The Dark Divine(74)

I stepped away from him and let my mom securely wrap the length of purple chiffon around my shoulders.

“Be glad your father isn’t back yet, young lady,” Mom said in my ear. “Or you wouldn’t be going out at all.”

Part of me wished he was here then. I felt wrong for being on this date—and not just because of my broken promise. I wasn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable when Daniel kissed me like that, but Pete was different. There was this look in his eye that made me shiver as he watched me while Mom snapped pictures of us—it was the same look I noticed him wear when I played street hockey with the guys in the cul-de-sac, like he was determined to win no matter what.

We paraded out the door. Pete squeezed me to his side and waved good-bye to my mom. I was glad we were all going together in the Corolla.

“Wow, is that really the time?” I said when I noticed the clock in the dash. “Are we going to make it to the dance after dinner?” It was almost seven, and the guys had chosen a restaurant in the business district of the city. Our group would be nearly done eating by the time we got there. The prospect of being out late made my broken promise seem even worse.

“Yeah,” April said. “You guys are way late.”

“I’m starving,” I groaned, trying to cover my real reason for being concerned about the time.

“Don’t blame me,” Pete said. “Jude here suddenly forgot how to get home from the florist or something. It took him three hours to pick up your corsages.”

April stared at Jude. He didn’t say anything in his defense. I didn’t complain anymore. I just hoped he wouldn’t stay in his shell all night.

Pete draped his arm across my back.

Goose bumps ran up my arms even though it was a surprisingly warm evening. The air was still, and it wasn’t even cold enough to need a coat—the weatherman called today the “warm before the storm,” and I knew our annual white-Christmas blizzard was just around the corner. Despite the unseasonable warmth, Jude had the heaters blasting, and I kept my shawl around my shoulders and held it closed in front of my chest.

Maybe it was Jude’s sullenness, April’s sudden silence, Pete’s occasional sidelong glances, or the light of the full moon shining through the windows that made the air in the car seem too thick, too solid. My arms pricked with nervousness, my heart beat too fast—like I was anxiously waiting for something to happen.

I was glad for the fresh air when we got out of the car. I wanted to linger in the lot, but the others hurried off to join our group. I breathed in the night, letting it wash over me until I saw something move in the moonlit shadows beyond the restaurant’s marquee. I didn’t wait to see what it was and dashed inside the restaurant.

My anxiety grew as dinner went on. Before I joined the group, Pete had ordered me a steak, medium rare, even though Jude could have told him I liked my steak cooked so well done it was practically burned.

“It just felt like a red-meat kind of night,” Pete said with a wink and a “triple threat” smile. He turned that smile on our waitress, whom he then tried to coax into bringing him a glass of wine.

But when she gave him a “nice try, buddy” grin and suggested she bring him another Coke, he called her something quite unfavorable under his breath.

I blinked at him, not sure if I’d heard right.

“Don’t worry, man,” Brett Johnson said from beside Lynn Bishop, “I’ve got you covered.” Brett passed a waded cloth napkin down to Pete.

Pete smiled with approval when he unwrapped a golden flask.

As he poured what seemed like half the bottle’s contents into his Coke, I found myself wondering how well I knew Pete. He’d been my lab partner and study buddy since August, and Jude had been friends with him for a couple of years—a fact that usually gave a guy automatic approval in my mind. But Daniel had tried more than once to tell me Pete wasn’t as nice as he seemed, and Don hadn’t wanted a certain boy to walk me home. Someone he called “the other one.” Hadn’t I mentioned Pete’s name before Don offered to walk with me?

Pete offered me the acrid-smelling flask.

I waved it away.

Pete just shrugged.

But Lynn Bishop made a snarky-sounding snort. “Figures,” she said.

I was about to ask her what her problem was when Pete passed the flask to Jude—and instead of waving it away like I expected, Jude drizzled a bit over his Sprite. It took every ounce of self-control not to shout at him in front of his friends. I didn’t want to ruin the night for April. Good thing she’d gone off to the bathroom with a pack of girls so she wouldn’t know what Jude had done.

The others had finished with dessert by the time our appetizers came—except for Brett and Lynn, who’d shown up as late as we had. The ones who were done said their good-byes, promising to wait for the rest of us before they did group pictures, and left. Pete talked louder and louder as the meal went on. He swung his arms, smacking me in the shoulder as he recounted the previous night’s hockey game with gruesome detail. Although Jude had the same alcoholic beverage in his drink, he didn’t relax the way Pete did. He seemed to get stiffer and harder like a statue with every sip.

After paying his bill, Jude got up and headed toward the back of the restaurant. I got up to follow him.

Pete grabbed my arm. He trailed his hand up to my elbow. “Don’t be long, angel.” He bared his teeth in a huge, hungry grin.