The Dead List

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  wasn’t necessary and we didn’t have to worry about our safety, but until society wakes up and acknowledges we have a huge, misogynist problem on our hands, I rather be prepared to defend myself than not.”

  I nodded so quickly my throat hurt. I was so relieved that Miss Reed hadn’t laughed in my face. “Exactly.”

  “It’s also very empowering, and I’m proud that you are taking a step to gain back the power in the situation rather than doing nothing. Come back here at the end of the day and I should have the information for you.”

  I stared at her.

  Ms. Reed laughed softly. “Look, like I said, I think it’s a great idea for girls to learn how to defend themselves. Besides the fact that sadly a lot teenage boys are have been raised to believe that girls are put on Earth simply for them—”

  My brows climbed up my forehead.

  “—You can never be too safe. And I think that it will help you feel… better about things,” she continued, taking off her glasses. “Everyone talks about women needing to have ‘girl power,’ as if that’s something we’re just born with. I mean, really what is girl power? A pill or a drink we can take? Having a ton of female friends? Playing sports? Knowing how to kick box coming out of the uterus? Being incredibly wise or a general smartass?” She snorted while I openly gaped at her. “What exactly are we teaching our girls? That to be empowered is all about the things above? What about self-worth as empowerment? Instead of acting like a girl or hitting like a girl being wrong, it’s something to be proud of? Because let me tell you, I hit like a girl and I can knock someone into next week.”

  I glanced around the office, my eyes wide. “Um…” “In my opinion, being empowered isn’t so much the act or what you do; it’s the driving force behind playing sports, having friends, knowing how to fight, and so on. It’s knowing when you need help and the conscious decision to seek it out instead of doing nothing. Being proactive and taking back any control I know you felt like you’ve lost even though you don’t want to tell me.”

  “I… I did feel like I lost control,” I admitted, and I liked the idea I was empowering myself by doing this. I wasn’t just going to hide in my room or go about my life like nothing had happened. I was doing something at least.

  “I know, Ella. This will help. It will bring only good things, and in the unlikely situation something happened again, even later in life, you’d be better prepared. That’s real empowerment, making that choice to no matter what, not to be a statistic.”

  While I liked everything she was preaching—girl power, roar!—my brain got hung up on one thing. “Again?” I whispered, thinking about my belief in the statistical improbability of that occurring.

  Ms. Reed’ smile faded as she slipped her glasses back on. “Better safe than sorry, Ella.”

  #

  I glanced down at the slip of paper Ms. Reed had handed to me as I walked out the back door of the school, following the steady stream of students walking to the parking lot. I’d swung by her office after classes had ended, got another sermon on empowerment and then was on my way. There was an address to a warehouse off of Airport Road and a cellphone number I didn’t recognize in case I got lost.

  My throat dried as the paper fluttered between my fingers. Was I really going to do this? Ms. Reed told me my ‘instructor’ would be waiting for me after school and had been ‘extremely willing’ to help out.

  Self-defense classes.

  I almost laughed because the only form of exercise I did recently was walking from my front door to my car, and I imagined that self-defense lessons were going to be one hell of a work out.

  An almost familiar buzz of excitement trilled through my veins. I recognized the feeling before it could slip away from me. It was the same sensation when I used to lace up my running sneakers.

  A sudden whooping drew my attention to the weight room and locker rooms. Our football team barreled out the door, heading to the football field on the hill for practice. Some carried their shoulder pads, others wore them over white shirts.

  Brock was among them—the one hollering. He was pushing a scrawny boy, laughing as one of the towels he carried floated into the air and fell to the dirtied ground.

  Shaking my head, I picked up my pace and then stumbled a step when I saw my Jetta. A small smile broke out across my face.

  Gavin Grimes was leaning against my car, hands shoved into the pockets in his khaki shorts. It had been at least two months since I’d seen him. Even though he lived on the same street as me, he hadn’t really been around during the summer.

  When he saw me, he pulled a hand out of his pocket and smiled as he thrust his hand through his coppery colored hair. A dimple appeared in his left cheek and he pushed away from my car. I opened my mouth, but his arms came around me, sweeping me up in a mammoth bear hug.

  The hug caught me a little off guard. Our breakup had been totally civil, but we hadn’t so much as brushed arms since then. But, the hug felt good—great even. It was warm and familiar.

  Gavin was a half a head taller than me, not as tall as Jensen, but he was broader and longer limbed, something that he had trouble dealing with in middle school. The kids used to call him spider boy. Well, namely it had been Brock and Mason, but then again, Gavin had grown into it. He was a cutie. As he hugged me tighter, my face was mushed against the top of his chest.

  “Good God, Ella, I heard what happened to you,” he said, and as I leaned back I could see others watching us as they got into their cars. “Are you okay?” Then his gaze moved to my cheek and below, to my neck. “Shit. You can’t be okay.”

  “I’m totally fine,” I told him, which is what I told everyone who had asked today, which were teachers, classmates, and the school cop.

  “But you—”

  “Gavin, I’m okay. Just a little scratched and bruised. Not a big deal.” The clown mask formed in the back of my thoughts, and I violently pushed it aside. “You weren’t in class today. They called your name in English.”

  His arms were still around me. “Yeah, we didn’t get back from the beach until late and I decided to skip today. I was going to call you later, but I needed to see that you were okay. I figured you went to school when I didn’t see your car in front of your house.” He paused, scanning my face and stopping on the strawberry mark. “Damn, Ella…”

  I drew in a breath, but it got stuck in my throat. Heat flashed across my skin, and suddenly I was too hot. Slipping out of his embrace, I took a step back, needing space. Tugging a strand of hair around my finger, I fixed my gaze on an old Mustang a few spaces down. The engine kept turning over, but not kicking on. “So… we have English AP together, but I’m on A lunch. Are you?”

  He scrunched up his face, a habit when he was thinking hard. “I think I have B lunch.”

  “That sucks.” I forced a smile as my gaze shifted back to him. “I want to chat… catch up, but I have to get going.” I raised the piece of paper. “I’m going to take a self-defense class.”

  His brows shot up and his light green eyes widened. “You’re what?”

  I cringed. “I know I’m as coordinated as a two-legged llama, but don’t tell me its stupid, because I think it’s a smart thing to do. All things considered, you know?”

  He coughed out a laugh as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, that’s kind of true, the whole llama thing, but I don’t think it’s stupid.”

  Relief sparked in my chest. “Really?”

  “Yeah, why not?” He shifted his weight. “Where are you doing it at?”

  I shrugged. “I really have no idea. Some kind of private lessons Ms. Reed took or something.”

  “That’s cool. You’re going to have let me know how it turns out for you,” he said, idly scratching his jaw. “I’ve got to go. Dad wants me to help out tonight. I think its payback for skipping school today.”

  I smiled at that. Gavin’s parents owned a successful cleaning business, being that they were pretty much the only ones in town. Every so often, h
is father had him help out. Something about learning responsibility. Gavin hated it—the smell of cleaner and disinfectant—but he also got paid when he helped out, so he dealt with it.

  “Call me later?” I asked, squinting into the sun.

  “Of course.” He stepped forward, hugging me again, and this time I relaxed in his embrace. “I wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to you. Please be careful.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Blood whooshed across my face. Before Gavin and I tried to do the couple thing, we had been best friends. When we were eight-years-old, he helped me rescue a box turtle with a cracked shell that we’d found in Back Creek. For Halloween one year, we dressed up as Jack and Jill. And when my grandmother passed away my freshman year, he’d brought me a plate full of red velvet cupcakes and didn’t wig out when I started crying.

  And when the entire town had been turned upside down while we were in the seventh grade, he’d been there right along with me. I would never, ever forget that.

  “I’ll be careful,” I said, hugging him back just as tightly. “I promise.”

  We broke apart then, promising to call each other later, and when I got in my car, I glanced out my window to see him still standing there. I wiggled my fingers.

  Gavin waved back.

  For the hundredth time since we broke up, I wished so hard that things hadn’t been so easy with him, that I felt more, because he was a good guy—a great guy. And as I pulled out of the parking lot, I wished I was seeing him later tonight, curling up on the couch together and watching stupid movies. I could really use him right now and if I asked, he’d be there, but that wasn’t fair. The last thing I wanted to do was mislead him if he still had more than friendly feelings. Our relationship hadn’t been the same since we broke up, and I’d give anything for it to go back to the way it was before we dated. Back to middle school actually, when we had this perfect, little group of friends.

  But no one could travel back in time.

  And I was no longer so incredibly naïve. My childhood friends—the four of us. We hadn’t been perfect. None of us. Far from it.

  #

  Traffic came to a complete standstill on Route 11. Stuck behind a fleet of orange buses, I wanted to bang my head off the steering wheel. Ms. Reed hadn’t given me an exact time to show up, but I also didn’t want this person waiting around forever for me.

  When I finally reached the turn on Airport Road, I almost missed it, having to hook a sharp right onto a narrow two lane road crowded by single family rancher homes that all looked identical. I winced as my tires squealed and an older gentleman out watering his grass sent me a sharp look when his head jerked up.

  Perhaps I also needed driving lessons.

  Glancing at the street number on the address given to me, I frowned as I slowed down to a crawl, following the road. Up ahead, the houses all but disappeared, replaced by a restaurant that appeared to be in an old plane hanger. The only other building was a giant gray warehouse situated to the left, surrounded by fields full of yellowy reeds.

  My stomach took a tumble as I parked my Jetta near a dark blue truck that looked vaguely familiar. Too nervous to pay it much attention, I took my sunglasses off since the sun had all but disappeared and picked up the crumbled piece of paper, along with my cellphone, holding both tight in my grasp as I stepped out.

  Wind whipped across the parking lot, stirring my loose hair. There were a few cars spotted through the lot, but as I stared at the darkened doors leading to the warehouse, my feet felt like they were cemented to the ground.

  The place looked foreboding and empty, a perfect place to host a Halloween haunt in October and, pretty much the last place I wanted to enter.

  Chills radiated up and down my back and a strange sort of pressure clamped down on my chest, squeezing my lungs until air wheezed in my throat, much like Saturday night when hands had circled my—

  “Stop,” I gasped out, swallowing hard. “Stop it right now.

  Talking out loud was a sure sign of veering into cray-cray land, but I forced my heart to slow down and my feet to move. Clenching the phone to my chest, I crossed the parking lot.

  The dark glass doors opened before I reached them and two older guys stepped out, gym bags flung over their shoulders. I had to be in the right place, but there were no signs outside indicating that I was.

  As they passed by, they smiled and I forced my lips to do the same thing, but the smile felt weak and weird, overly strained. The one closest to me was wearing black wraparound shades even though heavy clouds fat with rain had rolled in. He got halfway past me and then stopped.

  “Hey,” he called out.

  My heart plummeted as a wave of fear crashed over me. The reaction stole my breath. I’d never been jumpy before, but now? I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin.

  “Ella Mansfield?” he said, and I turned around at the sound of my name. His buddy’s brows rose in recollection as I stood there, thoroughly confused. The one who called my name stepped forward, taking off his sunglasses. Dark brown eyes met mine. He wasn’t that old—maybe approaching late twenties, early thirties. Something about his face was vaguely familiar.

  I took a step back. “Hi?”

  “You don’t recognize me?” His smile didn’t fade. “Totally understandable. I was one of the officers to… uh, respond Saturday night. I’m a deputy—Shaw Jordan. This idiot next to me is also a deputy—Neil Bryant.”

  “I wasn’t there,” Neil said, running a hand over his shaved head. “But glad to see you’re doing good.”

  “Oh!” Heat crept across my cheeks. For some reason, the more I looked at Deputy Shaw Jordan, the more familiar he looked. Not from this past weekend, but like I should know his name. “Hi.”

  Shaw glanced over my shoulder, eyes squinting. “I’ve never seen you here before…” He left the statement open, giving me a chance to explain my presence. “This is my first time. I… um, I came here because I wanted to take a self-defense class.” The heat turned to scalding. “I thought it would be a great idea and one of the staff at school knew someone who offered instructions out of here.” “That’s a damn smart idea,” Neil said, nodding his approval.

  “Thank you.” I looked over my shoulder. “So I am at the right place?” “You are. That must be why the lights were on in Room 4. I can show where you go. It’s a bit of a maze in there.” Shaw turned to his buddy. “I’ll be right out.” Neil nodded. “See you later.”

  I gave him a little wave and then turned to Shaw. “You don’t have to do this.”

  He was already at the door, holding it open. “It’s no problem. It’ll just take me a few seconds.”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I shuffled forward and into a dimly lit corridor that smelled of… apples. I murmured my thanks and, as I sneaked a peek at the off duty deputy, I had the sense that he wasn’t doing this because he was normally Deputy Helpful, but more likely because he felt sorry for me.

  And that made me want to go hide in a corner.

  “So how are you holding up?” he asked, closing the door behind us. “Okay.”

  He watched me for a second, his expression doubtful as we passed an empty glass case. “A lot of officers train here. If you go straight ahead, there’s a gymnasium. Some of us come here and play ball. ” When I nodded, he gestured to closed double doors on his right. His damp white cotton shirt stretched across his arms. “That’s where they teach Krav Maga—that will teach you self-defense real quick, but the classes being taught here aren’t for beginners.”

  In other words, not ideal for what I was looking for.

  “You want to go down here.” Shaw pointed to the hall to our left. “Second set of double doors on your left is Room 4. That’s where they usually teach the self-defense classes.”

  “Thank you.” I stopped in front of the blue doors. Black paper had been taped over the windows, blocking the view inside, and I resisted the urge to peel the paper away and peek inside.

  Shaw hesitated a
moment. “Like my bud said back there, this is a smart idea. Hell, I think it should be mandatory in schools.”

  Maybe if it had been, I would’ve been able to get away from the freak Saturday without the stroke of luck.

  I started to reach for the door when it struck me—how I knew of him. “Wait a second. Are you related to Gavin—?”

  “Yeah, I’m his cousin. His father and my father are brothers.” He tilted his head to the side. “You guys were dating for a while, right? But not anymore?”

  Nodding absently, I now remembered Gavin mentioning having an older cousin named Jordan who was a cop, but they weren’t close due to the gaps in their age. Never once in my entire life had I’d ever seen Jordan and Gavin together, but there was something else lingering at the fringes of my memories.

  “Well…” He took a step back. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. I know the State have your case, but all you have to do is call the sheriffs office and ask for Shaw Jordan. They’ll get you in touch with me.”

  “Thanks,” I said, since it appeared to be the only thing I was capable of saying, and gave him a lame, awkward wave.

  Shaw turned and then stopped, facing me. His dark eyebrows, the color of his crew-cut hair, furrowed together. “We’ve met before—before Saturday night.”

  I frowned as I searched my memories, coming up empty. “I’m sorry. My brain has been scattered lately. Was it at one of Gavin’s family things?”

  “I can understand that.” He flashed a quick grin. “It wasn’t at a family get together. It was a couple of years ago. I think you were about twelve or thirteen, same age as Gavin. I responded to a call in the woods.”