Shot Through the Heart (2 page)

“Yeah, and if he’s pissed off, it makes it easier for him to run over me.” Josh shoots a sideways glance at me. “You know I have Grayson.”

“Of course.” Josh has hated Grayson for years. They both have L last names and sat together throughout elementary school. Whenever the teacher turned her back, Grayson would flick things at Josh or poke him with the sharp end of his pencil. He’s been a Class-A loudmouth and a ball hog at every basketball and soccer camp we’ve ever attended. Even now, he takes particular joy in making Josh look bad. No way would I deny Josh the opportunity to nail that swaggering moron with a squirt gun or water balloon.

Frankly, I hope he shoots Grayson in the crotch and leaves a fat wet spot.

“My guess is he’ll leave a lot earlier than usual. He and Drew will be trying to eliminate their targets before school, same as we are.” Josh sucks in his lower lip, then lets it out with a pop. “If he does, darkness will work in my favor.”

“I dunno. He’d have to leave pretty early for darkness to help you. Sun’s up before six. He might see you crawling under his car from his bedroom window.”

I lean back on my elbows and look at the sky. It’s one of those perfect late September days like you see in the movies. Even though the trees are starting to shift from green to reds and yellows, the clouds are light and fluffy and it’s still warm enough for shorts. I take a deep breath, savoring the fresh air and the warmth of the sun-heated stone steps. Before long, Josh and I will be bundled head to toe against the bite of the Massachusetts winter and cursing the Red Sox for blowing their playoff chances yet again.

Winter would be a lot less painful this year if I had my own wheels. Assassinating Drew would be step one.

“Taking out Drew might solve my Molly problem to some extent,” I muse. “She’ll be pissed she didn’t get the chance to make the hit herself.”

“You’re dreaming.” Josh hocks a loogey into the grass, then frowns at me. “There are a hundred and forty teams in this thing. She has to know that the odds of her being assigned Drew as a target are pretty slim. But if
you
knock him out, you’ll be her knight in shining armor. Or she’ll take it as some kind of sign. You know how girls can get.”

Great. Just what I need.

“You mentioned asking Peyton what you should do,” Josh adds, his tone turning serious. “But I’m not sure anything you say to Molly’s going to help. As long as you’re single, she’s going to be after you. What you need is a girlfriend.”

“I do not need a girlfriend.” Want one? Sure. But no one interests me at the moment and I’m not going to solve my Molly problem by replacing it with another.

“A pretend girlfriend, then. Molly will lose interest immediately if she thinks you’re taken.”

“Now who’s wasting their brain power?” I reach across him for the Goldfish carton. Only crumbs are left, but I dump them into my cupped palm and pour the handful into my mouth. I’m starving. Soccer practice was brutal today.

“Helping you doesn’t require brain power. Tell one or two people at school you’re with Peyton and Molly will hear it by the end of the day. Problem solved.”

Is he insane? “I’m not going to fake date anyone, let alone your sister.”

“You wouldn’t have to fake anything. That’s the beauty of it. You’re at my house all the time, so people will assume you’re hanging out with Peyton while you’re here. No walking around holding hands or pretending you’re together.”

“It’s still wrong, starting a rumor like that.” I gesture toward the garage. “Besides, don’t you think Peyton would have something to say about it?”

“Why? It’s not like she has another boyfriend. It’s
Peyton
. She’s way more interested in school than guys.”

“That’s not what I meant by—”

“Connor, who cares? It’s for a good cause!”

Yeah, I might have to ask someone besides Josh—or Peyton, since Josh would want to put in his two cents—for help with my Molly situation. Or see if I can ride it out until she loses interest. I shake the Goldfish carton. “Let’s go get some real food. On the way, we can do a quick drive-by of Grayson’s and Drew’s houses to look for stakeout spots.”

“Good idea.” Josh pushes off the steps and pockets his cell phone. “I’ll ask Peyton if we can borrow her car, though. If either of them happen to be outside, they’ll recognize mine and know we’re casing their houses.”

I’m not sure if he’s being smart—because it’s a huge advantage in Senior Assassin if your targets don’t know you’re after them—or sneaky, creating an excuse to have me talk to Peyton.

“Don’t say a word to her about Molly or your stupid fake girlfriend idea. I mean it, Josh.”

“You’re an idiot. It’s a great plan.” At my glare, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever. I won’t say a word. But for the record? Peyton could keep you from having to hide out your entire senior year.”

I thwack him in the back of the head as we push up from the stairs. “Get this through your skull: I refuse to hide out from anyone or lie about anything. Not my style.”

“Not even for Senior Assassin?” he asks, jogging a few steps backward on the front walk to keep me from smacking him again.

I grin. “That’s different.”

Chapter Two |
Peyton

M
y brother is certifiable.

“I don’t care if I’m not using it right now, you’re not taking my car,” I tell him. “Especially not for a so-called reconnaissance mission.”

My AP Chemistry homework is spread across the kitchen table, which should be a clue that I’m not in the mood to be bothered. But no. Josh is camped out in the chair next to me with his legs and feet taking up every inch of available space under the table. Worse, his elbows are on top of the lab notes I need to finish my report. The sooner he realizes he’s not getting my car and disappears, the sooner I can rescue my notes without having to yank them out from under him.

Unfortunately, Josh being Josh, if he suspects this he’ll never leave.

I hate confrontation almost as much as I hate the idea of my car being subjected to the horrors of guy-in-car abuse while Josh and his best friend, Connor Strabinowski, go stalking. How Josh and I came from the same DNA pool, I’ll never know. He lives to provoke.

“Come on, Peyton,” Josh begs. “Shooting doesn’t start until midnight, so your car will be perfectly safe. I promise. This is important.”

“Give me a break.” I look up from my textbook to meet his oh-so-phony pleading gaze. “You and Connor are going to take my freshly-vacuumed, brand-new car straight to Cumby’s, where you’ll buy monster-sized Cherry Chill Zones which you’ll inevitably drip on the front seats. Then you’ll stop at the McDonald’s drive-thru, which means I’ll have to spend tomorrow morning wiping your greasy fingerprints off my steering wheel.”

“I will not—”

I hold up my index finger to stop him. “After that, you’ll go cruising through Grayson’s neighborhood and you’ll be so busy staring at the front of his house trying to find a hiding place that you’ll hit his mailbox. No, thanks.”

“Harsh!” Josh places a hand over his heart in mock anguish as if this is the first time he’s heard me say anything like this. “You know I’ve never had an accident.”

“Excuse me, but I believe the shopping cart corral in the Target parking lot has a sizable dent with your name on it.” Please. I may not be as naturally smart as Josh, but my recall is excellent.

“It wasn’t in your car. And I still think it was one of your friends who left those red spots on your passenger seat. It definitely wasn’t me, because I would’ve—” Even as he argues, I shake my head. I hate taking such a hard line, especially in front of Connor, but sometimes that’s what’s required with Josh. If I act like I might cave, even for an instant, he’ll be doubly persistent.

“You could always drive,” Connor says to me, his voice far more controlled than Josh’s. “Please? We have to eliminate Grayson and Drew early, before they hit their own targets and start watching their backs. If we take Josh’s car and they spot us, we’re toast. They’ll know we drew them as our first-round assignment and they’ll be ready for us.”

It’s easy to say no to my brother. He always has girls willing to say yes to anything he asks, though I can’t fathom why. He’s a typical smelly older brother. Connor’s tougher. Unlike Josh, he eats with his mouth closed. Thanks to soccer and basketball—varsity, both teams—he’s in phenomenal shape. He wears clothes that are vaguely stylish and has soft brown eyes with long lashes that are more convincing than they should be. Like right now, when he’s smiling across the table at me. I bet he even knows he’s showing off his dimples.

Thank God I’m not one of those stupid, needy girls who fall for surface dressing.

I square my focus on Connor. “I’m not trying to be mean, but this lab report’s due tomorrow and I haven’t even started my Hamlet paper—”

“How am I going to pay you back the two hundred bucks I owe you if I don’t finish in the top three of Senior Assassin?” Josh asks.

“I can help you with Hamlet,” Connor offers. “I got an A on it last year.”

I look from Connor, who is sincere, to my brother, who is not. “You’re paying me back no matter what.”

“I know, I know. But it’ll be faster with Senior Assassin money. If you’re driving, you won’t have to worry about dings or about food getting all over your car. Plus you’ll be good cover for us.”

Since Josh will attempt to reason me to death, I address Connor. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need help with Hamlet. I know what I’m going to write. I just need time to actually write it without you guys bothering me. Besides, I haven’t had my license long enough to drive you two. Gotta have someone over twenty-one with me if a non-family member is in the car, remember?” I wave my hands in the universal signal for
vamoose
.

Josh doesn’t move. He’s waiting for me to try to pull my chemistry notes out from under him. I inhale and pretend to read, wondering how much of my time they’ll waste before they leave me alone.

My stomach picks this precise moment to gurgle loud enough for both of them to hear it.

“I’ll bring back dinner for you if we can use your car,” Connor promises. “My treat.”

At the same time, Josh picks up my lab notes and starts critiquing them. Aloud.

He and our older sister, Tessa, are total brains. They can slide into any exam and ace it with minimal study time. But me? I lack that miracle gene. I have to work my tail off for every single point. Ironic, since I’m the one who’s most concerned with grades. Every A I notch raises my odds of getting into MIT, which is my dream school.

Not that I’d tell Josh my goal. He’d only use it as ammo.

“Fine, buy me dinner,” I mutter when Josh’s critique goes past teasing and into torture. I slam my chem book shut and steal the notes back from Josh so he’ll shut his mouth. “But I’m coming with you and I need to be back by five-thirty. Deal?”

“Deal,” Connor and Josh say together, practically crashing into each other in a rush toward the garage. As I locate my sandals on the shoe rack beside the door, Connor drops to the concrete floor to retrieve a wayward basketball from under the front of my car. Josh leaps over him, then races to the driver’s seat. I wonder—not for the first time—how these two ended up best friends.

I raise an eyebrow at Josh. “You mock my homework, then make Connor crawl for your basketball and think you’re going to drive? Huh-uh. You ride in the back.”

Josh looks at Connor and shrugs, then opens the rear door without an argument as I hand my car keys to Connor. When I stow my purse between the two front seats, I catch sight of Josh waggling his eyebrows at Connor as if the seating arrangement is part of some grand plan. Connor ignores him.

I bite back a sigh as Connor shifts into reverse. I have the worst feeling that my well-planned evening is about to make a similar shift.

Chapter Three |
Connor

“I
’m sorry, Peyton,” I say for about the millionth time. She’s following me up and down Aisle 14 in Lowe’s, helping me search for the rubber tubing the clerk insisted was here. To save time, Josh took off in the opposite direction to find a plastic funnel. I hope he’s having better luck.

“It’s all right.” Peyton’s words are muffled as she stretches for a cardboard box on one of the higher shelves. “I’ll never admit this to Josh, but I’d love to see you guys win. As long as I get my homework done, I’m okay helping out.”

“Thanks.”

She shrugs and glances at me. “It also means Josh won’t have an excuse not to pay me back, so I won’t have to keep bugging him for my money.”

“Good point.” I try to flag down an employee, but a customer at the far end of the aisle nabs him first.

“Wish I knew what we were looking for.” Peyton scans the label on the front of the box, then sets it back on the shelf. “You’d think tubing would be on a roll or hanging from a hook so it could be cut to length, but I don’t see anything like that.”

“I have no idea.” I’m not a rubber tubing expert. “If we can’t find any here, we could run across the street to Sports Authority and buy a resistance tube. You know, the kind people use for workouts. That might work.”

Our recon mission made it clear we’d have to hit Grayson long distance. Not only did we confirm that it’d be impossible to hide near Grayson’s driveway, we discovered that he’s already watching his back. His younger brother, a sophomore, was staked out in the front yard checking each and every car that passed to see if anyone was spying on their house. The good news: With Peyton in the passenger seat and Josh ducked down in the back, he didn’t pay much attention to us. The bad news: The situation meant buying equipment to build a balloon launcher ASAP since Josh and I broke the one I’d inherited from my older brother while taking practice shots.