My feet dragging all the way I obeyed.
Catherine passed me in the hall, bathroom pass in hand. She arched an eyebrow at me. I shook my head.
I’d barely gotten myself situated on the bench when she showed up again.
“What’d you do, lap the place?”
She shrugged, sitting down beside me. “I didn’t really need to go. I like to roam.” She glanced at my backpack. “Heading home for the day?” She clicked her shoes together when I nodded. “No place like home.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry my brother’s being such a jerk.” She paused. “But you probably aren’t helping things by kissing Derek.”
“I don’t want to talk about either of them.”
“Hmm. Jessie, I need to ask you to do something—”
The door opened, and Wanda stood before us amidst the swirling leaves, her severe blond ponytail flapping in the wind.
“Crrrap,” Cat snarled.
“Nice to see you, too.”
Cat’s head whipped around so she looked only at me. “Please inform Wanda that I do not wish to speak to her directly.”
I glanced at Wanda. “What she said.”
Wanda peered down the hall. “Please tell her that it is imperative we meet and discuss plans. I understand we left on—uncertain—terms, but we are running short on time. In several ways. And certain recent behaviors on the part of her family—”
I swallowed, remembering the night at the abandoned church.
“May lead us to take more extreme measures.”
“Baiting a trap isn’t extreme enough?” Cat retorted.
“I had no idea that was being done. I can only guarantee you that with full cooperation, such things won’t occur again.”
“Full cooperation?” Cat weighed the words. She turned and glared at Wanda. “How is our mother?”
“Aging. Rapidly. But she has been since her first change, hasn’t she?”
A growl built in Cat’s throat, and I slapped my hand down on her thigh.
“So you need to talk about the Rusakovas seeing their mother and what you want in return.” I looked at Cat. “Soon.”
“You must be there, Jessie,” Cat concluded.
“Why?”
“We may not be able to stop from shredding her if you aren’t there to remind us of our humanity,” Cat stated very matter-of-factly.
“She’s grounded,” Wanda pointed out. “I’ll bring additional agents. For safety’s sake.”
“You’ll never get in alive. No extra agents. You and one sidearm. Jessie as negotiator.”
“I’m grounded,” I echoed. The last thing I wanted to do was be between a pack of angry werewolves and the well-armed government agent keeping their dying mother imprisoned.
Wanda squinted at Cat, measuring her intent.
“Make an excuse,” Cat instructed. “A girl’s day out.”
Despite my skyrocketing pulse rate, I laughed. Loudly. “Sure. We’ll go shoe shopping, Cat. What color’s fashionable for jackboots?” I doubled over, patting the tops of my sneakers and fighting for breath. “Ugh. Fine.” I stood. “Cat’s terms.”
“Fine,” Wanda agreed. “Let’s get you home.”
Nearly out the door, I looked over my shoulder to say good-bye to Cat and I noticed Derek. Cat followed my gaze, glaring at him.
He said, “Bitch.”
Cat responded, “Manipulative bastard.” Derek shrugged as if to say touché. Wanda tugged me out to the car before I had too much time to wonder about their brief exchange.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next day Sarah caught me between classes, no Pietr in sight. She towed me into the girls’ bathroom. I’d spent so much time in Junction High’s bathrooms since Pietr’s arrival I expected to start paying rent.
Even Sarah’s perfectly done makeup—yes, I realized, startled, she was back to wearing makeup—couldn’t hide the faint bags beneath her eyes. “Is there anything you didn’t tell me about that night?”
Crap, crap, crap! What night? I’d racked up quite a few lies about particular nights recently. Now it seemed the trick was knowing which night she meant. I was too tired to guess. Just one more thing people never told you: Not only was lying morally wrong, it was exhausting. “What night?”
Something small shifted in her eyes, like someone in the background waking.
Amy sauntered in, whistling. “Hey. Heard you were here,” she addressed me. She paused, seeing Sarah. Amy tossed her long mane of red hair and cracked her knuckles.
Sarah ignored her. “June seventeenth. The night your mother died.”
Amy resumed whistling, spun on her heel, and retreated to the hallway. Or maybe class. Some of us still tried to get to class from time to time.
“Umm.” There was a lot I hadn’t told Sarah about that night. Like the fact she’d caused the accident. Or the fact I hauled her, unconscious, out of her car and to safety because my mother told me to. Or that by saving Sarah I’d doomed my mother to a fiery death. Or that forgiving her was essentially my mother’s dying wish.
Man. I hoped Mom wasn’t hung up on that one.
Where to begin? The truth seemed foreign stacked against such heaps of lies. And what good would the truth do when Sarah tottered on the brink of returning to her old, nasty self? Would knowing help or hurt her?
And how dare I try to make her a better person? She’d seemed quite content being evil. At what point did my desire to make Sarah “better” become some weird God-complex? Shouldn’t she know the truth, make her own choices?
I rubbed my forehead, a headache threatening. “Okay. There’s actually—”
The fire alarm blared.
“Shit!” Sarah exclaimed.
My heart sped up. The new Sarah was big on word choice: Why use profanity when you could be creatively clean? But the original Sarah … I shivered. “Let’s go.” We stepped into the hall and were quickly separated by the evacuating classes.
Standing outside in the blustering breeze, I wondered if the fire alarm hadn’t been some strange cosmic intervention. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell Sarah after all. Or maybe not yet. Ugh. If the fire alarm had been a sign, couldn’t it be clearer?
I hopped up and down to stay warm. Rumors spread through the crowd. “… an electronic malfunction…”; “… the library’s on fire…”; “… somebody in Beany Belden’s class lit a match…”
My IQ slipped as I listened.
Max appeared, followed by his gaggle of giggling girls. He slipped behind me and draped his arms across me.
I stiffened in his grasp. “What are you doing?”
“You look cold.”
“So do half the girls around here. And you’ll get way further with them than with me,” I assured.
“Geez, Jessie, give a guy some credit,” he purred, his mouth so close his breath singed my ear.
“Ohhh, I give you credit, Max,” I returned. “But it doesn’t mean I understand why you’re hanging on me.”
He lowered his voice, his whisper as tangible as the rasp of a cat’s tongue on skin. I ignored the goose bumps rising on my arms in response. “Look. At two o’clock.”
I glanced ahead and to my right.
Pietr was wrapped around Sarah’s slight form, his head turned in our direction. His eyes glowed a faint red.
“We could make him jealous,” Max offered. “It’s a bit of a dirty trick to play on my little brother, but—” He yawned, and I knew his eyes were taking on the sleepy appearance of someone very comfortable. What some older folks called “bedroom eyes.”
I’d seen Max play a similar game before. Even without looking I knew what Pietr saw.
“Whaddya’ say?” Max rumbled. “Maybe a kiss…?”
“Don’t you dare. Besides, I don’t want him to be jealous. I want him to be smart.”
Max’s laughter shook through me, his body tight to my back. “Good luck with that,” he intimated. “Pietr’s seventeen. He has a girlfriend who throws
herself at him. Smart won’t be easy.” His tone changed faintly. “Why couldn’t you have shaken him off on your other friend? Amy? The hot redhead. We could have taken them apart and I would have been her shoulder to cry on.”
“Amy’s with Marvin.”
“Yeah,” he droned. “I noticed that.” He snuggled closer, and I resisted the urge to elbow him in the groin. “She’s smokin’.”
“Leave Amy alone, Max. She’s happy with Marvin.”
“And if she wasn’t?”
I growled.
“That’s actually sexy.” He purred like a lawn mower was lodged in his chest.
Ahead of the crowd teachers waved us back toward the school building. Sighing, I slid out of Max’s embrace and ignored the jealous glares of his groupies.
“So, no to making Pietr jealous?” he tried once more.
“What would you do in my place, Max?”
He looked away from me for the span of one heartbeat, but I caught the path of his gaze.
“I don’t know, Jessie.”
Leading his pack of admirers, he skulked away.
I waved to the couple he’d spotted just before stalking off. Amy tugged free of Marvin’s hold and waved back.
* * *
Lurking outside Counselor Maloy’s office, it didn’t take long for him to ask to see me, wondering what was wrong. I made it clear. I wanted to talk to somebody about my issues. Not him. Counselor Harnek.
He wrote the pass, relieved. At least I wouldn’t be his problem anymore. He could return to focusing on filing state-mandated tests and know someone was looking over my shoulder from time to time. He’d save on colored paper clips, too.
* * *
The wind whipped through Junction Friday morning, giving us a taste of winter’s coming power. I hurried from the bus to the school’s glass double doors, dodging around people seemingly unaffected by the cold.
But the chill of the snapping breeze wasn’t nearly as startling as seeing Sarah in Pietr’s welcoming embrace inside. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but somehow it still did.
The doors flew open at my touch. Crisp autumn air pushed past me, snarling my hair out ahead of me, tangling in fall’s frosty fingers. The same wind that rattled me rustled the spiking dark mop of hair hanging over Pietr’s eyes.
He raised his head to the breeze, nostrils flaring as his eyes closed, shutting out the world. Something tightened in his face and he leaned over Sarah, murmuring so she laughed. He nuzzled his nose, his lips, into the soft blond hair that whispered along Sarah’s face and down her slender neck.
Where was Coach Mac and his PDA-seeking whistle? I stumbled out of the path of other students but couldn’t pull my eyes away from Pietr. He looked at me, holding my gaze boldly, eyes tinting the red of hellfire, her scent—her taste—tearing down his throat. Lingering in his lungs.
That was the first morning I looked for Derek. It took only moments to find him. He glanced up from where he sat chatting with Marvin. And as soon as he saw me it was like nothing else mattered.
I let him lead me to a quiet and poorly lit corner of the math wing. I didn’t stop him when he tried to kiss me. Instead I linked my arms around his neck and hung on, letting his lips smother mine, all the while wishing he was Pietr. When the bell rang I hurried away to show my guidance pass to my next teacher before heading down the lengthy hallway connecting Junction High to the middle school.
I paused outside the middle school’s main office: I’d been burned before. I took a deep breath, readying myself. Reminding myself Harnek hadn’t betrayed me. She actually rode to my rescue after I took down a tag team of cheerleaders. My hesitation gone, I figured if there was anyone I could trust to help sort out my heart and my mind, it was my old counselor.
In I went. The receptionist looked at my pass. “Oh. Jessie Gillmansen.” Her tone changed, eyes softening in realization. “I’m so sorry about your mom, Jessie.…”
I looked away and closed my eyes; pushing the breath that had caught in my throat out, I regained control. How could people do that? Wreck me so fast with just a mention of Mom? “Thank you.” The answer was stiff. I couldn’t put the right emotion behind some stuff anymore.
People would learn to cope. Or leave me alone. Sometimes I wondered which I’d prefer.
The tag marking Harnek’s door glinted and I shoved toward it, oblivious to the receptionist’s warning, “She’s busy—”
“Ms. Terrence, Ms. Terrence!” A couple kids bumbled in, their high, demanding voices seeking attention. And the receptionist was overrun with requests from everything from toilet paper for the restrooms to paperwork for a teacher requesting supplies. And there were photocopies to be made.
Her protest was drowned out and I pushed on the door, easing it partway open, not wanting to disturb Harnek but not wanting to be stuck in the milling madness of a filling office.
“I don’t want to see!” someone hissed from inside the room. Open a crack, the door allowed me a slender line of vision and the advantage of watching without being seen.
Harnek stooped over, holding the attention of whoever sat in the huge chair opposite her desk. “You have to. It doesn’t matter that you don’t want to—you have to. Otherwise…” She shook her head. “You know.”
There was no reply beyond a deep sigh. Finally a muffled voice—male—agreed. “If it’s absolutely necessary.”
“It is.”
I knocked on the door, opening it further with each light rap of my fist.
“Jessie!” Harnek straightened, smiling, hands clasped together. “Come in. Maloy mentioned you’d be seeing me. He didn’t say now.”
“Is it a bad time?”
“No. Nooo. We were finishing up, weren’t we?”
There was a creak of leather. Derek stood up from the glossy seat, his expression a far cry from the frustrated one I’d expected.
“Yeah. Hey, Jessica.” He did that thing that came so naturally to him. More than a smile—a gleam that lit his whole face. I couldn’t help but smile back. He glanced at Harnek. “Thanks for your time.”
“Anything for you, Derek,” she replied. “Jessie. Sit.”
Derek squeezed past me, pausing to peer into my eyes. He rested a hand on my arm and smiled, leaning in.
My breath caught; I was mesmerized.
“Nice to bump into you, Jessica,” he whispered, his sparkling blue eyes skimming my face.
“Derek, we’ll see you later,” Harnek hinted.
His dimples disappeared and he nodded.
Struggling not to stare as he left the room, I blushed and sank into the seat.
“You’re having nightmares?”
I nodded.
“Tell me about them. And don’t worry. I’m entirely nonjudgmental. So no matter how weird or scary it sounds, hit me with it.”
She propped her heels on her desk’s corner and settled in for a long story. Boy, did I give her an earful.
* * *
That afternoon Derek caught me before I made it to the bus. There was no dim corner. He shoved the backpack off my shoulder and tangled his arms around me, kissing me with a passion that made my eyes widen before I remembered who was kissing me and slammed them shut to forget.
It wasn’t that he was a bad kisser … far from it. And yet … my mouth stopped moving in time to his.
I didn’t want Derek.
As fast as the thought was formed it whisked away, my mind flooding with images of Pietr. Holding Sarah. Kissing Sarah, his eyes filled by just Sarah.
And I kissed Derek back. Not Pietr. Derek. With his blond hair and boy-next-door looks and his scent like sun warming a field of wheat. He pulled away a moment, blue eyes gone dark as his pupils widened, nearly eclipsing their color.
My knees shook when he landed one final, long kiss on my lips, scooped up my backpack, and settled it on my shoulder.
“Better get on the bus,” he said with a grin.
I nodded and stumbled away, pouring myself into my regular sea
t without a care for staying on one side or the other. Pietr wasn’t on the bus home, anyhow.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Shoe shopping?” My father’s surprise echoed my disbelief.
“It’s a way for Jessica and me to spend some time doing girl stuff,” Wanda assured him. “We won’t buy anything outrageous.”
“Only sensible shoes, Dad.”
“What about Annabelle Lee?”
Nuts. That’s what I’d forgotten.
Wanda and I exchanged a look. I got the feeling I was about to be thrown under a bus.
“The thing is”—Wanda’s volume dropped as she confided—“Jessica says she wants to talk. I think she needs to talk to a woman. In private.”
“Oh.”
I did not dare imagine what Dad thought we’d discuss. A preemptive blush scorched my face.
“Well, hell, Wanda. You know I trust you.” He patted her hand, and my stomach squeezed in rebellion.
I wished I could tell him all the reasons he shouldn’t trust her. Or even one. One might be enough.
He dug out his wallet and pulled a few twenties free. “Take your time and treat yourselves.”
We got in the car before Dad could second-guess. Driving in silence we were two people absolutely at odds with each other. I tucked the money away; it might be useful later.
Cat greeted us at the Rusakovas’ door. She gave me a quick hug. Wanda looked like she considered hugging me, too, but decided a hug wouldn’t help her case.
Thank God.
“Come in, Jessie. And you.” Cat glared at Wanda.
As soon as the door closed behind us, Cat was all business. “Since we agreed to one sidearm, I’d like you to carefully produce it. Then Max will pat you down.”
“Not him,” Wanda said, slowly drawing her gun from her ankle holster. “He’s handsy.”
Max barked out a laugh. “My reputation precedes me.”
“Pietr,” Cat instructed.
From behind Max he came. Not even sparing me a glance, he took Wanda’s gun. “Ten shots. Three for him, three for me, two for Cat. Two left. Alexi and Jess,” he presumed. “Good thinking. You might get out alive.” He ran his hands over her arms and legs, skimming down her front and back. “She’s clean.” He handed the gun back to Wanda.
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