Krysta's Curse (9 page)

“Ain’t nothin’ there but that oak tree,” Ed
bellowed. “And now that’s gone, too. They done tore down our house
years ago.”

“No,” I answered.

“What about a historic battle?” Keeping her
eyes glued to the screen, she chewed on her bottom lip.

“No,” I responded as they shook their
heads.

“Hmmmm.” Sophie’s lips looked locked in a
vice grip.

“What’s that flashy thing sayin’, Emmy?”
Gertrude asked.

I nudged Sophie. “What’s wrong?” But I was
afraid of her answer. Why did they need a historical battle to
protect their sanctuary?

Folding trembling hands in her lap, Sophie
looked to the ceiling, then to me with worried eyes. “I don’t think
their graves are protected under the Preservation Act.”

“What about that it’s been my home over one
hundred years?” Ed pounded the air with both fists.

The pictures on the walls shook with a
sudden, violent force, causing one to fall off its hook and shatter
on the floor.

“Oh-mi-god, Krysta!” Sophie gasped and then
grabbed hold of my arm, nearly breaking skin with her nails.

“Easy, Sophie,” I soothed, while pulling my
arm free from each claw. I narrowed my eyes at the spirits above.
“We’ll find a way, Ed. Calm down, you’re scaring Sophie.”

“I think I wet my pants,” Sophie
squeaked.

“Don’t worry,” I spoke while flinching as I
pried her fingers from my skin. “He’s not mad at you.”

Her eyes looked ready to bulge out of their
sockets. “Well, that’s good to know, I guess.” She let out a burst
of nervous laughter before slapping her hand over her mouth.

“Did your mom have any other options?”
Despite the severity of the situation, I almost lost it myself. I
mean, Sophie looked pretty funny when freaked. I wondered if she
really did piss her pants a little.

“No, not really.” She spoke through a shaky
voice while her gaze darted from me to the ceiling. “Lots of people
said that old cemetery was haunted. Maybe we can spook the
developers away.”

“I doubt it.” I grimaced at the thought of
Ed and Gertrude haunting away the construction crew. How much could
those two do to scare them? Besides, all the developers had to do
was throw some concrete over a few graves and they’d be off to
build another mall somewhere else.

Sophie gasped, then her eyes bulged.

Oh, crud. I’d seen that look before.

Sophie had an idea. Or what AJ and I liked
to call, “A brain fart.” Some of her schemes over the years have
been pretty crazy.

“What if...” She sucked in a large breath of
air before speaking on a rapid exhale. “We get the news
involved?”

My limbs froze. “The news?” How did I know
she’d go overboard with this?

“We could hold a protest.” She jumped to her
feet, slapping both hands together.

“Like with picket signs?”

“Yeah!” she squealed.

Above us, Ed and Gertrude hooted and
hollered in approval.

As I looked at their beaming faces, the
edges of my lips tilted up in a forced smile and I tried to look
enthused.

“Super,” I spoke through clenched teeth.

Why couldn’t I just shrink into the carpet?

The news media meant lots of exposure and
that was the last thing I wanted. I was hoping I could just quietly
stop this thing. Maybe walk into the developers’ office with an
official notice and be done with it. I didn’t want television
cameras and reporters asking questions.

The kids at Greenwood wouldn’t just think I
was a total weirdo; they’d hate me, too.

I should have known this would happen either
way. I mean, my life was doomed to suck.

“Bryon, the
test’s in two days. Are you ready?”

“I will be.” Turning his pale eyes on me, he
smiled faintly before that glazed-over look returned. Slightly
rocking from side to side on the tall kitchen barstool, he toyed
with his pen while looking somewhere off in the distance.

There he goes again.

My science partner was off in space. After
nearly an hour, we’d only gone through the first ten elements. I’d
thought having a partner was supposed to make studying easier. He
kept staring at the wall or his refrigerator, zoning out by the
time we reached neon.

Studying in his house was distracting enough
without him adding to it. While we sat in a room as large as my
entire apartment, the housekeeper would barge in every five
minutes. She swept under the table twice and offered us soda and
cookies at least five times.

She was more like a babysitter than a
housesitter, spying on the teenagers to make sure we weren’t making
out on the table.

As if.

He was more turned on by a fly on the wall
than by me.

Oh, yeah, and that plate of cookies he’d
demolished in about five minutes.

“How are you going to memorize all the
elements in two days if you’re too busy watching the paint
peel?”

He turned his gaze on me again, his cool
orbs narrowing. “Why do girls hook up with guys like him?”

“What?” I blurted.

Face hardening, he jutted his chin. “Why did
Sunny go out with him?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Low
self-esteem, I guess.”

Talking about Sunny was the last thing I
wanted to do now. I only thought about her every other minute. How
could I erase her empty, agonized expression from my brain? Bryon
was bringing up memories I was trying hard to forget, at least
until this science test was over.

Jabbing his finger at me, he raised his
voice. “Don’t ever do something that stupid.” The anger in his eyes
was tangible, as if someone had lit a fire in his brain and steam
was shooting out of his eye sockets.

What the heck?

Was he adding stupid to my growing list of
flaws?

“Are you my parent now?” I snapped.

He jerked back, as if struck by verbal
lightning. His eyes shot open and his mouth fell; for the briefest
of seconds, he looked…hurt.

Bryon was sending all kinds of signals.

And guys say girls are confusing.

“No.” His denial was barely audible.

My heart plunged. I instinctively reached
out and squeezed his hand.

With a soft smile, he turned his hand inward
and cupped my palm. The feel of his warm skin on mine was electric,
like thousands of tiny little buzzing bugs were tickling my
palm.

I didn’t have much experience with the
opposite sex. Keeping up with the latest fashion and celebrity news
was practically a full-time job. Who had time for guys? But I had
to believe his electrifying touch meant something.

Clearing my throat, I tried to speak through
a shaky voice. “This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Dipping his chin, his
gaze focused on our joined hands before he tilted his head back up
and batted long, pale lashes. “Not all guys are pigs.”

He squeezed my hand tighter, a faint smile
playing on his lips.

That’s when the pain hit my chest. I hadn’t
felt this before, but I quickly recognized the sensation.

Panic.

For some reason, I didn’t like him holding
my hand anymore. He was making me way too nervous. First anger,
then sadness, and now he was flirting? This guy’s emotions were way
too mixed up.

“I know you’re not a pig,” I said while
pulling from his grip. “It’s just that Sunny wasn’t very nice and
you didn’t know her.”

“No, I didn’t know her.” He spoke through a
clenched jaw, his voice rising with each syllable. “I know girls
like her. She’s not the first woman to be murdered by a crazy
boyfriend.” He ended on practically a yell.

I jumped back, feeling the force of his
words rattle through me. “Bryon.” I held out both palms. “You’re
getting a little too weird.”

For the longest moment of my life, he just
stared at me with this kind of hurt and angry expression, his face
turning an ashen white, kind of like he was holding in his
breath.

Holy crap!

He
was
holding in his breath.

I didn’t blink or make any sudden movements,
because I honestly was afraid of his next reaction. Finally, his
shoulders slackened, as he took a big breath. To say this guy was
on edge would have been a major understatement.

“Maybe we should talk about something else,
like science,” I stammered.

His lips turned into a pout. “Hydrogen is
H.”

Though he had me totally freaked out a few
moments ago, I couldn’t help but smile at his cute expression.
“That’s great,” I laughed. “You only have a hundred and two
more.”

One side of his mouth hinted at a smile as
his gaze found mine.

I was lost once again in a pair of radiant
blue eyes.

He was so cute.

I was so stupid.

Bryon had issues and I had enough of my own
problems without adding a crazy boyfriend to the list.

“How’s the study session going kids?”

I jerked at the sound of a man’s booming
voice from behind my back.

“Okay,” Bryon answered in a cool tone,
turning his gaze to his textbook as if he’d suddenly found The
Periodic Table of the Elements to be the most fascinating thing on
earth.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to the
lovely lady?” A man in a perfectly tailored business suit came up
beside us. I recognized him from the other morning when the police
questioned us in Sparks’ office. He was tall, with short, pale
blond hair which was graying at the temples. Other than a few lines
around his eyes and mouth, he looked exactly like Bryon.

“Krysta.” Without looking at either of us,
Bryon pointed to me with his pen. “This is my dad,” he answered in
a monotone, like he was completely bored by our presence.

I wanted to reach across the table and slap
him.

“Cliff Thomas.” Bryon’s dad held out his
hand, smiling warmly. “How do you do, Krysta?”

“Fine.” My hand was swallowed in his firm
grip as he practically shook my arm off.

Was this whole family crazy?

“Would you like a soda or some cookies?” He
motioned to the heaping pile of assorted junk food spread out on
the counter.

“No, thank you.”

Great, even Bryon’s dad wanted to fatten me up.

“We’re trying to study,
Dad
.” His voice was no longer
dull, but laced with attitude, as he kept his gaze firmly glued to
his book.

“That’s great.” Mr. Thomas beamed before
clasping Bryon on the shoulder.

Bryon jerked away, acting as if he’d been
scalded.

I had to hold in my gasp at the look of
hatred in Bryon’s narrowed eyes as he locked gazes with his
father.

Mr. Thomas pulled back, locking a fist by
his side. His expression fell, before he plastered the smile on
again. “Listen, I’m going to be using the living room. Some
business associates are coming over for cocktails.”

“So you want me to stay out of your way?”
Bryon growled.

Closing his eyes on an exhale, Mr. Thomas
opened them again, looking at Bryon with a soft expression. “I
thought we already had this discussion, son.”

“We’ll just go study by the pool. You won’t
even know we’re here.”

“It’s breezy outside. I think your friend
would be more comfortable in the house.”

“Make up your mind,” Bryon spoke through
gritted teeth.

“Do we have to go through this again? I want
you here, Bryon.” Mr. Thomas’ shoulders slumped, making him look
like a deflated balloon. “I’ve
always
wanted you.”

Bryon rolled his eyes. “As long as I’m
invisible.”

“No, as long as you don’t mouth off to me in
front of my clients like you did last time. Now you and your friend
are welcome to stay here in the kitchen. Heck, you can even come in
and introduce yourself to my guests. Just please, try to act like
my son tonight and not some angry, rebellious teenager.”

“Okay,” Bryon spoke through gritted teeth.
“Now that you’ve totally embarrassed me in front of my friend, I’ll
be sure to be on my best behavior around yours.”

“Bryon, please, these are department store
executives.” Holding his palms out, Mr. Thomas sounded like a
convicted criminal begging for mercy. “They could mean big money to
The Crossover Project.”

“The Crossover?” I blurted without
thinking.

Mr. Thomas’s head snapped to me and he
plastered on an enormous grin. “I see you’ve heard of our new mall.
Then again, you
are
a teenage girl.”

“Uh,” I stammered. “Yeah.” But inside I felt
like screaming ‘No!’ As if my life couldn’t suck any more, Bryon’s
dad was connected to the mall project.

Something flashed in Mr. Thomas’s eyes as he
looked at me like I was a mouse and he was a cat ready to pounce.
“Maybe if things go well tonight, I’ll have a few mall gift cards
for you.”

I swallowed a lump of regret in my throat.
His proposition was wrong on so many levels. I knew I’d have to
refuse his gift cards and not just because he was using me to get
to Bryon. This mall was desecrating Ed and Gertrude’s
gravesites.

Why did this have to happen to me?

I wanted those gift cards. I
really
wanted them.

“Real smooth,” Bryon sneered. “Bribe Krysta
because it won’t work on me.”

“I was just trying to be nice to your
girlfriend.” Shrugging, Mr. Thomas winked at me before walking to
the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Mr.
Thomas drank slowly while eying both of us. I pretended to study,
but I couldn’t get anything done with so much running through my
brain.

For a long while, none of us said a word,
which made the whole situation even weirder. It seemed Bryon argued
with his dad about everything, so why didn’t he correct him when he
called me his girlfriend?

Did Bryon think I was his girlfriend? If so,
he’d forgotten to share the news with me.