Death and the Girl Next Door Page 3
“The bell rang, people.” Principal Davis stepped out of the front office in his usual brown suit and browner tie that matched his brown hair and browner mustache to a tee. He was tall and broad and built more like a professional football player than like a high school principal. But I could see where the bulk would come in handy. Several of our students were built like professional football players as well. I risked another peek as he spurred students to class with a practiced snarl. “Let’s get to class. Move it.”
Then he turned to assess the stare-down taking place in his well-disciplined halls. He studied tall, dark, and beautiful for a moment, then let his gaze slide to Cameron.
“Lusk,” he said with more force, “get to class. Now.”
Cameron hesitated, blinked, then tore his attention away from the boy to acknowledge Mr. Davis. He lowered his blond head, forcing a smile of mock submission before leaving. Cameron was an odd addition to our little community. He was our resident loner by all rights and counts, but he never lacked for female attention. If anything, he got too much, and it seemed to annoy him most of the time. I watched him leave, wondering if he would actually go back to class.
“Where did you get that?”
The boy turned to the principal. “Sir?”
“Your tattoo. Where did you get it?”
“Tattoo? I don’t have one.” He brought his arm around as Mr. Davis stepped closer.
What some kids could do with a white T-shirt and blue jeans bordered on sinful. He’d rolled up the sleeves, just enough to show off the fluid curves of his biceps. They flexed slightly as he held out his arm. The principal’s brows slid together, his expression baffled.
He glanced back up. “I could have sworn—”
“I want one,” the boy said with a shrug, “but my mom says I have to wait.” His voice was deep and smooth. It slid over me like warm water and caused a sharp tug in my belly.
“You’re new,” the principal said after sizing him up for a long moment.
“Yes, sir.”
“And your name is?”
The boy paused, hesitated. His dark gaze slipped back to me. I didn’t jump back this time, because it quickly glided past me to land on something farther away.
“Jared,” he said, returning his attention to the principal.
Jared. I liked it. Though Supernova would’ve been more to the point.
“Jared?” the principal asked, pressing for a last name.
With an almost imperceptible sweep of his lashes, Jared scanned past me again. “Kovach, sir. Jared Kovach.”
The principal wavered. He glanced in my direction but seemed unconcerned with the fact that I still hadn’t gone to class. Odd. Mr. Davis lived for herding stragglers to their respective cells.
“Well, Mr. Kovach, I’m Principal Davis.” He offered his hand. Jared hesitated, then took it in a firm grip. Even though Mr. Davis was tall, Jared seemed to tower over him. The principal had to tilt his head back to look at him. “Have you filled out a registration packet?”
“Yes, sir. Would you like it now?”
“Please.”
A backpack slid off Jared’s right shoulder. I couldn’t remember seeing a backpack before that moment. Apparently I’d been blinded by muscles and exquisitely fitted jeans. After Jared produced the packet, Mr. Davis took out a few pages and thumbed through them.
“My parents couldn’t be here today. I hope that’s okay.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Los Angeles, huh?”
Los Angeles. Cool.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I hope small-town life won’t disappoint you.”
“I like small towns.”
There is a God.
“Good,” the principal said. “Let’s just hope small towns like you.”
Jared wrinkled his forehead, his head tilting slightly. “Let’s hope,” he agreed.
“See that door over there?” Mr. Davis pointed past me to the counselor’s door across the hall.
Jared nodded.
“Why don’t you take these papers to Mrs. Geary. She’ll help you with your class schedule while we get your information entered into the system.”
“Thank you,” Jared said, accepting the packet of papers then slinging the backpack onto his shoulder.
When he started toward Mrs. Geary’s office, I thought my knees would give beneath me. Every move he made was powerful, full of strength and dangerous grace.
Mr. Davis called to him. “You wouldn’t have any relatives around these parts, would you?”
He stopped and turned back. “No, sir.”
With an unconvinced nod, Mr. Davis dismissed him again.
And Jared started toward the counselor’s office again. Toward me again.
In an act of desperation, I jumped back and tried my darnedest to become a corner. But as he walked past, he slowed his stride and sent a whisper of a glance over his shoulder. Then he smiled. The slimmest smile lifted the corners of his full mouth. Did he see me? I was certain the corner thing would work beautifully.
Without hesitation he stepped inside the counselor’s office and I eased out of my disguise. That’s when I noticed the poster beside Mrs. Geary’s door.
A photograph of Jaredan Scott, a Riley High football player, hovered underneath a snarling wolverine. His name stood out in red and black 3-D font as most valuable player. The parts I found most interesting were the letters J-A-R-E-D. And the fact that Jaredan Scott had been sponsored by Kovach Plumbing and Supplies, as stated at the bottom of the poster.
Jared Kovach. Now what were the odds of that? Two more questions sprang to mind immediately. First, why would he lie about his name? And second, how could he have read the fine print of that poster from so far away?
I scanned the distance back to see if Mr. Davis was still standing watch. Instead, I found Cameron Lusk. He hadn’t gone to class. I could see him through the plate-glass windows that lined the front of Riley High. He stood leaning against the building, looking directly at me, a strange expression I couldn’t decipher shadowing his face.
I offered my own glare, completely perplexed. The guy had never shown the slightest bit of interest in me. Then, out of nowhere, I couldn’t turn around without finding him waiting for me, watching, like he was mentally calculating how long it would take to strangle the life out of my body. A cold chill shimmied down my spine with the thought.
And worse, I didn’t know what to do about it. I didn’t want to alarm my grandparents. They had enough to worry about. The anniversary of my parents’ disappearance always put them in a strange state, as it did me. I didn’t want to call the police. Naturally, they would have to tell my grandparents. And I was nowhere near moronic enough to pretend I could take him. Boys, no matter how lanky, were generally strong.
“I’m stronger.”
I jumped at the sound of a male voice behind me and whirled around to slam face-first into a brick wall. My notebook flew out of my arms, launching a ticker tape parade of science notes into the air. They floated down to land in whispery chaos on the ground.
For a second I just stood there in shock until humiliation took hold and surged through me with a fiery vengeance. I could feel my cheeks heating as I looked up. And up. Into the eyes of the offending wall.
I stilled.
It was the new guy. And his eyes were amazing. Dark, steady, penetrating.
Penetrating?
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Where’d penetrating come from? I felt my cheeks grow even hotter. “Of course,” I said, glancing down to hide my face and my bruised pride. I tucked a curl behind an ear and bent to gather my notes.
Supernova knelt to help me.
“You don’t need to do that,” I said, even more embarrassed as he scooped up my messy notes before I could get to them. Honestly, why couldn’t I at least try to write neatly?
“I don’t mind,” he said, lifting the drawing I’d done that morning.
I snatched it out of his hand
before he could get a good look.
He glanced at me but not in surprise at what I’d done. More like curiosity. His dark gaze was startlingly intense. The contrast of molasses-colored eyes and hair made his flawless skin appear almost translucent. The effect was haunting.
I forced my thoughts back to the present. “I’m Lorelei,” I managed at last.
He hesitated as he had with Mr. Davis. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he stood and offered his hand. “I’m Jared.”
I almost looked at the poster again. Instead, I shut my eyes as a slow dawning crept over me. I recognized his face. I’d drawn it that very morning. I’d been dwelling on it for three days. It was him. The boy. Only the puzzle was complete, and what a puzzle it was.
After an eternity, I realized how rude I was being and rushed to place my hand into his for a boost. The contact electrified me. One minute I was kneeling on the floor; the next I was standing in front of him, as if we had slipped forward in time.
When I felt my feet on solid ground again, I smiled and pulled my hand back. “Thank you.”
He watched me a long moment, his brows furrowing in thought; then he blinked as if coming to his senses and handed over a stack of notes. “You should be more careful.”
His deep voice, velvety and rich like hot chocolate, tugged at my insides, warmed them. It took a great deal of concentration to focus on anything but the visceral reaction every inch of my body was having as a result of his nearness. Finally, after a couple of false starts, I said, “My grandmother tells me the same thing.”
A half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes lifted one corner of his incredible mouth. I couldn’t seem to look away. His lashes lowered to fan across his cheeks as if overcome by a sudden jolt of shyness. They were long and thick, just like in my vision, and made his eyes sparkle. I felt that sharp tug at my insides again as I recognized every curve of his face, every contour. My vision had actually manifested right before my very eyes.
I fought to stay focused. “So, you’re new?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t just heard his entire conversation with Mr. Davis.
“Yes.” His gaze meandered back up. It paused a moment on my mouth, just long enough to make my heart miss a beat, before boring into mine again.
“Well, then, welcome to Riley High,” I said a tad breathlessly.
He continued to study me and I was beginning to wonder if I had something on my face. Why would anyone that gorgeous spend so much time looking at me? My thoughts jumped back to the vision, replayed it in my mind. The boy. The monster. The sword. And the blood pooling in the valleys of his muscles, dripping down his arm. My attention drifted to his chest, wondering if he took off his shirt right then and there, would he have three slashes across his torso?
With an airy sigh, I came to my senses. Of course not. What I saw wasn’t real. Could never be real.
“Oh, my,” I heard from down the hall. “Did you fall again, Lor?”
Heels echoed off the walls as the creature whose name shall not be spoken aloud decided to goad me. Again. I glanced around the corner to see Tabitha Sind heading our way with her long, perfect legs, perfect blond hair, and a perfect face to back up her ’tude. I only had Brooklyn and Glitch to back up mine, but that was okay. I really didn’t have much of an attitude anyway. Except for when my grandmother said, “Don’t give me that attitude.” Then I guess I had one. But since nobody could make me feel more ill equipped to be human than Tabi, I decided to access my usual coping mechanism and avoid her at all costs.
“I better get to class,” I said, backing away from the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes upon, but Tabitha rounded the corner before I could make my escape. In a heartbeat I was face-to-face with my archenemy, and I had to wonder if it was just me or if her head really was too big for her body.
“Have you considered physical therapy?” she asked, her voice syrupy sweet. “She does that a lot, you kno—”
Tabitha stopped berating me midstream as her vulturous eyes locked on to Jared, and I couldn’t help the fierce reaction that bucked inside me. I ground my teeth, biting back the jealousy that leapt onto my nerve endings. I could just chalk this up to one more encounter that would add to the debilitating ulcers I’d someday have as a result of Tabitha’s existence.
“H-hi,” she said, holding out her hand to Jared. “You must be new here.”
“Yes.” His hand practically swallowed hers, but just as quickly he tried to pull it back. Apparently, prying his hand out of Tabitha’s grip was easier said than done. When he pulled, she stepped. Way closer than was acceptable in a public school setting. PDA anyone?
“I’m Tabitha,” she said, making the short statement sound more like an invitation than an introduction. Then she offered him her nuclear smile—the one that melted boys’ hearts and had every girl at Riley High wishing she could afford cosmetic dentistry—and I groaned inwardly. There’d be no getting him back now. I may as well cut my losses and make a hasty exit while I still had enough self-esteem to walk upright. Crawling was so demoralizing.
I’d stepped around Tabitha and started down the hall when I heard, “Can I walk you to class?”
I looked back and Jared was looking at me. Not at Tabitha and her big fat head, but at me and my tiny pixie head with squiggly hair. He’d managed to free his hand and was leaning around her, eyeing me with the slightest tilt of his mouth.
“Me?”
“Her?” Tabitha seemed just as surprised as I. She cleared her throat when his brows shot up. “I have to get to the office anyway. I’ll see you around, then?”
“Sure,” he said, stepping around her. Unfortunately, my class was only three doors down. I thought about pretending it was farther to get more alone time with Jared, but the teacher in whatever classroom I chose at random would only look at me funny when I walked in.
Jared followed beside me, taking one step to my two, the act emphasizing the length of his legs. One arm hung at his side while the other kept hold of the strap of his backpack, and I couldn’t imagine why I would notice that, other than the fact that to notice anything higher would have me looking up at an awkward angle. And I so very much remembered the power in those arms. The strength in those hands. And the blood dripping off them.
I shook the memory from my mind. It wasn’t real. I had to remember that.
“This is me,” I said, stopping beside my first hour.
He read the sign on the door. “Science.”
“Yep, science. Where I’m being forced to memorize completely useless particles of information that will never actually apply to any real-life situation I might encounter.”
A lopsided grin spread across his face at last. “Sounds like fun,” he said, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe.
“Oh, yeah,” I managed. “Molecular structure, does a body good.”
He rewarded me with the most charming smile I’d ever seen. Dimples. He actually had dimples.
“Well, thanks for helping me with my notes.”
“Anytime, Lorelei McAlister.” He offered a genteel dip of his head.
I stepped to the door and inched it open. “I guess I’ll see ya round,” I whispered.
“I’m counting on it,” he whispered back, his voice echoing softly in the hall.
I almost tripped.
* * *
The moment I sat down in Science, I took out a sheet of paper and scribbled a note to Brooke, who sat behind me. I could hardly wait to tell her about Jared. About how the guy from my vision had just started high school here. I had to word my masterpiece using science jargon, in case our teacher caught on. I passed back the note and had a reply about five minutes later.
What about its molecular structure?
I almost snorted out loud. Brooklyn would ask about Jared’s body. I folded the note in half and replied on the back.
Structure is solid. Molecular height unbroken. Clearly over six elements involved. Massive covalent bonding. High melting point … supernova.
I’d never christened a boy I just met with such a high ranking, but Jared clearly met all the criteria, and then some.
I slipped the note back to Brooklyn and continued working on the papers I’d dropped in the hall. The plan was to put them back in order, but when I thumbed through them, I found that they were already in order. Not one stray page in the bunch. How could that be? My papers had been hit by a hurricane. A hurricane named Jared Kovach.
Within seconds, I felt Brooklyn’s note brush across my arm. I reached back and suppressed another chuckle. She’d written the reply across the front in bright red marker.
Holy Häagen-Dazs, Batman!
“I’m glad to see you’ve taken such an interest in global science.”
I jumped at the sound of my Science teacher’s voice, then raised my best innocent, doe-eyed expression toward her. It didn’t work. Ms. Mullins took the note from me just as the bell rang.
“So, how is your grandmother?”
“My grandmother?”
“Yes,” Brooklyn said from behind me. “I told her why you were late. Your grandmother wasn’t feeling well.”
She did cover for me. “Right, sorry, I was on the phone. But she’s much better now.”
Students filed out of the classroom while Ms. Mullins examined my coded masterpiece. To the untrained eye, there was nothing on that note but science jargon. And an expletive about ice cream.
I stood with confidence. Absolute faith. Heck, my best friend was by my side. What more could I ask for?
“Well, I better go.”
Brooklyn—my very best friend since the third grade, my most trusted companion and confidante—turned tail and ran out of the lab like a chicken with her head cut off. Only in a much straighter line.