Pretty Dark Nothing Page 4

  The wall clock’s metronome tick, along with the tap tap tap of Mrs. Chin’s fingers on the keyboard, lulled Quinn into a sense of calm, and her body slowly gave in.

  No. No sleeping!

  She lifted her head from the pillow and eased off the cot, cringing as the vinyl squeaked beneath her. She peeked around the curtain. Mrs. Chin’s back was to her as she typed; Quinn’s bag lay on the floor next to her. No way to get it without being seen.

  Quinn paced the small space, watching the second hand on the round sliver clock tick through the seconds. Twenty minutes to lunch.

  Quinn poked her head around the curtain as one of the lunch ladies burst in. “Come quick. The Massey boy ate something with nuts again.”

  “That’s the third time this year.” Mrs. Chin opened the lock on her fridge and pulled out an EpiPen. “Where is he? Cafeteria?”

  “Yes. His face is swelling. Better get that to him quick. Principal Halstor is calling the paramedics, just in case.”

  Mrs. Chin rushed out the door, leaving a forgotten Quinn on her own.

  If Kevin Massey’s last nut episode was anything to go by, Mrs. Chin would have her hands full for at least an hour. Thank you, Kevin.

  Quinn carefully checked for the all clear before grabbing her unguarded bag. She snatched two caffeine pills from the side pouch of her backpack, popped them in her mouth, and washed them down with a handful of water from the tap. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she slipped out the door.

  Instead of the nap she’d promised Mrs. Chin, Quinn spent the rest of the day shuffling from class to class in a fog of exhaustion. Another caffeine pill before fifth period gave her the jitters, but did nothing for her depleted energy. By the time the sixth period bell rang, a knot had coiled inside her stomach. Nausea came in waves as she chocked down the urge to vomit.

  “You look like hell.” Reese waited for Quinn by her locker, ready to walk to cheerleading practice, as usual. “Maybe you should skip practice today.”

  “And give Kerstin more ammunition? No thanks. I can handle one more hour. And can we drop the poor-Quinn-you-look-like-crap-you-should-go-home routine?” Quinn forged ahead toward the gym. “I swear, if I hear that one more time today, I’m going to go postal.”

  “Yeah, fine.” Reese hurried to catch up. “Can I still ride home with you? Dad’s picking my car up from the garage tonight. He said he would pick me up from your house around seven, or I could grab a ride with Shonda.”

  “I already said you could, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, I just thought with the whole not feeling well … ”

  Quinn shot her a warning look, and Reese changed the subject.

  “So, only two more weeks before grades are released. I’m sure you’ll be back on the squad once Coach White sees your grades are back to normal.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Seriously? Your AP history grade, Q.T.? Physics? You are passing now, aren’t you?”

  “I think I’ve lost the race for valedictorian.” Quinn stared at her feet as she walked.

  “Hell, forget about valedictorian. Have you done enough to pass?”

  Quinn didn’t answer.

  “You could ask for help, you know.”

  “Nobody can help me.” Quinn stopped outside the door to the girl’s locker room and across from the basketball gym where the Fillies practiced.

  “I know you think you’re too good for a tutor, but it’s not that bad. I had one for Algebra last year.”

  “Can you imagine what people, what Kerstin would say if I got a tutor?”

  “Maybe you should stop worrying about Kerstin and start worrying about you. You’re failing, you’re benched, and I’ve seen corpses that look better than you.”

  A tutor won’t help me get out of zombieland.

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Why? Because I’m only an average student? Because I’m not Quinn Perfect? We can’t all be valedictorian. God, sometimes you can be such a selfish snob.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Quinn said with a sigh. The last thing she wanted to do was fight with her best friend.

  “Yeah, well you’ve done nothing but shut me out and snap at me all afternoon. I’ll see you after practice. Hope you enjoy your front row seat for the Kerstin show.”

  “Wait!” Quinn reached for Reese, but the door swung shut in her face.

  She leaned against the brick wall and buried her head in her hands. It took everything in her to keep from crying. Everything had gone wrong. Every word, every action, they all ended in disaster.

  “Hey.”

  Quinn jumped.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just … ” Jeff gestured down the hall toward the outside fields. “You know, on my way to practice.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” He passed his helmet from palm to palm, avoiding eye contact. “You don’t seem, you know, okay.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been a rough few months.” Quinn stared at the ground, afraid she might catch Jeff’s big brown eyes. Afraid she would crumble then and there, losing herself in a flood of tears.

  “Sorry,” Jeff said.

  “Yeah, so you keep saying.”

  “I don’t know what else to say.” He tucked the helmet under his arm and reached out to stroke her cheek. She closed her eyes, relaxing at the familiar feel of his fingers tracing her skin. Heat radiated from him as he edged closer, his warm breath tickling her neck. She breathed him in. Jeff had always smelled of summer: sweet melons and a hint of musk from his favorite cologne. Now, he smelled of jasmine and vanilla—of Kerstin. She grabbed his hand, stilling it against her cheek, and fixed her stare on him, torn between the desire to have his lips on hers and the pain of his betrayal.

  The door of the girl’s locker room swung open, banging against the wall. Jeff jumped back, looking guilty.

  Kerstin, already in uniform, stood in the doorway. “You forgot this.” She thrust a plastic water bottle at Jeff. “I was worried you might get dehydrated during scrimmage.” She crossed her arms.

  “Thanks.” Jeff gave Kerstin an awkward kiss on the cheek, but she kept her arms crossed, returning no affection.

  “I have to go.” Jeff glanced at Quinn.

  “Don’t let me stop you.” She shot Quinn a dirty look as Jeff hurried off to the football field.

  Kerstin waited until Jeff disappeared around the corner before turning her murderous glare on Quinn.

  “Kerstin.” Quinn nodded and shoved open the door to the gym, hoping Kerstin still had business in the locker room. No luck. Kerstin’s eyes followed her, like laser beams of hate boring into her skull, as she trailed Quinn across the court floor. Her silence unnerved Quinn, and she braced herself for a sharp push. At that moment, the other ten members of the Westland High Fillies giggled, gossiped, and chatted their way in behind them. Kerstin brushed past Quinn without a look, leaving Quinn wondering about retribution. Kerstin always delivered payback when she felt wronged. It was just a matter of time.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “The whole Quinn thing? Total disaster.” Aaron shoved his foot into a pair of brown flip-flops and slammed the gym locker. “So much for rocking their worlds.”

  “Looks like Quinn’s world was rocking before you got there. At least you got to play the hero.” Marcus pulled a black swim cap over his ears.

  “As if that did any good. I think she liked me more when I was just the guy staring at her from afar.”

  “Goggles?” Marcus held out his hand.

  “She didn’t even say thank you.” Aaron stretched the elastic strap of the swim goggles forward, creating a slingshot. He pulled the nose guard back and let go. Instead of launching into the air as he hoped, they clattered to the ground at Marcus’s feet.

  Marcus shrugged. “Give her time, man. She blacked out in the middle of the hall; girl’s bound to be confused and shaken. She let you carry her bag.”

  “Yeah, that’s great if I wanted to be her Sherpa. Reese gave me her number.
Do you think I should call her?” Aaron wiped water that had pooled on the wooden bench with his towel.

  “Nope. Keep it casual.” Marcus shoved his bag into an empty locker and grabbed his towel from the bench. “Flirt with her, then flirt with another girl in front of her. Drive her mad with jealousy. They always want what they think they can’t have.”

  “I think you’re confusing real life with what you read in that stash of mags under your bed.”

  “At least I actually read the articles.”

  Aaron followed Marcus through the tiled arch. The wall of windows captured the sun, throwing broken patterns of light across the still water of the pool.

  He stopped at the edge, kicked his flip-flops off to the side, and stared, transfixed at the smooth, glassy surface. Dipping one toe into the water, he watched the ripple of tiny waves echo outward as he withdrew. The scent of chlorine burned his nose. His heart beat faster, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

  “Bombs away!” Marcus ran past him, leapt into the air, tucked his knees into his chest, and plunged in, soaking Aaron from the waist down. The splash reverberated through the school’s empty natatorium.

  Aaron backed away, holding his breath and counting the seconds until Marcus’s head popped back up above the waves.

  “Dude, it’s totally warm today.” Marcus grinned, flipped onto his stomach and began a front crawl.

  Aaron watched Marcus become one with the water. Breath, stroke, glide through the clear blue, no fear. Marcus switched from freestyle to butterfly—his powerful muscles cutting through the water like propellers. He reached the end of his tenth lap and surfaced next to Aaron.

  Marcus clicked the button on his Aquawatch to stop the timer, raised his fist and punched the air in victory. “My fastest time yet! Watch out Bobby McGlyn, Marcus is here to smash your school record. Want to race? I’ll even swim without using my arms to make it even.”

  Marcus was more fish than man and determined to be state champion. When it came to water, Aaron was more chicken than man and at the prompting of his therapist, determined to face his traumatic fear of water.

  “You’ve been watching me practice for weeks, and you’ve barely even dipped your toe in. Jump in already. I swear, if you panic, I won’t let you drown. Besides, the pool is only like five feet deep.”

  Aaron approached the concrete lip of the pool. Each step sent a tremor through him. Maybe Marcus is right. Don’t think, just jump, quick, like ripping off a band-aid. He pictured Marcus cutting through the water, fearless, alive. It’s only a pool and shallow enough to stand in.

  Aaron took a few steps back, breath in, breath out, using the relaxing technique he’d been taught in therapy. He detached himself from all emotion, ran forward, and jumped, pulling his knees up and sailing over Marcus.

  For a moment, he forgot his fear and embraced the joy of the momentary freefall. He felt liberated. Then he hit the surface with a jolt, and his eyes went wide, his heart like a pinball in his chest. Fingers of warm liquid pulled him under, enveloping him. The tingling started in the back of his brain, a slow burn before the lightning strike. He sank, overcome by what wouldn’t stay forgotten.

  The squeal of tires ripped through him, the smell of burning rubber cloying his nostrils. Screams erupted around him, through him. A hand grasped his as they flew forward, glass shattering, then the whoosh of water rushing through a broken window. He wanted out, but no amount of thrashing freed him. He gasped one last breath as waves swallowed them. Ruth’s face. Quinn’s face where his sister’s should be, then back to Ruth. Why would Quinn’s face appear where Ruth’s had been? It didn’t make sense. Ruth’s chubby baby face floated before him in the deep blue of the river, chocolate still smeared on the corner of her mouth. A smile, as if to say: “I forgive you.” Pressure, like a cord around his chest, pulled tighter and tighter. Darkness. Hands pulling him up, up, up.

  “Aaron! Dude! Aaron, God, I’m sorry!”

  Aaron coughed, sucking in humid air as he stared at the metal ceiling of the natatorium. Shaking, wet, he reveled in the solid comfort of the cold concrete beneath him. Marcus stood over him, breathing hard, dark hair dripping, eyes bulging.

  The shock and relief bubbled out of Aaron in a deliriously inappropriate fit of laughter.

  “It’s not funny.” Marcus gave Aaron a stern look.

  Aaron rolled over, curling himself in a ball, unable to stop.

  “I’m serious. You scared me.” Marcus’s severe tone only made Aaron laugh harder. “I didn’t think you would actually jump.” Marcus shook his head. “It’s not funny.” Marcus paused, hands on his hips, and then snickered. “Okay, maybe it is a little funny. You should have seen yourself, man. It was the most ungraceful thing ever. It was like watching my cat when it tried to drink from the toilet and fell in, all screeching and thrashing.” The laughter between them grew. “I thought you were going to scratch my eyes out trying to get you out of there.”

  This sobered Aaron. He sat up, and Marcus stopped mid-laugh. “Sorry.”

  “What for? It was my stupid mouth that started it. Don’t ever listen to me again. You can come to the pool and sit at the edge for as long as it takes. Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks, man, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

  Marcus shrugged. “Facing your fears is overrated. Who needs swimming anyway? You ever see girls go in the water?”

  “One or two. Why?”

  “One or two, that’s what I’m sayin’. Chicks in the water are a rare occurrence. They spend most of their time sunbathing. The shore is where the action is, and you, my friend, can make the most of it. Think of all that skin waiting for sun block. Carpe diem.” Marcus grabbed two towels and threw one at Aaron. “Maybe I should give up swimming and join you on the shore.” He wrapped it around his waist and shoved his feet into a pair of flip-flops. “You ready?”

  “In a minute.”

  Marcus frowned. “I don’t want to have to come fish you out of there again.”

  Aaron gave the concrete an affectionate pat. “I’ll stick to dry land.”

  “That’s right, dry land is bikini land.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Marcus glanced at the water, looked at Aaron, and then shrugged. “I’ll try not to use up all the hot water.” Marcus disappeared around the corner.

  Aaron pulled the towel around his shoulders, cocooning himself inside the soft terrycloth. Everything had changed that stormy night. In less than sixty seconds, he’d lost his family, his memories, and his life. Most days he wasn’t even sure who he was anymore. The accident had left him with an ability he didn’t ask for—his past memories lost to the depths of his mind—and a moment he couldn’t forget, but desperately wanted to.

  He envied Marcus’ cavalier attitude and sunny outlook on life. If only he could learn to let go, even a little, to date and drink until he puked. To be a normal teenager. But nothing about his life was normal. Not since he’d come back from the dead.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kerstin delivered retribution sometime between the start of practice and Reese’s third lip-gloss application.

  “Is it me, or has she gone a bit psycho?” Reese pulled the screwdriver from the side of the rear tire wall. The hole blew a raspberry as the weight of the car emptied the tire’s pressure.

  “Great.” Quinn kicked the deflated rubber then circled the car, examining it for any more damage. “Know how to change a tire?”

  “Yeah, flirt with a cute guy and let them offer to change it for you.”

  Quinn surveyed the parking lot. Only a few cars dotted the concrete, and she recognized none of them. “Could this day get any worse?” Quinn dropped her bag on the concrete and pushed the key fob. The car tweeted as the locks clicked open. “I am too damn tired to deal with Kerstin’s crap.”

  “Are you sure it was Kerstin? She left right before us. She wouldn’t have had time.”

  True, and Kerstin wasn’t the type to get h
er hands dirty if she could help it. “Spring, maybe?” Quinn leaned over the seat, pulled the latch on the passenger glove box, and retrieved a small, leather binder.

  “Does Spring look like the type of girl who knows what a screwdriver looks like? Although, she has been hanging around with Ricky Dupree a lot lately. Maybe she traded sexual favors with that tool for this tool.” Reese slapped the rubber end of the screwdriver into her palm for emphasis. “What are you doing?”

  “Do you see any guys to flirt with?” Quinn flipped through the binder. Her roadside assistance membership card, pristine and unused, slipped free from its plastic case. “Hand me my phone, please.”

  Reese pulled Quinn’s phone from her backpack and tossed it to her. “I wonder if Shonda’s left yet.” She grumbled.

  Quinn glared at her.

  “Guess I’ll make myself comfortable.” Reese settled on the curb.

  Quinn typed her member number at the voice prompt and paced until an agent finally answered. “Hi, yes. I’ve got a flat tire. Westland High School student parking lot,” she explained. “They can’t come any sooner? Right. Thanks for nothing.” She hung up.

  “What did they say?”

  “An hour. Can you believe it?” Quinn kicked her backpack as hard as she could. It skidded a couple of inches, scraping across the asphalt and falling over with a thud. She winced and curled her toes inside her boot.

  “Feel better?”

  Quinn bent and rubbed her foot. “No. Worse.” She grabbed the screwdriver from Reese and twirled it between her fingers. “Maybe there are fingerprints on it.”

  “Yeah, yours.” Reese pulled a dandelion weed from the crack in the asphalt and blew the white fluff into the wind.

  “What did you wish for?”