“Hey,” Steven said softly, “I hope I didn’t say anything weird, you know, about Andrea and Monica.”
I shook my head. “No,” I replied. I wasn’t about to tell him Monica’s true feelings about his sister, even if I did share them at times.
“Andrea’s a little different,” Steven said. He took a long swig of beer, then walked over to a large oak tree and leaned against the trunk.
“She’s just young,” I said. “She’ll grow up. I changed a lot in the past year.”
Steven let his gaze slide down my body, and I blushed hotly.
“I’ve noticed,” he said coolly. “But you were never like Andrea.”
I frowned, “How?”
He sighed. “She’s just…she’s so naïve,” Steven said. “She thinks that the world revolves around her, and if she’s not getting attention, she acts out. Our mom is so happy right now because Andrea’s been going to church every day. She thinks she’s really serious about God.”
“And you don’t?”
Steven shrugged. “Honestly, I think she does it for attention,” he said slowly. “I think she’s unhappy about growing up and not being the baby of the family anymore.”
I nodded and scowled. “My little brother is in eighth grade, and my parents still treat him like a five-year-old,” I said. “They don’t realize he’s starting to grow up.”
“Andrea wishes Mom and Dad would do that,” Steven said dryly. He laughed.
There was a pause, and I bit my lip. A horn honked from the street over and I jumped, almost spilling my beer over my feet.
“Hey,” I said suddenly. “Why did you stop calling me?”
Steven’s cheeks showed the faintest hint of pink, but he cleared his throat and took a drink. “It’s stupid,” he said. “You’d laugh.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why? What happened?”
Steven sighed. “My mom wasn’t really happy about the idea of me…I don’t know, dating or whatever.” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his lean throat. “She told me you were too young.”
I snorted. “I’m only a year younger than you.”
“Yeah, but Andrea’s in your grade.”
“She’s a year younger than me,” I said. “Come on – even you said I’m nothing like her.”
Steven shrugged. “It’s more than that,” he said. “It’s like…my mom doesn’t really approve of teenagers…” He trailed off nervously. “Like, she wouldn’t want me to have a girlfriend. I think she’s worried I’d get someone pregnant.”
My cheeks burned flame red at the idea of Steven and me having sex.
“Not that I plan on doing that,” Steven said quickly. “I mean, with anyone.” He coughed again.
The silence came back, only this time it felt more awkward. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I hope I didn’t say anything.”
Steven shrugged. Suddenly, there was a loud sound in the woods – like a loud, piercing screech. I jumped in the air, dropping my beer and spilling it all over my shoes. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I knew that it wasn’t just from being around Steven.
“What was that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe some kind of animal?”
Steven frowned. “It didn’t sound like anything that would be back there,” he said slowly.
I glanced up and stared at a helicopter flying low across the sky. It flew over Monica’s house and toward the woods, the blades loudly chopping through the air.
“Holy shit,” Steven said. “Something’s really going on.”
I nodded. I knew it was irrational, but a weird feeling of dread had come over me, almost like I was afraid of something. The problem was that I had no idea why I was feeling that way.
“I’m being so weird,” I said, kicking a clod of grass. “I’m not usually this jumpy.”
Steven smirked. He licked his lips and stepped closer. “I didn’t think so,” he said in a low voice. “You seem nervous.”
I bit my lip. “I’m not,” I protested weakly.
Steven stepped even closer, bridging the gap between our bodies. He reached for my hand and laced his fingers with mine, squeezing my palm. Then he pulled me against his body and put his other arm around my waist.
“I really like you, Elizabeth,” Steven said. He swallowed. There was no smugness or mocking in his blue eyes.
“I like you, too.” I licked my lips.
Steven bent down and kissed me. At first, it was awkward, but then Steven shifted his head to the side and angled his lips against mine. A hot thrill shot through my body, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close.
The sound of a door banging made us leap apart. When I spun around, Monica was standing at the back door with an incredulous look on her face. I blushed.
“Steven, your friends are trashing my kitchen,” Monica called. She smirked. “You think you can get them to stop?”
“Uh, yeah.” Steven jogged into the house. “Sorry!”
Monica walked over and raised her eyebrow. “So much for not leaving me alone.”
“You were getting dressed.” I flushed. “You didn’t have to interrupt.”
Monica rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said. “We should get back inside before those assholes break everything in the house.”
With a groan, I turned and followed her.
I couldn’t believe it, but in the short time I’d been outside with Steven, a ton of kids had shown up. Half of the school was there – the rooms were so crowded I could barely weave my way through. Someone had turned on the Boers’ stereo, and loud music was thumping. The wooden floors of the house were shaking, and for a moment, I seriously believed the upper story would collapse onto the lower.
Inside my chest, my heart was pounding and thumping like crazy. I couldn’t believe that Steven had actually kissed me. My head was suddenly filled with thoughts: ‘Was he going to ask me out?’, ‘Would he just start ignoring me again?’
One of Steven’s friends bumped into me and spilled his beer. My legs were drenched with cold, sour-smelling foam, and I cried out and jumped into the air.
The guy glanced down. His scarred, acne-inflamed cheeks pinked, and he shrugged. “Sorry,” he muttered. “That was an accident.”
I pushed past him and ran up the stairs before locking myself in the upstairs bathroom. The sink was old, and it took the water ages to turn warm. I pulled off my jeans and shoved them under the tap, scrubbing them with the strong lavender soap Monica’s mother used for cleaning everything. By the time I found an ancient hair dryer under the sink, I was freezing. I blow-dried my jeans until they were only a little damp, then washed my hands and face and went back downstairs.
To my surprise, Monica was sitting in the living room alone. “I made everyone leave,” she said. “I don’t feel well.”
I frowned. “Some asshole spilled beer on me,” I said. I flopped down next to her on the couch. “You okay?”
Monica groaned. “We have so much cleaning to do tomorrow.” She gestured around the room, and I winced at the display of plastic cups and beer cans. “This blows.”
“I know.” I felt guilty. I was the one who had prodded her into having people over. “I’ll help.” The slight buzz I’d felt earlier from drinking in the backyard with Steven was already beginning to fade, and I suddenly wished that I was home, in bed. My wet jeans were uncomfortable and cold, and Monica was in the most peevish mood I’d seen her in recently.
“Just put on a movie or something,” I said. “I’m going to take these jeans off.”
Monica tossed me a knitted afghan from the corner of the couch, and I snuggled underneath, yawning and flopping around until I was comfortable.
“You got what you wanted, at least,” Monica said smugly.
I blushed. “I don’t know what he’s going to do,” I said. “He told me his mom didn’t want him to have a girlfriend.”
Monica raised her eyebrow. “And then he made out with you,” she said. “So there
.”
I bit my lip. “I guess you’re right,” I said softly.
Monica grinned. “I know,” she said. “I always am.”
Chapter Three
I woke up cold and groggy on a foam pad on Monica’s floor. There were three blankets on top of me, and I’d borrowed a pair of Monica’s father’s pajama pants, but I was still freezing. The floor beneath the foam was hard and uneven, and I yawned, pulling the blankets around my face and closing my eyes.
“I’ve been up for hours,” Monica said. She sounded bored, and I sat up, rubbing my eyes. She was sitting up in bed, fully dressed, reading something on her computer.
“Sorry.” I yawned again. Somewhere, in the depths of my brain, I knew that I’d had another dream about Steven. But judging from Monica’s annoyed expression, I knew I shouldn’t say anything. We’d stayed up until three in the morning, and I’d talked about Steven until my throat had gone hoarse.
“We need to clean up,” Monica said. She closed her laptop and got out of bed.
“Can we eat first?” I blinked sleepily. “I’m starving.”
“I need to spend the afternoon writing an essay,” Monica said. “You should probably leave soon.”
I frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Monica opened her mouth as if to reply, but then bit her lip and shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Come on. The downstairs is a mess.”
Monica and I were silent as we collected the cans and plastic cups and put everything in garbage bags. We opened her father’s study and moved the art back into the rest of the house, making sure that everything looked the same.
“Jamie and Brian really don’t care,” Monica said. “They just want to make sure nothing was broken.”
“You know, you can tell me if something is bothering you,” I said slowly. “I talk about my problems all the time. I don’t want to feel like I’m burdening you.”
Monica shook her head again. “Nothing,” she said. Her brown eyes flashed with annoyance. “I’m fine.”
‘Obviously,’ I thought sarcastically as I carried the big bags of garbage out to the curb. ‘Probably something with David. She’s probably just mad he went to a college party instead of coming here.’
To my surprise, when I went back inside, Monica jerked her head toward the woods. “Hey, you wanna walk?”
“I thought you had to write a paper?”
Monica shrugged. “I should,” she said, “but I really don’t have to, at least not right now.”
“Okay…” I paused. “You worried about being alone?”
Monica didn’t reply. She grabbed a jean jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. I followed her back through the house and out the kitchen door. The woods looked thick and ominous even in broad daylight. I shivered.
Monica set off at a remarkably fast pace, and I had to pant and jog to keep up. She was about a head shorter than me, and it was a sore point, ever since she’d once been mistaken for my younger sister. Normally, she was the one who had to trot to keep along with me. But she was making big, purposeful strides across the damp earth, and by the time we got to the tree line, I was already winded.
“Keep up,” Monica said over her shoulder.
I gazed around at the verdant forest, thinking of how it would feel to walk with Steven alone in the woods. ‘Maybe he’d press me against a tree and kiss me,’ I thought. I glanced down and bit my lip so I wouldn’t blush. My body tingled whenever I thought of Steven’s lips against mine, and I sighed softly.
“Hello,” Monica said. “I asked you a question.”
My head snapped up. “Huh?”
“I said, ‘Remember when we used to come out here? When we were kids?’”
“Oh.” I nodded quickly. “Yeah, definitely.”
Monica sat down on a rock and propped her elbows on her knees before resting her chin her small fists. “You’re going to be obsessed with Steven now,” she said.
“Come on.” I rolled my eyes, even though I knew she wasn’t exactly wrong. “That won’t happen. We’ll always be best friends.”
Monica shook her head.
“That’s not fair,” I told her. I didn’t like standing over her; it made me suddenly aware of how guilty I was. I sat on the ground, not caring if my jeans got dirty.
“It is,” Monica said stubbornly.
“You started dating David first,” I told her. “And I didn’t care then.”
“That’s different,” Monica said. “He lives in Vermont. He doesn’t go to school with us.” She puffed out her cheeks and blew a steady stream of frustration into the air.
“It’s not like I’m going to start spending all my time with him,” I said. “His mother doesn’t even–”
“Hey, stop for a second.” Monica climbed off the rock and pointed her finger into the woods. “Look.”
Frowning, I turned around. There was a large tree lying on the ground, freshly cut. We walked closer, and I jumped when a small twig snapped under my foot.
“Did we have a storm or something?”
“No,” Monica said. “Look. This was cut.” She pointed to the trunk. A shiver ran down my spine when I saw the crude cuts along the bark. They started about halfway down the tree, which had maybe been about twenty feet off the ground. Long, sharp cuts.
“Maybe a bear did this,” I suggested. “Like, got up on its hind legs.” I mimed scratching through the air, shaping my fingers into claws.
“I don’t think we have bears at this time of year,” Monica said doubtfully. “Aren’t they like, preparing to hibernate?”
“Besides,” I added quietly, “this tree is way too big for a bear to knock down.”
“Yeah. It’s too wide.” Monica reached down and tried to wrap her arms around the tree.
I giggled. Monica stood up, brushing the dust and dirt from her arms. “I have a four-foot-five arm span,” she said. “This tree was even wider than that.” She looked down at the base. “Something was really hacking against this.”
“There’s another one,” I said. I pointed a few feet away. “Look. It’s right there.”
Monica nodded. We walked closer, where there was a small clearing in the woods with grass and herbs. I gasped when I realized there were six downed trees in a crude circle around the outer edges of the clearing.
“Maybe some kid is doing an Eagle Scout project,” I said. “Like, they’re making a trail. For little kids.”
Monica shook her head. “These woods are private,” she said. “They wouldn’t do that.” She shivered. “It’s creepy, though, don’t you think? With everything else going on?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really see it,” I said. “It’s not like the same person who killed all those cows would want to cut down a bunch of trees and then just leave them.”
Monica stared at me with a serious expression on her small face. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense,” I said. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe the trees were just sick and they collapsed on their own.”
“Then what about the scratches?”
I groaned. “I don’t know,” I said. “This is dumb, though. Let’s go back.”
Monica shoved her fists in her pockets and stalked out of the woods. I followed at a slower pace, daydreaming about Steven. I wondered if I’d see him on Monday.
I wondered when he’d kiss me again.
When we were almost back to Monica’s house, she stopped dead in her tracks.
“Elizabeth,” Monica said shakily, “come here.”
“What?” I jogged over, enjoying the feel of the cool breeze against my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Look.” Monica pointed down at the ground.
There was a knife sticking out of the soil. I squatted down and wrapped my fingers around the handle; it looked like it was made out of ancient wood, or maybe bone. The knife was almost warm to the touch, like someone had been touching it just a few seconds ago. I gasped as I pulled it out of the ground. The blade was ea
sily eight or nine inches long, and it gleamed in the late morning sun.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled. “Look at this.” I passed it to Monica. She grabbed it without hesitating, examining the handle.
“This is bone,” Monica said softly. “It’s old, too. See these?” She pointed toward a small set of etching along the handle. “They’re runes. I remember those from that mythology class last year.”
“Someone probably forgot it,” I said. “Maybe they were using it for hunting, and they dropped it.”
“The blade was buried in the ground,” Monica said. “I don’t think knives just land like that.”
“Maybe this one did,” I replied. I shrugged. “It probably doesn’t mean anything.”
Monica wasn’t listening. She was turning the knife over and over in her hands, staring at it intently. She lifted the blade to her face, holding it inches away from her eyes as she stared at the metal. She even closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, holding the knife to her ear as if to listen.
“What?” I stared at her. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Monica said. Her voice was toneless. “It just feels weird, somehow.” She patted the handle before looking up at me. “I’m going to work on my paper now,” she said coolly. “I’ll see you later, Elizabeth.”
Before I could reply, my best friend had turned on her heels and started walking back toward her house. I almost ran after her. Something about her behavior was really bothering me. But Monica wasn’t a pushover, and I knew that she’d only be angry with me for demanding to know what was on her mind.
With a sigh, I headed home.
--
I didn’t do very much for the rest of the weekend. It sounds stupid, but I was afraid to leave the house in case Steven called. My parents wouldn’t let me have a smartphone – I only had a phone that could text and call – and I didn’t get reception unless I was at school or at home.
When Monica ignored three of my texts in a row, I figured she was really angry with me. My mom said that she was probably just jealous, but somehow, I didn’t think that was it. Monica had never really been jealous of anyone. If anything, she leaned toward being a bit too arrogant all the time. When we were younger, she’d teased me about not being as smart as she was. She hadn’t done that in years, but I had no reason to believe she was envious of me. She didn’t even like Steven. She thought he was a stupid jock who came from a family of Christian nuts.
The Uprising (Moonlight Wolves Book 3) Page 21