Wesley walks me hand in hand to first period. There’s a genuine sweetness about him that no one in the world could take away. The way he paints me over the canvas of his soul with those crystalline eyes, the way he tries to hold back a smile that bobs to the surface just for me, the lust he wears on his sleeve whenever we’re together—all of it irrevocable on an intrinsic level.
I try to stave off thoughts of Cooper and the answers he might have waiting for me, but it’s an impossible task so I redirect my thoughts to the weather on a loop.
It’s freezing out. A white cloud has settled around us, inviting a steady halo of steam with every breath.
“Dr. Flanders called last night,” I offer. “Mentioned he’d have the answers to those left brain, right brain experiments he subjected me to. You know, name the inkblot, nothing too scientific. He’s giving Cooper the results for me.”
“Great. There’s Coop.” Wes tugs at my hand with excitement. “Flanders,” he shouts over the expanse of the quad.
My heart starts to race, clearly there are no bounds to my stupidity. Of course Wesley is going to want to listen in on the results of my defunct brain scan—our entire horizontal future rides on the tail of my recovery.
Wes flexes a smile. “If you’d rather be alone when you find out the results, I totally get it.” He depresses a sigh. “There’s the coach.” He points past me. “I need to talk to him about practice anyway.”
Cooper appears with a baseball cap pulled low, his lips turned in a loose grin. Clearly he enjoys inserting himself between the two of us.
“What’s up?” He hitches his thumb into his backpack.
“Laken mentioned you’d have the results today.” He circles a critical glance at Coop before returning his gaze to me. “I’ll catch you later?”
“Sure.” I lean up and dot his cheek with a kiss.
Cooper’s eyes expand the size of platters as though I’ve lost control of my senses and blabbed about the real tests.
Wes looks over at me with a measure of suspicion, and I’m quick to pull my hand free. Wes is the scalding pan I keep forgetting about, burning myself at random.
A hint of sadness clouds his features. “I’d better go.” He drops a sweet kiss on my forehead before evaporating into the fog.
Good thing I didn’t further expose the fact those tests were designed to implicate imposters, which I’m sure they are—and I’m a little afraid Wes might be included in that category.
“By the way,” I whisper into Coop, “I’m not doing a great job of hiding what I’m thinking.”
“Why? Are you having indecent thoughts about me?” Cooper does a poor job of hiding a lewd smile.
“You’re not funny,” I’m quick to inform him. “And the answer is no. Anyway—you have the results?”
Cooper walks me over to the barren side of the English building, leans up against the limestone wall and gazes into me as though he could see for miles inside my soul—decipher my past as if reading a book.
“Tell me,” I plead. “I’m dying here.”
“Your father wasn’t a match.” It comes out in a victorious white puff. “He’s not even in the neighborhood of genetic possibilities.”
I throw my arms around his neck as a deep well of sobs bubble to the surface.
“Knew it,” I whisper into his neck. I pull back and try to collect myself. “Sorry.” I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand. “But this is huge.” It means Lacey is real. I can find her and Mom—and still take the time to rip Tucker Donavan a new one if I wanted.
Cooper twists his lips. He looks over my shoulder and pulls me deeper behind a towering bougainvillea. It sprays out its pink tissue petals, sheltering us with its poisonous blooms. Cooper rests his arms around my waist, relaxes into me with an intense stare. I can feel a magical pull between us, and I try to hide any insane ideas or feelings that might want to assert themselves right about now.
“Your mother…” Cooper’s warm breath sweeps across my cheek. “She’s”—he pauses, glancing over my shoulder momentarily—“she’s your mother, Laken. It was more than a match.”
“No,” I groan. The only thing stopping me from falling to my knees is the simple fact Cooper is holding me up. “It’s wrong.” I lay my hands flat against his chest to push him away but lack the effort or will. “You’re a part of this.” It comes out with great distress. “This was a setup from the beginning.” Grief for miles pierces me, splits me in two from the inside out.
“It’s not a setup.” He picks up my head gently by the chin. “And I promise you, I’m not one of them.” Cooper tightens his grip and lets me rest against his warm chest. I take in his clean scent with each hyperventilating breath. It feels safe like this with Cooper—safer than with anybody else and it kills me.
“And Wes?” I’m almost afraid to ask. Who knows what things he’s unearthed about poor sweet, Wes.
“I won’t have those results until after school. If you want, after practice, I can bring you by the house.” His jaw loosens, hopeful. “Or, I can text you.” He gives an easy smile exposing a small dimple and makes me ache for him with an unnatural desire.
“I want to know as soon as possible.” I take in a quivering breath. “I’ll go with you. I guess, now, I just need to figure out what to do.”
“About what?”
“If that woman is really my mother, like you say she is, then I must have hit my head.” I wish I would hit my head, forget about Lacey and Cider Plains in general. “As far as my father goes…” I raise my shoulders. “I’ll have to come to terms with the fact I’m the product of an affair—probably part Ugandan.” I try and make light of it, but the theory swills in my stomach, corrosive as battery acid.
His features smooth out. His lips curve just enough to give him a devious edge.
“I think you acquiesce too easily, Laken Stewart.”
My entire person swims with emotion when he says my real name. Makes me want to bury my face in the warmth of his chest and never come out.
“What does that mean?” Hope sparks in the pit of my stomach.
“It means—I still believe you. I happen to know the Counts have the power to do just about anything, and if you say you’re Laken Stewart, then that’s who you are. We’ll prove them wrong.”
“What do you get out of it?”
“Answers.” His lips press together white as paper.
“Answers?”
“You know, about the Counts and their secrets—the Spectators.” He says it unconvincing as if he’s using them as a cover, but I can tell by his steel cut gaze, he’s unwilling to negotiate with the truth.
“Where do you think the Spectators come from?” My heart starts to pick up pace. “What are they? Who are they?” I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like the answer.
“Botched resurrections.”
Knew I wouldn’t like it.
“Um…” I scratch the back of my head, lost in thought. “If a Spectator were to bite someone, do they become susceptible to the virus they carry?”
“Zombie lore.” His cheek rides up with a lazy half-smile. “And it happens to be true.”
“I was bit.” My chest convulses with panic. I remember in detail that night at Charity Lake. “Wes tried to comfort me. He said I’d be okay.”
I wait for Coop to deny it, to stop this ludicrous line of thinking.
“You know what it means if he’s right?” A white plume expels from his mouth as he says it.
“What?” I ask in a panic, but the pieces put themselves together and the sorrow in Cooper’s eyes says it all. “It means I’m a Spectator.”
35
Going Zombie
The rest of the day hangs over my head like a boulder.
I lay on the grass depressed as hell during cheer—unable to muster any fake enthusiasm I might have previously manufactured to please Jen the drill sergeant.
I manage to convince her that I’ve been taken down by monster cramps, so she lets me get
dressed early and sit out practice. I have a feeling my newfound menstruation malfunction will be my go-to excuse to avoid all things cheer.
Instead of perfecting my spread eagle stance to pump up the crowd, I watch Cooper on the field from the bleachers. The Ephemeral football team is comprised of giants, also known as Frankensteined abnormalities. They knock one another down easy as bowling pins, and truthfully, I’m a little worried for Cooper’s well-being. I try to keep track of his number, but the distance and fog provides enough obstacles for me to give up the effort. After the shrill cry of a whistle, they make a mad dash for the locker room, all save for one. I’m hopeful it’s Coop who’s jogging his way over. It’s not until he takes off his helmet that he reveals himself to be a sweaty Flynn Masterson.
“Enjoy the show?” He flashes a perfect toothy smile that would make any orthodontic institution proud.
“Yes, Flynn. I found you immensely entertaining.” Truthfully, I didn’t even realize he was on the team.
“I got something I want to show you.”
“What is it?” I lean over, in the event it has to do with Casper.
“Not here—alone.”
I make a face. “If it’s what I think it is, I’m not interested. I have a boyfriend.” Funny. I don’t seem so quick to spread the word when I’m alone with Coop. I shake the thought out of my head. Cooper is different. He believes me—he’s my own personal daydream believer, and that’s hard to come by these days.
“I like where your mind’s at—the gutter.” His voice dips into its lower register as he holds back his signature vulgar grin. “You have quite the sense of humor. Trust me, if I wanted you for myself, you would have long since been taken.”
Spoken like a true Count.
“Now you’re the one with the sense of humor.” I produce a smile. I like jostling back and forth like this with Flynn. Flynn is easy and not just in the sexual sense.
“I’ll swing by after dinner.” His teeth illuminate in the dull of evening. “It’s a date.” He starts in on a backward jog on his way to the gym.
“No, it’s not,” I say halfheartedly, but he’s already out of earshot.
A boil of clouds move in quick overhead, black as a cauldron. Everything feels unnatural here, cued in from some off stage director—the clouds, the sky, the wind. It feels orchestrated by something other than the hand of God.
Carter gives a spastic wave from the field before making her way over.
“Jackson and I are making plans for the weekend.” She pants before tipping her head over and shaking out her brassy locks. Her face is purple as a plum, and beads of sweat trickle down her temples when she rights herself. Looks like I escaped a rather grueling punishment by way of Jen who actually manages to put some fear in cheer.
“That’s awesome.” It comes out far less enthusiastic than I mean it to. “I mean, that you’re giving it another chance with Jackson.”
“I know, right? He’s a senior. He’s Jax Easton’s ex.” She shakes her head as though I should understand how much that ups his value. “He’s only the tallest guy on campus, so you know what that means.”
“You’ll have a higher survival rate in the event of a flood?”
“Yeah that.” She makes a face. “Anyway, he’s taking me to Kettles Saturday night. We’re doing the bonfire thing. Wanna come?”
“As in third wheel? No thanks.”
“As in bring Wes.” She averts her eyes at my inability to see the romantic writing on the wall, or in this case, sand.
“No thanks.” I’m pretty protective about my Wes time.
Cooper appears with his backpack hiked up over his shoulders. His face is alive with color from practice, his hair damp fresh from a shower. He looks golden, molten, like he’s just kissed the sun.
“Ready?” He beams a radiant smile. Every time Cooper Flanders looks at me, I feel undeniably safe. Ironic since I’m starting to feel undeniably lied to every time I think of Wes, my boyfriend from lifetimes past.
Carter’s mouth contorts as she comes to all sorts of wrong conclusions. “Or bring Coop,” she drags out his name in a weary cadence. “You can totally bring Cooper.”
“Bring me where?” His eyes glow against his ruddy skin, and I have to look away a moment before I get sucked in too far.
“Bonfire Saturday night,” she chirps. “Jackson and I are hanging out.”
“Looking for a couple bodyguards to keep him off you?” Cooper shoots it out playful.
“Who says I want to keep him off me?” The words come sultry from her lips, and suddenly it feels like she’s hitting on Coop. “Besides, it’ll be fun. We can roast hot dogs and eat S’mores. Please,” she sings into me.
“I’ll be there,” I say, “with Wes.”
“I thought that was our date.” Cooper gives the slightest hint that he’s teasing, but I can feel his longing for me, and I don’t know what to do with it.
“Whatever. Just show, okay?” Carter takes off, leaving the mist to twirl in her wake like an apparition.
I hop down and give Cooper a look for even thinking we were capable of going on a date.
“What?” He gives a playful grin. “I happen to like S’mores.”
Marky and I place a batch of cut-and-bake cookies into the oven while Coop talks to his dad on the phone. Everything feels so normal, so right, at the Flanders’s house. It was as if we had suddenly found ourselves encapsulated in a Norman Rockwell painting. This was a picture I wouldn’t mind framing—Cooper and me with Marky by our side. I could envision a lifetime of Christmases, Thanksgivings, birthdays, every life event rolled into one occurring under this roof with Coop right alongside me.
Imagining any of those things with Wes in the sterile halls of the Anderson estate seems laughable. I haven’t even been to his house yet, not sure I want to with his mother shooting death barbs at me, especially after all but declaring herself team Kresley.
“Picture day is next week.” Marky gives an apprehensive look as though she were fearful of my answer before she could properly get the question out. “I was just wondering…” She tugs her wavy hair and looks up at the ceiling.
She did that the same way Lacey would have. Same head tilt, same quasi-manipulative tone. I want to collapse my arms over Marky, get lost in the darkness of unruly tresses, press my lips against her crown and give her every last kiss that I may never give Lacey.
“Would you want to come to the mall with me and help pick out an outfit?” Her eyes plead on a desperate level. They say I have no mother, no sister, please, fill the void and love me. “I know it’s only going to be, like, from here up.” She cuts herself off at the shoulders. “But it’s still a good excuse to get an entire outfit out of the deal.”
“I like the way you think.” I take up her hands. “I would love to go to the mall with you.” I hop on the balls of my feet to match her excitement.
“Oh, so her you’ll go out with.” Cooper closes his lids partway. It looks more seductive than it does accusatory and sends an unexpected bite of heat ripping through my stomach. “You mind coming upstairs?” he asks. “I think I might have some of those answers you were looking for.”
“Can it wait three minutes? I’m sort of committed to a prior task.” I motion toward the chocolate chip cookies in the oven.
“So you’re saying you’d rather perfect your culinary skills.” He holds a pleading hand out at Marky. “It’s tough to be me.”
Marky looks up as if she’s just been slapped. “Why won’t you go out with my brother?”
She could have cut my heart out with a spatula, and it would have hurt less than seeing the pain of rejection in her eyes. Maybe inserting myself into Marky’s life isn’t the greatest idea. All I’ve been thinking about is how she helps stave the pain from losing Lacey. Never once did I consider that I might be hand delivering the same brand of grief.
“Laken and I are just friends.” Cooper is quick to save me. “I’m helping her with some homework.” Cooper is a
ll business. It’s as if Marky gave him a dose of reality, and now it’s game over for the flirt that lives inside him, at least where I’m concerned.
Marky evaluates us as though we were thieves trying to talk our way out of a lengthy prison stay. I can tell she’s hurt by the revelation and perhaps slightly amused by our hyper-denial.
“But that doesn’t change the fact we’re pulling a big mall crawl before picture day.” I touch my finger to her nose. “And, I think we should totally entertain hairstyle possibilities. That fourth grade picture is going to be haunting you a lot longer than you can ever imagine.”
“Yes!” She jumps. “I want it all curled on the ends. And my friends all have these really cool feathers in their hair—I so want one.”
“Then we’ll get one,” I say. “But only if it’s okay with your dad.”
“You’re the best.” She circles my waist with her plump arms. I close my eyes and feel both her and Lacey enwreathe themselves around me. “I know he’s going to say yes. And Cooper’s going to have to drive us, so it’s sort of like a date.” She sings, happy to get her way after all.
The timer goes off, and I pull the cookies out.
“Let them cool a minute,” I say, placing them onto the counter.
“Thanks, Laken. I love you.” She squeezes me with another heartfelt hug, and it feels like bliss.
I love you too, Marky. But I don’t dare say it.
She blinks up and smiles as if she heard every single word.
Cooper insists we head up to his room to get started on “that paper” but not before he wolfs down half the batch of chocolate chip cookies.
Once we get upstairs, I fall back on his bed while he locks the door. I spread my arms over my head, making snow angels in the cool of his comforter. He falls in next to me on his elbows and gives a lazy blink.
“Coop?”
“Yes.” He watches me—roves his eyes all over my face, my chest, the length of my arms. It feels invasively sensual, erotic on some level as if he had harnessed the power to touch me with those glacial-colored eyes, but I don’t call him on it since I’ve sprawled myself on his bed like I own it.
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