“All better.” I switch the air vents to warm my gloved hands and change the subject. “Tell me about the movies.”
Zara gasps as she shifts into drive. “Girl. I finally confirmed it with my own two eyes. Graysin Ravenal and Everett Weston are dating.”
“I thought we’d already confirmed that.”
“It was rumor. Now we can mark it down as fact. They are so freaking gorgeous together. I kind of hate her. I want an Everett of my own.”
“Z, he’s gotta be pushing thirty.”
“Twenty-eight,” she corrects. “I think I need an older man. I’m sick of the boys we have to pick from at school. They’re ridiculous. Saturday night—” I bend over, re-tying the laces on my boots as Zara complains. “—then a bunch of the guys from the football team started shoving each other and screwing around. I swear, they act like wild animals. How they get dates is beyond me.”
“They’re all tall, dark, and gorgeous.” Tossing my hair, I sit up and look out the front windshield.
Zara sighs. “Ain’t that the truth.”
I should remind her how she sat on the knee of one of those football players, flirting wildly during lunch Friday. My mouth opens to do just that when a dark figure captures my attention. We’re stopped at the light at Eighth and Main, and he’s leaning against the side of Pyntz Butcher Shoppe looking like sin—all pale skin, jet black hair, and dark clothing.
“Z, do you see him?” I grab Zara’s forearm, my gaze fixated on the guy. “Across the street.”
“Who? Mr. Emo?” The light changes, and we pull forward. “Isn’t that the guy from Saturday?” She squints as we turn onto Main with the traffic and pass a sidewalk width from him.
From Saturday? Vibrant blue eyes flash, and my stomach drops. Too afraid to turn in my seat, I check the side mirror. Sweat peppers my forehead as he watches us drive away. My body goes cold.
“He’s creepy.” I force my eyes to stop looking.
Zara pshaws. “Creepy? I thought you two were going to need a room after the way you stared each other down the other night. Then he disappeared and you left—” Zara inhales sharply, slapping her palm against the steering wheel. “You liar! You didn’t get sick, did you? You left with him.”
“What? No. Are you kidding? I don’t even know him.” I twist, looking for the stranger over my shoulder. It’s cold and not yet eight in the morning, making him easy to spot on the mostly vacant sidewalk.
“Well, he must be stalking you then, because that’s the guy from the other night. You should totally talk to him next time you see him. He’s hot.” Zara’s finger jabs my side as I watch the object of our conversation.
He walks quickly—too quickly. I do a double-take, surprised at how close he is. He removes his hand from the pocket of his long black coat, and my head fills with visions of him pulling a gun and shooting, like some gangster. Instead he lifts his hand to chest level and moves it from left to right. Strange, but nothing like a shootout.
Chiding my ridiculous imagination, I turn back to the front. “Z, I think I’m—”
“Watch out!” Zara screams. Her hands grip the steering wheel as the car jerks and skids along the ice-painted road.
Car horns blare, my seatbelt locks across my chest, and someone shouts, as a city tour bus stops, sideways, five feet from my door.
“You girls okay?” a voice asks, followed by tapping on the window. Words fail me. My body shakes. Zara’s curses fill the car, as do her thanks. “Vivienne? Zara?”
At the sound of my name, I look up and find Mr. Zander from school jiggling the handle to my door, his face concerned. My hand reaches forward and unlocks the car door, pushing as he pulls it open.
We’re an hour late for school by the time Sheriff Kasun finishes with us. No one was hurt, nothing damaged.
“I swear, Viv. Our light was green. The bus driver wasn’t paying attention.” Zara yanks the school door open, the heat welcoming after standing outside.
“We’re fine. I’m not mad.” I check my watch. “Let’s hurry and get excuse slips. The bell’s about to ring.”
“You’re not mad, but I am. He could have killed you,” she says, her face still devoid of color as we walk toward the administration office. “How are you so calm? That bus barreling toward us won’t stop flashing through my mind. That’s my second near miss this semester! I’ll have nightmares for weeks, and you probably want to stop riding with me.”
I stop walking and push her to the edge of the hallway. “Look at me.” She does, and her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “That thing with Willa was all on her. Not your fault. Neither was this. We’re both safe. We’re safe, Z,” I repeat, hugging her as the class bell sounds. “Come on.”
We secure tardy slips from the office and head separate ways. I duck my head and attempt maneuvering the crowded halls of Havenwood Falls High without being stopped. A few students drove around our near-wreck this morning, their faces gawking like typical rubberneckers, which meant the whole school was aware before first period. Not in the mood for discussion, I slip into chemistry instead of hanging in the hall as I normally would. Three other students are already in their seats as I walk down my aisle.
Electricity shocks my wrist, and I gasp, twisting to find my arm in Breckin Roberts’ grip. My pulse accelerates.
“Sorry.” Breckin removes his hand, balling his fingers into a fist as he leans back and looks up at me. I stare as undecipherable whispers nag at the back of my mind. “Rumor has it you and Zara Shannon almost collided with a bus this morning. You okay?”
There’s an edge to his voice as his eyes search me from head to toe like he’s checking for injuries.
“I’m fine, thanks.” I drop my backpack to the floor and lower into my chair. What was that? Breckin and I have barely spoken since elementary school. He defended me from a few jerks in town freshman year, but other than that . . . The sensation of being watched crawls up my spine. The knowledge that Breckin’s eyes are fastened on my back sends me scooching down until my neck presses against the back of the chair and my butt hangs over the seat edge. Thank goodness I’m short.
I close my eyes and replay everything from this morning. Those blue eyes penetrate the thick layers of fog surrounding my mind. I know him. I do, but how?
More students walk into class, their laughter and conversations making me an outsider. A few people say hi. I offer vague smiles as the seats around me fill up.
“Hey, Viv. I saw Zara in the hallway. You two must have had a guardian angel watching over you this morning, huh?” Zal Purser asks as she tugs on the turquoise beads around her neck.
I half fall out of my desk, my heart rate accelerating as I lurch into a sitting position. “What did you say?” I ask, my voice unfamiliar to my own ears.
“I said you must have a guardian angel looking out for you.”