by Amy Ross
Jek nods and gives me a half smile. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s all I’m asking. Thanks.”
CHAPTER 8
I hoped hanging out with Jek would resolve some of my concerns about him and Hyde, but if anything, I only have more questions now. For a while it felt like I was hanging out with the same old Jek again, who I’ve known since forever. But the stuff he was saying before I left has got me worried all over again.
One thing is clear: I’m not going to get any more information than I already have out of Jek. If I keep badgering him on the subject, I’m only going to wind up pushing him away again. Jek knows he can talk to me, knows I won’t judge him, whatever is going on. When he’s ready to confide in me, he’ll find me. In the meantime, I do have another option—check back in with the town gossip and see if I can find out anything more about Hyde. Digging around in people’s personal secrets makes me feel gross, but with Jek stonewalling me, I don’t know what else to do.
I try not to think about the way I’m compromising my principles as I approach Alexis Dupuy and Olivia Bradley a couple of weeks later in the cafeteria. These two are always in everyone’s business, so I figure they’re a good place to start. And while I may not be BFFs with them, Alexis does owe me a favor.
“You still backing up all your files every night, like I told you to?” This is my opening gambit: a not-so-subtle reminder to Alexis of how I helped her out in her time of need.
“You’re my savior, Lulu,” she replies. She turns to Olivia. “The hard drive on my laptop died the week before finals last year. I thought my life was over, but Lulu worked her magic and somehow recovered all my data. Hey, maybe she can help with your problem, too.”
Sighing inwardly, I turn a politely inquisitive gaze to Olivia.
“My parents,” she says with a groan. “They installed some nanny software on my computer, so they see everything I do online. Can you help me get around it?”
“Sure,” I say. “No problem.” At that point, the conversation stalls out as Olivia and Alexis stare at me expectantly, and I try to think of a smooth way to segue into my own request.
“So, um... I have a question,” I say finally, just to get past the awkwardness.
“Oh, my God,” says Alexis. “It’s about Javier, isn’t it? Are you guys getting back together?”
I sigh inwardly. Javier and I only dated for about a minute last year, but he’s asked me out like a dozen times since we broke up. He’s a perfectly nice guy, but he got way too serious too quickly, and it spooked me. I wasn’t up for any big commitment.
“Nothing about that,” I tell them. “Actually, I was looking for Hyde.”
The two exchange a meaningful look and start to giggle. “Who isn’t?” says Olivia.
“Yeah,” Alexis agrees, “you’re going to have plenty of competition there.”
I want to tell them it’s not what they’re thinking, but it’s not like I want to get into the real reason why I’m looking for him. Maybe it’s best to let them draw their own conclusions.
I shrug noncommittally. “What do you guys know about him?”
Olivia giggles. “I know what Tanya did with him last Sunday, but she swore me to secrecy.”
“I don’t know,” says Alexis, more serious than her friend. “I’d stay away from him. I’ve heard some seriously sketchy shit about that guy.”
“Like what?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager.
“That he’s a real creep—he’ll invite people over to his place to watch a movie, and then it turns out to be all these fucked-up torture videos. And not like, scenes from movies—real people being legit tortured. It really freaked some people out.”
“Oh, come on,” says Olivia. “How can you tell for sure that they’re real? And where would he even get something like that?”
“You can find anything online,” Alexis assures her knowledgeably. “But the really creepy rumor is that he makes them himself—that he finds people in the city and films them torturing each other. Then he pays them off to keep quiet. That is, the ones who survive.”
Olivia shakes her head. “Who told you that? Someone was messing with you.”
They bicker back and forth a bit, but I can tell I’m not going to get anything more useful out of them. Clearly neither of them knows Hyde well, and it’s impossible to tell whether their stories have even a grain of truth to them, or if it’s just the lurid bullshit people always make up about the “new guy.”
“Do you guys know who he hangs out with?” I ask. Maybe they can at least get me closer to the source. “I never see him around school.”
Alexis laughs. “Of course you don’t. He doesn’t go here.”
“What do you mean? There’s no other high school for miles around.”
“I mean, he doesn’t go to school,” she elaborates. “I heard he’s a dropout who ran away from home.”
“No,” Olivia corrects her. “Someone told me he got kicked out of boarding school.”
“Then what does he do all day?” I interject before they can dig into their disagreement. “Does he have a job?”
Alexis shrugs, and Olivia is apparently just as uninformed. “I’ve never seen him around anywhere,” she says. “Only at the keggers.”
Of course. I hate those dumb parties, but it makes sense that they’re the most likely place to find Hyde and his circle.
“Any idea where the party is this weekend?”
“Andrew Chang’s,” says Olivia. “His parents are at a conference or something.”
I make a mental note of it and take my leave. I don’t relish the idea of going to another one of these massive house parties, but right now this is my best shot at getting the information I’m looking for.
* * *
Friday night I put on a little lipstick and head over to Andrew’s house. These keggers are always overcrowded to the point of claustrophobia, so I’m a little worried whether I’ll even be able to spot Hyde. I start by making the rounds of some smaller lounge areas, chatting with some casual friends, though my mind keeps wandering from the conversations. I make my excuses and keep moving from room to room, more focused on my mission than on the drunken antics around me, but the minute I enter a smaller sitting area furnished with leather couches and a massive entertainment center, I know he’s here. I can’t quite explain it—before I even see him, it’s like there’s a change in the air pressure that gives me the same creeping chill I felt the last couple of times I met him. Finally I spot him lounging on the couch, partially obscured by people leaning over and around him cooing appreciatively at the device in his lap.
“Wow,” says Melanie Hooper, pressing up close against his arm. “You got the rose gold finish.”
“Sure, but that’s just the packaging,” says Jason Donovan, who’s in my electrical engineering class. “Can it track RFID?”
A football bro named Alex Spade leans across the others. “Let me see,” he says, making a grab for it. Hyde snatches the object out of his grasp.
“See with your eyes, sweetheart,” he murmurs, giving Alex a once-over. “Unless you want to ask me nicely.”
Typical. In this town, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that people are obsessed with fancy gadgets: the London Chem brats love to one-up each other with their electronics. Although it’s a little strange because I didn’t think Hyde was one of those rich kids. I’m pretty sure I’d know if his parents were associated with London Chem at all, and the fact that he’s been borrowing money from Jek suggests that he isn’t swimming in the stuff himself. So what’s he doing with this fancy new phone? Hailee mentioned that he was dealing for Jek these days... I wonder if this means business is especially good. Or if Hyde’s been helping himself to more than his cut, which doesn’t seem unlikely, given everything I’ve seen.
Hyde must sense my attention on
him because he looks up at me before I can decide what to do next. He doesn’t say anything—his expression doesn’t even shift, but something in his eyes glitters so coldly that it almost makes me lose my breath. That same uneasy feeling I had when I entered the room seems magnified twenty times by having his black eyes fixed on me, and for a moment I’m frozen to the spot. When I do manage to tear my eyes away from his, I’ve completely forgotten about my mission to learn more about Hyde—all I want to do is get out of there as quickly as possible.
My first instinct is to leave the party and head straight for my car, but once I’m out of the room, my head clears and I manage to pull myself together. I feel like an idiot, fleeing from the very person I came here to find. What I need is a minute to regroup, prepare myself, and then I can go back in there. In the meantime, I head into the kitchen, hoping a cold drink will soothe my nerves.
In the corner, a couple is making out noisily against a counter, but I ignore them in favor of fixing myself a screwdriver.
“Lulu!”
I recognize the voice immediately and can’t help cringing a bit.
“Camila,” I say, turning toward the couple and trying to manage a convincing smile. She steps forward and gives me a big hug, even though it’s only been a matter of hours since we saw each other in school. A couple of drinks have made her more effusive than normal.
“It’s so good to see you!” she coos. “Oh, but Jek’s not here. I haven’t seen him all night, if you’re looking for him.”
“I know,” I snap back before I can stop myself. “Why would I be looking for him?”
I hear the defensiveness in my voice and wince. Given my history, it’s not exactly surprising that Camila would assume I’m looking for Jek, but it’s not like he’s the only reason I ever leave my house.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, still feeling a little rattled. “I just need to get some air.”
I leave her in the kitchen and make my way to the porch, desperate to get away from the crowds. I remember now why I never go to these things. Too many people I know, who know me. Too many people watching, talking, spreading rumors. No one has any secrets in this town.
Outside, the misty night air makes everything look a little fuzzy around the edges, and the lights of the commercial strip outside town are nothing more than colorful blotches on the horizon. Ignoring the chill and the damp, I take a deep breath and try to get a hold of myself.
“If you’re not looking for Jek,” comes a low, rasping voice behind me, “then who are you looking for?”
I spin around and look directly at Hyde. He’s leaning casually against the sliding door, his hands tucked into his pockets.
“Who says I was looking for anyone?” I spit back, but from his expression, he knows I’m on the defensive. I hardly know this guy, so why does it feel like he can read me so well? “Can’t a girl go to a party without an ulterior motive?”
Hyde licks his lips and smiles.
“Some girls,” he says. “But you don’t normally show up to these things.” He pushes back from the door and takes a step toward me, removing his hands from his pockets.
“How would you know?”
He takes another prowling step toward me. I can smell him now: that strange, off-putting citrus scent, pleasantly sweet but with a slightly bitter undercurrent.
“Because,” he says, “I do come to these things. And I don’t see you.”
My grip tightens on the rail behind me. “You’re taking an awful lot of interest in my comings and goings, considering we’ve only spoken once.”
“Oh, Lulu,” he murmurs, crowding me up against the porch rail. “I could be wrong, but I think you’ve taken an interest in me, too.”
I can’t help it—my cheeks burn at the comment. This is all backward. I was supposed to be the one in control of this encounter. I was going to dig up some way to manipulate Hyde into leaving my friend alone. But somehow it feels like he knows my every move before I make it.
I look up into his face, only inches from mine now. I remember his hair as dark, but in this light I see that it’s threaded with strands of gold and copper. His complexion, too, is paler than I remembered, with a smattering of freckles I didn’t notice before. The one thing I definitely haven’t forgotten is his eyes—so intensely black, they seem to be all pupil.
“There’s something about you,” I say, and I realize my voice has slipped into a whisper. “I can’t place it. Something so—”
“Yes?” he says, his breath steaming between us. He feels so close I can hardly breathe.
“Familiar.”
Hyde doesn’t move but I sense his muscles stiffen, and he looks at me with an unreadable expression.
Alex Spade comes careening out of the house brandishing Jason Donovan’s T-shirt, breaking the stillness. He fumbles and slips on the wooden porch, slippery with mist, and breaks his fall against Hyde’s back.
For a moment, Hyde is forced up against me, the heat from his body a shocking contrast to the cold air. Less than a breath later, Hyde has reared back and turned on Alex, one fist gripping the front of his shirt, the other battering against his ribs and stomach. Hyde’s face is white with rage, and Alex looks too surprised to even register what is happening.
“Wait,” I manage to shout. “Stop.”
But he doesn’t. Hyde delivers two more solid punches before grappling Alex off the porch and into the yard. Alex manages to land a couple of swings of his own, but it barely slows Hyde down. He shoves Alex onto the wet grass, straddles him and starts beating him with both fists, all before anyone else at the party has even made it outside.
“Stop him,” I shriek, louder this time. “Someone call the cops!” Finally people start to swarm out of the party. Hyde’s hands are now around Alex’s throat. He looks crazed and furious, and the thought comes to me not as a fear, but a fact: He’s going to kill him.
At last a couple of the guys break free of shocked paralysis and step forward to wrestle Hyde away from his victim. But it’s only when the distant sound of police sirens starts up that Hyde seems to come back to himself and let the guy go, leaving him gasping and sputtering. For a second, Hyde stands there in the yard, sweaty and shaking with adrenaline, then he breaks out running toward the empty fields and disappears in the mist.
Things move quickly after that. With the cops on their way, no one really wants to risk being reported to their parents. The party pretty much evaporates within the next couple of minutes, and I follow the sea of people out only to find myself shivering next to Camila, watching the swoop swoop of red-and-blue lights.
“God,” I say, still thinking about the scene in on the lawn. “What a psycho. I don’t know how he even gets invited to these things.”
Camila shrugs. “Hyde’s got a temper. Most people know how to avoid it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m guessing he’s worn out his welcome with that move. Even if the cops don’t pick him up for assault, no one’s going to want him around now.”
Camila only “hmms” in response, so I pull out my car keys.
“Want a ride home?”
She hesitates a second, then checks her phone. “Nah,” she says. “I’m good.”
“You have plans with that guy you were hooking up with?”
She shrugs, a little embarrassed. “Maybe, I don’t know. There’s a thing after this, so we’re probably headed over there.”
I shake my head, laughing a little in amazement. “This crazy town. Some guy nearly gets killed right in front of us, and all anyone can think about is where they can go to get fucked up next.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone keeps as strict a bedtime as you, Lulu,” Camila teases.
I make a face, but the truth is, I’m still feeling keyed up from the fight.
“Where is it?” I ask on a whim.
“Where’s what?” Camila is distracted by her phone again.
I roll my eyes. “The after-party.”
She looks up. “Why? You don’t want to go, do you?” She’s suddenly nervous, and I feel like the mom who just invited herself along on her daughter’s night out.
“What, is it like super exclusive or something?” My tone is joking but I can’t help feeling slightly hurt. It’s true that I don’t hit London’s nightlife as hard as some people, but that’s always been by choice. It never occurred to me that people might not want me at their parties.
“No, it’s...it’s not that,” says Camila quickly. “It’s just...you know...not your scene.”
“My scene?”
“You might not be comfortable. The parties get pretty wild.” She gestures vaguely.
“I go to wild parties!”
But Camila is adamant. “Really wild, I mean. Trust me, Lulu—you don’t want anything to do with these parties.”
I stare at her. “You think I’m a prude,” I say, comprehension dawning. “Jesus Christ, Camila. I may not go out every night, but I’m not some goody-goody. Sex and drugs don’t shock me.”
Camila gives me a pitying look, but before she can answer, we’re both startled by a car horn off to the right.
“That’s my ride,” she says. She gives me a peck on the cheek and then she’s gone.
CHAPTER 9
I’m in my room the following morning, working on rooting my uncle’s phone to clear room on it for his favorite apps, when I get a text from Camila—she’s inviting me out to brunch at the Double Dutch, a greasy diner just outside town that’s equally popular with truckers and teens. She must feel bad about blowing me off last night, and while I’m still a little peeved, pancakes on her dime will go a long way toward soothing my ruffled feathers.
An icy rain has slicked the roads so I get there a little late, but Camila has gone ahead and ordered for me—the waiter is just setting down my favorite cinnamon pancakes as I walk in. The place is busy this morning, and I spot at least a few people from the party last night, medicating their hangovers with lavish servings of bacon. I make my way across the room toward Camila, dodging harried servers and pushed-out chairs the whole way.