Part 19 (2/2)

”What's wrong?” I asked.

”Nothing.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ”It's just ... meeting at a high school football game isn't really what I had in mind for our second date. I wanted to pick you up and take you out to dinner somewhere nice.”

Second date? I almost laughed, thinking he was joking again, but he was watching me intently, waiting for my reaction. He was serious. This wasn't just hanging out to him. He really thought it was a date. That was why he'd been reluctant before.

I panicked, thinking fast. If I shot him down, hurt his feelings, the night would end now. I wouldn't get to spend hours with Kayla's friends, listening to gossip, figuring things out. I needed to be here tonight.

Making a last-minute decision, I grinned and playfully slapped his arm, ”Don't be silly. We'll have just as much fun here as we would at a fancy place. That stuff doesn't matter to me.”

”It matters to some girls,” he said with a bitterness in his voice that made me pause.

I had seen all the girls at school throw themselves at him. His lack of money clearly didn't matter to them. But it had obviously mattered to someone. I ventured a guess. ”Is that why Kayla wouldn't go out with you?”

He looked back up, meeting my gaze. ”She said it was because our friends.h.i.+p mattered too much, but I knew the real reason was because she loved nice things and I couldn't come through in that department.”

Materialistic wench, I thought. ”Well, I'm not Kayla. And I think it's a great night for football.” I grabbed his hand and gave it a little squeeze, but let go quickly, not wanting him to read too much into it.

It was enough to convince him, though. His demeanor lightened. ”All right, let's go in before there are no seats left.”

”It fills up?” I said, surprised.

”Not most weekends, but this is the biggest game of the year. We're playing Alton.” At my blank expression he added, ”Our rival. Everyone shows up for this game.”

As students, we got in free, but Kane caved to the 50-50 raffle pressure and bought some tickets. We got our hands stamped, and Kane steered me through the crowd toward the bleachers. He wasn't kidding. The place was packed. We slowly climbed the metal stairs, looking for a place to sit. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Kane placed his hand on my shoulder in a possessive move. I was surprised, until I saw him flash a look at someone.

Donovan sat on the bleachers with a couple of his friends. They'd probably dragged him here, and he looked miserable enough to begin with. But when he saw Kane and me - together - the boredom drained from his features. He turned away before I could see what expression replaced it.

Oh no. Did he think I'd lied to him and made plans with Kane for two nights? I wanted him to look back, so I could send him some sort of message with my eyes. But he didn't.

”Woodward! Over here!”

A few hands waved from the sea of red and black, and as we got closer I recognized the faces. The popular crowd. Kayla's crew. Exactly where I needed to be sitting. The guys moved over to make room for us.

From the row in front of us, Madison turned around and said, ”Faye was sitting there. Keep room.” But no one paid attention to her. The team had jogged onto the field, and the bleachers erupted in a loud roar of cheers.

After the game preliminaries were done, the crowd settled down a bit. As I saw the adults sit back down, my knees started to bend, but then I realized the student section - everyone around me - remained standing. Guess we stand the whole game? I didn't know. I'd never gone to games back home.

After the first play, the guy to my left pushed into me with a ”move over.” Our row was full enough but apparently someone had insisted on squeezing in on the end. I was shoved up against Kane, who didn't seem to mind.

”Faye's back,” Madison said, pointing to the end of the row.

Gulp.

I turned my head, expecting to see her standing there, arms folded, foot tapping, glaring at me. But she wasn't. Her eyes didn't even go to mine. They stayed on Kane, longingly. Then she turned away, shoulders slumped forward. Her whole posture reeked of despair. This ”second date” of ours seems to have been the nail in her coffin of hope.

A lump formed in my throat. I owed that girl nothing, but still. I don't like to hurt people and pain was evident on her face. I wanted to dart over there and whisper in her ear, ”This isn't real. I don't want him.” But I couldn't trust her any more than I could trust anyone else in this town.

”Here we go twelve!” Kane yelled through cupped hands.

I leaned toward him. ”Who's twelve?”

He pointed toward a big guy on the field. ”He's on the team. The lacrosse team.”

”Oh! I didn't know you could be on both teams.”

”Sure. Lacrosse is a spring sport. A few guys from the team play football in the fall.”

”Why don't you?” I asked over the cacophony of the marching band.

”I don't want to spread myself too thin. Academics take a lot of my time and I try to keep focused on lacrosse. I play in an indoor league during the winter. And I make sure I practice every day in the fall. Hit the wall for twenty minutes.”

I had no idea what ”hit the wall” meant, but didn't want to extend the sports conversation too long by asking. I know nothing about sports, especially football. Sitting there on a chilly Friday night was usually the last thing I'd want to do. I only fit in by copying what everyone else did. I groaned when they groaned, clapped when they clapped, and stood and exchanged high fives when we got a touchdown. And I didn't even erroneously call it a ”great goal.” Good for me.

By halftime, I was ready to stretch my legs, mingle, and eavesdrop. You know, detective work.

”I'm going to head to the concession stand,” Kane said. ”You want anything?”

My teeth were chattering and I would have loved a hot chocolate, but didn't want him to get it and come looking for me right away. ”Not yet,” I said. ”Thanks, though.” Most girls seemed to be walking toward the main building. ”I'm going to head inside for the bathroom,” I added.

The metal stairs vibrated as a bunch of us descended at once. The smells of popcorn and hot dogs had my stomach growling, but I ignored my hunger. I had work to do. I kept my ears open while I walked through the crowd. I hoped to get involved in some conversations, try to get people to tell me more about Kayla like they had the night of my party.

I was about to join the line for the girls' room when a shadow farther down the hall waved to me - from the doorway to the art room. I sped down the hall past six other rooms. The door was cracked open, but it was dark inside. I pushed the door open, let my eyes adjust, and smiled. Donovan straddled a chair that had been spun around. His arms were draped over the back, his chin resting on his clasped hands. When he saw me, he stood in one swift motion.

”You came,” he said.

I rushed up to him. I knew what I'd said in school about keeping us quiet, but we were alone here in this darkened room, and I couldn't hold back. I threw my arms around his neck, rose up on my tiptoes, and pulled his face to mine, kissing him. He responded instantly, his tender kiss quickly turning hotter. His hands tightened on my waist, drawing me closer to him.

I wanted to stay like this, in this room, all night, but knew we couldn't. I pulled back, and we both took the moment to catch our breaths. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on mine and whispered, ”I hate seeing you with him.”

”I had to switch nights for the date. I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

”I figured it was something like that.”

I had so much to tell him - about Kayla's parents, the intruder, but we didn't have time. ”Can you come over tomorrow? I'll fill you in on everything.”

”Absolutely. In the meantime ... please be careful.”

”I will. I promise.” I paused, hating what I had to say next. ”I need to get back.”

”After one more kiss,” he breathed and our lips joined again. But only for a moment.

Because I heard a click.

Donovan froze, his biceps hardening under my hands. I turned and squinted at the bright light of the hallway. In my rush to touch him, I'd left the door open behind me. No one stood in the doorway now, but that noise had been familiar and distinct. The kind of noise a phone makes - when it's taking a picture.

Donovan dismissed the noise as the click of the wall clock, but I'd been so sure it was the whir and snap of a camera phone. Or maybe I was getting paranoid. That wasn't too hard to do when your house is haunted and you're surrounded by murder suspects.

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