new shiny bike that looks vaguely familiar, and now I’m staring to appreciate the gift Logan tried to give me just a little bit more.

  “Wow,” I don’t bother hiding my sarcasm as I circle around it. “A basket and everything. Golly gee, can I take it to school tomorrow? Thundershowers are in the forecast for the rest of the week, but I can make a game of it. You know, dodge the lightning bolt.”

  “Very funny.” Tad pulls his lips into a line. “Told you she wouldn’t appreciate it.”

  “She doesn’t know what it is,” Mom steps up and takes me by the hand. “Hon, this bike belonged to your dad. I thought it’d be a nice touch to have it renovated for you.”

  “Dad?” His name comes out in a pale puff of air, evaporates just like he did.

  I touch the now all too familiar frame—the pedals, run a finger over the top of the back tire. I remember him peddling me to the store on the handlebars and how my mother would scream that we were going to crash. “It’s his bicycle.” I loved this thing, so did he. “Thank you.” I hop on and bounce into it.

  “Told you she’d love it,” Mom chides.

  “Yeah well, if she knew how much we paid to have that thing stripped and painted she’d probably want the cash for that ‘66 Mustang.