Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(39)
I narrowed my eyes. “I like how you didn’t refute the bad-student part.”
“You’re a horrible student. But only because you have zero desire to do schoolwork.”
I tried to hold back a laugh. “I wouldn’t say zero.”
“Zero.”
I rolled my eyes. “So does everyone see all the ads? Or are you the editor of the paper or something?” Actually, he probably was. That’s why he sat in that little office in the journalism room.
He shrugged one shoulder like it was no big deal.
“So you could probably assign yourself any section to write. Why entertainment?” I asked. “Why do you like to write reviews?”
“I love stories. I love watching them play out and trying to guess the endings. I love being surprised and learning new things about people or about myself.”
“And then you love saying how it could’ve been done so much better?”
He laughed, a soft, deep laugh that made my stomach flutter. “Or how it was done well. Don’t forget I do write good reviews too.”
“So no hard-hitting, investigative journalism for you?”
“I have the flight personality, remember? I like to avoid conflict when I can.”
“Says the guy whose movie review became a meme.”
“Not by choice. I have no desire to pick a fight with Grant James.”
My hand was full of latex, and I could tell he was done when he did a final scan of my face. I pulled out a makeup wipe and finished the job. “Thank you,” I said. “For talking me through that.”
“Any time.”
“You should ask my dad for a raise.” I don’t know why I said that. Maybe to remind myself that Donavan was here because he was paid to be here.
“Should I add listening to my bio? What was it? Haircuts, harmonizing, and . . .”
“Homework,” I said with a smile.
“Oh, right. How could I forget homework? The only one that is actually true.”
“But you can’t add listening. That doesn’t fit the H theme we have going on.”
“Hearing? Helping?
“Better.” I took a piece of latex from my hand and stuck it to his cheek. “You’d make a cute zombie.” The piece fell off his cheek and onto his leg.
He picked it up with one hand and used his other hand to steady mine while placing the latex onto the top of the pile. When he didn’t let go, I met his eyes. He averted his gaze, dropped his hand, and then stood. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I promised my mom I’d be home earlier tonight.”
I threw my whole handful of scraps into the garbage. “Oh, that’s okay. I wasted all our time.”
“Text me if you get stuck on any of the math.”
“For sure. Thanks.”
I moved in to hug him as he was turning toward the door.
“Oh,” he said, and patted my back awkwardly. “See you.”
“Bye.”
He closed the door behind him, and I sank down to the couch. Why had I turned that weird? What was I doing? I did not like Donavan Lake. He was just a very helpful friend who I felt comfortable around, which was great, because that’s what I needed right now. That’s all I needed.
What I didn’t need was people talking about me to Remy. I took a deep breath, but Donavan was right, it was just on-set gossip. People talked about other people all the time. Remy was probably used to it too. It wouldn’t influence him . . . I hoped.
Dancing Graves
INT. LORD LUCAS’S LAB—LATE NIGHT
LORD LUCAS mixes chemicals and herbs in a glass beaker, measuring each carefully. His large wooden table is a mess of dirty beakers, spilled formula, and scattered ingredients. His eyes are bloodshot. His hair is disheveled and his nerves are on edge. Every noise outside makes him jump. He spills a chemical and it splashes onto his wrist, burning him. He curses and throws the glass beaker across the room, where it shatters against the far wall. BENJAMIN rushes in.
BENJAMIN
Was there a break-in?
LORD LUCAS
No, but I think somebody is tainting my ingredients.
BENJAMIN
Who? Why?
LORD LUCAS
There are some who believe we shouldn’t help the infected. They believe we should eradicate them to stop the spread.
BENJAMIN
Don’t let them influence you. Don’t give up on her.
LORD LUCAS
Death is the only thing that can stop me.
Seventeen
The next morning, after hair and makeup, I had some extra time, so I walked to Amanda’s trailer. “Come in!” she said after a single knock, and I stepped just inside her doorway. She was flipping through some papers, and when she looked up her hand flew to her chest. “You really shouldn’t do stuff like that when you’re in full zombie makeup. You’re going to give a girl a heart attack.”
“Says the girl who hid in my shower yesterday.”
“You’re right. I deserve much more than a casual scaring.” She studied my face for a moment. “Everything okay?”
“Ugh.” I leaned my head back against her door. “Someone here doesn’t like me and shared their feelings with Remy yesterday.”