Keeper

“YES!”

Maggie stifled a giggle, but gave the Beetle a little bit of gas and headed toward the opposite side of the lot. “Of course, you realize you owe me huge best friend points for letting go of such a primo space so you can duck and cover from the guy you won’t admit you’re swooning over.”

I ignored her, covering my face with my hands. “What is he doing here?”

“Well,” Maggie said, still trying not to laugh, “you could ask him. But that would require actual face-to-face communication, and clearly you’re not up for that.”

I turned and glared at her. “Just tell me if you can still see him.”

Maggie craned her neck toward the window looking back in the direction of the black car. “No, I don’t see him anymore. The bell’s about to ring though. Maybe he’s already inside.”

Thank God for small miracles. “Good.”

“So, are you gonna explain what this sudden shyness is about? I mean, I thought you’d be kinda excited to see him again.”

“I am. I mean, I think I am. I just . . . I don’t know. I just don’t have time to deal with this right now.

Maggie chuckled. “Don’t you at least want to talk to him?”

I thought of our previous encounters, and the heat from my ears spread to my neck and cheeks. I shook my head. “No,” I said, pulling my backpack from the backseat. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

We headed inside, making our way through the packed hallways. I was fully prepared to dive into the nearest doorway if I had to, but thankfully there was no sign of Ty.

At my locker, I crammed my books inside at warp speed. All I could think about was hightailing it to English class without being seen. I slammed the locker door shut, the metal clanging loudly, and hurried down the hall toward my classroom.

I ran around the corner and sighed with relief when the class door came into view. Just a few more steps and I would be home free.

But my feeling of relief popped like a bubble when the familiar tenor of two little words broke through my thoughts.

“Nice jacket.”

I let out a squeal and spun around like a ninja, my arms up and ready for attack.

“Easy there, Karate Kid.” Ty was leaning against a row of lockers, his arms folded across his chest, the corner of his mouth slanted up in amusement.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my heart racing.

“Heading to English. Same as you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. What are you doing here? At my school.”

“Well, according to this,” Ty said, pulling a crumpled schedule from his back pocket, “it’s our school.”

“You go here?”

“Well,” Ty said, pushing off from the wall, “my parole officer thought it would be a good idea for me to get a little education. Makes me look better to the judge.”

I sucked in a breath of air—a little too quickly, in fact, which resulted in a small fit of coughing and sputtering. Parole officer?

“You all right?”

I waved my hand in dismissal as one last cough shook my shoulders. “Yeah,” I managed, my voice strained. “Allergies.” I stood up a little straighter and tried to play it cool, though I was secretly hoping a freak sinkhole would suddenly open up and swallow me whole.

“Right.” Ty watched me for a moment, a full grin of amusement on his face, before finally leaning forward. “You know I was kidding, right?” He smirked. “I haven’t talked to my parole officer in months.”

“Oh,” I shrugged. “Of course. Right.”

Ty chuckled again. “Look, it’s pretty basic. I’m eighteen years old. If I want to graduate, I kinda have to attend this little establishment.”

“Right. So you obviously just moved here. I mean, Lothbrook’s a pretty small town. Everyone knows everyone—that kind of thing. I haven’t really seen you around much.”

Ty shrugged. “I guess I make it a habit of staying out of the spotlight.”

“Yeah, except for those random fights in the alleyways,” I pointed out. “Right? I’m assuming from the color wheel that is your face that it’s a pastime of yours.”

Ty laughed and a slight flush colored his cheeks—which in fact was covered in various degrees of fading bruises. “Sometimes I make an exception.”

I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue. Geez, when did I turn into a five-year-old? Ty’s knack of answering questions with complete non-answers was getting on my nerves, though. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of frustrating?”

Ty smirked again and moved a little closer. He smelled like laundry detergent. He leaned toward me. “Not today. But it’s still early.”

Narrowing my eyes, I put my hands on my hips, meeting his challenge. The tips of my ears blazed hot—though I wasn’t sure if it was my annoyance or his proximity.

Behind me, someone cleared her throat.

Mrs. Runyan, my English teacher, was staring at me from the door of the classroom. “Ms. Styles, are you planning on joining us for class today?”

“Yes, I am. Sorry, Mrs. Runyan.” I dashed into the classroom and plopped down in my seat without waiting to see if Ty would follow. My seat in the back of the room was directly underneath the air conditioning vent, and despite the heat still burning my face, the cool air made me shiver. Mrs. Runyan led Ty into the room and pointed him in the direction of an empty seat. Ty caught my eye as he made his way down the aisle and grinned before settling in at his desk.

I pretended not to notice.

At the front of the room, Mrs. Runyan began giving directions for an upcoming persuasive essay. Her even monotone droned on and on about the role of persuasive writing and how to make and argue a claim.

While she lectured, I made a valiant effort to pay attention and stay focused, but my eyelids were drooping. The caffeine rush from the coffee was fading fast, and the insomnia-induced drowsiness was getting harder to fight.

Using the beefy boy in front of me for cover, I put my head on my desk and closed my eyes. Just a few minutes . . . Just a few minutes to rest my eyes.

Mrs. Runyan’s voice was already fading into the background.

Just a few minutes.

And with that, everything around me faded away.





CHAPTER SIX


JOSEPHINE


Athick plume of smoke blackened the sky.

Josephine’s heart pounded against her ribcage, and every visceral cell in her body screamed for her to run.

The warning of the blood moon—the very thing that had driven her from her bed in the first place—was lost behind the pillar of charcoal haze. An eerie orange glow broke through the trees as a symphony of discordant sounds sliced through the air, shattering the usual quiet of the night.

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