Pretty Dark Nothing Page 11

  Coach White’s expression softened. Putting her elbows on the table, she laced her fingers, resting her chin on her hands. “I heard about what happened yesterday. You look like you’ve lost some weight, and don’t think I haven’t noticed those dark circles. Have you been eating enough?”

  Coach White’s words were like a TV playing in another room. Numbed to the core, she perceived her own voice as part of that same ambient TV show. “I’ve been a little tired. I guess I’m a little stressed with senior stuff.” Then the implications of Coach White’s question sunk in, snapping Quinn out of her daze. “No, no, I’m not puking or starving myself or anything like that.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Promise me you’ll get a tutor if you have to. Do whatever it takes to get those grades up. Regional competition is in March, and we need you if we want to advance.”

  Her head hurt, and she wanted to get out of this oven of an office and find a deep, dark hole to hide in.

  Quinn nodded. Getting her grades up by next week would be impossible. Suspension was imminent. This would be her last football game as a Westland High Filly, ever. And if she didn’t get it together soon, there would be nothing left of her life worth saving.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Aaron weaved his motorcycle through the school parking lot. Just short of reckless, he darted down the back streets and alleyways to avoid traffic. What he really needed was a cold shower to get her out of his mind. Her smell clung to his clothes, invading his nostrils. He still felt the touch of her soft skin, the lingering passion from her thoughts.

  Aaron accelerated, thrusting forward in his seat. The wind took his breath away and whipped through the fabric of his clothes, the tail of his shirt flapping behind him. He focused on the hum of the bike beneath him and let his mind go blank, invoking a state of Zen as he sped across the Westland county line and into Eastwoood. He blurred past houses and bounced over bumps and potholes, trees and buildings whizzing by.

  He cut a sharp left up a narrow dirt road. Bits of gravel pinged against the metal body as the tires kicked up bits of debris. The engine roared as he poured on the speed. St. Angeles Chapel stood three hundred feet before him—its stone bell tower standing stark against the bright sky.

  The tires squealed as he skidded to a stop in front of the old church. Breathless, he removed his helmet and dismounted. He stood beneath the gothic stone entry arch and pushed at the large wooden door, its metal hinges groaning with the weight of heavy oak as it swung open.

  His footsteps echoed off the nave’s stone floor. Light streamed through the unbroken stained glass window at the back, casting a patchwork of color across the dust-covered pews and the large cross suspended from the ceiling.

  St. Angeles: his thinking place, his sanctuary. His mood lifted as he sat, cross-legged, before the disused altar. He thought about Quinn and their connection. Could she feel it too?

  If she did, wouldn’t she say something about it? The connection was all in his head, one-sided, a delusion. Watching the way she reacted when Jeff came in was proof enough. It was Jeff she wanted, and thinking anything else was a sure set-up for heartbreak, and his heart was already cracking under the weight of his obsession; he couldn’t take any more.

  But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that what happened in the hallway meant nothing, the more puzzling everything became.

  He was missing something. It tickled the back of his brain, a memory, something important, playing cat-and-mouse in his mind. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, striving for a state of meditation. He pictured his barrier—the one he kept up at all times in case of an accidental touch—and slowly brought it down, opening himself to psychic contact.

  He focused on Quinn, her soft skin, the feel of her thoughts joined with his. He willed his gift to contact her, but nothing happened. He slammed his fists on his thighs. He had no idea how to reach her, or anyone for that matter, without touching them. Didn’t this prove the connection with Quinn was all in his head, delusions concocted by his longing to be near her?

  Not ready to give up, he swallowed his fear and opened himself further than he ever had, removed every brick from his wall, and sank deeper into a state of Zen. This time, instead of floating in blank space, images flashed before him: a hospital room, a curved rune sword. That name again. Azrael. Aaron repeated the name as if invoking Azrael to come forward and speak to him. Nothing. Instead, Ruth appeared before him, her red curls framing her face. She smiled and beckoned him to follow her into a portal of light. Aaron’s heart ached, and he longed to go with her, but something bound him to his flesh. He shook his head, and a flash blinded him as she disappeared, taking all the light with her. A fog gathered in the corners. Something watched him, something familiar, evil. Something he’d seen before—in Quinn’s nightmare. He shrank back as a black mass rushed him. He retreated as fast as he could, throwing up his wall to protect himself from the anger this thing directed at him.

  Aaron rubbed his temples and opened his eyes. Sweat gathered on the back of his neck. His hands trembled as he ran his fingers through his mop of black hair. What did it mean? He tried to hold on to the vision, to think through what he’d seen. The answer was right in front of him, if he could just fit the pieces together. But the pieces disappeared one by one before he could form a whole picture. It was as if a black hole sucked the vision away, creating a void where the answers had been.

  Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, Aaron stretched to release the tension in his muscles. Dusk had settled around the church, and he glanced at his watch. Two hours had passed. He jumped up and dusted himself off. He was officially late for band rehearsal—again. Jenna would kill him.

  On the ride to Jenna’s house, he thought about the first time he’d met Jenna and Cade. A week after he had been released from the psychiatric ward at Rio Villa, he drove his motorcycle out of town with the intent of riding off into the sunset—away from the expectations of his brother and father.

  He turned north down a winding dirt road that led to a small, half-ruined chapel, complete with stone bell tower, gothic arches, and a moss-covered cemetery. St. Angeles. It felt like it belonged somewhere else and in some other time, like him.

  A soulful voice drifted through a broken window. He approached the derelict building where Jenna stood at the front, singing. Her twin brother, Cade, sat behind her and joined her in harmony. Aaron would never have guessed they were preacher’s kids from their black nail polish, dark eyeliner, and piercings. Both were so engrossed in their music, neither had noticed Aaron.

  A guitar leaned against the dusty front pew. Without thinking, he slung the strap over his shoulder and played along, improvising. He had no memory of ever having played guitar, but his fingers found the notes with ease. Playing music felt as natural as breathing, like coming home.

  Neither Cade nor Jenna stopped, accepting this stranger without question. When the song finished, Jenna said, “We should start a band,” and Habitual Reality was born.

  Did they know they’d saved his life that day? Music, the band, they were the only things that made him feel normal.

  All eyes turned to Aaron as he entered the garage, their laughter stopping as the door closed behind him.

  “Where you been?” Ben twirled a drumstick in the fingers of his left hand.

  “Yeah, rehearsal started half an hour ago.” Jenna lay on the faded carpet in front of the door, looking through some sheet music. “Glad you decided to join us.” She wore her usual tight–fitting, black t-shirt and black skinny jeans that showed off every curve. He liked curves.

  “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

  Jenna wedged the sole of her goth boot against the doorframe, blocking his path. “Not so fast. That’s the third time this week.”

  “I’m here now, and I seriously need to play some music and forget about my crap day.” He looked down at Jenna, waiting for her to move.

  “Cade, Ben, and I were just
discussing kicking you out. Right, Cade?”

  Cade played through some scales on the keyboard. “No, Jenna discussed kicking you out. Ben and I agreed that if she wanted to play the gig on Saturday, she would have to accept your creative temperament.”

  “Musicians.” Jenna still blocked his path. “Say it, and I’ll let you stay.”

  He sighed. “You’re the lead singer extraordinaire. Goddess of music, queen of the band. Happy?”

  “Damn, right!” She moved her leg. Aaron stepped over her, trying not to trample the long dark hair that fanned behind her, and grabbed his guitar from the stand.

  “You know I would never really kick you out of the band, right?” Jenna winked at him.

  “Did you finish the new song?” Cade plunked out a few notes. “My fingers are itching for a new melody.”

  “Copies for everyone.” Aaron unzipped the front pocket of his backpack and handed a copy to Cade.

  “Sweet. Hey, Jenna, want me to play through the melody for you before we start? Maybe get warmed up?” Cade asked his sister.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting to hear this song for weeks.” Jenna rolled over on her stomach and stretched. “It better be worth the wait.” She looked at Aaron. Her gray eyes narrowed as she grinned at him.

  “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

  “I guess.” Jenna pushed off the floor and stood in front of him, hands behind her back. “But only if you hug me.” She pushed out her bottom lip in an over-exaggerated pout. Aaron pulled her into a bear hug. A consummate baker, she always smelled like something delicious—today was homemade, chocolate-chip cookies. Every time her skin touched his, he was overwhelmed by the warm, steady surge of affection mixed with a hint of nervous butterflies. Her thoughts told him she wanted to tell him she liked him, but she was scared it might jeopardize their friendship.

  Jenna pulled away, breaking the connection. She placed her hands on her hips and studied him. “Until you do something else to piss me off.”

  Her thick, black eyeliner accentuated her soulful eyes. Her dark hair and olive skin were the complete opposite of Quinn. But Quinn had made her feelings perfectly clear. She wanted Jeff. His feelings for Quinn were turning into an unhealthy obsession.

  Maybe he could love bold, brave Jenna with her enthusiasm and sometimes brutal honesty. He did love her—in a calm, quiet way. When they touched, he was always careful to project warmth and friendship. But what if he didn’t? What if their friendship could be more? He pictured himself kissing her. He imagined how soft her lips would be and had to stop from leaning in and finding out.

  “Earth to Aaron.” Jenna pinched his arm. “Are we starting, or what?” Jenna tapped the toe of her boot against the floor.

  “Sorry.” Aaron plugged his acoustic guitar into the amp and set his capo at the fifth fret. “Hey, did you ask your dad about using St. Angeles for our gig?”

  St. Angeles belonged to Pastor Mclure, Jenna’s dad. He was the third and last generation Mclure to preach there. Today, the congregation met in a modern, shiny new building two miles away, leaving St. Angeles to the wind and birds.

  “I told you I could talk him into anything.” Jenna grinned. “He said it’s fine as long as we don’t do any damage. Ben’s even found an old generator to power the equipment.”

  “We can set up lots of candles for atmosphere,” Cade said.

  “It will be awesome!” Jenna said, her enthusiasm spreading through them all.

  “Not as awesome as you.” Aaron winked at her.

  “Well, that goes without saying.” Jenna punched him lightly on the arm.

  In that split second her thoughts moved from her fist to his mind. She pictured them meeting at the football game, holding hands, making sarcastic jokes about the cheerleaders.

  Aaron liked the idea of it. “So, are you guys going to the game tonight?”

  “And miss seeing Westland get their butts kicked by our offensive line? Wouldn’t miss it, would we, Cade?”

  “Want to meet up?” Aaron blurted it out before he had a chance to change his mind.

  Jenna tried to mask her shock. “Are you asking me to go to the game with you?”

  “I thought you could sit on our side, feel what it’s like to be a loser for once.”

  She cocked her head and rubbed her chin. “A little recon? Spy on the other side? I like it. But aren’t you afraid someone will see you consorting with the enemy?”

  “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Sit with me. It’ll be fun. I’ll even buy you some nachos.”

  “Fine, but don’t you dare tell anyone we’re from Eastwood. I don’t want to be stoned to death.”

  “Can you two stop flirting long enough to get some rehearsing in?” Cade asked.

  “That wasn’t flirting. I’ll show you flirting.” Jenna moved closer to Aaron and batted her long mascaraed lashes. In turn, Aaron flexed his muscles.

  Cade rolled his eyes. “Please, Ben, count off, before I puke.”

  “Let’s go. One, two,” Ben counted off, and the band lost themselves in the music, and Aaron lost himself in the joy of playing music—the only thing that made him feel normal.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dusk settled over the stadium, flooding cones of light through every inch of the field, leaving the empty stands striped with ribbons of shadows.

  Quinn mounted the steps, found a section of bench drenched in a bright patch, and took a seat. The last place she wanted to be was at the game where everything reminded her that she was a failure, a loser. What was worse—being home alone with the demons, or watching Kerstin steal everything she cared about? She put her feet on the bleacher in front of her, bringing her knees closer to her chest and pulling the end of her red shirtsleeves over her hands, tucking them under her armpits to keep from shivering.

  The lights hummed, low and dull. Moths gathered around their glow, futilely beating against the cool white bulbs. Their dirty ragged wings fluttered, confused by the false radiance of the light.

  Kerstin’s bark broke the eerie silence of the stands. “Come on, girls. Say it with me. We’re fresh. You know, the Fillies steal the show. We’re too hot to handle, and we’re ready to go!” Kerstin smirked at Quinn from the sidelines as she led the squad in warm-ups.

  Fantasizing about shaving Kerstin’s head while she slept, or accidentally elbowing her in the face, breaking her pudgy little nose, brought a grin to her lips. A bloody nose and two missing front teeth might improve her looks.

  She turned her attention to the Wildcats who were running drills. Her eyes landed on Jeff, who stared at her from the sidelines. She smiled and waved. Jeff curtly waved back, turning away before anyone—Kerstin—saw him. Quinn turned away, too, but every so often she felt the resurgence of his attention. Sure enough, when she glanced his way, he was watching her.

  Quinn wondered what that meant. Did it mean he wasn’t over her either? Could she get him back? And if she did, what then? Could she forgive him? Could they both forget about Kerstin? Forgiving and forgetting were two different things, and she wasn’t sure she could or wanted to do either. Her feelings mixed within, a dozen different smoothies blended together and no way to decipher one flavor from another. Aaron. How could she run from his lips into Jeff’s arms in a matter of seconds? Guilt twisted in her gut. He must hate her. Maybe she could explain, tell him why she struggled getting over Jeff. Yeah, that’s just what he’d want to hear. She wanted to put Jeff behind her and move on with Aaron, but she didn’t know how.

  Quinn turned to look at the now-crowded bleachers. She shaded her eyes from the blinding light and scanned the student’s faces, looking for anyone familiar. All of them turned away the minute she made eye contact. Quinn frowned.

  “Are you all right?” Breathless, Ami plopped down beside Quinn.

  “I’m okay. Considering.” Quinn spotted Aaron standing at the top of the bleachers. A dark-haired girl she didn’t recognize stepped up behind him and grabbed him around the waist. His smi
le lit the world, and he pulled her into a bear hug. Was she too late? Maybe Aaron wasn’t as interested in her as she thought. Here she was, tying herself in knots over him, trying to figure out a way to get over Jeff and give Aaron a chance, and he hugged another girl. God, she was such a hypocrite. Hadn’t she hugged Jeff like that right in front of him? Still, a pang of jealousy rose inside as he brushed a long strand from the girl’s face. Quinn ran a hand through her own, short locks and wished she had never taken the scissors to them.

  “It’s not true, is it?”

  “What’s not true?” Quinn tore her eyes from Aaron and the brunette and looked at Ami.

  “Oh my gosh, girl! You really don’t know?” The floodgate of Ami’s mouth opened, and the words washed over Quinn like a tsunami.

  “Jayme told me that she heard from Robin that Kerstin’s permanently captain because Coach White caught you taking drugs before the pep rally, and that’s why you’re failing all your classes, and that Kerstin found a broken mirror and lines of cocaine in the girls’ locker room and that you looked wild and messed up after the pep rally. I couldn’t believe it. I called her a liar and said she needed to check her facts. She said Lori told her your fainting spell on Wednesday was due to a drug overdose. I told her people don’t faint from a drug overdose, they die, but she’s always been a few colors short of a rainbow. Anyway, she insisted the rumor was true, and here you are, out of uniform, sitting alone, and I have to say to myself, ‘Ami, what has this crazy world come to?’”

  Ami pushed her glasses up her nose and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening.

  “So dish with me, girl. You weren’t really caught doing drugs, were you? I mean, not you, Quinn. Please tell me this is just a nasty rumor. I want it straight from the horse’s mouth so I can use my gossip powers for good and squelch this nasty hearsay.”

  “Unbelievable!” Quinn folded her arms over her chest. “Next, she’ll be telling everyone I’m some kind of brain-sucking alien. Come on, Ami, you know me. Do you really think I’m some druggie?”