Heavenly (33 page)

I headed for my locker, waving at a few friends, nodding at others. Britt must not have let loose a rumor after all. I

didn't care. What she or anyone else thought about me was not the arrow of my compass any more.

I wondered where Britt was. I hadn't heard from her over the weekend, but then, I'd only thought other just now.

Standing at my locker, I twirled the dial and opened the clanging door. I still didn't know whether or not she'd even been at the party. Matthias hadn't mentioned her. He'd only pointed the finger at Weston and Brady.

Britt probably hadn't even been there.

I grabbed the books I needed for first period and shut the door. That explained why she hadn't called or texted me all

weekend. She was still mad.

I turned around and bumped into the molly-girl from history class. She stood—minus her guardian—looking at me

with big brown eyes. She wore the same denim jumper she always did, and her hair was back in a pony tail. She held a pile of

books against her chest.

"Hey," I said.

Overhead, the first bell shrilled. The halls started to empty.

"Can I talk to you?"

I glanced at the clock at the end of the hall. "Sure." I'd be late, but, oh well.

"I want to know why you talked to me the other day."

"You looked upset."

Her brown eyes deciphered my words. "I was."

Silence. Empty hall.

She took a deep breath, her fingers tightened around the books she clutched to her chest. "I just wanted to thank you."

Her voice was soft, timid. Ashamed.

I reached out and patted her arm. "No problem."

"It really helped."

"Good. I'm glad."

She stuck out her hand, ready to shake. "Krissy."

I smiled. "Zoe."

The buzz continued charging the halls with a vibe so intense that by the time I got to history, it was as if a million

neon lights lined the corridors and classrooms. I looked for Britt, but she wasn't there.

I bit the bullet and texted her.

r u ok?

Nothing.

The weekend's events had taken me around the world of life's lessons and back. I felt like I'd leapt from high school

senior to adulthood. Usually, I spilled my guts to Britt about everything. Now, I felt the urge to share, rather than spill, what I was going through. All that had happened. How life had changed.

I was a different person.

In journalism. Chase's gaze locked on me from the moment I entered the classroom. He looked studious in his khakis,

striped polo and glasses. I waved him over and he was at my desk faster than Clark Kent could fly. "Did you hear what

happened to Weston Larsen?"

My heart stopped. "No. What?"

Chase leaned close. He smelled like pumpkin muffins. "I thought you were friends with him."

I cringed. "Not really."

"Apparently, there was a party Saturday. He and Brady got into some trouble. No one knows exactly, but rumor has it

they're both in the hospital."

"What?!"

He nodded. What had Matthias done? "Do you know anything else?"

"People are saying different things. I thought you might know, since you hang with them."

"I don't anymore."

Chase eyed me a moment. "You okay?"

I nodded. "They're both skeezebags. They probably got what they deserved."

"What goes around usually comes around."

"You're right."

"But your friend, the blonde, isn't she dating one of them?"

"She was. I... I don't know." Dazed, I lowered to my seat. "What are people saying? Did they get beaten up or

something?"

Chased shrugged. "That's what enquiring minds want to know. There's the hospital rumor. Another I heard is that

they got in a car wreck after the party. Yet another rumor circulating is they've got the plague. If you hear anything from your friend, let me know," Chase said, standing upright. "We could do a splashy article on the front page."

Nothing sounded more degrading than sensationalizing the horrific events of the weekend. "I wouldn't touch it."

"But you could get the inside scoop—"

"I'm not scooping anything. Chase." Fury rode my voice. "I hate those guys-

He blinked behind his glasses. "Sorry. I—I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." I sighed. "Look, let's talk about this later."

Backing to his desk, he nodded. Curiosity and questions flashed in his eyes—questions about me and Weston and

Brady.

With no recollection of the night other than the party and the motel, I had no idea how the events in between had

played out. I sat at my desk, staring at my screensaver—a sunset—thinking about how Matthias had intervened.

He'd saved me.

Humbled, I sat a moment, trying once again to grasp the magnitude of Matthias' miracles. And, once again, my

human brain wasn't capable. A slug of reality hit me in the stomach. Matthias didn't mess around.

My Yahoo IM popped up. Chase.

Starbucks? 2nite?

I grinned. An evening at Starbucks would be nice.

The buzz about Weston and Brady started to die down after last period, the student body draining from the halls and

classrooms taking the rumors along with them. I walked to my car, texting Luke.

u comin?

My phone vibrated with another, incoming text. Britt.

i need to talk to you

OK where/

can и come to my house?

Had Britt heard about the weekend? Did she know I was involved? I sat in my car, waiting for Luke, and debated

calling her, rather than going to see her. If she was still mad at me, I didn't need her flipping out.

I was over the weekend. From my perspective, I'd been in moral peril— placed there strategically by two sleaze bags.

I didn't need to defend myself by rehashing what had happened that night to Britt's face. Matthias had assured me Weston and

Brady had learned their lesson, I had no doubt he was telling me the truth.

The car door swung open and Luke bounded in. He actually had books tucked under his arm—a first. My mouth

opened with intended drama. "Are those books I see?"

He grinned and slammed the door. "Shut up."

For the first time in a long time, the vibe between Luke and I wasn't hostile. The air was friendly, and the moment

worth savoring.

"Did you hear about what happened to Weston and Brady?" Luke finally spoke.

"Yeah. Wild, huh?"

"They probably got what was coming to them."

"Uh, probably."

"I'm sick of those guys doing whatever they want and getting away with it. Everybody thinks they're all that because

they're popular but they're slime. I get looked down on because I used to smoke pot and they—"

"Used to? Wait a second."

He bristled. "I'm trying, okay?" His tone was defensive. His eyes met mine, earnest commitment struggled with the

pain of reality. "It's hard. The hardest thing I've ever done."

"I´ m sorry."

He stared out the window, his frustration seeming to ebb. "I don't know. I want it so bad sometimes. I crave it."

I pulled onto the long hill that led to our street, not sure if I should go home yet. We hadn't talked like this in so long,

he was opening up. I wanted to help.

"I used to feel that way for a drink. But, honestly? At Westonś, I was surrounded by the stuff and I didn't want a

drop."

He turned, faced me. "So what happened?"

"To make me not want a drink?"

"At the party, Z. Come on."

"Brady spiked my soda."

"What?!"

"They're both skeezes." I didn't say anything more.

Luke spouted off, "You don't do that kind of thing and get away with it. Did you call the cops?"

"It was taken care of."

Questions still roved in his angry gaze. "I hope they both die or something."

I patted his arm. "I don't think they're going to be repeat offenders, bud. In fact, I'd bet my life on it."

After I dropped Luke at home, I drove to Britt's. I wasn't nervous to face her; I was curious and anxious to see where

this rendezvous left our friendship. Were we still friends?
Could we
be friends?

In the western sky the sun's fiery rays melted through gray clouds stretching across the atmosphere in a futile effort at

blocking its power.

Another storm on the way.

I parked out front and killed the engine. I wasn't even sure I'd tell Britt about what had happened. She might not

believe me, with her feelings for Weston so strong and her head in the smog of his sleazy aura. How could Britt not see

Weston for the snake that he was? But then, just a few weeks ago, I'd thought Weston was it too.

I got out and crossed the grass to her front door, knocked and waited.

When the door finally opened, Britt stood looking like she'd survived a hurricane. Her blonde hair sat like

tumbleweed on top of her head. Her usually tan skin was pasty. The flowered flannel pjś she wore were stained and droopy.

"Hey," she grumbled. She stood back, holding the door wide open, so I went inside.

"What's up? Are you okay?"

She scuffled in bare feet across the wood floor toward the living room. "Lousy." She plopped onto one of two sleek

deep gold couches that faced each other. I sat across from her.

"Something really weird is going on," she said, scrubbing her face with her hands. "Did you hear anything at school?"

Was she using me to find out what had happened at the party? "Why did you call me over here, Britt?"

"To—you know—talk."

"About what? Because if I'm not here about you and me, then I'm not staying."

"Don't be such a retard," she snapped.

I stood, ready to storm out. But she jerked to her feet, her dazed eyes blinking to sobriety. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?

But you really pissed me off when you told my dad I was upstairs."

"He asked me where you were."

"And you knew Brady and Weston were with me!"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah, so?"

"That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

"What else is there to say? That was your mess, not mine."

Her eyes blazed. "What happened to you?"

"What're you talking about?"

"You used to watch out for me. Now you're this freaking narc."

"Your dad asked me a question. I answered him."

"With truth?" Britt spat. "Why didn't you just tell him I was out or something? He grounded me from going to senior prom! Weston and I are over! He forbid Brady and Weston from ever setting foot on our property again!"

Thick silence followed, broken only by Britt's erratic breathing.

I was ashamed that she still lumped me in with her—a lying, deceptive user. "You're better off without him."

"You're just jealous," she growled. "You've always been jealous."

I snickered. "Of you?" Had she really seen me as her jealous sidekick? What about friendship? Secrets? Was nothing

sacred? I felt vulnerable now. Britt knew every dirty secret of mine. I'd shared with her my deepest, darkest dreams and

fantasies. I'd also shared with her my deepest fears—and the tender spots of my heart.

She looked so weak, so pathetic and alone. Like a pretty cat, abandoned in the dirty street. The tender spot on my

heart that she occupied tore open. "I'm sorry."

She stared at me for a moment, her rigid demeanor stony and cold. Her gaze searched mine. I hoped she could see

that I was sincerely sorry. No one should leave a friend worse than they found them. She had feelings for Weston. Whether

those feelings were based on lust or love, I shouldn't judge and I shouldn't condemn. She was human. Mortal. Just like me.

She shifted. "Yeah, well, I am too."

"You think?" I jested, smiling.

Her lips curved up a little. "Yeah. It was stupid, what I did." She fell back on the couch, grabbed a pillow and

clutched it to her chest on a sigh. "I thought if Weston was jealous, he'd want me more."

"Yeah."

"He hated me for it. He told me he was going to get back at me. That was so junior high, you know?" Her face turned toward me. Tears crested her lashes.

"So what did Weston do?"

"He hasn't done anything—yet. I think he was going to do something at the party Saturday. He didn't invite me, of

course. I'm pretty sure he was going to hook up with some loser so that I'd hear about it later. Only, he got sick."

My insides trembled. Memories of that night jumbled through my mind in gray clouds.
I was Weston's payback.

"Sick?" I asked.

"I went to his house yesterday to see him, you know, to confront him about it. His mom said he was really sick. I told

her it was an emergency, that I needed to see him. At first, she wouldn't let me in. But I started crying and she let me upstairs to his room. Zoe, you wouldn't believe it." Clutching her pillow, she sat up, her eyes wide. "He was covered in these red, pustule things. It was so sick, I retched. Right there in his room, I puked. He looked like a gourd!"

An icy shudder rammed through me. I opened my mouth to speak, but shock closed a fist around my throat.

Britt stood, visibly upset from the incident, and paced. "I didn't know what to say to him. I don't know what those

things are, but they were red and oozing like a million little volcanoes all over him. He started screaming at me to get out.

Kind of poetic justice, don't you think?"

I couldn't respond.

"I mean, I guess his plan backfired. He won't be charming anybody into his bedroom looking like that."

I swallowed a knot. "Yeah."

"Brady has the same thing. Can you believe it? The two of them must have come down with one freaky virus. You

think it's contagious?"

I took a deep breath. "Um. My guess is,
no."