Part 6 (2/2)

On their own accord, my feet trot down the steps and across the gra.s.s. I stop inches away from his door.

”Hop in.” He nods at the pa.s.senger seat. ”I'll give you a ride.”

I adjust the handle of my bag. ”Who said I need a ride?”

”I noticed your friend leaving this morning without you.” He slides his sungla.s.ses down the brim of his nose and gives me a look that makes me feel naked. ”And then you walked out of your house, looking as if you were making the hardest decision of your life. So I'm guessing you don't have a car, and you're debating between walking and riding the bus.”

”I was going to walk.” I adjust the handle of my bag. ”It's really not that big of a deal.”

He shakes his head and laughs. ”Hop in, Ember. I don't mind giving you a ride. Trust me.”

I glance at the corner of the street where a line of people wait for the bus. ”Fine. Thanks.” I walk around the front and hop into the pa.s.senger seat. The inside of the car smells like vanilla mixed with a hint of earthy cologne. Cameron waits for me to buckle my seatbelt, then pushes up his sungla.s.ses, and drives down the road. He's wearing dark blue jeans and a black b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His hand rests on the s.h.i.+fter and his fingers tap to the music murmuring through the stereo. The compulsion to reach over and entwine my fingers with his nearly devours me.

”So are you always this quiet?” he asks after minutes of silence drones by.

I turn my head away from the window. ”I just don't see the point of talking unless there's something to say.”

He widens his eyes. ”Okay, sorry for asking.”

I fidget with my leather bracelet. ”Sorry. I didn't mean for that to come out so b.i.t.c.hy. I'm just having a rough morning.”

He nods and proceeds with caution. ”But I'm pretty sure you and I do have something to say, so the question is do you want to say it or should I.”

”I wasn't expecting you to put it out there,” I say, shocked. ”But okay.”

”The first thing you should know about me is that I hate secrets. They are pointless and request too much energy from an individual, unless the revelation of the secret brings pain to someone.” His lips move like they are a poet's pen on a sheet of paper.

”Okay, so why were you digging up a grave in the cemetery the other night?” I lay it all on the table.

His grin enhances with amus.e.m.e.nt. ”To see if they really do put dead bodies in coffins.”

I'm unsure how to respond. ”I'm pretty sure they do.”

”See, that's why I think you and I can get along,” he remarks cleverly. ”Most people would have jumped out of the car with that response.”

I tuck my bangs out of my eyes. ”Most people wouldn't have gotten in the car in the first place.”

”Excellent point.” He flips on the blinker and turns onto the school road. ”I was doing my parents' dirty work. My grandfather-or Old Man Carey as your weird friend calls him-owned a jewel that had a lot of sentimental value to my family. It's been pa.s.sed down from generation to generation. But no one can find where my grandfather put it, so they sent me to check in his coffin, just in case he requested to be buried with it and never told anyone except his friend who handled my grandfather's funeral arrangements.”

For some reason, his story reminds me of a 1980s Tom Hanks movie I watched once-The Burbs. ”Did you find it?”

”Again, you're not fazed.” He grins, pleased and entertained. ”No, I didn't find it.”

”Did you think to ask your grandfather's friend, before you went rummaging around in his coffin?” I question. ”It might have been an easier place to start.”

”Hmm...” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. ”I never thought of that.” He laughs and smiles. ”Of course I did, but it turns out my grandfather's friend has already pa.s.sed away himself, only days after the funeral ended.”

”That's weird.” I'm torn whether I believe him. ”So who was that man doing the actual digging?”

His smile falters and his face reddens with anger. ”You saw him?”

I nod slowly. ”Yeah...”

His anger alarms me. ”He's my uncle.”

”You don't like him?” I ask.

He fiddles with the keychain and sadness hues eyes. ”He's... tolerable.” He turns into the crowded school parking lot and everyone stares. The town is lowly populated and a new vehicle is big news. I can almost see the invisible stream of gossip move from car to car. ”Wow, it's like being a movie star,” he comments as he parks in an empty spot.

A smile lurks at my lips. ”Oh, it's going to get a lot worse for you. Trust me. The new guy in school-it will be the headline of the newspaper. Well, maybe it won't be quite that big. I think there might be someone else starting today too.”

He takes the keys out of the ignition. ”Do you know who it is?”

”Yeah, I met him at a party Sat.u.r.day night.” I unbuckle the seatbelt. ”His name's Asher Morgan.”

A dark shadow possesses his expression. ”And you've already met him?”

”Yeah...” My eyebrows scrunch. ”At the party, like I said.”

He stares at the dashboard, jingling the keys with anxious energy. Then he opens the door and climbs out of the car. I hop out and meet him around the back.

”You said you don't keep secrets,” I say as we head for the front doors of the school. ”But it kind of seems like you are.”

”No, I said secrets were pointless unless they hurt someone.” He picks up the pace and waves over his shoulder. ”See you around, Ember.”

The whole female student body watches him swagger up the sidewalk with hungry eyes. I roll my own and s.h.i.+ft directions for the side entrance. By afternoon, he'll probably be dating Mackenzie Baker and be swooned over by the entire cheerleading squad.

The side exit is the mellow area of the school. It enters through the art hallway, unlike the front entrance, which goes directly to the quad and is always abundant with people. I dig through my bag and pull out my cell phone and text Raven.

Me: U at skool yet?

I wander down the hall lined with fake spider webs and orange and black confetti, with my head tucked down, waiting for an answer.

Me: Hey, r u ok?

Again, no response. I put my phone back in my bag and decide to check in Mr. Morgan's art room. Sometimes Raven goes there before and after school to work on projects, mainly so she can use the school's supplies.

I poke my head inside, but the only person there is a guy painting in the far corner. I begin to back out.

”Ember,” the guy calls out.

”Asher?” I step into the cla.s.sroom. ”What are you doing in here?”

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