“Because she thinks she isn’t?” I didn’t want to learn more about my enemies. If I understood why Brittany acted this way, it would make it harder to bring about her downfall.
“She’s not as dumb as her dad makes her feel, but she’s not on your level. Now that you’re hot, too…” Jen shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve been told to ask you to sit with us today at lunch, but I think they’re planning something.”
“Allison and Brittany?”
She nodded. “I understand if you’d rather not deal with the drama.”
“I can handle it.” Besides, this was my way in. I felt reasonably sure I could parlay this invite into a permanent place at the table, provided I turned whatever prank they had planned back on them. If they thought I was the same beaten girl they’d abused last year … well. I smiled at Jen. “I’m looking forward to it, actually.”
Morning classes went quickly, especially since I started with AP Lit. Most of the girls stared at Colin, dreamy-eyed, but I listened to his lecture. He was good, offering insights I hadn’t considered on a poem I’d read many times before. The rest of my teachers suffered by comparison. Then it was time for the showdown at lunch.
Jen picked me up and walked with me to the cafeteria. We got food from the line and then went over to the Teflon table. They were such a fixture that they’d claimed it by scrawling on the top with Sharpies, and nobody else ever sat there, even if the whole crew was running late. This time I didn’t hesitate when I saw Cameron at the other end. I sat down beside Jen, careful to ignore him, even though my stomach was swirling like a toilet. The nausea came back, reminding me how I’d felt that day, so utterly helpless, and my mouth dry, my throat tasting of vomit.
Drawing from pure determination, I pasted on a smile and said, “Hey, Cam.”
Do people call him that? They do now.
“Cameron,” he corrected.
I opened my eyes wide as a couple of guys from the lacrosse team approached. “Seriously? You won’t let anyone shorten your name?”
“It’s because it sounds like ‘can,’” Russ Thomas said with a smirk. “As in ass and garbage.”
“Maybe you should call him Can. Because he is kind of an ass.” I paired that with a smile, making eye contact first with Russ and then with his friend Phillip.
A few more people showed up in time to hear Russ say, “I love that. After what you did to my car, bro, I will call you Can.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
Russ wore a disgusted look. “Barfed all over it. Bitch can’t hold his liquor.”
“That’s … surprising.” With a twitch of my shoulder, I dismissed Cameron Dean and listened to Russ ramble about the lacrosse team’s chances at the championship this year.
I cared minuscule amounts about that, but his attention kept Brittany and Allison from talking to me because every time they tried to start whatever drama they’d planned, he aimed a disgruntled look in their direction and said, “Christ, you can talk to her about how awesome her hair is later.”
Which was incredibly offensive, as girls did talk about issues more important than hair and makeup, but since it served my purposes, I didn’t call him on it. Not like I’m being myself with these imbeciles anyway. So if the pretense made me a little sick to my stomach, it was understandable.
As break ended, I said to Russ, “We have the next class together, don’t we?”
Sadly he had to think about it. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Want to walk me? I’d like to hear more about lacrosse.” I capped my smile, giving just enough warmth to show interest in the sport, not Russ.
Since I have a boyfriend. Who might’ve killed the last girl who rejected him.
“A budding fan, huh? Absolutely.”
Davina watched us go, wearing an expression I couldn’t interpret. Once we left the others, I pitched my voice low. “What’s the deal with Can?”
He snickered at the nickname. “What do you mean?”
“He seems a little … sensitive.” I said it like it was a dirty word. To most guys it seemed to be.
“You mean, like he can’t take a joke?”
I nodded. “I’ve seen him dish it out, but…”
“Yeah. To tell you the truth, he’s kind of a whiny bitch. We roll with him because he’s got a sweet house and his parents are never home.”
“Interesting.” I smiled up at him, making a mental note to repeat that in front of Allison at the first opportunity. I suspected she wouldn’t have the judgment to be discreet.
Russ shouldered through the halls, and smaller students got out of the way. I felt like an asshole walking with him. He stopped outside our class and gestured for me to go ahead. It was interesting, like an anthropological experiment, to see that he was capable of using manners with someone he considered worth the trouble.
“You’re a nice guy,” I lied.
He winked at me. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
THAT FRYING PAN WAS PRETTY NICE, ACTUALLY …
I didn’t expect Kian to be waiting for me when I left school and he wasn’t. Russ offered me a ride home, but I shook my head. “I don’t mind the T. Thanks anyway.”
“Where’s your boyfriend today?” he asked.
“He has class. See you.”
With a wave, I headed for the station, caught the train, and hopped off at Kenmore to grab takeout from India Quality for dinner. The platform was a mess, including the usual spectacle: a couple arguing; a mass of Sox fans jostling while heckling a guy who had on the wrong hat; and a mother scolding her toddler. Through the crowd I glimpsed a tall, gaunt man with pallid, oddly blurred features and thinning hair that clung to his pink scalp in damp stripes. He froze when he spotted me, and at first I thought it must be someone behind me. I half turned, glancing over my shoulder, but there was nobody.
I had to pass him to reach the street, so I fixed my eyes on the ground, shoulders down, out of reflex; that was what I’d always done when someone singled me out for unwanted attention. Somehow, even though I put plenty of space between us, he was right in front of me, blocking my path.
“The dead walk. You’re one of them. There’s a hole, a hole in the world, and things crawl through. They crawl.” His breath was a blast of graveyard rot, his teeth hanging like yellow and black husks beneath dry, chapped lips.
His eyes rolled in his head, going completely white, and he fumbled for my wrist. I jerked back, almost running into a man in a suit coming up behind me.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” the businessman demanded.
I frowned at him and pointed … but the spot the creepy dude had occupied was vacant now. Spinning, I searched the whole area and saw no sign of him; his stink lingered, though, proving I wasn’t insane.
“Nothing,” I said finally.
“Don’t forget your meds next time, sweetheart.” The asshole brushed by me and I followed, a cold chill creeping down my spine.
It was marginally better in the heat and humidity of a sunny afternoon. Kian told you not to trust anyone but him. And he said you could be in danger. Creepy disappearing guy made my flesh crawl. I quickened my step toward the brownstone and tried to pretend my skin wasn’t still prickling with the sense that something was very wrong. Sometimes, when I was little, I’d wake up in the middle of the night, sure someone was watching me, but I was never a baby in the sense that I ran to my parents, crying, and begged to sleep in their bed.
No, even at six, I had been methodical, not prone to a wild imagination. I used to swallow the fear that something would grab my ankles just as soon as I put my feet on the floor. The first step was always a bound and then I ran to the light switch to flood the room with brightness, banishing all the shadows. I’d open all my drawers, peer under my bed, check my closet and silently reassure myself there was nothing to fear. Some nights, I just left the lights on and shut them off before I went to school. But no amount of checking the area today banished this feeling. I saw no one paying me any particular attention; it was all apartment buildings and renovated properties. Not even a single window curtain flickered as I went past. I rubbed my fingertips up my arm, conscious of actual goose bumps.