It didn’t matter. She was, as Owen said, a perfect specimen, and it helped that she also wasn’t completely brain-dead. I pointed to where she was now shaking her long hair over her shoulders and pulling it into a ponytail. “She’s right over there. She’ll like it, Adam. I promise. You like Cassidy, right?”
Adam looked between us. “Yes, she’s nice to me and smiles.”
“Great, then go. Shoo!” I waved him across the hall toward her and shrank back to observe.
Like a kid being sent to his first day of preschool, Adam ventured to the other end of the hall with his tickets in hand, only a single glance back at us. I tugged Owen along for a closer view. We stayed half hidden behind a trophy case. I leaned forward so that I could see better.
“You have officially become a creepy helicopter mom. Does this concern you? I mean, you’re only seventeen, and conventional wisdom would say that you should probably be getting drunk and making out with dudes of the non-dead variety.”
“Shhh!” I slapped Owen’s arm. Adam was talking to Cassidy. Adam looked happy about talking to Cassidy. True, Adam liked just about everyone, but he watched Cassidy Hyde as all guys watched Cassidy Hyde. This was good. This was what was supposed to happen. Positive feelings, Adam. My teeth dug into my lip like I could will him to feel something for her. Who knew? Hopefully, I could.
“What?” Owen whispered. “I’m just saying, I’m available, too.”
Maybe Owen was right about me turning into a helicopter mom, because I had this weird, expanding sensation in my chest like someone were tying a balloon animal in there. Adam shoved the tickets in Cassidy’s face. I cringed. It wasn’t exactly a smooth presentation. What did helicopter moms wear? I had a flash of myself wearing pearls and a cable-knit sweater while I led my man-child Adam around by the hand. Right, scratch that.
I steepled my fingers in front of my chin. Come on. Come on. Cassidy Hyde was the good-time girl, the biggest flirt in school, and all I could do was pray that she didn’t fail me now.
Cassidy stared at the tickets. Daintily, she picked one. With her hand on Adam’s shoulder, she stood on her tippy-toes and whispered something in his ear, and then her overly glossed lips drifted to within a centimeter of Adam’s, hovering close so that I knew she must feel the puff of his breath on her nose. My stomach clenched, and I held my breath for what felt like an excruciatingly long moment before she closed the gap and fit her mouth into his. Adam closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around the small of her waist, and he kissed her.
TWENTY-TWO
Adam’s scars have turned from pink to silver-white. They are smooth, stretched skin that branch across his chest and torso. His other cuts continue to heal, too. Many of the scabs on his legs have peeled off. The cut on his side is a dark red and looks like it will take longer to heal, but it’s not fresh and there’s no gangrene, so I’ll continue to watch it and hope for the best.
*
Three days until the Homecoming game and a foreign visitor—if our town ever had any foreign visitors—would have thought the Olympics were coming to Hollow Pines. In reality, it was a football game. A high school football game, no less.
The closer the game got, the less the town thought about the dead boys whose legs had gone mysteriously missing. Hopes for the Oilers’ season dominated the headlines, and the recent memory of the gruesome murders floated into the background.
“Gray or black?” Cassidy held up two suits for Adam, Owen, and me to judge. After what had started as two Homecoming tickets, an ingenious plan by me, and a kiss, Adam and Cassidy had been dating for an entire week. The presence of googly eyes were at an all-time high, but I was already busy counting this phase of the experiment as a rousing success. The two clearly liked each other. Thank you, raging teenage hormones.
Both of the suits that Cassidy showed us looked linty under the fluorescent lights of HP Gold Formalwear, a store located conveniently between the food court and Foot Locker. I’d only agreed to come so I could pick up a cheap prepaid cell phone and rejoin the land of the living.
Almost overnight, Adam and Cassidy had become the front-runners for Homecoming king and queen, the winners of which would be announced the Saturday following the game at the Homecoming dance. It had all the makings of a fairy-tale ending if your small-town fairy tale involved a sticky gymnasium floor and a balloon arch. I could tell Cassidy’s did.
Adam scratched his head and glanced over. “Don’t look at me,” I said. “I fully intend to wear these.” I tapped my Converse sneakers.
“You two are hopeless.” She dropped both hangers to her side and returned her attention to the racks.
Stage 3 of the experiment: take Adam’s emotional development from animal instincts to actual feelings. Here I observed as Cassidy turned Adam into what is known in layman’s terms as a “boyfriend.”