Pretty Dark Nothing Page 2

  “Kissing, groping. They can’t get enough of each other.”

  She rocked back and forth in rhythm with the song, as if the repetition would drive them from her mind, but it only made the voices louder, more determined.

  “Did he kiss you like that? Like he wanted to devour you?” The voices provoked her to remember their last kiss.

  “He said he’d call you every night. Did he? Six weeks, and he called you how many times?”

  Quinn shook her head, the humming turning to singing. She didn’t want to think about how he’d promised he would call every night, but after the first week, the calls all but stopped.

  “And that kiss before he left?”

  Their last kiss, the worst kind of kiss, the kind you give a sister, a peck.

  “No.” The shadows confirmed the very question that crossed her mind. “He never loved you. Not like he loves Kerstin.”

  Quinn choked as her throat tightened. Now they were reading her thoughts. “Get out of my head.”

  The dark Quinns laughed and joined hands. “But you’ve got us. We’ll never leave you.” They circled her, dancing, singing, and teasing, like psychotic little children on a playground. “Kerstin is pretty.” The dark masses spun past her, blurring everything in gray mist.

  “Shut up,” she pleaded under her breath. Quinn looked up to see a short, blond girl stop half way up the steps to the school entrance and stare at her, mouth agape. Did the girl see them too? Quinn pulled her hands through her hair as if she were brushing it back into a ponytail and not covering her ears and talking to disembodied voices. This is what it feels like to lose it. Padded cell, here we come. The girl looked at the ground and hurried into the building.

  “Kerstin is smart.”

  “Shut up,” Quinn snapped.

  “Kerstin is … ”

  “Shut up!” Quinn’s words echoed off the cars in the empty parking lot and collided with the clang of the first period bell.

  “You’re late, Quinn.” The taunting spirits snickered.

  Balling her fist, Quinn closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and took a swing at a smoky face. Her fist collided with air, and when she opened her eyes, they were gone. She stood alone, shadow-less in the perfectly normal parking lot on a normal school day. But in that moment, everything had changed. Either she had fallen asleep, or her nightmares were no longer the stuff of dreams.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Aaron Collier shifted his backpack over his shoulder and glanced down the hall as he deftly spun his locker combination, glancing up between numbers to make sure Quinn hadn’t escaped into the cafeteria. Just fifteen rows away, she flickered in and out of his vision as the crowd of hungry students came and went.

  In AP English, they’d been put in the same discussion group to debate if Hamlet really loved Ophelia. Quinn curled her hair around the finger of her left hand, strangely silent, as he’d argued Hamlet’s love for Ophelia had been true, but his need for revenge had overpowered all other emotions.

  “Quinn, what do you think?” he’d asked.

  She’d startled. Her eyes locked on his: bloodshot, tired, no makeup could have hidden the dark circles and bags. Clearly she hadn’t slept for days.

  “I agree.” She’d turned from him, glanced over her shoulder, and went back to the absent-minded hair twisting while the discussion moved on.

  He’d wanted to touch her, to get a glimpse of what troubled her, but there was no guarantee his ability would have worked. It was unreliable at best, and his connection probably wasn’t strong enough to evoke anything other than his own desire. Then he would have had to explain an unwarranted touch. Instead, he had pulled his hands inside his shirtsleeves, like he didn’t trust them.

  Then she’d sat next to him in calculus, tormenting him with the sweet apple scent of her perfume. Her scarf pulled tight around her throat, a shield from the world. She tapped the end of her pencil on the back of her hand and shifted in her seat as Mr. Gordon droned on about the rules of differentiation. A can of Red Bull peeked from her backpack. She slipped her hand over the top of the can every few minutes like an addict.

  Aaron had been distracted, too, with his Quinn addiction. He’d spent the hour watching her, his muse, and the words flowed from his pen:

  Under the pale moon my life began.

  Hand in hand

  The soulless garden of my heart

  bloomed in the light of your eyes

  To know you

  To love you

  Alpha and Omega

  Beginning and end

  Of life as I know it.

  He had rewritten it five times to make the handwriting perfect, memorizing it as he memorized her face. He waited for Mr. Gordon to turn back to the whiteboard and folded the paper into a small square. He’d planned to drop it into her half open backpack, perhaps accidentally brush her hand as she reached for the comfort of the can.

  The minutes ticked by. The folded piece of paper never detached from his hand, and soon, the bell rang. Quinn had grabbed the backpack and bolted. Aaron balled the paper in his fist and sunk it in the bottom of the wastebasket.

  Now, lucky chance number three presented itself, and he was determined to take it. Say something to her before Reese and the others show up.

  Aaron rehearsed what he could say to her in his head. I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you. Jeff is an idiot. Go out with me. We’re made for each other. He shook his head. That line screamed restraining order. He could do better. She was just another girl, and he talked to girls all the time—had talked to her hundreds of times. But now that she was single, his words stuck in his throat.

  “Yo, Aaron! What’s up?” Marcus leaned against the neighboring locker, an overly muscled shoulder blocking Aaron’s view of Quinn.

  Aaron shuffled to the right until her golden hair flashed back into sight. Kerstin’s a slut, and Jeff’s an asshole. They deserve each other, and you deserve more. True, but maybe a little too blunt.

  “Dude, you’re not a Jedi. You can’t use the force to pull the clothes off her body just by staring at her. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Marcus turned to focus all his attention on Quinn. “Nope. Still doesn’t work.” He sighed and crossed his arms. “I wonder why Luke Skywalker never used his powers to see what was under Leia’s gold bikini.”

  “Because she was his sister?” Aaron rifled through his locker for his Economics book. Hey, Quinn, are you okay? Let me know if you need anything. I’m a great listener. No, too girlie.

  “That’s wrong on so many levels.” Marcus shivered. “Since she’s not my sister, I can still fantasize about her, right?”

  Hey Quinn, you rock my world. That sounded like Marcus. Aaron needed to be himself.

  “Look, I know you’ve been drooling over that one since you moved here, and she’s finally single, but she’s damaged, man. First Jeff breaks up with her, then there’s the cheerleading controversy, now people are saying she was late this morning because she was talking to herself in the parking lot. Dude, are you listening to me?” Marcus thumped him on the ear.

  Aaron flinched, still sore from the piercing. “Yeah, I heard you.” He slammed his locker. “So she’s a little stressed. Haven’t you ever been late to class before? And who doesn’t talk to themselves once in a while? Maybe she was using one of those Bluetooth things, talking to someone on the phone.”

  “Hey, man, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Marcus raised his hands in surrender. “It’s just unusual for Quinn Perfect to be late, that’s all. You know I’d never dis your girl.”

  “She’s not my girl. And nobody’s perfect.”

  “Yeah, right. Not perfect? Look at her, man! The hair, the butt, the legs leading right up into that short little cheerleading skirt.” Marcus grinned. “Don’t tell me you don’t think about the short little cheerleading skirt.”

  “The skirt’s an added perk,” Aaron admitted. “And her smile.”

  “Yeah, her face ain’t bad either.”

  “
And smart.” Aaron slipped his guitar plectrum from his pocket and twirled it between his fingers, wondering how many steps stood between them.

  “And still hung up on her ex. Seriously damaged goods, bro. Look, but don’t touch, that’s my advice. We’re seniors, man. You can have any girl you want. Have you seen the fresh meat walking the halls? Let’s line up for the all you can eat buffet.”

  “I’m full, thanks.” Aaron breathed deeply, ready to take the plunge. He’d do it this time. Talk to her, ask her out.

  “Why waste another day on Quinn with so many hotties running around? Jenna’s crushin’ on you. She’s hotness personified, and you two have a lot in common: music, the band, and those raging hormones.”

  “Jenna’s just a friend.”

  Fifteen steps at the most.

  “What about Marie? Oh, oh, Marie, now there’s a fine one. She’d give you a little something.” Marcus cleared his throat and put on his best Marie impression. “Oh, Aaron, he’s so mysterious and good looking.” He clasped Aaron’s shoulder, regaining his usual deep tone. “She called you man-candy. Can you believe it? You’re not as sweet as me, of course. I mean, I’m Godiva chocolate, and you, well, you’re more like a Goober.”

  Ten long strides, twenty short ones.

  “How come you never ask any of them out? I know a few who are a sure thing,” Marcus said.

  “Sure, Mr. Virgin. All talk and no action.” Aaron punched Marcus on the shoulder.

  “Hey, not so loud. You’ll ruin my image.” Marcus looked around like he was paranoid someone had overheard, and then winked at Aaron. “Dude, you could have a different girl every week, and you choose to be single. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I don’t have time for a girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, unless it’s Quinn. Besides, who said anything about a girlfriend? I’m talking about seven minutes in Heaven, man, not commitment.”

  “I have other things to think about. Like family, grades, college.” Aaron looked at his watch. Come on feet, move.

  “Yeah, and I’ve got a leprechaun living in my locker. You suck at lying. I will admit, she is seriously F I N E, fine.” Marcus paused and studied Aaron. “Wait. You’re serious? Were you actually about to ask her out? Is that why your shirt’s tucked in?” Marcus sniffed Aaron’s neck. “Dude, how much cologne did you put on this morning?”

  “Shut up.” Aaron untucked his shirt and mussed his hair. Looking like a poser was the last thing he wanted.

  “Man, I didn’t know you were serious. Forget what I said about her being damaged. If you really want her, I’ve got your back. Quinn is sure to need a little comforting. If you know what I mean.” Marcus puckered up and made kissing noises.

  “I was planning my move when your big mouth interrupted me.” Aaron slumped against the locker. “Anyway, it’s too late now.” Aaron gestured down the hall where Quinn had been joined by a group of friends.

  “You gonna let them stop you? You say Quinn’s not perfect, but you act like she’s the only girl in the world. Grow some and get your butt over there.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to her. Everything I think of sucks.” Aaron rolled the plectrum he carried across his knuckles and back again, like an old magician’s coin trick.

  “All right, as the ladies man of Westland High, I’ll coach you.”

  “Right, Cyrano, let’s hear it.”

  “Walk up to her, put your arm around her shoulder, smile, and say,” Marcus paused for dramatic effect. “Quinn, you rock my world.”

  Aaron laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Marcus crossed his arms over his chest. “The girls go crazy for that line.”

  “Seriously, you can’t tell me it actually works. I bet you’ve never even used it.”

  “Oh, that hurts.” Marcus grabbed his chest in mock pain. “I bagged a set of mega-fine twins last week with that line.”

  “You’re mistaking your fantasies for reality.” Aaron shoved the plectrum back into his pocket where it belonged.

  Marcus shrugged. “So I’ve never used that line before, but trust me. It’s foolproof.”

  “Prove it. Teresa Moon’s with Quinn. I dare you to lay that foolproof line on her right now.”

  “No problem, man. Watch the master at work. She’ll be mine in no time.” Marcus slicked back his brown hair and flashed his best smile at Aaron. “Well, let’s go. I’m not going alone.”

  Fourteen steps.

  Aaron regretted the dare. Now, he’d have to talk to her.

  Ten.

  He couldn’t just stand there like a dummy at a sideshow.

  Nine.

  Sure, he’d talked to her before.

  Eight.

  But things were different now. She and Jeff weren’t together anymore.

  Seven.

  And that meant he might have a chance.

  ***

  Three tries and Quinn still couldn’t get her combination to land on the right numbers. She looked over her shoulder. Her doppelgangers had disappeared, but the feeling of being watched hadn’t.

  The puzzle didn’t fit. They had always been nightmares. Not show-up-in-broad-daylight-to-scare-you-while-you’re-awake mares. She must’ve dozed while waiting for Jeff and Kerstin to finish making out, waking when the bell rang. It’s the only explanation.

  She jiggled the locker handle and tried again. Fourth time’s a charm. Her locker opened with its usual squeak. Books with different colored covers stood in row. She replaced the literature book in the empty space next to calculus and pulled her thick French book from between chemistry and economics. Something tapped her shoulder. She whirled around to find Kerstin standing in front of her with her hands behind her back and a smirk on her face.

  “What do you want?”

  “I found this in Jeff’s locker.” Kerstin thrust a red, heart-shaped frame at Quinn. “He doesn’t want it anymore.”

  Quinn grabbed the picture.

  “Thanks, Kerstin. It’s so sweet of you to think of my feelings.” Quinn threw as much sarcasm into her voice as she could.

  “It’s the least I can do, Q.T.” Kerstin shot her a mocking smile.

  “Only my friends call me that.”

  “What? We’re not friends?” Kerstin covered her mouth in feigned shock. “I’m hurt.” She pouted. “But I’ll get over it. See you at practice. Oh, wait, I forgot, you’re ‘taking a break.’ At least you should have plenty of time to study. Coach White asked me to step in as captain in your absence.” She waited for the news to sink in. “What? No witty repartee? I’ll turn the other cheek.” She turned and stuck her right cheek out, baiting Quinn. It almost worked.

  “No? Pity. I would love to be captain permanently.” Kerstin cocked a smile then slinked down the hall. “Have a nice day,” she called over her shoulder, a last dig.

  “Yeah, you too.”

  Quinn traced the frame with her index finger. Her favorite picture of the two of them stared back at her. Jeff, tall and blond, wore the purple and red Westland High colors. A mustang blazed across his chest. Quinn stood beside him, dwarfed by his six foot, two-inch frame. She’d always felt safe in his arms.

  “Four years,” she muttered to the picture as if it were Jeff in the flesh. “I trusted you. What do you see in her, anyway? God, I wish cameras had never been invented.” Quinn threw the picture frame into the back of her locker, slamming it shut.

  “Hey. What’s itching you this morning?” Teresa linked her arm through Quinn’s. “Let me guess. Kerstin?”

  “She’s like a rash that won’t go away,” Quinn said. “Seriously, Reese, sometimes I want to punch the freckles right off her nose.”

  “I get that.” Teresa pulled Quinn into a hug. “But she’s really not worth it.”

  “Easy for you to say. She didn’t steal your boyfriend.”

  “You can’t steal a guy that doesn’t want to be stolen.” Teresa brushed her long, black hair out of her face. “Besides, that was over two months ago. You would think r
ubbing it in your face would get old by now. When did she turn into such a bitch?”

  “The day she was born,” Quinn said.

  “Hey, Q.T.! Reese!” Ami bounded across the hall, her arms full of books, eyes flashing. “Want to hear the latest?” Ami launched into tell-all mode before either had time to answer. “Well, I just heard from Tyra who heard from Ashley that Marie is desperately in love with Aaron Collier. Do you blame her? He’s so cute. I wouldn’t mind going out with him. If I weren’t dating Jordan, of course.”

  Ami grinned, shuffled the books in her arms, pushed her Gucci glasses back up her nose, and took a huge breath.

  “Have you seen the motorcycle Aaron rides? And his earring? I’ve been trying to get more info on him for Marie, but he’s mucho misterioso. A year of living in Westland, but nobody seems to know much about him. Marcus told Marie that Aaron lives with his dad and brother over on Oakmont, but he’s never been invited over. Not the greatest neighborhood. Maybe he’s too embarrassed to have anyone over, or maybe he’s an axe murderer. And Marcus says he’s in a band. A sexy, hot, axe murderer-musician. Oh, it gets my blood pumping! Anyway, Marie really wants him to ask her to homecoming, but he doesn’t seem interested. Are you listening to me?” Ami followed Quinn’s gaze across the hall. Jeff and Kerstin’s lips were locked together in a serious smooch fest.

  “Can you believe them? Don’t they ever come up for air? Get a room!” Reese yelled at the tongue wrestlers. “He’s such an ass. You should be glad you’re not with him anymore.”

  Reese and Ami moved in front of Quinn to block her view, but between now and this morning, the image had already burned itself into her memory. A dull ache started behind her right eye, rapidly spreading across her forehead. Quinn rubbed her temple and leaned against the locker, too tired to care.

  “Yeah, totally forget about them!” Ami added. “Kerstin will never be able to replace you. Yeah, she’s with Jeff now, and Coach White did appoint her as cheerleading captain while you’re on academic probation, but … ”

  “Who told you that?” Reese snapped.

  “Nobody. It’s not that hard to figure out. Coach White says it’s because you’re overstressed, but everyone knows that’s code for academic probation. What happened, Quinn? You always get straight A’s. I mean, I know you’re having a bad year with the whole Kerstin stealing your boyfriend thing, but—”