“Another successful day, guarding the heck out of lives,” Bee said as we made our way to the parking lot, bags over our shoulders. We took turns driving each other to and from work, and today, Bee had played chauffeur, so it was her white Acura we headed toward, parked sensibly under a streetlight. Overhead, the sky was striped bright pink and orange, studded with the occasional dark purple cloud. It was the perfect summer evening, but I still felt like my feet were dragging on the hot asphalt.
“And another day tomorrow,” I said to Bee, shifting my bag to my other shoulder. “And then another one after that, and then—lucky us!—another one after that. A pie-eating contest where the prize is more pie.”
Bee paused in front of the driver’s side door, her keys in her hand. Her blond hair was curling from the water and the humidity of the day, her skin much tanner than mine. “Well, that’s . . . depressing.”
With a sigh, I tugged at the end of my braid where it hung over my collarbone. “I’m sorry. I’m the angstiest lately, I know. I really ought to start wearing black and listening to tragic songs. Maybe start a poetry club.”
That made Bee smile, but didn’t erase the concern in her brown eyes. “It hasn’t been easy for you lately,” she observed, and I felt a really bitter comment—When is it ever easy for me?—leap to the tip of my tongue.
I made myself smile at Bee, opening the car door. “It’s probably the sunblock seeping into my brain or something. Or overexposure to chlorine.”
As I went to get in the passenger seat, I happened to glance down into my bag. Frowning, I realized I had only my towel, keys, and sunglasses, which meant that my book was still at the pool.
“Be right back,” I told Bee, and then jogged back up to the pool’s gates. They were still unlocked; a few of the cleaning guys were emptying trash cans, picking up litter, vacuuming the pool, all the things I was very glad were not in my job description.
There was no sign of the book by my chair, so I walked across the concrete toward my locker in the changing room. The staff didn’t get special rooms or anything, but we all were given our own lockers, so it was possible that my book had fallen out in there.
I kept a bright purple lock on mine and, as I spun the dial, I was already thinking about what I’d do once I got home. Bee would go to Ryan’s, and while I knew I was welcome there, I definitely did not feel like third wheeling it. I could sit in my room with my book and fully give in to this black mood, or I could maybe go out in the backyard and practice a few Paladin moves.
Or, I reasoned, yanking the lock from its slot, I could go over to my aunts’ place, watch whatever bad reality-TV show they were currently obsessed with, and let them shove my face full of cake.
Yeah, that’s what I’d do. I could use a little spoiling and a lot of sugar and butter.
Opening the locker door, I glanced inside, looking for the telltale orange cover of Choosing Your Path, smiling as I imagined what kinds of cake The Aunts might have for me.
I was still smiling when the lights went out, plunging the changing room into darkness.
Chapter 2
FOR A MOMENT, there was no sound but my own breathing and the distant plink from the row of sinks on the other side of the wall.
“There’s someone in here!” I called, thinking one of the cleaning guys had just reached in to cut off the lights.
But there was no answer, no apologetic “Sorry about that!” The room stayed dark.
I wasn’t scared, exactly, but my heart was definitely pounding. If this was some jackass’s idea of a prank, boy, had they picked the wrong girl to scare.
Adrenaline flooded me, and I threaded my fingers through the loop of the lock still in my hand. My punches were strong enough on their own, but a little extra oomph never hurt anyone. Besides, anyone who purposely scares a girl by herself deserves a broken nose.
“I suggest you turn those lights back on,” I called out, my voice loud in the silence. “Let me also suggest that you not let me catch you, douchebag.”
There was someone in the room with me. I couldn’t hear them breathing or moving or anything, but every hair on my body was standing at attention, telling me I wasn’t alone. For the first time, something close to fear rattled through me. If this was one of the college boys who cleaned the pool, he’d have already made some noise. A laugh or assurance he was “just playin’.” Or at the very least, I’d smell some cheap cologne.
I slammed the locker door behind me, hoping to startle whoever was in here into making a noise that gave me a sense of where they were.
And sure enough, there it was: the littlest gasp over to my right, close to the other row of lockers. There were benches between me and that area. Lock still clutched in my hand, I started to inch my way toward the light switch by the door, keeping far away enough from the benches to avoid tripping. All I had to do was move a few feet, then I could reach out and turn the switch on, but I didn’t want to run. I couldn’t remember if there’d been anything on the floor when I’d come in, and I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about those benches. They could be closer than I was imagining, and the last thing I wanted was to whack my shin while trying to run away. No, my best bet was to move as slowly and quietly as I could.