Текст книги "Alice in Zombieland"

Автор книги: Gena Showalter

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“What about Cole’s parents? Do either of them see the zombies?”

Something unreadable flashed in his eyes. “His dad.”

So…his dad could see…and my dad had been able to see…but the difference in our upbringings was astonishing. His dad had probably been filled with power, authority. Mine had been filled with fear, defeat.

“How did you guys find each other? Zombies aren’t something you talk about at meeting one.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Just like the zombies are drawn to us, we’re drawn to each other. And after what Cole told me about your first morning with him at Asher, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“But he also said no one else had experienced anything like that.”

“Not to that degree, no.” Frosty glanced at a wristwatch he wasn’t wearing. “Wow. Look at the time. I need to go.”

Oh, please. But, fine, whatever. Hint taken. “Are you going to Reeve’s party tonight?” I asked as I unbuckled.

“Maybe. Someone will have to watch Cole’s back.”

Harsh. “One last question.” I stepped out of the car and into the daylight. Leaning down, smiling sweetly, I said, “Do you want me to help Kat find a new boyfriend?”

I shut the door, effectively silencing his response.

He peeled out and disappeared down the street. He might have flipped me off.

Happy that I’d had the last word, I trekked to my house. To my continued happiness, my grandparents were outside gardening and I made it to my room unnoticed. That meant I could catch a few beauty z’s before they grilled me about the sleepover. I wrote them a note, saying I’d stayed up all night—truth!—and headed upstairs to nap.

Halfway up, my cell vibrated to signal a text had just come in. The sweatpants had a pocket, and that’s where I’d stashed my phone. I read the screen, and my knees began trembling.

Screen name C. Holland said, I’ll C U 2nite. 1st WOA. Hide weapons in UR room. Never know when U might need ’em.

Weapons. I seriously doubted he was referring to the baseball bat I had up there. After seeing him work those zombies over, he could only mean knives.

This is a whole new world, Bell. Better get used to it. I trudged back into the kitchen, quietly picked two of the largest blades, plus two of the smaller ones, and prayed Nana wouldn’t miss them or find them in my room. No telling what she’d think.

Took me half an hour to decide where to hide them, but in the end I went with under my pillow for easy access, the closet, behind the door, and under a pile of books by the window.

Now too jazzed for my nap, I plopped in front of the computer, intending to research zombies, but little aches and pangs prevented me from sitting still. And jazzed or not, I was exhausted. The words began to blur together.

In that moment, I understood what my mom used to tell me. No matter your state of mind, you had to find a way to recharge.

Yawning, I placed my phone on my nightstand and climbed into bed, the covers plumping around me. To my surprise, my mind instantly quieted and I slipped into a deep, deep sleep where no dreams dared intrude. Maybe the fact that I finally had a purpose had helped usher me to this sense of peace. Maybe it had released some of the guilt that had taken up residence inside me since the accident. After all, I’d survived when the rest of my family hadn’t, and I’d been wasting my life, doing nothing but worrying. Until now.

Now, I would learn to ash the zombies. I would make a difference. I would save other families from suffering the way I had suffered.

I almost felt sorry for the zombies. Almost. I’d never been so determined in my life. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

* * *

A knock sounded at my door.

“Come in,” I rasped, trying to pry my seemingly glued eyelids apart. I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept, but I knew I needed another hundred hours before even thinking about leaving the comfort of my bed.

Nana peeked her head into my room. She’d pulled her sleek dark bob into a low ponytail, and she wore very little makeup, but then, even at her age she didn’t need much. Her skin seemed to glow today, vitality pulsing from her. For the first time, I saw my mother in her. The timeless beauty, the gentleness.

“I love you, Nana,” I said, unwilling to hold back the words that I’d denied my mother.

Her eyes instantly welled up with tears, wetting her lashes. “I love you, too. Very much.” She cleared her throat, as if to prevent a total breakdown. “So you and Kat stayed up all night, did you?”

“Yes,” I said, part of me wishing I could tell her something that would make her smile. We stayed up all night pillow fighting!

“Maybe next time you’ll go to bed at a decent hour.”

“Doubtful,” I grumbled. There probably wouldn’t be a next time. My evenings would now be devoted to Cole and zombie slaying.

“I remember those days,” she said with a wistful sigh. “Come on, kiddo. It’s time to get up and around. Lunch is on the table.”

“I’ll be down in a minute, promise.”

“No more than ten,” she replied, her stern frown ruined by the gleam of happiness radiating from her. She shut the door behind her, leaving me alone.

I stretched, winced as my sore muscles protested and injuries pulled, and grabbed my phone. Three new texts awaited me.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and saw that the first was from Kat, aka Meow. U promised deets!

The second was also from Kat. Where are my deets??

The third was from Justin. Well, I hadn’t stored his number, so the digits were unfamiliar, but I knew it was him because of the question. What time should I pick U up?

He’d once asked me if I was dating Cole, and I’d said no. “No” was still the answer. But. There was always a but, wasn’t there? Last night, Cole and I had nearly had sex on a dance floor. We’d fought zombies together, and he’d invited me into his group. He’d answered some of my questions, and planned to answer more (or so he claimed). He’d protected me from the wrath of his friends. Maybe he was ready to date me.

Would I say yes if he asked? Better question: Was I ready for a relationship with a guy like him?

Before the zombies, I had already decided no. After the zombies, I…had to change my mind, I realized. I’d almost died. I didn’t know how much longer I had left. I needed to live life to the fullest while I had the chance.

He had more experience, yes, and he had a commanding personality I’d always have to be on guard against, and okay, the thought of being with him scared me as much as it fascinated me, but if he liked me, I’d go out with him. I was done allowing fear to dictate my life.

No way I’d give the zombies something to enjoy.

But if Cole didn’t want me, fine. I’d be okay. Sure, I might cry about it for a few days (cough weeks cough), but I’d be okay. He wasn’t the be-all and end-all. Right?

Groaning, I lumbered from the bed, brushed my hair and teeth and changed into my own clothing. I shot Kat a quick, Deets 2 come later. Promise.

I shot Justin a more thought out, How does 8 sound?

There wasn’t enough time left of my ten minutes to wait for their replies, so I headed to the kitchen for lunch. On today’s menu was turkey on rye and chips. One whiff, and I was a ravenous beast monster, my mouth watering and my stomach grumbling.

I devoured my portion without coming up for air.

“Wow,” Pops said, staring at me from across the table as if I’d grown horns. “You never told us you were a sandwich fan.”

“I can make ham and Swiss for dinner,” Nana said, then frowned. “What happened to your wrists and hands?”

As ladylike as possible, I wiped the mustard from my upper lip. “My hands?” I studied the cuts and bruises, the swelling, and hoped with every ounce of my being that I looked calmer than I suddenly felt. “Oh, that. I fell.” Again with the truth that wasn’t really the truth.

“Looks like you punched someone,” Pops said with a frown of his own.

“He should know,” Nana said with a nod. “Your grandpa was a boxer in his youth. Sexiest thing I’d ever seen, let me tell you. He wore these short little shorts, and sweat was always dripping down his hairy chest.”

Gross!

They shared an affectionate glance before Pops prompted, “Ali?”

“Oh, well. Hmm. I definitely fell. And uh, I’ve got a date tonight. Well, not a date, but a friendship outing.” If they didn’t embrace the diversion, I didn’t know what I’d do. “With a boy from my school.”

“A date?” Pops toyed with the edge of one thick, silver brow. “Where’s he taking you? What time will you be home?”

“What if he wants to have sex with you?” Nana immediately jumped in. “Did your mother talk to you about sex?”

Oh, no. Not the sex talk. Please, not the sex talk. “Yes, Mom talked to me.” Moving on. “A girl from school, Reeve, has a pool and a group of us are going over there to hang out. Kat introduced me to her, and I promise you, I will not be having sex with anyone.” I was beyond embarrassed even saying the word in front of them.

And you know what else? After everything that had happened last night, it was weird, sitting here, eating lunch with my family, having a conversation that thousands of other teens were probably having.

“Reeve.” Pops pursed his lips. “That sounds like a made-up name to me. What exactly will be crackalackin at this party? Will her parents be there?”

Again with the horrible slang, the adorable man. “We’ll swim, talk, probably play video games and Ping-Pong,” I said, sidestepping the parents portion of his interrogation. I hadn’t heard one way or the other, but I suspected a big fat no.

Pops gave me the evil eye. “You’re not going to get chewed, are you?”

I…had no idea how to respond to that. “Chewed?”

“Don’t pretend to misunderstand, young lady,” Nana said. “Chewed. Cranked. Trashed.”

“You mean drunk?” Please, let them mean drunk. This discussion had already taken too many horrendous turns.

My grandparents nodded in unison, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“No,” I said. “I promise. No drinking.” On my part, I silently added. Who knew what the other kids would be doing—after taking shots of tequila off of each other’s bellies.

“All right, then. We’ll trust you. Unless and until you give us reason not to,” Nana added in that stern, motherly tone of hers. “But we’ll want to meet this boy, talk to him before you leave with him, that kind of thing.”

I did not allow myself to gulp guiltily, even though I wanted to. “Thank you. He’s nice, I promise. But we’re not interested in each other that way.”

“Then why are you going out with him?” Nana asked, clearly exasperated with my continued insistence.

“Because he asked me.”

“Are you leading him on?” Pops demanded.

“No!”

“We ask because we care.” Nana brushed her hands together, and crumbs went flying in every direction. “Now, then. Do you need a few dead presidents?”

Took me a minute to decipher that one, too. “Maybe a few…Washingtons,” I said, giving the slang a shot just to make them happy. They were such good people. They’d taken me in, given me a home, food and even personal space to mourn in my own way.

Pops pulled out his wallet. “What if there’s an emergency, and this boy leaves you alone in the restaurant? He is taking you to eat at a nice place, isn’t he? I’ll give you a few Lincolns.” He withdrew three fives, placed them in my hand and closed my fingers around them.

“Uh, we’re not going out to eat.”

“What kind of boy takes a girl to a party without feeding her first? Not one I’d want to date, that’s for sure,” Nana said.

Someone help me. “We’re not dating!”

They had a few more questions about the party—was I planning to skinny-dip, play strip anything or naked Ping-Pong—leaving me in flames of mortification. By the end I managed to convince them of my determination to keep my clothes on and we agreed on a twelve-thirty curfew. We also agreed that I would call if Justin got “handsy.”

I liked that they cared enough about me to be concerned, but, oh, wow, this was painful. I’d never had this experience with my parents because I’d never gone out. Too bad I hadn’t realized what a blessing that was until too late.

Back in my room, I finally had the opportunity to research zombies without falling asleep. Most of the info I found stemmed from movies, fictional books, a magazine about dating the undead, and role-playing that icked me out big-time, especially with images of naked Ping-Pong running through my mind. There was nothing I could take seriously, but I did find a few forums where people speculated about were-zombies-real-or-weren’t-they, what to do if you actually found one and the possibility of an uprising.

Nothing mirrored what Cole and Frosty had told me, and that proved one of two things. Either we were the best-kept secret in the world, or I just hadn’t found the right sites. I was leaning toward option two. Even my dad had managed to find a site with tidbits of correct information. He’d read that guns wouldn’t hurt the zombies; he just hadn’t believed.

As I was closing the laptop, I spotted Emma’s photo and the journal I’d left on my closet floor. Nana must have done some cleaning and placed the items on my desk. I blew Emma a kiss before picking up the journal.

How could I have forgotten it, even for a moment? It was the reason I’d known about spirit, soul and body before Cole had told me. And really, maybe this was where my dad had gotten his information.

Anticipation danced through me. I cracked the spine and read from where I’d left off.

I’ve been able to see the evil among us all of my life, but I didn’t learn how to fight it until much later, and then only by accident. I tried using a knife—nothing. I tried shooting—again nothing. Finally, when the monsters cornered me, I wanted so badly to destroy them, and deep down, I knew I could. I just didn’t know how. A split second later, my spirit was out of my body. (Later I would learn that the wonder known as faith was the cause of the separation. You can stumble upon it, and not realize until later.) Suddenly I could touch the evil creatures I’d before only seen—and they could touch me.

After that, they were more determined than ever to end me. They hunted me as if I were wild game. For a while, I ran. But always they followed me, their darkness drawn to my light.

I had to teach myself how to ambush them.

Teach me! I thought with a flare of excitement.

If you possess the ability to see them, you should possess other abilities as well. A more highly developed sense of smell. An inward knowing of when evil approaches. A hand of heat.

“Check, maybe check, can’t check yet,” I muttered.

Those abilities should be common to all of us, but some slayers refuse to yield to the power that swirls inside them. Why? I always wonder. Fear?

“Possible check.”

Oh, if only all of us would yield! There are even more abilities to be had, so many more.

Like the visions Cole and I shared, perhaps.

But all right. I can hear you now. You want to do something easy. Well, then. Speak. There is power in our words, when we wholly believe what we’re saying, and that power is available even in this natural realm. There is an energy that creates whatever is spoken without doubt, allowing our words to be a weapon for us—but if we aren’t careful, they’ll become a weapon against us.

Like everything else, I had to learn the hard way.

But I can hear you now. If there’s so much power in our words, we should be able to speak the end of the zombies, right? Wrong! The amount of power we wield with our words stems from the strength of our belief. Can you honestly tell me that you believe, from the bottom of your heart, that when you say something like, “All zombies are wiped out, gone,” that it will happen? No, you can’t. You don’t believe it’s possible.

Cole had already told me about the speaking thing, and though I’d first doubted him, this acted as confirmation. I’d have to be more open-minded about this stuff.

More than that, we can only believe for ourselves. We can’t believe for others. We can protect ourselves, but we can’t always protect others. And sometimes, what we speak takes time to manifest. How much patience do you have? How long can you believe before you begin to doubt? Doubt, even a little, and you’ve rendered your words powerless.

As for the other abilities…

I tried to read on, except, the rest of the words were written in some sort of code. A rumble of frustration left me and I barely curbed the urge to toss the journal against the wall. I knew nothing about codes and couldn’t believe my mother would have. So, who had written this journal, and how had she gotten it?

Maybe Cole would have an idea, but then again, maybe he wouldn’t. I wasn’t going to ask him.

He and his friends had not yet given me their full trust, and I wasn’t sure what they’d think of my find. Decide it was a fraud? A way to trick them? A way to distract them? Also, I had to wonder if they’d try to take it away from me.

Okay, so I didn’t trust them fully, either.

You’re still gonna say yes if Cole asks you out, right?

Well, yeah. Something I’d learned: truly living required risk.

My phone beeped. Like everyone else in the world, I dropped everything to check, setting the journal down and picking up the cell.

Kat: U enjoy torture, I think. TELL ME NOW!

I’d missed an earlier text, I saw.

Justin: Sounds good. C U then.

I dealt with Kat first. I told her that Cole and I had spent the night together, yes, but we hadn’t done more than talk. Now that was the full truth and nothing but the truth. She was disappointed to say the least. And when I told her that Cole had had car trouble and that Frosty had to come to our rescue, she stopped texting.

I told Justin I was excited to see him, which was also true, but then I had to pray that he wouldn’t take the words the wrong way. My grandparents had me paranoid about leading him on.

Then I had to ponder what Cole and his hell-razing boys and girls would think of my association with Justin. They were such an exclusive group. Outsiders were not welcome, and everyone knew it. Including me! By joining them, I would probably have to shove everyone else from my life. Justin I liked but wouldn’t cry about losing. But what about Kat? Would she eventually fade from my life? She had from Frosty’s.

I really really liked her. She was fun and fresh and exciting. She knew her worth and wasn’t afraid to tell others all about it.

Don’t worry about this now. Tonight I would enjoy myself, as if I was a normal girl, just like any other. After all, I no longer had to question Cole; I already had the answers. I could hang out with Justin and get to know him better. I could see Kat and laugh with her. I would see Cole, too, and…who knew? Tomorrow, everything would change.

I’d deal with the consequences then.

11
Red Roses, White Roses…Black Roses

Justin arrived right on time. In other words, grilling time. To my utter mortification, my grandparents questioned him as if they were cops and he a hardened criminal. All I could do was watch in horror and apologize profusely.

Here’s how it went down:

Pops: Plans for the future?

Justin: Not sure yet.

Pops: Well, why not? You don’t got much longer in school, boy. Now’s the time to figure things out, not later. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you can’t spell later without the word late?

Justin: I promise you, I’m doing my best to figure things out.

Pops: “Doing my best” is a phrase failures use. Why don’t you buy a man card and finish figuring?

Me: Pops! That’s so rude. Justin, I’m so sorry.

I knew this was for my benefit, for my protection, that my grandparents were concerned about me, and didn’t want me to end up with a guy like my dad, that they wanted Justin to be so intimidated by them that he wouldn’t try anything he shouldn’t, but oh, my goodness, it was too much.

Pops: What? How is a valid question rude? But all right, fine, I’ll move on since baby boy can’t take the heat. How about you finish this sentence for me, Jason? When a girl says no, she means…

Justin, looking desperately at me: No?

Nana: Are you not sure?

Justin, shifting uncomfortably: I’m sure. No means no.

Nana: Well, look at you. You got one right. Now here’s another, even tougher sentence for you to finish. Premarital sex is…

Me: Nana! I’m so sorry, Justin.

Nana: Unlike Pops, I’m not moving on. Justin?

Pops: His name is Jason.

Justin: Uh…uh…

Pops: While you think about that, why don’t you tell me how you feel about drinking and driving?

Justin: I’m totally against it, I swear!

Nana: Methinks he protests too much.

They finally let us leave, and I apologized all over again.

“That was brutal,” he gritted out.

“I know, I’m sorry. They aren’t normally like that, I promise. They just want to make sure I’m safe with you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he slid into the driver’s side of his truck, but his voice was still as tight as it had been inside the house, and I knew he was going to worry about it for weeks.

I searched the sky as I buckled into the passenger seat. It was dark, a handful of clouds evident. Please be gone. Please don’t be—

The rabbit was there.

Cold fingers of dread crawled down my spine. “Drive slowly, okay?” I said to Justin. Frosty had slowed down and survived. Justin would, too. Surely. Please.

“Whatever your grandparents told you, I’m not drunk!”

Yeah. He was still worrying.

“I have a car phobia, that’s all.”

He kept things at a smooth jog. It was enough to prevent a freak-out.

I closed my eyes and retreated to the back of my mind. At least I didn’t have to worry about the zombies. Because they’d come out last night they now needed time to rest and—here was an increasingly sickening thought—digest their food.

“We’re here,” Justin said.

“How? Only a minute or two—” I blinked and saw that he’d already parked. Cars were lined up all over Reeve’s driveway, in the grass and along the street. “Wow. We really are here.” I must have lost track of time.

He’d survived. I’d survived. What a fantastic day! Being forewarned must be forearmed. And you know what? I could live with that. Literally.

We walked to the front door side by side. The moon was a mere sliver of gold now, the clouds gone and the sky dark though peppered with hundreds of pinpricks of light.

I was surprised when I noticed that Justin was scanning the bushes, cars and trees as we approached the porch. I was doing the same thing.

He missed a step, righted himself and snarled out, “Cole.”

“What? Where?”

I found him a second later. Cole was on the porch, leaning against the brick wall beside the door, a beam of light raining over him. He popped his jaw when he spotted Justin.

He wouldn’t meet my gaze, was too busy glaring at Justin. Had he been waiting for me?

“This is who you decided to come with?” Cole asked, his voice dripping with disgust.

“She knows a good guy when she sees one,” Justin said stiffly.

Lips I’d kissed pursed with irritation. “I need to talk to Ali. Alone.”

“No way I’d ever leave her alone with you. You’re not the kind of—”

Cole was in his face before Justin could finish that sentence. “If you don’t go inside, you’ll be eating your teeth. You know I can make you do it. I have before.”

“Enough!” I got between them and pushed them apart. Still Cole didn’t meet my gaze. “Seriously, that’s enough.” Clearly these guys had some history, but come on. Ruining a party before it had even begun was overkill.

“Why don’t we let Ali pick?” Justin said with a smug inflection that had me gnashing my teeth in annoyance.

“Ali,” Cole snapped. “I waited for you for a reason. You can guess what it is.”

“I—” might have a vision, I realized. This was the first time I’d seen Cole today.

Neither one of us knew what would happen when our eyes met. “I’ll, uh, meet you inside,” I said to Justin.

His gaze whipped to me, hurt falling over his expression. “You said you weren’t seeing him.”

“I’m not.” At least, not now. “He’s my friend.” Kinda sorta.

“His friends die.”

Yeah, but Justin had no idea why. “Well, I won’t.”

“Fine. Whatever,” Justin snapped, and I realized I’d probably lost his friendship sooner rather than later. “I hope you enjoy being stabbed in the back, because that’s all he’s good at.”

He stomped inside, leaving me alone with Cole—who grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me into the shadows.

“Do you have any idea what a snake that guy is?” he demanded, pressing me against the cold of the wall. “Are you working with him?”

“No!” I kept my gaze down, on his boots. “I don’t even know where he works.”

Cole mumbled something like “Are you kidding me?” under his breath. “So you’re just dating him, then.”

“I’m not dating him.” I want to date you. “We’re just friends.” Kinda sorta.

“Like we’re just friends?” he sneered.

I balled my hands. “I haven’t kissed him, if that’s what you mean.”

A pause. A sharp inhalation. “Just so you know, he’s the kind of friend who will go for your throat—while you’re sleeping.”

Definite history there. “He basically said the same thing about you. So what happened between you guys?”

“That’s none of your business.”

His voice had risen with every word. In a few seconds, he’d be shouting and kids would be spilling out of the house to discover who Cole was murdering. “Let’s just get this over with, okay? Look at me.”

“Not okay. Don’t you want to know where I was this morning?” he asked, settling his hands on my waist.

So warm, so strong. So distracting. I cleared my throat. “Will you tell me if I say yes?”

“I was reinforcing your house. I saw the worry in your eyes when I mentioned that we draw the…you know, and not the you know you were talking about last night. I wanted to make sure your grandparents were protected.”

That was, like, the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. “Thank you.”

“And then I find you here with Justin Silverstone.” Anger pulsed from him, each wave slamming into me. He placed two fingers under my chin and lifted my head. “So yeah, we’ll get this over with and go our separate ways.”

I had to purse my lips to hold in my protest. Had he meant go our separate ways permanently or just for tonight?

The moment I met those gorgeous purple eyes, the world vanished and my mind blanked. No longer were we standing—

–we were lying down, and he was on top of me. We were dressed, though my shirt had ridden up to just under my bra. Grass cushioned me. We were in a backyard, but it wasn’t mine. Sunlight spotlighted us, but we didn’t care. He had one hand on my stomach, and one on my face.

“Are you sorry?” he asked.

“No. Are you?”

“Never. I just wish we could—”

Someone laughed from inside the house, and the too-short vision vanished in a puff of smoke.

I gently beat at Cole’s chest. I think we were destined to be interrupted every time.

He accepted the abuse without comment. When I settled, I murmured an apology, unsure how many others I’d have to make tonight, and leaned my forehead against him, despite the fact that I wasn’t certain of my reception. His heart thumped wildly, a mimic of mine, and I took comfort in that.

“What do you think I was sorry about?” I asked.

“Your date with Justin?”

I hit him again.

“What? It was just a guess.” At least the anger had drained from him.

That was, hands down, my favorite vision, even though we hadn’t really done anything. Would have been nice to know what we’d done before the conversation—and what we’d been leading up to.

Whatever the answers, happiness began to flood me. Everything we’d seen had happened in some form or another. Therefore, Cole wasn’t done with me permanently. We would sprawl in someone’s backyard and touch and talk and…whatever else.

“Let’s go inside before I do something I’ll regret,” he muttered, ushering me to the door.

“Like what?”

“Like, I can’t say. Knowing you, you’ll run.”

Before he could open the glass, two boys I’d never met peeked out. They leered when they spotted me, even issued my mouth an invitation to the party in their pants—or tried to. Their words tapered off when they noticed Cole. They frowned and backed away, the color draining from their cheeks.

“You weren’t lying when you said everyone’s afraid of you,” I remarked.

“I know, and that’s the way I like it. No one asks me any questions about what I’m up to, they just expect the worst and keep their distance. You should take a lesson.”

“Ha! I’m not afraid of you, and I never will be.” I wouldn’t mention the times I had, in fact, been afraid of him.

“So you keep saying. But I’ll keep trying to change your mind.”

Cole held the door open for me, and I swept inside the house, purring, “With your lethal manners? Good luck.”

“Funny.”

Music thumped from speakers in the ceiling, voices and laughter mingling and creating a ragged soundtrack of chaos.

Kids meandered throughout, some drinking from plastic red cups, some chanting, “Go Tigers!” Some were more interested in talking, but a few were more interested in making out against the wall. I couldn’t locate Justin in the crowd, but can I just say that there was more T and A in here than in a bucket of the Kentucky Colonel’s best? Shirts were more bralike than anything and skirts and shorts were totally butt-tastic. I was way overdressed in my pink tank and jeans, but that hardly seemed like a good enough reason for all the girls to be looking at me with disgust.

Surely I was mistaken. Except, equally weird, the boys couldn’t keep their eyes off me, either, most of them leering at me just like the ones at the door. Twice I checked my zipper to make sure I wasn’t flashing pantie. (I wasn’t.)

“Be careful of snakes,” Cole said, and turned away from me. He tried to walk away.

I grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “At least tell me what Justin did to—”

“Nope, I’m not talking about that here.” He gazed pointedly at my hand.

O-kay. I released him. “Who’s running now?”

The taunt worked; he stayed put. For a long while, we simply stood there, silent. Finally, he massaged the back of his neck and growled, “Do you want to dance?”

“With your attitude?” And after what had happened the last time we’d danced in public? No. But that was not the word that left my mouth. “Yes.”

I should have continued my search for Justin. I shouldn’t have allowed Cole to pull me into the center of the action, but I did. Everyone else rocked out at a swift pace, but he hugged me close and swayed slowly.