On Edge (4 page)

“I'm sure Wenda just forgot to tell you. It's a bummer, though. I really hoped you'd come 'cause I think we get more done when you're around. And it wouldn't be cool if someone from the Branfort team took a leadership role.” Bonnie chattered on behind me, following me out of the room.

I should've been grateful for her enthusiasm since, unlike the others, she obviously appreciated my mat-side manner. But my self-pity was like the treasure-protecting dragon in the book my mother used to read me, greedy and not easily slain. I wanted all the girls to like me. Not one.

I looked over my shoulder at Bonnie and did my best impression of an indifferent smile. “Well, I think the other girls might not feel the same way. Maybe they want to try a quieter practice.” More than likely they wanted to get to the new girls on the team first—add some more members to the LL hate club.

A perplexed look overtook Bonnie's face and I knew any second she would ask me another question. Ugh! I didn't want to talk about it anymore.

Luckily, once we entered the main hall, I noticed Liv standing there, bouncing on the balls of her feet with barely suppressed excitement.

I might not have many friends but I did have one really good, very timely, one. Some of the sadness creeping in crept right back out.

“Talk to you later, Bonnie.” I excused myself before practically running to Liv's side.

“Tell me everything! What did Mr. Meisen say? Wait, what's this?” she asked, plucking the note from between my fingers.

“Oh, that's just a note from Bonnie.”

I watched her eyes scan the letter before handing it back. “Here, I thought you actually wrote me. What the hell was I thinking?”

Liv loved to overdramatize. She knew better than to take my lack of correspondence as an insult. I simply didn't write people. If I had something to say, I'd say it in person, not in a damned note that anyone could snag. The last thing I needed was my business to end up on some moron's Facebook.

“Yeah, what the hell
were
you thinking?”

She grinned at me, but it faded with her next words. “I didn't know you had practice tonight. That sucks, I totally wanted to go see that new “everyone dies including the planet” movie at the 'plex.”

“I don't have practice tonight. Wenda and some of the other girls do.”

Even though I felt Liv staring at me, I pretended to be preoccupied with my class schedule. I doubted she was fooled. “You know,” she started, “I could have some of my freshmen fans blow up the gymnasium.”

“Gah!” Despite the disturbing mental image, I couldn't help but laugh. “Be careful how loud you say that! Mr. Meisen is on the prowl for anyone acting overly aggressive. I'm pretty sure terrorist bombing falls under that category.”

“Speaking of Mr. Meisen, let's hit the library. You've got fourth period free, right? We'll plan our night tonight and you can spill about your field trip to the office. Tell me you didn't get detention for pointing out Mr. Fewd's glossy bowling ball of a head. Seriously, when you said that…
high
-larious.” Liv went on and on.

And that was the first time I stood up Brennen “Haze” Craig.

Six

“So who has you thinking thong instead of panties?” Liv asked me forty minutes into our library voyage.

If I'd been chewing gum, I would've swallowed it. “What? No one!”

“Oh come on,” she teased, inching closer across the table. She tapped the eraser of her pencil against the page of my open Biology book. “You've been staring at the same page for twenty minutes. Only men can distract so easily. Take my ex-boyfriend, Damien, for example.” Her head turned subtly in his direction, so I took a look.

I recognized his shaggy hair but not his face. In all her old pictures of the two of them, Liv didn't leave too many of his facial features unscathed. I found it interesting to see what he looked like without a Bic mustache and horns, and with his eyeballs intact. “I thought you said he graduated.”

“He was supposed to. Real winner, huh?” She snorted and shook her head. “He's arguing with his newest victim, I see. Probably because there's a big party Saturday and he wants to be single for it. And here I sit, on his ex list for over two years and still angry enough to imagine him tripping and impaling himself on his pencil.”

I nodded.

“His
unsharpened
pencil,” she added.

I grinned a little, nodding again.

“Through his eyeball.” She paused. “Into his brain.”

I waited for a break in her bitterness before steering her back on track. “You had a point in there somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah.” Liv laughed at herself and touched her pen to her own opened book. “I haven't turned the page, either. That's how I know you're thinking about a guy.”

Wow. Outted by my Biology book.

I thought about telling her right then about Haze, but after standing him up in the closet, I had no idea if he'd ever speak to me again. I had zero interest in confessing my crush only to have him ignore me for the rest of my time at Three Rivers Academy.

Also, I had to admit that talking to Liv about boys was a little intimidating. A male didn't exist she couldn't have, but for me, dating was a little more traumatic. My eldest brother did a fantastic job of scaring the boys away from sixth to eighth grade and Warp picked up the mantle once Ander left. Now, no one would come near me. I'd have to get a tranq-gun and blackmail photos to get a guy to visit my house.

The way Liv looked at me made me feel a little unnerved. Maybe it was guilt, but I swore she could see straight through my lies. My Pops had the same “I-know-you-did-something-wrong-but-I'm-waiting-for-
you
-to-admit-it” look.

I had to say something. So I sighed dramatically and leaned my head back, looking at the ceiling and hoping I looked frustrated instead of panicked. “Like Warp would allow me to date? Psh. But it's not a boy that's on my mind, Liv. I'm worried about my brother.” When forced to lie, use as much of the truth as possible. I saw that in a movie or a television show or something. Worrying about my brother wasn't on my mind as much as the Haze situation, but only because I was getting used to Warp's antics.

“He's acting out. Looking for fights. One day he's going to mess with someone who's bigger and better and they're not gonna fight fist to fist. I miss my level-headed dorky bro that I didn't have to worry about, yanno?”

Liv reached for my hand and wrapped her fingers around my fist, giving it a squeeze. “I can talk to him if you like. See if I can get him to calm down some.”

Given my brother's infatuation with Liv, I didn't think it was a bad idea. “You can try, but he seems determined to make himself infamous.”

“I think it's a g—” She gasped as Damien nudged her chair with his hip, sending her ribs into the side of the table. Liv's face twisted in pain.

I was outta my chair so fast it flipped over. “You piece of shit! Picking on girls make your dick bigger or something? Is everyone here impressed?” I gave anyone who snickered a glare in Liv's defense but I needn't have bothered. Liv—delicate-as-a-flower Liv—recovered quickly, and with the aid of my Biology book, she came up behind her ex while I had his attention and christened the back of his skull.

Damien fell to the floor, his hand instinctively rising to ward off a second blow, but Liv calmly turned away from him, her face rosy with victory. Her humiliation of her ex-boyfriend complete, she relinquished her weapon to the table once again and bowed.

I wasn't the type of girl who found humor in violence, but watching Liv take down a jerk nearly twice her size had me laughing.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your book, Ellie,” she said, right before the librarian descended and Liv received her own bright red doom room ticket.

At least I wouldn't be the only one in detention after school.

***

I was still grinning about Liv and Damien when I walked into Art class.

The room seemed smaller than it should be. Too many tables were all mashed together, forming a circle with only a foot or two of sidling room in between them. The only way to get to the teacher's desk or the small supply closet to the right was to suck-n-hold the gut in.

If I wasn't claustrophobic before, I was feeling it now.

Lining the wall to my immediate left was a series of filling cabinets bogarting all the space out of the room. Actually, these suckers were like burly cousins of the typical filing cabinets. Six feet tall and five feet wide with tons of one-inch-deep drawers, each cabinet had a number on it (the hours Mrs. Peris had students) and each drawer the name of a student.

I squinted and moved closer, feeling a strange sort of validation when I saw my name.

Every year of school, I'd always had this irrational fear of being in a class I wasn't supposed to be in. The anxiety lasted all through roll call until the teacher would call my name and I could breathe again. Thank God my last name didn't start with a Z or I'd pass out before they got to me.

But with this class I didn't need to worry. There was my name, right under the cabinet labeled Fifth Hour.

Relieved, I repositioned my book bag over my shoulder and moved toward the back of the room, heading for an empty seat. I bumped a few people with my bulbous backpack and murmured my apologies. It wasn't
my
fault I had to bring it. I hadn't seen my locker since before first hour. I swear it was like that castle that disappeared all the time to keep anyone from finding it.

I glanced toward Mrs. Peris' desk in hopes of getting in a brown-nosing smile, but my view was blocked. A boy leaned over her desk chatting, or if we were all lucky, possibly plotting a new table arrangement.

Well, there went my chance to get in a little teacher ass-kissery.

Speaking of asses, I caught myself staring at the guy's backside and blinked. When the hell did I turn into a butt-girl? Usually I'd look a guy over and move on, but with this one, I was gawking like I'd never seen a fine shape before.

And it was fine!

Swimmer's shoulders, lean waist, defined—but not scary—arms. Nice!

“Miss…Emanuella Harvey, is it?”

I pulled myself into reality when the teacher spoke to me.

A second later I wished I lived in my own little world, because on my planet, the student I'd been checking out wouldn't be the guy I'd stood up in the closet.

Haze performed the suspicious brow-lift thing, and I wasn't sure what it meant. Of course, I would spend the next few days obsessing over it. Was he making fun of my name? Was he chastising me for the no-show? Did I draw on my face with my pen on accident?

Did he suspect I was checking out his butt?
Oh God…please let me have pen on my face.

“Y-yes.”

“You look a little lost, dear. Take any seat you like, I don't assign them and I encourage my students to move around. Different perspectives are imperative to a lifetime of open-mindedness.”

Though I wanted to say “Okay, Confucius,” I settled for less.

“Uhm. Okay.” I tried to smile and ignore Haze without looking like I was trying to ignore him. Not easy to do, but when in doubt, go with the duh-face.

I moved to the back and plopped my bag down on the table, busying myself with straightening the books inside of it.

I didn't look, but I knew he stood behind me. My aura twitched with full on hot-guy-alert. “What's up?”

“Mrs. Peris has instructed me to bring you up to speed on what we're reading and the techniques we're applying to the still-life scene over there.” He moved next to me and pointed to the draped cloth full of fruit, ready to be painted, sketched, or whatever the hell.

“Okay.” Could he hear my heart echoing up my throat every time I opened my mouth? It was best to keep my answers short, just in case.

“I promise it won't be too painful. I do have to go get you a sketchbook from the supply closet though. You remember where that is, don't you? West hall? Big sign that says Art Supplies.”

There was no hope for it, I had to face him and what I'd done, or rather, didn't do. I turned, expecting a snarling beast, but met his toothy grin instead. It was contagious. I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from full-on grinning like an idiot.

At least he didn't seem mad. That couldn't be a bad sign. In fact, he seemed to be teasing, and like all the other times we'd met, all my awkward uncomfortableness faded. Oh I was still flip-flopping on the insides, but I was calm enough to engage in a banter-fest.

“Yanno…I didn't get a very good look at the door the first time. I kinda got sucked into it blindly.”

“Closets do that sometimes.”

“Do they?”

Nodding, he gave me the once-over, his gaze shimmering with mischief, and I daydreamed what it would feel like having his arms around me when he looked at me like that. Pure heaven. “If I were you, I'd expect to get sucked into one on a regular basis. I've heard once they're drawn to you, you're never safe.”

Aaaand I couldn't think anymore—about anything—except how drawn I was to
him
.

“Lemme get that book for you.”

Yeah—yeah, good idea. Him going away before I made a complete idiot of myself was good stuff.

I watched him walk to the door and then move aside to let someone through.

“Hey, Bren,” Liv said, as she came into the room. “Nice to see you again.” Her voice quivered awkwardly, like she didn't mean a word, and I couldn't blame her. Talking to the brother of her deceased best friend had to be a little nerve-wracking.

“Hi, Liv. Nice to see you, too,” he answered.

“I didn't know you had this class.”

“I'm the teacher's aide for this hour.”

“Oh. I didn't see you in here last week.”

“Last week I was in the lounge doing some mailing for the upcoming art contest. This week I should be in class, though.”

“Cool,” Liv said, and I could almost feel her willing me to bail her out.

I didn't fail her. “Hey, Liv. Back here.”

“See you later, Bren,” she said dismissively but not unkindly. Then her face brightened with relief and she waved at me. “Ellie! We'll be sharing a table at the doom room. Woot!” She laughed.

I grinned and glanced briefly at Haze catching his sexy smile before he left on the hunt for my sketchbook.

***

“Like this?” I asked, moving my hand so Haze could see the picture I sketched.

He hadn't been very talkative since his return; he was all business, keeping himself at a distance. At first I thought he was angrier than I'd thought, and he had every right to be, but then he winked at me. My “WTF” must have shown on my face because he wrote
Liv's watching
on my sketch pad in pencil.

Ah
, I wrote back and from that moment on I kept up a great show of being engrossed in sketching. Occasionally I'd look up and grin at Liv, feeling bad she was forced to sit at the opposite end of the room.

Mrs. Peris wanted me to get caught up, and Liv, being Liv, talked excessively the first fifteen minutes of class until the teacher finally punished her by reassigning her seat for the day.

“It looks good.” He answered. There was a hitch to his tone, so I knew he was trying to be nice.

I made a face at him and he cleared his throat to mask a laugh.

“You're not very nice.” I did feel a little disappointed. I wanted to show him I could be good at anything. All I showed him is that I could be good at anything except drawing.

“But I'm very honest. That counts for something, right?” When I glared at him, he smiled. “Not everyone is an artist, but if you're serious about it, you can be. Most people take this class to goof around with their friends.” He looked pointedly at Liv.

I shrugged. “She likes art, and she's my friend. If I didn't take it, we'd only have one class together.”

“Understood.”

“I do appreciate talent, though. I may not know how to make pretty sunrays shine on a pretty face, but I can look at it and know it's beautiful.”

Haze seemed a little uncomfortable with my praise, but he only showed it for a moment. “So, you're Emanuella, LL, and Ellie?” Haze asked in a whisper, interrupting my thoughts.

“Uh huh. So?”

“You have enough aliases to warrant an FBI investigation. I bet they have an open file on you at headquarters.”

I tried very hard to hold my grin in, but he didn't make it easy. “LL is my street name, Emanuella is my full name, and Liv insists on calling me Ellie to be different. All caught up now?”

“Should I make up my own name for you, too? Ema? Nuel? Ella?”

“Manu?”

“Oo! That's a sexy one. Manu.”

I kicked him under the table. If he was going for inconspicuous he needed to stop trying to make me laugh. “Stick with LL. Your shins will thank you for it.”

Typically, he just grinned.

***