Don't Look Back(18)

Candy’s tanned cheeks turned a mottled shade of red, but Veronica leaned forward. Her chest nearly spilled out of her lowcut sweater. It had no effect on Goth Boy.

“Look, Pham or Long Duck, whatever your name is, turn around. This conversation doesn’t involve you. And maybe you’re just jealous.” Her eyes were locked on him like lasers set to destroy. “Maybe you wish Trey had his tongue down your throat.”

“Veronica,” I gasped, embarrassed for the kid and her.

Without another word, the boy flipped in his seat. The back of his neck turned bloodred. I twisted toward Veronica, but she was smiling at Candy.

“It’s not my fault that he wants to be me,” she said, winking.

Candy giggled.

Anger whipped through me, but the teacher ambled in, starting class. I might not have known who I was, but I knew what Veronica had done was wrong. When the bell rang, I grabbed my belongings and hurried out of the class, ignoring Veronica’s and Candy’s attempts to get my attention.

I caught up to the boy, grabbing his arm. “Look, I’m really sorry about that.”

Goth Boy was shorter than me, and he had to tip his head back to meet my gaze. Even then, I could barely see his eyes through the dyed hair. “Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m sorry about the way they acted. That wasn’t right.”

His rounded cheeks turned ruddy as he jerked his arm back. “Seriously?” He laughed. Kids moved past us. Some stopped and stared, openmouthed. “This is priceless. The queen bitch is apologizing for her baby bitches. Whatever. Don’t talk to me.” He left me standing in the middle of the hall, mouth hanging open. A high-pitched snicker cut through the haze. A shiver of awareness whispered its way down my spine. I turned to the right, the source of the sound blocked by a chorus of shifting, moving bodies.

Catching a glimpse of a satiny red dress and black tights and deep auburn hair, I felt my heart stutter in my chest. A mocking laugh raised the hairs on my arms.

Then I saw her. She stood beside the water fountain, her pouty lips painted to match her dress—not the same dress as in the picture I carried with me. Something—something was wrong with the dress.

I took a step forward, right into the path of a bulky guy. He laughed, catching my shoulders before I toppled over backward. “Watch out, Sammy. Don’t want to send you back to the hospital.”

“Sorry,” I murmured, darting around him.

The space beside the fountain was empty.

Smoothing a hand over my forehead and through my hair, I spun around and hurried toward my bio class. Aiming for a table in the back, I took my seat and started rummaging around in my bag as my breath came out in short gasps.

Had I really just seen Cassie? The vision was nothing like the others. Hands shaking, I set my notebook down and dug around for a pen. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, got control of my breathing, and then opened my eyes.

A loose piece of paper folded in the shape of a triangle was right in front of my open bag. It could’ve been inside it and fallen out or...

I glanced around quickly, but no one was around me.

Part of me didn’t want to read it, didn’t even want to begin to figure out how it had gotten into my messenger bag or if it had dropped out of the sky. There had been chances, opportunities during the first three classes. Someone could’ve slipped it in there. Drawing in a shallow breath, I unfolded the slip of paper.

There was blood on the rocks. Her blood. Your blood. I stared at the words until they blurred on the yellow paper. Cassie’s blood—my blood on the rocks? Waves of nausea rolled through me.

“What are you looking at?” Jumping at the unexpected voice, I slapped my hand over the note and looked up. Two vibrant blue eyes, the color of polished sapphires locked onto mine. Carson was sliding into the seat next to me.

“Why are you sitting here?” I asked, quickly folding up the paper.

He arched a brow. “I sit here.”

I shoved the note in my bag. “You do?”

“Yeah, I’m your lab partner. Have been all year, Sam.” Carson propped his elbow on the table, resting his cheek on a closed fist. “So, what are you doing?”

“I’m... I can’t find my pen.”

He offered me his.

“What about you?”

One side of his lips curved up. “I have many, many more. I have a pen fetish. I just keep collecting them.”

I couldn’t tell if he was joking, but I smiled and took the pen. Our fingers brushed, and a jolt traveled up my hand. I looked up, my eyes meeting his. He still held the pen, but his gaze was wary. “Thanks?” I said, tugging gently.

Carson let go. “How’s your first day back?”

I laughed under my breath. “It’s been great.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’m kind of surprised you’re curious.”

He watched me for a moment and then pulled back, folding his arms over his broad chest. “Well, I was just trying to be nice and make small talk. Usually, we just glare at each other and trade insults. We could go back to that if you want?”

“No.” My voice sounded sad. “I don’t want that.”

Carson tried to hide the flicker of surprise with a short laugh, but I saw it. “Oh, well...”

Swirling emotions rose to the surface—hurt, anger, confusion. “I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you since ... well, since whenever. Really, I am. But can we just start over?”