Black Bird of the Gallows(7)

Just then, Kiera Shaw lets out one of her high-pitched giggles and taps Reece on the shoulder. He turns to her.

“You should come out with us on Friday night.” Kiera leans into him, brushing her shoulder against his. “There’s a local club—The Strip Mall—that has an awesome DJ on Friday nights.”

“The Strip Mall?” Reece asks. “Is that seriously the name?”

She tosses her head. “I know. Dumb name, right? But it actually was a strip mall. It sat empty for years until this lady bought it and gutted the whole thing and made a club out of it. It’s actually pretty cool.”

Reece shrugs. He has the nerve to remain unconvinced, despite Kiera’s declaration of The Strip Mall’s coolness. Amazing. “What kind of music?” he asks.

A grin pops up on my face. Even just watching their backs, I can see Kiera struggle to regroup. “It’s like…” Her finger circles the air as she digs deep for a sophisticated term. “Electronic music,” she says, finally. “But not techno. Well, maybe some techno. It’s just cool remixes and chill tunes. Friday night is all ages, but you have to be twenty-one to drink.” She waves a hand. “Someone usually brings a flask. But it’s no big deal, either way. The DJ, Sparo, is so city. She seriously rocks.”

I morph a bark of laughter into a noisy cough. People look, but I don’t care. This conversation is a gift from the gods. I’m betting Kiera made up the term “city” to sound cultured, but it’s such a gem, I file it into long-term memory. I’ll remember that bit about the flask, too. Maybe the bouncers should take a closer look in those sparkly little purses she and her friends carry.

Deno thumps me on the back. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” I choke out.

Deno pumps me on the back again, this time pitching my face within inches of my pile of soggy fries. “Good. No hemlock maneuver, then,” he says.

“Stop hitting her, you Neanderthal. And it’s Heimlich maneuver, not hemlock,” Lacey says, probably wondering why she’s so hung up on this guy. “But you’d kill a person by giving them either one.”

Deno gives my back one last thump that sends me into another round of coughing. I draw more looks, including Reece’s, who swivels to look at me. His expression is unreadable. Concern or annoyance—it could be either. Or neither. For one reckless moment, I meet his gaze and smile. I know it’s a mistake the instant my lips curve.

Kiera’s brows rise in twin arches of condescension, and my stomach dips. “What’s your problem, little freak?”

My bravado is tremulous, but I take a sip of water, then give her a level look. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

She stares me down, and the air around me thickens. My face warms. My gaze drops to my tray. You would think, after all I’ve been through, that I would be tough as bricks, but my defenses are membrane-thin and easily shattered.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Lacey hisses. “She’s hot air.”

My cheeks burn and my hands fist at my sides, and it’s all magnified because of the boy sitting next to her, staring at me with a look I can’t interpret.

“That’s right. Look away.” Kiera’s sugar-sweet voice drips with disdain. “Poor Angie. How do you get by without your mother’s pervert boyfriends around to keep you company?”

The air rushes from my lungs. That was a low blow. The lowest. And the worst part is, I don’t even know why. Our school is pretty small and chilled out. For reasons unknown, Kiera singled me out to torture.

Our corner of the cafeteria goes quiet. Just our corner, thankfully.

“I mean, I’m sure you had your hands full with—”

“Stop it,” Reece clips out. “Seriously. That’s messed up.”

Kiera gives him a well-practiced down, boy look, but her cheeks flush. “It’s okay, Reece. Angie knows we’re just playing.” She aims a pinched smile my way. “Don’t you, sweetie?”

Reece frowns at her, eyes narrowed, like he finds her as filthy as the thing she just implied about me. Then, he looks at me, and the weight of his gaze is breathlessly intense. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t shift his attention away. Cafeteria Reece is gone. The boy from the bus stop, with all that hidden pain, looks back at me. For a second—just a second—Kiera blinks out of existence. So does everything and everyone except for me and the boy with those deep, dark eyes.

“What’s your problem, Kiera?” Deno’s voice crashes into my head. “You don’t say stuff like that.”

Suddenly, the intensity of everyone’s attention is too much. I close my eyes, shuttering Reece, Kiera, my classmates’ stares. I can’t take it. I push away from the table. The room closes in around me. I grab my bag and head for the door.

“Get over yourself, you hipster wannabe,” I just barely hear Kiera reply. “She’s a tabloid freak show and everyone knows it. Or they should.”

I don’t hear anything else. I exit the cafeteria as tears blur my vision. The miserable truth is, I am a tabloid freak show. The way the police found me and returned me to my father, my mother’s death—it made national news for a whole week: Private Investigator Finds Man’s Daughter Living in Van; Girl Reunited with Father After Seven Years; Woman Charged with Drug Possession and Child Abuse, Dies from Overdose; Witness Says Girl Abused by Mother’s Boyfriends.