Part 3 (1/2)

”In a hurry to get to a funeral? Maybe dump Nick for a nice cold corpse? Oh wait. Nick is is a corpse.” a corpse.”

I held eye contact with her, refusing to back down. After all these years she still hadn't tired of the same old stupid jokes. Still hadn't grown out of them. Mom had told me once that if I kept ignoring Christy, eventually it would get boring for her. But on days like today, ignoring her was easier said than done. I was so over this rivalry thing, but no way was I going to let her get away with breaking my stuff.

I pushed past her into the aisle, which had started moving. ”Whatever your problem is...” I said. I held up my MP3 player. ”You're going to pay for this.”

”Oooh, I'm shaking in my boots,” she said.

Someone else added, ”She might cast a spell on you, Christy,” and they all laughed.

I moved down the aisle and stepped down onto the sidewalk, cut behind the bus and jogged to the bleachers where Stacey, Duce, and David were hanging out as usual.

I climbed up to meet them, out of breath and furious.

”Hey,” Stacey said. ”What's up? You look p.i.s.sed.”

”Yeah,” I said. ”Look what that b.i.t.c.h Christy Bruter did to my MP3 player.”

”Oh, man,” David said, taking it out of my hands. He pushed a few b.u.t.tons, tried to switch it on and off a few times. ”You could get it fixed or something.”

”I don't want to get it fixed,” I said. ”I want to kill her. G.o.d, I could just rip her stupid head off. She'll regret this. I'm totally going to get her back for this.”

”Just blow her off,” Stacey said. ”She's such a cow. n.o.body actually likes her.”

A black Camaro roared into the parking lot and rolled up next to the football field. I recognized the car as Jeremy's and my heart sped up. For a second I forgot about the MP3 player.

The pa.s.senger side door opened and Nick stepped out. He had on the heavy black jacket he'd been wearing lately, and it was zipped up to his chin against the cool wind.

I skipped up to the top of the bleachers and yelled out to him.

”Nick!” I called, waving.

He caught my motion, tipped his chin upward slightly, and s.h.i.+fted his course in my direction. He moved slowly, methodically toward me. I bounded down the bleachers and across the lawn to him.

”Hey, baby!” I said, reaching him and wrapping myself around him. He sort of dodged me, but leaned down and kissed me, then turned me and slung his arm across my shoulders just like always. It felt so good to be under his arm again.

”Hey,” he said. ”What're you losers doing?” He used his free hand to do some sort of handshake thing with Duce and then socked David in the shoulder.

”Where you been?” David asked.

Nick smirked and I was struck by how odd he looked. Vibrant, almost buzzing or something.

”Been busy,” was Nick's only reply. His eyes swept the front of the school. ”Been busy,” he repeated, but he said it so quietly I'm pretty sure I was the only one to hear him. Not that he was really talking to any of us. I could've sworn he was talking to the school itself. The building, the ant-like activity inside of it.

Mr. Angerson scuffed up behind us then and used his ”princ.i.p.al voice,” the one we liked to imitate at parties: No, Garvin students, beer is bad for your growing brains. You must eat a healthy breakfast before coming to school, Garvin students. And remember, Garvin students, just say no to drugs. No, Garvin students, beer is bad for your growing brains. You must eat a healthy breakfast before coming to school, Garvin students. And remember, Garvin students, just say no to drugs.

”All right, Garvin students,” he said. Stacey and I elbowed each other and snickered. ”Let's not linger this morning. Time to go to cla.s.s.”

Duce flicked Angerson a salute and started marching into the school. Stacey and David followed him, laughing. I started, too, but stopped under Nick's arm, which was still holding me in place on the sidewalk. I looked up at him. He was still staring at the school, a grin playing around the corners of his mouth.

”Better go before Angerson ruptures something,” I said, tugging at Nick's arm. ”Hey, I was thinking. Want to ditch lunch and get Casey's today?”

He didn't answer, but continued staring at the school silently.

”Nick? We better go,” I said again. No response. Finally I kind of shoved him with my hip. ”Nick?”

He blinked and looked down at me, the grin never changing, the bright look in his eyes never wavering. Maybe even growing more intense. I wondered what in the heck he and Jeremy had taken that morning. He was acting really weird.

”Yeah,” he said. ”Yeah. Got a lot to do today.”

We started walking, our hips b.u.mping one another with each step.

”I'd let you borrow my MP3 player for first period, but Christy Bruter busted it on the bus,” I said, holding it up for him to see. He peered at it for a moment. His smile widened. He grabbed me tighter and walked toward the door more quickly.

”I've been wanting to do something about her for a long time,” he said.

”I know. I totally hate her,” I whined, squeezing all the attention I could out of the incident. ”I don't know what her problem is.”

”I'll take care of it.”

I smiled, excited. The sleeve of Nick's jacket scratched along the back of my neck. It felt nice. Real somehow. Like as long as that sleeve was scratching along the skin of my neck everything would be normal, even if he was on something. For right now anyway, Nick was here with me, holding me, going to stand up for me. Not for Jeremy. For me.

We hit the doors and Nick finally let go of my shoulders. A breeze gusted right at that moment and swept down the collar of my s.h.i.+rt, billowing the front of it. I shuddered, my spine suddenly getting really cold.

Nick opened a door and waited for me to go in ahead of him.

”Let's go get this finished,” he said. I nodded, heading toward the Commons, my eyes peeled for Christy Bruter, my teeth chattering.

3.

[FROM THE G GARVIN C COUNTY S SUN-TRIBUNE,.

MAY 3, 2008, R 3, 2008, REPORTER A ANGELA D DASH]Jeff Hicks, 15-As a freshman, Hicks would have ordinarily not been walking through the Commons, according to some students. ”We don't go through there if we can help it,” freshman Marcie Stindler told reporters. ”The seniors ha.s.sle us if we go down there. It's sort of like an unwritten freshman rule to stay away from the Commons except during lunch. Every incoming freshman knows that.”But Hicks was running late on the morning of May 2nd and cut through the Commons in his hurry to get to cla.s.s, which some are calling a cla.s.sic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He suffered a shot to the back of the head and died instantly at the scene. A memorial has been set up in his name at Garvin County State Bank. Police say it's unclear whether Levil knew Hicks or if Hicks was accidentally hit by a bullet intended for someone else.

Because Mrs. Tate had kept me in her office for so long I missed the first period bell and walked in right in the middle of Mrs. Tennille's First Day of School speech. I know Tate had done it to keep me from having to brave the pre-first period hallways, but I almost would have preferred that to the eyes boring into me when I walked into cla.s.s. At least in the hallways I could sort of walk in the shadows.

I opened the door and I swear the entire cla.s.s stopped what they were doing and looked up at me. Billy Jenkins dropped his pencil and just let it roll off his desk. Mandy Horn's mouth flopped open so hard I thought I heard her jaw crack. Even Mrs. Tennille stopped talking and stood motionless for a few seconds.

I stood in the doorway, wondering if it would really be all that noticeable if I just turned around and walked out. Out of the cla.s.sroom. Out of the school. Back home to bed. Tell Mom and Dr. Hieler that I was wrong, that I wanted to finish high school with a tutor after all. That I wasn't as strong as I originally thought.

Mrs. Tennille cleared her throat and put down the marker she was using on the whiteboard. I took a deep breath and shuffled to her desk, holding out the hall pa.s.s Mrs. Tate's secretary had given me on my way out.

”We're just going over this year's syllabus,” Mrs. Tennille said, taking the pa.s.s. Her face remained stonelike. ”Go ahead and take your seat. If you have any questions on something we've already covered, you can ask me after the bell.”

I stared at her for a beat longer. Mrs. Tennille had hardly been one of my fans to begin with. She always had a problem with the fact that I wouldn't partic.i.p.ate in labs and with the fact that Nick sort of ”accidentally” set fire to a test tube in third period once. I can't even count how many times she'd landed Nick's b.u.t.t in detention, and she'd always glared at me when I loitered on the sidewalk in front of the school waiting for him to get out.

I couldn't imagine what she must feel for me now. Pity, maybe, for not seeing in Nick what she always saw? Did she want to shake me and shout, ”I told you so, you stupid girl!”? Or maybe she felt loathing for what happened with Mr. Kline.