Part 23 (1/2)

I shrug and smile, but Tanya doesn't return it. She's staring at me now, the serious expression in her dark eyes pinning me to the spot.

”Juliet, no offense-you're really cute and all-but Johnny's legend. If you want to keep him, you really should make some kind of effort to get involved, you know? Like Dani, she's head cheerleader, right, and she's always cheering him on at games-and she's super popular. Not to mention, she's gorgeous!”

”What's your point?” I growl.

”My point is you need to go to this dance!”

She says this so loud, heads turn in our direction-and even Mrs. Sepulveda sways a little, as if caught in a breeze. Tanya claps a hand over her mouth and giggles sheepishly, but remains facing me, d.a.m.n it.

She's right. I should have been more supportive when Johnny and I were together. I should have made the time to go to more of his games and hang out with his friends. He was always blowing off parties to visit me at work, or at my dad's. Yeah, I changed schools for him, but...was it really for him? I know I b.i.t.c.h a lot about Leclare, but there is a great deal of prestige a.s.sociated with attending this school. And I'll admit, whenever I'm wearing this uniform, I feel like I'm part of an exclusive club. I like b.u.mping into my former cla.s.smate (or losers, as I now like to call them) when I'm wearing it, and seeing the jealous looks cross their faces at my elevated social standing. Thank goodness I'm not rich-I would be such an a.s.shole. I'd tell so many people to suck it.

No, I'm joking. No one is jealous of me in this uniform. I don't even know why I said that.

I'm on my way to the pep rally with Sara and her friends when I get a text from Johnny. He says he needs to talk to me right away, and can I meet him downstairs in room 105A. I frown and immediately text back, ”What? Why?” I wait for a reply, but I don't get one. I mutter an excuse to Sara, and reverse direction, heading for the stairs on the west side of the building. 105A?

What could be so important that I have to meet him right now? Isn't he's suppose to be in the gym right now? I hope everything's okay. This better not be about Laundry Room Girl-Dani.

Heart beating in a nervous rhythm, I locate room 105-but there's no 105A. Unless it's the unmarked room right next to it. Only one way to find out, I guess. I twist the doork.n.o.b, and finding no resistance, I pull the door open.

It's dark inside, but I can make out shelves full of boxes. Is this some kind of storage room? ”Johnny?” I call, feeling along the wall for a light switch.

I'm just now wondering why Johnny would be standing in the dark in a storage closet when the door closes behind me. I hear the soft snicking sound of the lock sliding into place at the same time I hear the strange hissing noises, and notice the smell.

It smells like...smoke...fireworks?

My flailing hand finally locates the light switch. I quickly flick it on, and-s.h.i.+t! I'm greeted by the terrifying sight of white gray smoke billowing out at me, quickly enveloping the room in a thick fog. My first thought is: the arsonist! The second is: I'm gonna die! I immediately whirl around and yank on the doork.n.o.b. Locked! I start pounding and shouting for help, then start choking and coughing when the smoke fills my lungs.

Getting low on the ground doesn't really help, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to die in here. Somewhere in the whirling chaos of my brain, I realize that the smoke is weird, not like a fire. Smoke bombs, maybe? The burning in my throat and lungs remind me that I can just as easily suffocate as burn.

I've got to get out of here! Tears streaming from my stinging eyes, I fumble for my phone. I can't see anything! Desperately, I start pus.h.i.+ng b.u.t.tons. Panic has me in a chokehold, threatening to overwhelm me. G.o.d d.a.m.n it, someone pick up!

I mentally scream at myself to focus, but-G.o.d-I can't breathe! Distantly, I hear a male voice shouting my name from the phone. I'm so disoriented and freaked out, I don't recognize who it is. Nick-I think. I scream out my location, hoping he can understand me. My voice is so ragged and clogged with smoke. I struggle out of my blazer and lie with my face smashed into it.

My life doesn't flash before my eyes, or anything like that. How long has it been? A couple of minutes-or longer? How long do smoke bombs burn for? If that's what this is. What if it's something else? Something electrical. I should've called 911. Who did I call? What if it was my favorite takeout place, Wonton China? G.o.d, I'm no good in an emergency situation. Maybe they'll engrave that on my headstone. Juliet Somers-No Good in an Emergency.

I should have tried harder to get that door open. I think about moving when I'm suddenly lifted into the air. Strong arms carry me out of the room. Someone's shouting my name, but I'm too busy hacking up a lung to see who it is.

Concerned faces hover above, excited voices jumbling together in a confusing cacophony of sound. I can't stop coughing-and my eyes feel like they're going to explode from the pressure. I try to suck in some air,. but my constricted and swollen throat won't let me-sweet pickles, it hurts!

Shortly after, the paramedics arrive. They strap me to some oxygen and load me up in the ambulance. My first ambulance ride. The siren doesn't sound so loud from the inside, not nearly loud enough to drown out the conversation between the male and female EMTs about someone named Lillian's amazing sopapilla recipe. Normally, I'd be eavesdropping, but now I want them to shut up and take care of me.

By the time we arrive at the hospital, I'm able to catch my breath, despite the small spasms in my chest. A cheerful pudgy nurse takes my vitals and hooks me up to a couple of monitors. She had such a calm nurturing way about her that I immediately started tearing up when she fusses over me.

”You'll be just fine, honey,” she says, patting me on the arm while keeping her eyes on the monitors. ”Your sat is good, and everything else looks good, too. The doctor will be by to see you very soon. He might want to run some tests-maybe do an x-ray, and keep you here a few hours for observation.”

”My mom's a nurse here,” I say hoa.r.s.ely. ”Erica Somers-she usually works the night s.h.i.+ft, but she picked up a mid today. Can you tell her I'm here?”

”Yes, I know Erica. I believe she's a.s.sisting in surgery right now, but she'll be out shortly. Don't worry-someone will inform her right away.”

I want my mom. I want to go home, and take a shower. I start to reach for my phone, but then I realize I have absolutely no idea where it is. I can't be without my phone-it's like having my left hand cut off.

An indeterminate amount of time goes by, and still no doctor. Two cops, however, show up. They ask me a ton of questions, and inform me that they recovered five non-toxic smoke bombs from the scene. When they ask me what I was doing in that room, I tell them that I was walking by on my way to Government cla.s.s to retrieve the textbook I had left there. I heard a funny sound and smelled something burning, so I got curious and went in the room to investigate. I tell them the door somehow locked behind me, and they exchange glances. What, do they think I'm lying? Suddenly, I'm paranoid, and I get all s.h.i.+fty when they question me further. Great, they're gonna think I did it myself, for attention or something.

But I can't tell them about the text from Johnny. Not until I talk to him first.

The doctor shows up before Mom does. He's a short dark man who mutters so incomprehensibly that I give up trying to understand him, and just nod along. He seems competent enough, even though he never looks up from his iPad thingy. After two minutes, he either sneezes, or tells me he'll see me in a bit. He shambles out without a second glance.

It's almost three when Mom finally appears, wearing light pink scrubs and a harried, tired expression. She's got Aunt Jo with her, which makes me want to growl like a rabid dog. How am I suppose to scream to my mommy and have a mental breakdown with my princ.i.p.al as a witness?

Mom looks me over with a relieved sigh. ”You're okay,” she says.

”Are you asking me, or telling me?” I say, real snotty-like. In my opinion, she doesn't look nearly as worried as she should be-considering the fact that I almost died today!

Mom rolls her eyes, then glances at Aunt Jo, mentally saying, ”Teenagers!” Aunt Jo gives her a look back which I interpret as, ”I hate 'em all!”

”I'm telling you, Miss Thing. I spoke to Bob-your doctor-before I came to see you.” Mom only gives me half her attention as she fiddles with some b.u.t.tons on one of my monitors. ”I doubt he'll order an x-ray. You don't seem to be having difficulty breathing.”

”I feel a lot better,” I admit, sinking back in the stupid hospital bed. ”My chest hurts.”

”I'm sure it does,” she say sympathetically. ”You should be able to go home in a couple of hours.”

”Great. Will I be moved to a room?”

”No, we have a full house today, so I'm afraid you're stuck here.” Mom leans against the side railing of the bed, and squints down at me. ”So, was it the arsonist? Were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

I start to say that I have no idea when Aunt Jo speaks up. ”Right now, we're treating this as a silly prank gone horribly wrong,” she says quickly. She rubs her temples in a telltale gesture of stress. ”Let's not speculate until we investigate further, alright? I would hate for the rumors to fly, and have students and parents panicking for no reason.”

No reason? Dude, I could've died. How does no one get that? I'd whine, but I erupt into a fit of painful coughing. Eyes tearing, I can't help but give my mother an accusing look. Why, I don't know.

She quickly moves to hand me a plastic tumbler full of ice cold water. Meanwhile, Aunt Jo takes a couple of steps back, looking politely horrified. Mom rubs my shoulder as I take a drink, letting the cool liquid run down my swollen throat. Ow. I take a tiny sip and hold the water in my mouth for a minute. It's soothing, until it gets warm and I have nowhere to spit it out. I suddenly wish Ben was here to tell me a couple of dirty jokes and get my mind off the pain.

”I'm okay,” I say in my raspy voice, even though no one asks.

I watch as a weary sigh seems to run through Aunt Jo's entire body. ”I'm so glad you weren't seriously hurt, Juliet.” She looks at Mom, and shakes her head. ”When I first took this job, I thought the worst thing I'd have to worry about was an irate parent threatening to run me out of town if their baby doesn't graduate. But this! All that negative publicity...I can just imagine what Harry will have to say about this latest fiasco.”

I feel like I should apologize. She looks so discouraged-even her tailored gray suit is drooping. Looking at her, I realize Aunt Jo has an amazing figure, and she's pretty underneath her stern expressions and thick eyebrows. I wonder if anyone's ever noticed this? Why am I noticing this? I wonder if guys, whom we all know are more visual than girls, have checked her out? Would they think she's hot? Why am I wondering about this right now? I wish someone would get me a sandwich. I probably couldn't eat it, but I could stare the h.e.l.l out of it.

Mom is talking to Aunt Jo, interrupting my mental babbling. ”-do about it?”

”Well, I think CCTV is our best bet, but the students are vehemently opposed.” Aunt Jo sighs. ”And the parents aren't exactly thrilled about the idea, either.”

”Why not?” Mom asks, perplexed. She glances over at me briefly. ”Shouldn't we be comforted by the added security?”

”You have to understand how these people think, Erica. Leclare is very exclusive, the cream of the crop. Our parents pay a lot of money to ensure that. Now, exterior cameras are fine-they keep the riffraff out. But interior cameras imply that their pedigreed angels need to be watched like common criminals. And G.o.d forbid we capture proof of any wrongdoings!”

The venom in Aunt Jo's voice shocks me. I thought she was one of them, but that bitter look on her face right now tells me she only wishes she was. I make that b.i.t.c.hy jealous face all the time when I think no one's looking.