He shrugged as he thrust a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. He just doesn’t date girls, you know. He hooks up with them. That’s about it.”
I resisted the urge to tell Mason that was not the case with us, but the lengthy explanation would be wasted on the brain cells he’d smoke away later.
He headed into the storage room, walking past the easels and stacks of paintings marked with earlier class periods. “I think it just took everyone by surprise. ‘Cuz didn’t he like invite you to the eighth grade dance or some bullshit like that and then stood you up?”
“Wow,” I said, staring at him as I came to a complete stop. “Way to just throw that out there.”
“Sorry.” This time he didn’t sound sorry. He sounded smug. “I mean, it’s just weird.”
It was weird. I got that. It was also probably why Gavin was so shocked that I was even friends with Jensen after that, but I knew the truth now.
Sighing as those ugly memories still managed to resurface, I tucked my hair back behind my ear. That was in the past, and Jensen was different now. I was different.
Except no matter how much I told myself that, my chest felt heavy. It didn’t take a lot to remember how I felt, how heartbroken I’d been. I always thought it was a nice, hefty dose of karma.
The sound of footfalls intruded, which was weird, because Mason had stopped and I wasn’t walking. I looked over my shoulder, frowning as I scanned the room. Tubes and cans of paint were stacked waist high among the paintings, props from the plays, and costumes.
A wicked sense of deja vu hit me upside the head. My skin crawled like a hundred ants had descended on me, their little legs digging into my flesh. It was the same feeling I had in the farmhouse, right before I’d found Vee’s body.
Chills skated down my arms as I stared at the costumes hanging from wire racks, half expecting them to jump out at me. Nothing was out of place. Nothing happened, but the sensation of being watched gave me the creepy crawlies.
“Here we go,” Mason announced, finding the stacks of paintings from our class. I turned, finding him staring at me like I needed to be patted on my head. Of course, someone was watching me. Mason. Dumbass. “I can probably get most of these. I just… Holy shit!”
I gaped as he jumped back from the paintings, his hands rising up like he had a fleet of cops pointing guns at him. “What?”
He shook his head, pointing.
I followed his gaze and felt the floor under my feet move a little. The paintings… Oh my God, all of them were destroyed, the canvases slashed open with something jagged and sharp. Red paint had been splattered across them, like a gruesome crime scene. But that wasn’t the most messed up thing.
Oh no. Not at all.
I stepped back, my eyes following the row of paintings. Placed side by side, they spelled out two words.
You’re next.
Chapter 16
No one knew who or how the paintings got destroyed, only that it shook up an already nervous student body.
The staff claimed it was a prank yet again-a stupid, misguided prank from someone who had absolutely no class. That could be possible. After all, how could it be something else-someone with truly nefarious intentions? Because if the same person responsible for the attacks did it, how would they have known who would go pick up the paintings?
Anyone could’ve picked them up, reading the ‘You’re Next’ message sprawled across them in red paint, so it couldn’t have been left there for just one person.
The thing was anyone could get into the storage room. Hell, they really didn’t even need to be a student. The door was rarely locked, and the doors to the outside were only locked when after school activities ended. Prank or not, it was doubtful the staff would ever find who was responsible for the disturbing display.
Like the clown mask in my locker, and the dead bird in Wendy’s bag, it was something that went cold and unexplained but the police were at the school almost every day. We saw them sometimes when we were in the halls, them heading into the administrative offices, and sometimes we caught glimpses of their cruisers in the parking lot.
But it wasn’t just the local or state boys that showed up sporadically. There were a few in suits that I imagined were on the federal level, and my suspicions were confirmed when I was pulled out of the class one afternoon and interviewed all over again.
F.B.I
Wow.
But that wasn’t the only people to descend on our small time. So did the media. News stations from the surrounding cities and states popped in, and I watched the evening news whenever I could, but nothing they said was new.
Over the course of the next week or so, the night Jensen climbed in through my bedroom window was rinsed and repeated. He would climb up the tree and through the window, and he would always kiss me as he locked the door and turned off the lights before pulling me into bed.
All except on Wednesdays.
Jensen used the front door then.
With him, I didn’t need to use the prescription sleeping pills. The script was still on my desk unfilled. And some evenings, he’d leave when Mom popped her head into the living room, and then return thirty or so minutes later.
Jensen and I were boyfriend and girlfriend, something I had stopped fantasizing about ages ago, but we were.
Not everyone was happy about our together-ness. Gavin hadn’t spoken to me since the night I had Dr. Oliver’s appointment. He sat clear across from me in English and didn’t return any of my calls or texts. And that hurt something fierce.
I didn’t get it. He’d been dating Vee and I hadn’t freaked out on him when I found out. When I explained this to Linds when she was at my house one evening, she looked at me like I was half stupid.
“It’s pretty obvious,” she said, kicking her legs out to the side, stretching. “You didn’t freak out because you see him as a friend, and honey, he doesn’t see you that way. That’s why he’s freaking.”
I wanted to deny it, but as time passed, and Gavin made no attempt at talking to me, it was really obvious and it sucked.
And then there was the stuff I did my best not to dwell on. It was heading into the second week since Monica disappeared, and there had been no leads in her disappearance or who killed Vee. Obviously Gavin wasn’t a suspect. Not that anyone at school had determined that on their own, but common sense said that the police would’ve arrested him by now if they had any evidence pointing in his direction.
Thingshadn’t returned to normal, though. Not that I expected them to. Candlelight vigils were held in Vee’s memory and for Monica. Halls were subdued as the month of September slowly crept by.
Would the killer ever be found? Had he or she left town? Would Monica ever resurface, alive or dead? No one had those answers and it seemed as if no news was just as frightening.
But on Friday morning something happened that proved that news was worse than no news. It started as whispers in second period, like a virus that was slow to spread. At the end of third period, Jensen was waiting for me out in the hall. I knew immediately that something was up.
His class was downstairs.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Jensen took my hand, glancing around as he led me to the alcove with a view of the football field. “You haven’t heard?”
Knots formed in my stomach. “Heard what?”
A muscle thrummed along his jaw. “People are saying that Wendy didn’t come home from school yesterday.”
“Oh no,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “It’s not just a rumor?”
“No. Mr. Vicks confirmed it in last class, asking that if anyone might have information about her whereabouts, to please come forward.” He squeezed my hand. “She’s gone and…”
“And so is Monica, just like Vee.” I shuddered.
Jensen tugged me toward his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his him. This wasn’t over, not that I truly believed it for one second, but this was a brutal slap in the face to everyone.
> The warning bell drove us apart, and I went to my next class in a daze. By the end of the day, the news had broken wide open. Another girl missing.
Another girl who had picked on Penn.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I stood in front of my locker. This didn’t have anything to do with Penn. It couldn’t.
“You okay?” Jensen touched my arm.
“Yeah.” I opened my locker. “Can we hit the warehouse? I’d like to-”
“Ella!” Linds shouted from down the hall, causing several heads to turn. She hurried up to my side, placing her hands together under her chin. “Can I ask you a huge favor?”
“Sure.” I shoved most of my books inside my locker, keeping only my English text for homework. “But it better have absolutely nothing to do with haunted anything.”
Her face fell. “Actually, that’s on hold until we find a new location. Obviously, no one wants to go to a fake haunted house that actually might be…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Anyway, no. I’m not asking about that. Mom and Dad are out of town-my aunt had to have emergency surgery. They didn’t want to go, you know, with everything going on, but they had to. Can you stay with me? My parents won’t be back until tomorrow night. Please? Pretty please?”
Jensen stiffened beside me, and I glanced over at him. One look told me he was not happy at all with the idea of me spending a night alone with Linds. The thought only made me a little uneasy, but common sense told me there was safety in numbers. Everyone who had been attacked had been by themselves.
“Come on,” she pleaded. “We haven’t hung out in ages. And we can rent stupid comedies. Ones with Ryan Reynolds in them. Sorry.” She glanced at Jensen, smiling. “He’s hot. So are you, but he’s Theo James hot.”
“I’m trying not to be too offended,” he deadpanned, and I grinned.
“Anyway, we can get a ton of junk food. I’ll go to the store and get whatever you want. We can even invite Heidi,” she added, and that was a big deal. “Please.”
She was right. We hadn’t hung out in a long time. Closing my locker door, I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Yeah, you know, I think that would be a good idea.”
“Oh!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me. “Thank you!”
“I’ve got a few things to do first,” I said, once she stopped strangling me. “But I can come over around seven or so.”
“That’s perfect. Gives me enough time to go shopping after practice.” She sprinted forward, hugging me again. “Thank you!”
After Linds headed off in the opposite direction, I turned to Jensen. He didn’t look thrilled. “We’ll be okay,” I told him.
He nodded. “Maybe I can-”
“Girls’ night,” I said even though the thought of him coming over to Linds’ house didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
“Yeah. Yeah.” He took my hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m really going to work your ass during training now.”
That sounded kind of dirty.
He glanced down at me, eyebrows raised. “And not in the way you’d enjoy it.”
“Boo,” I murmured.
Chuckling under his breath, he took his sweet time walking beside me as we made our way outside. Since I didn’t have to be at Linds’ until seven, we had time to spare.
The weather was cool and the scent of fall was in the air as we trekked up the slight hill leading to the parking lot. It seemed like the leaves had begun to change to gold and red while I was in class or I was just that unobservant.
“Jesus,” Jensen growled, dropping my hand as he came to a standstill.
Up ahead, a few kids were hanging around, snapping pictures of a car. My jaw hit the ground when I saw what they were snapping with the camera phones, and anger coursed through me like bitter acid.
We were a few feet from Gavin’s car. It wasn’t something fancy-an old Honda, but Gavin loved that baby, practically bathing it more times than he did his dog. Spray painted across the hood, the windshield, and the trunk was one word in blood red paint.
Murderer.
#
My stomach muscles were killing me.
Jensen hadn’t been kidding when he said he was going to work my ass today. I’d lost count of how many kicks and punches he made me do, working with the punching bag. Right now, I wasn’t doing much of anything other than watching him slam his wrapped fists into the bag.
Shirt was off.
I was officially distracted.
The ropey muscles of his back tensed and rippled as he swung. His skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, and under the rim of his baseball cap turned backward, his hair was damp.
My mouth dried.
The dips. The knee jabs. The punches. He was absolutely stunning as he moved around the bag, working it like I imagined a pro boxer would.
Jensen backed off, lowering his arms as he glanced over his shoulder at where I stood. His pale blue eyes glimmered, and that was the only warning I got. He spun and rushed right at where I stood in the center of the mats. I knew in the back of my head this was a test of sorts-practicing self defense moves when an attacker was coming at me from the front, but there was something about having a six foot and then some dude rushing your ass that took you a moment to react.
I kicked back a leg, bracing myself and raised my hands, picturing the “punch and run” points-what Jensen had dubbed them. Throat. Eye. Solo plexus. Groin. Other ouchie parts. I was going to go for the solo plexus with my knee since I had more strength in my legs.
I brought my knee up, but Jensen easily avoided the direct hit. His arms went around mine, clamping them to my sides, and I slammed the heel of my foot down on his, a little harder than I attended, but he shifted at the last second, and my foot hit the mat
Cursing under my breath, I went for the groin. Obviously foreseeing my next move, he rolled his weight, and thrown off balance I went down, cussing like a cracked out sailor.
Jensen shifted, taking the brunt of the fall, but the air still wheezed out of my lungs when I landed on top of him. Laughing, he rolled me onto my back and came above me, his hands planted into the mat on either side of my head. He was sweaty and gross, and I didn’t care.
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asked.
“I kiss you with it.”
“True.” He dipped his head, brushing his lips over mine as he spoke. “And I kind of like it when you talk like that.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Nothing about me should surprise you.” He shifted his weight to one arm, scooping up a loose strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail. He brushed it back. “You almost got me.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Almost doesn’t quite count.”
“It doesn’t.” Jensen settled his hips between my legs as his hand got distracted, sliding down my face, to my neck, and then to the curve of my shoulder. “But it’s close. I’ve had years of practicing. You’ve had a month tops.”
“How did you get so many years of experience doing this?” I asked, biting down on my lip as his fingers traced the curve of my collarbone.
“I didn’t tell you?”
“No.” My breath caught as he abandoned my collarbone and went for the v-neck on my shirt.
“I started at the end of eighth grade, during the summer.” His gaze veered away from mine, to what he was doing with his finger. “I had a lot of… anger in me.”
“You did?”
His finger dipped under the hem, causing muscles deep inside me to clench. “Yeah. You know, with everything that happened with Penn. I never thought it was our fault.” His lashes lifted and the clarity of his eyes held me. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel anything. I was pissed at him, at myself, at a lot of things that had nothing to do with him.”
I figured the ‘a lot of things’ had to do with his brother. I never knew any of this, so I watched him quietly as his gaze went back to his hand. He was silent for a long moment.
“One night I ran into Shaw.
I was mouthing off, and instead of knocking me into next week, he got me involved in Krav Maga and here I am.”
The Dead List Page 23