Dalton smiled. “Did I say something funny?”
“No. It’s just . . . maybe the poor guy is biding his time, you know?” he said. “Waiting for the perfect moment.”
Dalton seemed to consider this, then shook her head. “Nah, he’s had plenty of chances.”
“Well if you ask me, he sounds like a loser,” Nass said.
She nodded. “I guess so.”
“If he never—you know—steps up to the plate, you could always go with me,” he offered, a smile playing at his lips.
“Oh, you wouldn’t mind?” Dalton teased, pretending to be surprised. “But a smooth guy like you—I figured you’d already have a date.”
“Nah,” Nass said. “I’ve been, uh . . . biding my time.”
Dalton finally gave in to laughter. “Okay, okay—I can’t take it anymore. I’ll go with you—it’s a date!”
“Yeah,” Nass agreed, grinning. “It’s a date.”
And he thought, not for the first time, how much he loved their little games.
Raphael stood a few feet away from Aimee, carefully not looking at her. They were both pretending to be fascinated by the garments on display in the window of Middleburg Couture.
Neither of them had to tell the other it would be too dangerous for them to interact openly in public.
“I missed talking to you last night,” he said.
“I missed you too. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call. Rick was hovering all evening.”
Aimee’s brother Rick, that Topper jerk. Just hearing his name took Raphael back to the night Rick tried to burn him alive in the abandoned train yard.
Raphael took a deep breath, using his qigong training to center himself. Forget about revenge, he thought. Think about Aimee. But the anger was still there. He nodded at the plastic garment bag draped over Aimee’s arm. “Homecoming dress?”
“Yep. I’ve narrowed it down to three possibilities.”
Raphael smiled sadly. “Whichever one you pick, you’re going to look gorgeous. Has Bran Goheen asked you yet?” The thought of Aimee dancing with the Topper jock who was Rick’s buddy sent little lightning flashes of rage shooting through Raphael, but he managed to control them.
“No,” Aimee told him. “Rick said he was going to ask me and Dad has already decreed that I’m to go with him, so they’re all just assuming it’s going to happen.”
“So, Mister Jack Banfield hasn’t changed his mind yet, and decided I’m perfect boyfriend material?” Raphael asked sarcastically.
Aimee shook her head. “Not at all. I’m afraid you’re still strictly off limits.”
Raphael sighed. Even though everyone agreed he’d saved Aimee’s life, in her father’s eyes he still wasn’t good enough for her, and he never would be. But Raph couldn’t just sit by and watch her go to the dance with someone else.
“If we go together it’ll be a disaster—and not only because they hate me,” he said. “There’s actually peace between the Flatliners and the Toppers now. It would be silly to risk that for some stupid dance.”
“I know,” she agreed. “Totally. You’re right.”
He took a covert glance at Aimee; she was gazing back at him. They both smiled and he turned away from the store window, and from her, to look up and down the block. Downtown Middleburg was, as usual, mostly deserted. Only a scowling mail carrier going into the pharmacy and a woman leaving the bank were about, and neither of them was paying any attention to him and Aimee. He risked turning back to her.
“So . . . are you going with Bran?”
“I don’t want to,” she said.
“That would be kind of hard to take.” Raphael admitted. He was fully aware what he was about to do was foolish. Reckless, in fact. What he had in mind would endanger Aimee, himself, and his Flatliner brothers. It would probably ignite the gang war all over again. But in that moment, he felt like he didn’t have a choice.
The chill that had permeated the air before was gone now. Raph felt sharp currents of emotion coursing through him, heating his blood, and making his heart race. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
“Aimee,” he said quietly. “Will you be my date to the homecoming dance?”
She glanced at Raphael, surprised, and then gave him a radiant smile. “I’d love to,” she whispered. “But how?”
“I don’t know yet, but if you’re willing—”
“I’m more than willing,” she said quickly, and her look of raw longing gave him an almost irresistible urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her. As much as he wanted to, and as much as he could see that she wanted him to, it would have to wait until they could grab a few minutes alone.
They all walked to the corner together, then the girls headed for Hilltop Haven and Raphael and Nass turned toward the Flats. Nass noticed that Raphael seemed thoughtful and distant, but he felt like he was moonwalking in the clouds.
“I can’t wait until Saturday night,” said Nass. “I’ve got it all planned out. Okay, I’m at her door to pick her up, and her grandma answers. I’ll be, like, ‘Good evening, Lily Rose. Thanks for letting me take Dalton to the dance.’ And I’ll give her a bouquet of flowers, just for being so cool, you know? First, we’ll go to Rosa’s for a nice Italian feast—I’ve been saving for a month. We’ll eat, we’ll dance, and we’ll stay out all night. I’ll take her up to the roof of my building, and we’ll sit up there and look at the stars, just me and her. It’ll be the most romantic night of her life! I’m telling you, she’s not gonna know what hit her.”
Nass looked at Raphael for his approval, but all he got was a wan smile.
“Sorry, man.” Ignacio suddenly felt bad for him. “I didn’t mean to make such a big deal about it.” There was no way Raph could go to the dance with the girl he liked—it had to be rough for him to see Nass so excited.
“Don’t worry. I’m good,” Raph told him.
The knowing stirred in the back of Nass’s mind: there was something Raphael wasn’t telling him. But if his leader wasn’t ready to divulge what was in his thoughts, Nass wasn’t going to call him out on it. Raphael always told Nass everything—when he was ready.
Another idea stormed through Nass’s brain. “Oh, I gotta call my mom,” he said. “Put her on high alert for the tux, the ride, and some new kicks.”
“Good luck with that,” Raph said with a wry chuckle as Nass punched in the number.
His mom sounded distracted as she answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Nass said.
“Hey, yourself. Who’s this?”
“What do you mean ‘who’s this?’ It’s your son! Calling from my brand-new cell phone, I might add. So go ahead and write this number down in case you need to reach me. Hey, listen, I have some good news.”
“Oh, mijo! So do I!”
“Really? What?”
“It’s a surprise. Come home now and I’ll show you.”
“A surprise?” He shot Raph a big grin. “At least give me a hint.”
“Okay—it’s for the homecoming dance.”
Nass laughed. “All right!” he exclaimed triumphantly. “Be there in five.”
He snapped the phone shut with a flourish, stuck it back in his pocket, and turned to Raphael.
“Dude, my mom has some kind of surprise for the homecoming dance. What do you think it is? I’ll bet she’s got me a tricked-out tux or something. Maybe she’s going to rent us a limo! Man, how sweet would that be? Imagine us, cruising through downtown Middleburg in a freaking limo—like one of those big ones with a hot tub in the back! That would be ridiculous!”
The longer Nass fantasized about the perfect evening with Dalton, the more infectious his energy became, until at last Raphael was laughing and joking along with him. They parted at Raphael
’s apartment building (which, like all tenements in the Flats, looked more rundown and decrepit with every passing day). Proudly, Nass held up his new phone and promised to call Raph as soon as he found out what the surprise was. Then he jogged the two blocks home, getting more excited with every step.
Ignacio charged into the living room as the inviting aroma of carne asada and roasted peppers wafted out to him from the kitchen, along with the excited tones of happy voices.
“Your favorite son has returned!” Nass shouted, “I’m ready for my surpri—” the words died as he rounded the corner and looked into the kitchen.
“Surprise!” Amelia Torrez said, beaming.
She stood at the stove, stirring a skillet full of sizzling meat, onions, and peppers. But she wasn’t alone. The girl standing next to her was as tall as Nass, with wavy, raven-black hair, a slender but curvaceous figure, and dark brown eyes that seemed to brim over with mirth and mischief.
“Well?” the girl asked, a seductive smile crossing her pouty, full ruby lips. “Are you surprised, ’Nacio?”
Speechless for once in his life, Nass stared at Clarisse. Clarisse from back home in South Central. The girl he’d just started to get really serious about when his mom had announced they were moving to some little Podunk town in the Midwest. The girl he’d spent hours hanging with in a parking lot on Crenshaw Boulevard, stealing kisses and watching the low-riders cruising and car-dancing by. That Clarisse, showing up in Middleburg. Somehow, it just seemed so wrong.
“Clarisse is going to stay with us for a while, ’Nacio,” his mom said. “I was telling her mother how much you missed her and all your old friends back in L.A., and she thought it was a good idea for Clarisse to come and stay with us, at least for the rest of the school year.”
“More like those mean streets were gettin’ a whole lot meaner.” Clarisse clarified the situation in her soft, smoky voice. “The old lady wanted to get me out of harm’s way, you know?”
“Wow,” Nass said. “That’s . . . great.” He managed what he hoped could pass for a smile. “So you’re . . . staying with us for a while. Great,” he repeated. He knew he sounded kind of mentally challenged, but he was having a lot of trouble wrapping his head around the reality of Clarisse, in the same room with him after all this time. “Wow.”
She gave him that old familiar, sardonic grin, her eyes burning into his as they used to when she’d wanted him to kiss her.
Amelia Torrez stirred the carne asada again. “And just in time for your homecoming dance, mijo. Now you have a date! What about that, huh? I knew you would be so, so happy about this—that’s why I kept it for a surprise!”
Surprise. That’s the understatement of the year, he thought.
He should be happy. If this had happened three months ago, he would have been elated. He and Clarisse had known each other for years and back in L.A. they had been best friends, inseparable amigos, partners in crime (sometimes literally) even before they’d started going out. But that was all back in the life he’d left behind. Now, with Dalton on the scene, everything had changed. And it was going to be a problem. Clarisse was doggedly territorial, and she wasn’t the type to take no for an answer, no matter how calmly he explained the situation.
“Now,” Amelia continued. “You’re gonna be sleeping on the couch, ’Nacio, and Clarisse will take your room. I’ll go and clean out my sewing drawers in the dining room for your shirts and socks and stuff.”
His mom, Nass thought with a new respect, was a genius at squeezing the maximum space out of their cramped little apartment in the Flats. She turned to Clarisse and entrusted her with the wooden spoon, and with a sly wink at Nass, she hurried out of the kitchen.
Slowly, Clarisse stirred the sizzling meat and peppers, turned the burner down to simmer, carefully placed the spoon in the spoon rest on the stove, and then walked confidently across the kitchen in her slinky, tight jeans to stand as close as possible to Ignacio without actually touching him.
Looking brazenly into his eyes, she asked softly, “So, mi corazóne . . . miss me much?”
“Uh . . . yeah,” he said. He really had missed her, at first, until he’d met Dalton.
“Well, I’m thinkin’ you should look a lot happier to see me,” she said, smiling sweetly and moving closer. Before he could say anything else, Clarisse was pressed against him, her arms around his neck, and her lips on his, hot and soft and hungry.
Oh, yeah, Nass thought. I’m in trouble. Big, big trouble.
“I’m serious, man,” Nass said to Raphael the next morning on their way to school. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Two girls?” Raphael laughed. “I know a lot of guys who wouldn’t mind having that problem.”
They were walking along the stretch of railroad tracks that had always, up until Halloween night, given Raphael the creeps. When he took this route, he always got the feeling that someone (something) was walking just a step or two behind him, so close that they (it) could expel an icy cold breath on the back of his neck at any moment. In the days following his big battle with the Toppers and Oberon, the feeling had disappeared. But this morning, it was back—and worse than ever.
“No, man—this is sick. And not in a good way,” Nass insisted. “What am I gonna tell Dalton? You don’t know how long it took for me to get up the nerve to ask her and now—”
“Now you tell her the truth,” Raphael advised. “You have a friend visiting from back home and your mom insisted that she tag along on your date.”
Ignacio was shaking his head. “Even if Dalton will go along with it, I’ll be sitting between them—Dalton on one side, Clarisse on the other—like a hunk of steak between two hungry dogs.”
At that, Raphael cracked up completely. When he finally noticed his friend wasn’t laughing, he settled down. “Sorry, man—but you better not let Dalton hear you say that. Did you tell her what you used to have going on with Clarisse?”
“What? Do I look crazy?”
“And did you tell Clarisse that Dalton’s your date?”
“I’ve been trying to, ever since she got here. But before I can get the words out, she’s trying to make out with me—that’s why I didn’t call you last night. I’m running out of excuses not to kiss her.”
“Like I said, amigo . . . such problems. Look, you’re gonna have to tell her—both of them—sooner or later. But maybe you can get through homecoming first,” Raph said. An idea was starting to form.
“What do you mean?”
“Okay, look. You know I want to be with Aimee at the dance, right? But we have to be careful. So this is actually perfect for you and for me. I’ll go with you to talk to Dalton, and I’ll ask her as a personal favor to me if we can all go together as a group.”
“The four of us?” Nass looked puzzled. “Won’t that kind of look like a double date? The Toppers will flip out. And what about Clarisse?”
Raphael explained that Emory was going with Myka who, with her black-and-red dyed hair, pale skin and nose ring, was the only kid at Middleburg High who was more goth than Emory. They were riding with Beet and Natalie, a Flatliner girl who was as big and boisterous as Beet and who, Beet never failed to remind them, was a cheerleader—part of the solid base that supported the pyramid of more petite girls at every football game.
“If Dalton can get her grandma’s station wagon, Josh and Beth can go with us,” Raphael said. “Benji’s going solo. We can squeeze him in too, or he can go in the Beetmobile. With all you guys as camouflage, it’ll be easier for me get some time with Aimee at the dance, plus it won’t be weird for Dalton or Clarisse.”
“I don’t know,” Nass hedged. “It’ll still be awkward. What if one of them tries to hold my hand? Or what if I’m dancing with one of them and the other one gets mad?”
Raphael shrugged. “We don’t have
to go as a group. Just man up and tell Dalton you have to go with Clarisse.”
“I can’t! I’m crazy about Dalton.”
“Then tell Clarisse you’re going with Dalton.”
“I can’t! Clarisse is crazy. She’ll kill me!” Nass shouted.
Raphael laughed, shaking his head.
“All right,” Nass decided. “We’ll go as a group. It’ll work out somehow—right?”
It was settled. But it wasn’t going to be easy, Raphael thought. Between Dalton, Clarisse, and the Toppers, the night was bound to be filled with more danger than romance.
Two men stood high above, on a huge boulder jutting out from the side of the mountain towering over Middleburg. A mountain that, in this flat geographical area, shouldn’t be there—but somehow it was. The afternoon sun cast its rays across the landscape, gilding the little town they gazed on with a golden glow. Off to their left, the jumbled wreckage of the train graveyard stretched to a stand of dark trees. Directly below them were the Flats—block after block of rundown tenement houses with peeling paint and tattered rooftops. To their right, across the railroad tracks, was downtown Middleburg and above that, in the distance, was proud, pristine Hilltop Haven.
The younger man inhaled slowly, seeming to taste the air. He was tall and well formed with broad shoulders, a thick mane of long, black hair and a strong, square jaw. His pale complexion made his icy blue eyes even more compelling.
The other man was much thinner and not quite as tall. Bandages obscured most of his face and a pair of dark glasses covered his eyes. Leaning forward as if he had no fear of falling from the boulder and tumbling down the precipice, he was the first to break the silence.
“Middleburg,” he said fondly. “A delightful little conundrum—a box within a box within a box, so to speak—and this is my favorite one of them all. From the beginning of time until the end of it, there will never be a Middleburg more fraught with possibility than this one.”
“It doesn’t look like much,” the younger man observed.
GHOST CROWN: THE TRACKS TRILOGY - Book Two Page 2