Undead Much? Page 15

  “We would be helpless to prevent the chaos we’ve described,” another Elder added. I thought it was Elder Nevins, but couldn’t be sure. I’d only seen the man a couple times. He was from the Little Rock council and usually didn’t bother meddling in our small-town affairs.

  “We understand, sir,” Monica said. “And I think I speak for both of us when I say—”

  “I’d be careful of whom I aligned myself with, Miss Parsons.” Nevins didn’t bother to hide his contempt for me the way the others had. I expected Monica to take the hint, but she didn’t.

  “I’m always careful, Mr. Bevins.” Bevins, not Nevins. I’d been close. “Neither Megan nor I have done anything wrong.”

  She was either crazy or way more loyal than I’d ever dreamed. Either way, I had to fight the urge to lean over and hug her. The Monicster was standing up for me, and it meant a lot. A whole lot. Ethan hadn’t been allowed into the meeting and had headed down to the hospital to continue his investigation, so I would have been completely on my own in hostile territory without her.

  “That remains to be—”

  “We’ve simply been responding to hostile Out-of-Grave Phenomenons in the way we’ve been trained to respond,” Monica said, interrupting Elder Crane as though she smart-mouthed Settlers’ Affairs council members on a daily basis. “Considering Megan hasn’t even passed her third-stage exam yet, I feel our work has been more than adequate and—”

  “That’s enough, Monica,” Elder Thomas said.

  “And I think the move to condemn Megan before she’s even been tried,” Monica pressed on, raising her voice to be heard over the grumbles of the council, “before she and her family have even been made aware of the evidence gathered in the case against her is—”

  “The evidence was delivered to Miss Berry’s mother yesterday afternoon,” Elder Thomas snapped, which succeeded in shutting Monica down rather effectively.

  Oh God, not again. My mom had lied to me again. My eyes slid closed and my chest did that horrible squeezing thing it did whenever my world turned upside down. At this rate, you’d think it would eventually do a complete three-sixty and be right-side up again.

  So far—no such luck.

  “But Elder Thomas,” I said, ashamed to be confessing my own family couldn’t be bothered to be honest with me. “I had no idea. I’d really like to see the evidence for myself, since it is my—”

  “It’s in your guardian’s hands.” Elder Thomas stood and the rest of the council began to gather briefcases and purses from the floor. We were all working people here and had to be at school or the office in the next half hour. Life continued and people had places to be, no matter that a girl was dead, or the world might be on the verge of a zombie apocalypse, or my entire life was falling apart. “Whether she decides to share that evidence with the minor in her charge is her concern.”

  The minor in her charge. Gah!! I hated that phrase.

  I hated it even more that grown-ups seemed to randomly decide when to treat teenagers like kids and when to treat them like adults. Why was it okay for them to expect me to hold a full-time job and put my life on the line when weird zombies started attacking Carol, but then turn around and deny me information like I was some stupid infant? It made me furious, and for a split second that rabid lust for revenge surged inside of me once more.

  How fabulous would it feel to wipe the smug, condescending, condemning looks from all these people’s faces? How vindicating to show them what it felt like to be falsely accused? I could find a way to show them. I could—

  “Come on, let’s get out of here. We still have time for donuts before school if we hurry.” Monica grabbed my hand and squeezed before reaching for her own bag. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling the need for some major French cruller therapy.”

  “I think éclair therapy is more up my alley,” I said, sounding as shaky as I felt.

  That was the third time in less than twelve hours that I’d had a passing fantasy about using black magic. First with Cliff, then with Mom, and now with the entire SA council of Elders. It was insane, especially considering I knew very little about the black arts.

  Where was the urge coming from?

  I mean, I was angry, but I wasn’t that angry. Black magic was soul-destroying, karmic suicide, and body temperatures induced by casting with wicked intent caused permanent brain damage. Jess and her seizures were living proof of that. Were these losers and their suspicions—which I knew would be proven false no matter what evidence Mom was withholding—really worth brain damage?

  The logical answer was no, but there was still that . . . temptation, which made me determined to get to the bottom of this ASAP.

  Which meant I had to refocus my priorities . . .

  “Listen, I’m not going to be able to sell tickets for the fund-raiser at lunch today,” I said, hunching inside my coat as I followed Monica out into the parking lot and across the street. “I need to talk to Kitty and find out what my parents have been hiding and—”

  “And you’ll have better luck snooping around while they’re at work.” She held out her hand. “Give me the tickets. I’ll try to sell them for you. Worse comes to worst, we can put you to work organizing everyone else’s schedule and fetching cocoa.”

  “Worse comes to worst, I’m not there at all. Monica, I have to make proving my innocence my first priority. I might not have time to go ice-skating tonight. You know what I’m saying?”

  She stopped at the corner and spun to face me after pushing the button for the crosswalk. “You’ll make time. No matter what’s going on, you’ve got to make time for normal life.”

  “But I—”

  “No. Matter. What. Even when it seems stupid. Because the second you let the Settler stuff take over, you’re not fully alive anymore.”

  “I won’t be fully alive if I’m in jail, either.”

  She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me across the street, lecturing the entire way. “We’re not normal and we never will be, but we have to hold on to our human lives. Otherwise, the dead will take you over. And once that happens, it becomes easier not to care so much about the living.” She didn’t say it in so many words, but I read the same temptation I’d been feeling in the glance she threw over her shoulder. I wasn’t the only one drawn to the more sinister aspect of our gifts.

  The relief that dumped into my veins was the most amazing thing Monica had ever given me, and that was saying something after the past few days. I owed her, big-time, and if she thought ice-skating would keep me from the dark side of the force, I would be there.

  “Okay. I’ll make time.”

  “No matter what.”

  I nodded, and followed her into the dingy donut shop next to the 7-Eleven. It had rank coffee, but the fried dough was to die for. “As long as I still have legs by seven o’clock.”

  “Eh, you don’t need legs to sell cocoa. We can just prop you up behind the table or something.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and I saw the CHS version of Monica Parsons come alive.

  There were a lot of other people from our school around and she was getting into character. It was weird that I’d never noticed that about her before. Still, she wasn’t treating me like the annoying underclassman with poor fashion sense just yet. Maybe we’d finally crossed some bridge and begun a friendship in the real world . . . or maybe it was the fact that I was wearing her clothes.

  “What do you want? I’m buying,” she said, as we shuffled closer to the counter.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was just being so great. “Two chocolate éclairs, please. And thanks. So much. For everything. I really—”

  “God, don’t. Please.” Monica’s nose wrinkled like I’d just farted on her leg. “Between the love-fest this morning and your puppy-dog eyes, I’m really going to be sick.”

  “I like puppy-dog eyes.” I turned to see Aaron in line directly behind us with Dana and the twins. “Especially Megan’s.”

  “Cut it out, Aaro
n,” Dana snapped, glaring at me. “This isn’t the time to be flirting with the enemy. Have some respect for Tabitha. She’s going to be in the hospital for like, ever.”

  Kimberly and Kate joined in the glare-fest, their eyes puffy, as though they’d been crying all night. Probably mourning the loss of their team’s flyer. Their stunts just wouldn’t be the same without the little turd on top. But at least Tabitha was still alive. We couldn’t say the same for poor Bobbie Jane. Still, thinking about Tabitha being rolled out of the swamp on a stretcher made me want to offer some sort of sympathy. Luckily, Monica opened her mouth first.

  “Right, Dana, like the respect you showed last night.” Monica turned around and nailed Dana with her best “what kind of oozing sore did you leak out of?” look.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You were on the phone looking for fresh cheer meat before the ambulance had even pulled out of Pizza Pie,” Monica sneered. “I heard you got that new girl, Nina Alexander, to agree to take Tabitha’s spot on the team. Don’t even try to deny it.”

  “We had to! Tabitha was a flyer! We had to find someone else small enough to—”

  Dana stopped Kate with a hand on her arm. “Forget about it. We don’t have to explain ourselves to the Slut Squad. They don’t care about Tabitha anyway—all they care about is winning the right to roll around on the gym floor like cats in heat at halftime this Saturday.”

  “Dana, that’s not true,” I said. “Last night was horrible, and I think we should just—”

  “Whatever,” Kate said.

  “No one cares what you think, Berry,” her twin snapped.

  “I do.” Aaron smiled, a sweet grin that was out of place in the sea of scowls.

  “Oh, shut up, Aaron.” Dana rolled her eyes. “Come on, girls, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. Let’s leave the calorie binge to those with more experience.”

  “Later, sweetie,” Monica said, her tone oozing saccharine. When she turned back to me, however, her whisper was ripe with venom. “You’d better make sure you’re at practice this afternoon. We need to be ready to show the boosters something amazing on Saturday and put an end to the question of who owns halftime once and for all.”

  “I’ll be there,” I said, the ghost of my old competitive spirit rearing its head.

  No matter what else was happening, or how my mom had tried to make me feel stupid for caring so much about pom squad, I did still care about dancing the rest of the games. Of all the things in my life, dancing was one of the things I treasured the most. At no other time did I feel so happy and normal, and there was no way I was giving that up without a fight.

  “You look pissed,” Aaron piped up from behind me. “I hope not at me.”

  “No, not at you. It’s just a bunch of stuff.” I turned around in time to see Josh Pickle—a senior I’d had a very brief not-quite-thing with last fall before Ethan and I discovered our true and undying love—and his friend Andy getting in line behind Aaron. They were eyeing him with thinly disguised suspicion and ignoring me. Which was more than fine. Josh had greatly exaggerated how far our physical contact went the night of our one date and had been on my dead-tome list for quite some time.

  He’d gotten the message and chosen a new lab partner, but that didn’t stop him from being way too interested in who was flirting with me. Of course, it could be that he was simply shocked to see Aaron trying to get his game on. Most people assumed Aaron was gay just because he was on the cheerleading squad. I, on the other hand, assumed a guy who would endure severe social stigma in the name of getting his hands under a bunch of girls’ skirts when he lifted them into the air was probably pervier than your average bear.

  And he seemed to have a thing for me. Could I not catch a break this week?

  “Thanks.” I smiled, trying to force myself into normal mode.

  “Hey, I’m so sorry about last night.” His smile faded and one large hand came to rest familiarly on my shoulder. “Really, no matter what Dana says, all of us are totally freaked out that Tabitha is hurt and that other girl died. It’s just awful.”

  “Yeah, it was one of the worst nights of my life.”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay. I heard you were hurt trying to fight the gang or something?”

  “Not really.” My eyes slid over to Monica, seeking support, but she was busy ordering donuts. “It was more like Monica and I got in the way. We were in the back room when they came out of the kitchen.”

  “But you didn’t get bitten or anything? I heard they were biting people?”

  “No, no bites,” I said, praying for a subject change.

  “Scary,” he said. “I wish I’d been there.”

  “Probably better you weren’t.” I grabbed the bag Monica shoved in my hands, and moved away from the counter. Aaron came too, not even pretending he was in line for any other reason than to talk to me.

  “It’s absolutely better he wasn’t. What were you going to do, Aaron? Beat the cracked-out cult members to death with a spirit stick?” Monica rolled her eyes and stalked across the room toward the door, boots clicking on the faded flower tiles. The bitch was back, as Elton John would say. “I’d better see your ass this afternoon at practice and tonight, Megan.”

  “You will,” I called after her, my cheeks growing hot when Josh and Andy snickered over the Monicster’s parting remark.

  “And you hang out with that girl of your own free will?” Aaron asked, his flat delivery actually making me laugh.

  “Um . . . not totally. She’s the captain. Her word is law and all that.” I shrugged and grabbed some napkins from one of the tables. “Dana’s the same way, right?”

  “No, she’s pretty cool.” He nodded, clearly finished with the subject. “But let’s not talk about squad stuff. I want to cheer you up. What do you say we go for a ride? Maybe get some real breakfast?”

  “Thanks, but I can’t. I’ve got to get to school.”

  “Aw, come on, you need more than donuts for breakfast,” he said as I stared out the window into the bright morning light. Across the street, the sun reflected cheerily off the hood of an annoyingly familiar beige sedan.

  Argh! My stupid Settler tail. I’d planned on heading back home eventually, but I needed to lose the shadow first. Making an unexpected detour might do the trick, and I did have an errand that would be more easily accomplished with transportation.

  Hmmm . . . did I dare? I mean, Aaron did have a car. It would certainly save me a lot of time if I got him to drive me back to the Pleasant Mountain clinic, and the less school I missed, the better. I could always ask Ethan, but he was already busy investigating one hospital this morning and probably wouldn’t have time to chauffeur me around until later.

  “Where’s your car parked?” I asked.

  “Around back.”

  I decided to take that as a sign. “I’m not sure I have time for breakfast, but what about a little drive?” Aaron smiled like he’d won the lottery.

  “Sure, where do you need to go?” He held the back door for me as we stepped out into the cold. His restored antique Corvette sat only a few feet away, silently beckoning.

  “Pleasant Mountain Family Clinic. It’s in west Little Rock, right off—”

  “Yeah, I know where it is.” Aaron shot me a surprised look. “That’s where I go. They’re really nice there. I know the nurses pretty well.”

  “Well enough to sweet talk them out of some medical records?” The words were out of my mouth before I had time to consider their wisdom. Exhaustion was clearly eroding my brain-to-mouth filtering system.

  “Medical records?”

  “Yeah, my parents have been acting really funny lately and my dad’s been going to the doctor way more than normal. It’s made me worry, but they won’t tell me anything,” I said, digging into my donut bag as I spoke. I couldn’t look at Aaron and tell this particular fib.

  How awful was I, to be pretending my dad might be sick? Pretty awful . . . but that didn’t st
op me from moving forward with my hastily formed plan. “If I could get my hands on their medical records, I know I’d feel so much better.”

  “The nurses aren’t going to just turn them over to you or me.” Aaron paused to lean against the hood of his car. “There are laws against that kind of thing. They could get in big trouble.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I bit into my éclair, but not even the burst of chocolate could lift my spirits.

  “So you can’t just go in there and ask for them,” he continued. “You’re probably going to have to steal them.”

  “Steal them?” I asked, sounding shocked, as if that hadn’t been my plan all along. I was fairly shocked, however, that Aaron had come around to the idea so easily all on his own.

  “He’s your dad.” He shrugged and stole the last bite of éclair from between my sticky fingers. “You’re worried. I think you deserve to know the truth, even if you have to get a little creative to get it. I’d be happy to take you.”

  I watched him chew and swallow. “Awesome. Thanks so much, I’m sure you can get back before the last bell rings—”

  “Screw the bell, I’ve got study hall first period. Coach Fisk won’t even notice I’m gone. I’d feel bad leaving you down there to find your own way back.” He practically jogged around the car to open the door for me. “Besides, you’ll need someone to create a diversion while you sneak behind the front desk.”

  “Really, you’d do that?” I asked, gratitude making me ignore the way his hand lingered on my back as he urged me into the passenger’s seat.

  “Sure. It’ll be easy. The nurses over there love me.” Aaron grinned, the look in his eyes making it clear he knew the effect he had on most girls, and women for that matter.

  Still, no matter how grateful I was, the boy did nothing for me. Maybe that was why I attracted his attention. People always seem to want what they can’t have, just because they can’t have it. Like me and the whole normal-life thing. Would I want to be average so badly if I was really just the girl next door?