They All Fall Down (12 page)

More comfortable being honest now, I say, “I don’t think being recognized for something that has nothing to do with, you know, an
accomplishment
, is that important.”

He raises his glass in approval. “Good girl. You’re more worried about getting into college.”

“Absolutely. Getting into college is my number one priority right now.” Number two would be getting out of this boring conversation with an old man. I kind of want to go back to flirting with his grandson.

“Have you picked out a school?” he asks.

“Well, they have to pick me, but I have a few on my dream list.”

“Such as?”

“Columbia,” I tell him. Why not? We’ve already covered death and divorce. “I’d like to study the classics.”

His eyes light up. “Impressive. I like a girl with ambition.”

“Well, I have to get in first. And get a scholarship,” I add glumly. “So we’ll see.”

“You should try to get the Jarvis. I’d be delighted to give it to a girl for a change.”

I angle my head closer, certain I didn’t hear him correctly over the party noise. “The what?”

“The Jarvis.” When I shake my head, he laughs. “I guess we do a pretty good job of keeping it quiet, because the scholarship is really only for a Vienna High student, which was how Josh’s father willed it. Technically, it’s the Jarvis Aurelius Collier Memorial Scholarship.”

I just stare at him. “Jarvis is, was, your son?”

His eyes mist. “And a very great young man taken far too young.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But his legacy lives on, right back in Nacht Woods.” He angles his head toward the back of the house. “He’s buried there, too.”

I blink at the statement. I was certain Mrs. Russell had said that Josh’s parents died at sea and their bodies were never found.

“Not him, per se,” he adds quickly, seeing my response. “But the things that mattered to him. I made a place to honor him.”

The conversation is quickly slipping from boring to awkward, so I steal a glance over his shoulder to find Josh.

Rex catches me and inches sideways just enough to block my view. “In any case, Jarvis left a stipulation in his will that every year one junior or senior student from Vienna High can receive a full scholarship to the college of his choice—or hers,” he adds with a sly smile. “With no limits on how much that can be worth.”

Okay, not boring anymore. “How do I apply?”

He chuckles. “No application necessary, dear. You just have to finish the ropes course Jarvis built in Nacht Woods.” With a quick appraisal of my body, he makes a face of approval and lifts his gray brows. “You look fairly athletic.”

Not exactly. “I’m more of, you know, a Latin nerd. Any chance there’s an ancient classics version of the ropes course?”

“Latin will, in fact, give you quite an unfair advantage. You don’t play sports?”

“My mom is kind of overprotective and has an issue with sports waivers. As in she won’t sign them.” I let out a sigh. “Field trips, too.”

He can’t hide his disbelief. “Why, that’s … un-American. Josh is in every sport he can squeeze into his life and far better for it, just like his father was.”

“I did do gymnastics until …”
Grief and guilt sidelined me
. “A few years ago.”

“I hear the wistfulness in your voice, young lady.” He leans closer. “You loved it, didn’t you?”

For a minute I think he said “him,” not “it,” and that he means Conner. “Of course.”

“I bet you were very good at gymnastics, too.”

“I was average at best, but I did love the challenge.”

“What happened?”

Conner died
. But I just don’t want to get into my mother’s crazy hang-ups about accidents, so I go with my standard story, which really did happen but it wasn’t the thing that made me give up gymnastics. “I fell on a trampoline and my mom decided there were just too many injuries in the sport.” In any sport. In the sport of life, in fact. “So thanks for the suggestion, Mr. Collier, but if your scholarship ‘application’ is a ropes course and you need a parental signature for a minor, it’s not happening.”

He doesn’t answer right away, sipping his drink thoughtfully. “Let me work on that.”

“Hey.” Josh’s hands land on my shoulders. “Quit hittin’ on my chick, Rex.”

The older man laughs, loud enough to cover my own self-conscious giggle. Did Josh Collier just call me his girl?

As thrilling as that might be—and it is, isn’t it?—the idea of getting a full ride to Columbia from his super-rich grandfather’s scholarship sends a lot more electricity through my
body. How hard could a ropes course be? I can still climb like a monkey.

“She’s too smart for you, Josh,” Rex teases. At least, I think he’s teasing; there’s not much humor in his eyes or voice.

“She’s a total brainiac,” Josh agrees, squeezing my shoulders. “I think that’s hot.”

“Quite,” his grandfather agrees.

The only thing that’s hot is my face, which is flaming as they talk about me.

“C’mon, Kenz.” Josh urges me out of the seat. “I know Rex is a ladies’ man, but I need you to cheer me on in beer pong. See ya, big guy.”

As I slide off the barstool, Rex’s weathered but strong hand lands on my arm. “Kenzie,” he says, “I never met a challenge I couldn’t find my way around or over.”

I smile at him, not doubting that. “Which is why you love a ropes course.”

“My ropes course days are done, but we’ll work this out, my dear. No matter what it takes.”

I feel my eyebrows go up at the tone and implication.

He just leans closer.
“Exitus acta probat.”

The Latin rolls off his tongue like it’s his native language. And I know exactly how to translate his message.

The end justifies the means
.

“Sometimes it does,” I agree.

“Not sometimes,” he counters. “Always.”

CHAPTER XII

A
little while later, I’m sitting on Josh’s lap in the den. The beer pong match is over, a lot of the kids have left, and we’re sharing an overstuffed chair in a secluded corner.

I haven’t had anything to drink since my one sip of grape vodka, but Molly’s borderline tipsy, so I’ve kept an eye on her all night. She’s having way more fun than I thought she would, talking to boys, comfortable with strangers. Still, I feel responsible for her and she left the room at least fifteen minutes ago, so I keep looking for her at the door.

“Hey,” Josh says, turning my face to his. “I’m over here.”

He’s so close I can see the golden tips of his lashes and the different shades of the summer sky in his eyes. I keep waiting for that crush feeling—the one I’ve had every time I’ve looked at this guy for the past four years—to wash over me. But it doesn’t. I feel giddy and excited to be this close, but not achy or dreamy like I fantasized.

“Wanna go upstairs?” he whispers. “See my room?”

In fact, I don’t. “Better not,” I say with an apologetic smile. “I don’t want Molly to think I left. I should go find her.”

“Quit worrying about her. Worry about me.” He tugs me deeper into him, leaning his head close to mine. “Worry about kissing me,” he says under his breath.

“Should I?”

“Worry or kiss me?” He smiles just as he puts his lips on mine. “What do you think?”

I meant should I go find her, but before I can explain, he’s kissing me. His mouth is warm but almost instantly wet as his tongue slips between my teeth. I wasn’t quite ready for that, but I angle my head and try not to think too hard about the fact that, except for three short, closed-mouth attempts with Steven McKeever after a study group at the library last year and, of course, that one smooch with Icky Hicky in seventh grade, this is my first kiss.

Certainly my first full-tongue kiss. I close my eyes and try to experience it—still waiting for sensations that don’t happen. My stomach isn’t fluttering, my heart isn’t jumping around, and I really don’t like the way beer tastes on his tongue. His hand is rounding my backside, too.

I break away. “I really need to find Molly.”

“What are you scared of, Kenzie?”

The echo of Levi Sterling’s same exact question plays in my head.
What are you scared of, Mack?
With Levi, I was scared of him. With Josh, I’m scared of … nothing.

“I’m not scared.” And it’s not me talking myself out of fears, either. “I’m not into this right now.” I gently push him away. “I don’t want to make out when someone could walk in any second,” I say.

“Screw ’em.” He comes in for another kiss, which I allow, trying really hard again to like it. Fail.

“Josh.” I inch him back. “Let me find Molly.”

I expect an argument, but get a slow, sweet smile. “I want you to stay tonight.”

I almost choke. “Overnight?”

“I told you a lot of these kids will sleep here,” he adds. “You don’t have to worry. We won’t do anything. Just kiss some more.”

Molly’s mother would never go for it, and my mother? Ha, that’s laughable. Plus, I don’t want to. “Thanks, but Molly has a curfew, so I better get her. I’ll be right back.”

To his credit, he easily lets me stand up but doesn’t come with me when I head out toward the kitchen. Molly’s not there, so I look in the family room, the hall, the living room. The downstairs bathrooms, at least the three that I can find, are open and empty.

As I come around the corner, I’m moving fast enough to nearly collide with someone.

“There you are.” It’s Chloe Batista, with Amanda and Kylie on either side of her. Second, third, and fourth, I think as I draw back to avoid hitting them.

“What, am I missing another secret club function?”

“You think this is a big joke, Kenzie?” Chloe demands.

“I think …”
You don’t have enough going on in your life if you take that inane list so seriously
. “I have to find my friend and leave.”

“Why?” Amanda asks. “Aren’t you going to stay with your new boyfriend?”

“He’s not—”

“Yeah, he is,” Chloe says. “That’s the beauty of the list. Girls
who are …” She looks me up and down and I brace for the insult.
Ugly. Plain. Nobody
. “… 
average
can score a hot guy.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a freaking list, Chloe,” I say, my impatience rising. “It’s not magic.”

“It’s not just a list, Kenzie,” she fires back. “And if you think it is, maybe you shouldn’t be on it.”

“I didn’t ask to be on it.”

They all share a look; then Amanda angles her head, narrowing her eyes at me. “Chill, you two. Get in there.” She nudges me toward an open door, but I hold my ground.

“I don’t want—”

Fingers grip my arm so tight I almost cry out. Kylie Leff is grabbing me, staring me down. “In there,” she says.

“Why?”

Kylie pushes me. “Just do it, Kenzie.”

I stumble into a room that could be a den or a library or, based on the glass walls full of bottles, a wine vault. It’s very dark and even darker when the door closes.

“What is going on?” I demand.

“Shhh.” They gather around me in a circle, near enough that I can just make out their features in the low lights from behind the wine vaults.

Chloe gets so close I can see each stroke of mascara on her lashes and how her dark eye shadow has formed some creases. But mostly I can see a very, very serious look in her hazel eyes.

“You should never have been on the list,” she hisses, unable to let go of our argument.

No shit, Sherlock. “Hey, I didn’t control the voting. Or suck off the lacrosse team.”

Her eyes remain narrowed as she glares at me. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Apparently not. “That I don’t belong on a list with you pretty girls, is that what you’re saying?” A zing of frustration shoots up my spine, popping a little when it hits my head. “I don’t deserve the attention of a guy like Josh Collier? You resent me being on your list because it brings down the cachet? Yeah, I get you have issues, but I don’t want to be in your stupid club, so why don’t you just leave me alone?”

All three of them stare at me. Not looks of remorse or pity or anger or anything like that. Just … blank stares. Then Chloe jerks like she’s coming after me, but Kylie and Amanda grab her. “Stop it, Chloe. This is more important.”

“What is it?” I ask. “I have to find my friend.”

Amanda steps closer. “Has anything, you know, dangerous happened to you lately?”

I feel my whole body burn into a hot pool of liquid mercury. “Like what?”

“Like weird close calls?”

Oh, shit. “Like accidents?”

They lean in a little, stealing my air and space.

“Kenzie,” Amanda whispers. “Have you almost died in the last few days?”

Yes. Three times
. “I’ve had some … weird stuff happen.” They share a look that is scarier than any slasher film I’ve ever seen. “Why?” I ask, my voice cracking.

Chloe’s eyes widen. “This is bad.”

Horror drains blood from my head. “What? What are you talking about?”

“The curse,” Chloe whispers, the words setting goose bumps off like tiny bombs on my arm.

I just stare at her, unable to process what she might mean. “There’s a curse?”

“This is the thirtieth year of the list,” she whispers, tilting her head like she just revealed the secret of the ages.

I remember the nurse telling me that. “And?”

They exchange another look, but this time Kylie shakes her head hard. “You know what your mother said, Chloe.”

“What did she say?” I ask.

Chloe closes her eyes and lets a soft breath out of her nose. “Just be careful, Fifth. I mean, we’re probably safe, but …”

“But what?” I ask, hating the catch in my voice. “What is this curse? A ghost? Folklore? A campfire story? What the hell are you talking about, Chloe? Have you guys had weird things happen as well?”

“My flatiron fell right off the shelf into my bathtub about ten seconds after I got out,” Chloe says.

Oh, Lord.

“My garage door wouldn’t go up,” Kylie says. “And I was in the car and couldn’t get the door to unlock or …” She closes her eyes. “… turn the damn ignition off. If my sister hadn’t come home …” She lets out a shudder.