I wave over to him with a spastic enthusiasm and catch his attention. He lifts his hand just as a wall of a bodies lunge at him. Logan lands flat on his back, three bodies deep, and I let out a groan at the sight.
“Looks like your hands are lethal weapons.” Kate mimics my wave.
“Very funny,” I say as we make our way over the expanse of emerald lawn.
It feels good to have friends, or the prospective friends at least. It feels more than good to have the prospect of a boyfriend even though he’s not officially my anything. And it’s especially good that he shares my secret, that we can do it together. It brings a whole new meaning to a meeting of the minds.
“Alright bitches!” Michelle barks out at us. Her face is a thing of beauty but her personality clouds any physical perfection she might have. “Ready begin!” She blares music from a boom box without waiting for us to get into position. I try to copy the steps and keep up, but it’s pointless. I’m more than ten steps behind everyone else at any given time.
I bump into Lexy Bakova as I foolishly attempt a running kick and end up knocking her to the ground by way of my foot.
“Shit!” I cover my mouth.
The music stops abruptly as the triune goddesses quickly descend upon her.
“I’m so sorry.” I crouch down, trying to catch a glimpse of the unintended victim of my clumsiness. “It was an accident, I swear.”
A powerful blow explodes over my mouth, sends me flying backward onto the lawn. It takes a second for me to realize it was Emily’s elbow that so violently decided to connect with my dental work.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she exaggerates the words.
“It was an accident, I swear,” Michelle bleats it out with sarcasm. They break out in a fit of cackles while helping Lexy to her feet.
“What the fuck!” Kate shouts as she helps me up. Natalie and Brielle look equally pissed for me and I’d appreciate this a whole lot more if I wasn’t dying in pain.
“You’re bleeding.” Brielle wipes my mouth with the back of her hand, and a smear of red liquid streaks across her finger.
I inventory my teeth by way of my tongue to see if I’ve lost any in the process. I can taste the salt in my blood—tastes like rust, like I’ve been sucking on old pennies and I spit before the urge to vomit takes over.
“You’re so sick,” Lexy reprimands with her hand still flat over her stomach.
“Excuse me,” Brielle charges at her, “she almost had her teeth rearranged, you stupid bitch!”
“Who asked you to join the squad anyway?” Lexy doesn’t hesitate baring her fangs in my direction.
“I did.” Brielle takes an aggressive step forward. A small gust of wind pumps up her hair like a lions mane, and for a second I’m afraid a catfight is about to break out. “You gotta problem with that?”
“Actually,” Michelle steps between the two of them, “we all have a problem with that.” She fixes those expressionless black eyes on me with venom. “You think you can move into Chloe’s house, take her spot on the team, steal her boyfriend, and call it a day?”
“If you really want to be like her,” Emily bites down a wicked grin, “why don’t you swan dive off Devil’s Peak?” Flames shoot out of Emily’s eyes as if she has the power to will it to happen. But the details are worn. You don’t swan dive then bury yourself in a shallow grave. If she were really Chloe’s friend, she would never have gone there in the first place.
Brielle pushes into Emily’s chest, hard with both hands.
“Shit!” Emily screams at top volume before doubling over. “I think you popped an implant.”
“That’s it,” Michelle snaps, “practice is canceled.”
Lexy crashes into my shoulder as she strides on by. “You better watch your back, bitch.”
8
Lust and Things
Brielle takes to me to the nearest ER, and I blatantly refuse to get out of the car. Instead, we end up someplace where the attendants have bodies strong enough to protect you from a nuclear missile and can heal you with their good looks alone—the bowling alley.
I’m beginning to appreciate the aggressive flicker of light as we make our way inside. I love how spacious the bowling alley is, how the heavenly scent of buttered popcorn might actually be breeding air born calories.
In less than a minute, Logan gently pats my cheek with a bag of crushed ice. Every now and again he pulls it back to inspect the damage.
I place my hand over his arm—caress it back and forth until I can hear him clearly.
You’ll live. He gives a bleak smile. Stay away from those girls. They’re mostly trouble.
They said I stole Chloe’s boyfriend. Did I? My cheeks explode with color.
I’m shocked by my own audacity.
He gives a gentle laugh.
“What’s up with all the star gazing and silence?” Brielle looks genuinely perturbed. “If you die in your sleep because you have a concussion, it’s literally on your head, missy.”
“Points to you for sounding like my mother.” I trail down Logan’s arm and clasp onto his fingers.
Brielle glares at me a moment before excusing herself to the bathroom.
Was it something I said? I give a sarcastic smile.
“Look,” Gage blows it out in disgust, “if you guys are going to do this, find a booth in the back where people can’t see you,” The slight hint of jealousy lingers long after leaves.
Are you sure Gage can’t do this? I mean, you are related, I ask.
No. He knows all about it. Wouldn’t take my hand if it meant getting out of a fire. He’s mastered other tricks though, far more useless, I assure you.
What do you mean, other tricks? Logan, tell me what this is. Is it some sort of genetic defect? Why can I do this? Why do we have this ability?
His face sours. He pulls his hand away and drops it under the table.
“I want to. Not here though.”
“Why not? Nobody will know. We can do it in secret.”
“Really?” Brielle laughs as she takes a seat, her hand stuffed with a giant wad of tissue. “Why not right here on the table? I don’t think anyone will notice at all.”
“Not that,” I balk. “Are you OK?” Her eyes are puffy and swollen like she’s just had a good cry. All this talk about Chloe must have really upset her. I hate the thought I was somehow responsible. It was me who brought her up.
“It’s just hard sometimes.” She looks up at Logan. “Chloe’s been on my mind, and it’s gone from bad to worse.”
“Chloe was your friend.” He squints like he doesn’t really mean it. “It’s OK to miss her.”
My chest sinks like a stone when he says her name.
“I know.” Brielle wipes the tears and looks over at me. “She did have the bad habit of hanging out with Em, Michelle, and Lexy. They weren’t always the triune anything. She was the one who tempered them, and now without her they’ve gone feral. It’s like their wickedness unleashed the second Chloe disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Of course she disappeared. I just never thought of it that way. In my mind it had all happened backward with her already lying in state in her casket.
“She went missing for two weeks,” Brielle whispers it like a secret. “Nobody knows what happened. Coroner says her body was thrashed when they found her,” she lowers her lashes, “she had these strange cuts all over.” Brielle gazes out past the lanes, through the walls, and straight into Chloe’s grave.
“Cuts? Maybe they were scrapes from branches? Like she was trying to escape,” I offer.
Logan shakes his head as though trying to evict the visual from his mind.
“Deep incisions,” Brielle’s voice breaks when she says it. “Her mom said it looked barbaric like she was used as some kind of science experiment. They think maybe somebody tortured her,” her voice rasps to nothing.
“Dear God.” I mouth the words.
Logan pulls the bag of ice away and shifts its contents before gently
replacing it to my lip.
I had no idea about Chloe. I’m starting to regret ever asking about her. For all I know the killer could have extricated her from our shared bedroom in the middle of the night. They could have a perverse desire to snatch girls from that exact location again and again. I don’t really know anyone here on Paragon that well. For all I know he could be lurking somewhere right here in the bowling alley—watching me, waiting.
For sure I need to give my brain something fresh to gnaw on so I change the subject.
“Listen, if I can convince my parents to have a party will you come?” It may not be the perfect segue, but it beats ruminating on a killer.
“Of course.” A devilish smile play on Logan’s lips. Although I doubt a party was the venue he had in mind to let me in on his big secret—our secret.
“I mean just you guys and,” I look over at Brielle, “Drake will be there. Kate and Nat can come. My mom has this thing about my stepbrother meeting people. I know she’ll be OK with it.” Never mind the fact I almost clawed her flesh off this morning. I’m sort of hoping she’s already long forgotten about that.
“Sounds good.” Logan picks up my hand. But I can’t tell you in a room full of people. We need to be alone—just you and me.
Tell me now. No one will know.
Alone.
Am I going to freak out when I hear it?
He doesn’t say anything. Not a single thought sails through his mind.
You don’t think I can handle it, do you? I ask.
It’s not that I don’t think you can’t handle it. Once you realize who you are, you won’t ever get a chance to go back.
Who am I?
Skyla.
Not funny. I don’t scare easy.
You’re lying. He gives a bleak smile.
You’re saying it’ll frighten me?
It will and it should.
9
Speechless
“And think about Drake,” I motion over to him sprawled across the sectional, “he could meet all kinds of people who go to West Paragon.” I nod convincingly into my mother.
Brielle and I have spent the last several minutes building our case for a simple movie night with friends tomorrow night. Just the sheer heft of how hard it is convincing her to have a few people over, you would think we were asking to sacrifice kittens at midnight.
“I’m all for it,” she gives a dismissive wave, “I’ll take Tad out for a surprise date and catch the ten o’clock show. Fair enough?”
“What about the girls?” I hadn’t even thought of Mia and Melissa until they walked past us five seconds ago.
“They’ll come with.” She relaxes into the idea.
“Really?” A small squeal of delight escapes, and I’m careful to check it. No need to let her in on the fact I’m beyond excited. Just the thought of having Logan over makes me want to bounce like a three-year old.
“We’ve still got boxes everywhere and don’t think it hasn’t gone unnoticed that you haven’t exactly been digging into them.”
“I swear,” I hold my hand in the air like a girl scout, “I will tackle those boxes come Sunday morning.”
“Nice try, but I’m dragging the whole lot of you to church.”
Brielle gives an audible laugh.
“It wouldn’t hurt if you joined us,” Mom offers.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Brielle averts her eyes when my mother’s not looking. Once my mom has a chance to get to know Darla, I think she’ll realize they have polarizing parental opinions and I’m betting marital ones, too.
When my dad was alive, church was a part of the family. It was mostly something my dad encouraged and none of us protested too severely. But since my mother married the antichrist, none of us have even stepped near hallowed ground.
“OK, Sunday afternoon,” I submerge my glee like trying to hold an air bubble underwater, “and we won’t make a mess. You’ll see.”
***
“Bitch squad, three o’ clock.” Brielle pushes me into the clearance rack at the mall.
I hadn’t really thought about clothes before, but after ransacking my closet it was clear there was nothing Logan worthy to wear tomorrow night.
“Would you stop?” I say, trying to right myself. “I’m not afraid of them.” I watch as Michelle, Lexy and Emily turn their noses up at the meager offerings. “If they hate everything so damn much maybe they should jump off Devil’s Peak.” A part of me can’t believe I just said that out loud. I keep forgetting that comments like that bring up the pain of Chloe’s death. It’s embarrassing how many times I’ve emotionally slit Brielle’s wrist with my tongue and let her bleed with grief. “Sorry,” I whisper as the three of them head in our direction.
“No offense taken.” Brielle pretends to interest herself in an ugly striped sweater.
“So, Michelle,” Emily ups the volume of her ultra annoying voice, “you give Logan back his sweater yet?”
I look up. It’s like hearing his name inspires some kind of kneejerk reaction in me. And why would she have his sweater? Probably just bullshit.
“I haven’t seen him yet.” Michelle glowers briefly in my direction. “It was just last night he left it in my room.” They break out in a fit of laughter. The sound of their voices erodes the peace and quiet of the store, fills my ears with its chaffing rhythm. I can tell by their expressions, making me miserable offers them a unique brand of nirvana.
Emily makes her way over in a series of heavy plods. Her dark curls frame her face, harsh and unattractive. It reminds me of a picture I once saw of a mermaid who had her locks shorn by the sea witch. When I was little, my father would read me fairytales at bedtime and I would study the pictures, dream about them. I used to wish I could be like that girl, jump into the sea and swim with the fishes, live in that magical underwater world.
“I guess I owe you an apology.” Her watery blue eyes drill into mine.
I’m stupefied by the notion of an apology—struck without words. Emily Morgan, the evil mermaid, eating crow? Doubtful.
“I guess you didn’t steal everything from Chloe.” Emily steps away as Lexy replaces her in the line up.
“How does it feel to be sleeping in the same room that Logan did Chloe in? Has he done you there too? You know, it being familiar stomping grounds and all. He is known for being insatiable in that department, isn’t that right Michelle?”
“I don’t kiss and tell, Lex.” A slow spreading smile widens across Michelle’s face.
It’s like I see her for the first time, her dark honeyed skin, eyes black as midnight, her lips naturally pulled in a snarl whether the occasion warrants it or not. Her hair falls down in burnt amber waves well past her shoulders. She holds a wicked beauty. I could see guys lining up around the block to take a ride if she threw out the offer. But I’m not buying that Logan is one of them.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to Bree.
“Not so fast.” Michelle steps out in front of me. “Logan says you’re having a party tomorrow night. So I guess that means we’re invited, right?” She clogs up the air with her sarcastic drivel.
“Really? Logan told you that?” I bet she vomits lies in her sleep.
“Yup. He says it’s going to be really exciting, what with all the movies and popcorn.” Michelle digs into me with a look of satisfaction. “Oh wait, he didn’t mention popcorn—guess it won’t be exciting after all.”
“Oh, I know,” Emily interjects. “We can all go to the library first and check out books. Then we can snuggle up on the couch together and read them round robin style.”
They explode with laughter.
“Better yet,” Emily continues, “we can do personality makeovers!” She’s laughing so hard, tears streak down the side of her face, bleaching out her foundation in jagged white tracks.
Brielle grabs me by the elbow and rushes us out the door, setting the security alarm off in the process. She looks down at the ugly striped sweater in her hand before tossing it back into the
store, nailing Michelle in the face with it.
“If any of that crap about Logan is true, his ass is toast,” Brielle hisses.
If any of that stuff about Logan is true I want off Paragon.
I’ll swim all the way back to L.A. if I have to.
10
Gathering
“So it’s prolly the wrong time to ask, but how exactly does one garner a handful of enemies in the short time we’ve been here?” Drake asks with a mouthful of food.
I slap the next chip out of his hand.
“Stay away from the rations,” I snip. “It’s not for you.”
To say I’ve been a little pissy since my confrontation yesterday with the bitch squad is a gross miscarriage of the truth. I’ve been a lot pissy, and stabby and all around miserable.
I made Brielle promise she wouldn’t tell me whatever info she may have gleaned from her shift at the bowling alley. I want to hear it right out of Logan’s mouth—see his face when he tells me what exactly went on with Michelle. Hopefully nothing.
A thousand different scenarios have played out in my mind and the truth is not one of them made me feel better. And the thought of Logan having sex with some dead girl in my bedroom sent me packing for the downstairs couch last night. I know she wasn’t dead at the time, but dead or alive, it hurt like hell to hear it.
“Please,” Brielle snorts into Drake. She sounds just as annoyed with him as I do. Maybe the delusion has been shattered, and she sees him for the monkey boy he really is. “They’re everybody’s enemies.”
“So you’re saying I’m in good company.” I stir the lemonade in a large glass pitcher my mother uses for parties. Chips and dip? Lemonade? “This is so going to suck.”
“No it’s not.” Brielle pushes me aside and continues to stir for me. “We’re watching a movie. The guys are bringing pizza. And by nights end you may not hate Michelle so much.”
My eyes dart over to her accusingly. She’s implying that what Michelle said yesterday was true, at least in part. I hold up my hand. I don’t want to hear another word—for now.