Slain (17 page)

“Get to class. Both of you,” she says.

Mike squeezes my hand then trots down the hall. I pass Miss Hope to go into homeroom, then think of something and come back out to find her.

“Um, Miss Hope?”

“Yes?” she asks.

“You don’t happen to know if anyone was mentoring June do you? Spiritually?”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” she says, puzzled.

“Pastor Pete wasn’t giving her any extra counseling or anything?”

“I’m sure he wasn’t. He tries not to do too much one-on-one time with the girls because of how it looks. I’m sure you understand how a pastor has to protect his reputation.”

“I do. Dad worries about that kind of thing too. Usually he asks my mom to be there if a woman needs some help, which is why I thought to ask you.”

She smiles, “Sounds like my wonderful fiancé has picked up a trick or two from your dad. He’s been asking me to do the same thing. It brings me a lot of joy to be able to help him out. Plus it gives me a chance to talk more with you guys, which I love.”
 

“But not with June? She didn’t, um, ask about getting baptized or anything?”

“No, I’m sorry. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious about some things she said before she died. I was hoping she had someone to confide in, but it sounds like maybe not.”

“Well, I really wish she had come to me about her troubles. It would have been nice to spend some extra time with her before…” Her voice trails off. “It just would have been nice to spend more time with her.”

I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “Did you know that Nicolas proposed to her?”

“Did he really?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Poor thing. He must be devastated,” she says. “It’s really too bad he didn’t come talk to us about that. June was so young, after all. I’m sure Pastor Pete would have advised against it, and maybe saved him a little bit of heartache.”

I doubt that, but I don’t say so.
 

“Emma, while we’re on the topic of relationships, would you mind doing me a favor?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Can you cool it with the kissing in the halls? It really is against school policy. I know your parents have their own rules for you, and I’m sure you’re respecting them, but here it should be different. We just have a higher standard in these halls. It would be nice if you could be an example for everyone.”

She saw the whole thing. Mike was clearly the one who initiated the kiss. Why is she ragging on me?

“I’m sorry, it was kind of a surprise for me too,” I say, trying to argue without arguing.
 

“Well, sometimes we women need to be the standard-bearers. Temptation is harder on the guys than us.”

“Of course,” I say, swallowing my anger. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Thank you, sweetie, that will really help a lot.”

I nod and follow her inside the classroom.

“Hem check, ladies,” Miss Hope says when the final bell rings for first period.

All us girls kneel next to our desks. The boys stare at us, trying to see if anyone will fail. And maybe trying to see other things too. Who knows what’s going through their dirty little minds. We all know what girls do for boys when they’re on their knees. The whole thing is just embarrassing.
 

In front of me, Hannah Mansone is clearly trying to sit closer to her heels so that Miss Hope won’t notice that her skirt is too short. Like, way too short.
 

“Sit up straight, Hannah,” Miss Hope says, then stops right next to her. “Hannah.” Her tone is clearly disappointed.

“I thought it was okay if you wear pants underneath,” Hannah says. It’s such a lie I almost laugh. She’s been going to SCS since kindergarten, just like me. Around here, leggings aren’t considered pants.
 

“You know the rules perfectly well, Miss Mansone. Gather your things.” Miss Hope turns to the rest of us, who are still kneeling. “I know you girls think this is a burden, but you should really be thankful. In other schools, it’s the opposite. You’d feel the pressure to show more and more, and lose yourselves little by little. Here, the boys know to respect you.”

Yeah, my aching knees feel super respected right now.

“All right, everybody up. Homework out.”

A
FTER
HOMEROOM
I
WALK
toward my next class: British literature. Today we’re supposed to be discussing the concept of filial ingratitude in
King Lear
, which I haven’t finished yet.
 

People always think that because you go to a Christian school it means you spend all your time learning about the Bible and are clueless about everything else, which is sort of true, but not completely. We do have a required Bible elective every semester, and chapel once a week, and it’s definitely intelligent design over evolution in science.
 

Otherwise our school is very competitive. With about a hundred students in each grade, we test in the eightieth percentile on all the national tests, and 91 percent of our graduates go to college, including some Ivy League schools, every year. We’re also considered one of the top ten athletic schools in Colorado, with twenty-four state championships since the school opened fifteen years ago. Paige will be the hundredth student of ours to get some type of Division I A scholarship. Lots of kids attend who aren’t even religious, because of its reputation and the .

On my way to class I see the first promposal of the year. Yes, we have a prom. At least it’s called a prom. It’s not much like a prom you’d see at a public school; it’s really more of a banquet. There’s a catered dinner with games and photo booths and performances. There’s a band, but not all night, and there’s dancing, but not with your date. It’s mostly in a circle of your friends and is closely monitored by the chaperones for lewd or suggestive movements.

This year’s prom theme is “A Night with the King.” It’s going to be a masquerade ball. Last year’s medieval castle theme was “The Kingdom.” Do you see a trend?

Vicki Martinez’s locker is a few down from mine, and I see it all happen. She opens it after first period, and a bunch of red helium balloons come out with “PROM?” written on them in black sharpie. They’re from Gus Stead, who’s hiding down the hall with a video camera and a dozen roses.
 

Half the drama of prom is the promposal. I’ve heard other schools call it the “prom ask.” The measure of the guy you go with is how he does the promposal. You want to be the girl who gets flash-mob serenaded in the cafeteria. You do not want to be the girl who gets handed a limp carnation in the hallway with a smirking, “Wanna go?”

It’s mostly about bragging rights, for both the girls and the guys. Treasure hunts are popular. Animal costumes are common. Semi-homoerotic dance routines where your football buddies wear matching sweats and shake their booties, bare chested, to Roy Orbison’s “Pretty Woman” are normal. Last year, Mike rented a hot air balloon for us to ride in while we flew over the football field where he had people lying on the ground spelling out “PROM?” As far as the girls were concerned, he won. It’s hard to beat that. You can’t say he doesn’t try. I’m dreading whatever he has cooked up for this year.

Gus’s promposal to Vicki gets points for originality, I guess, but loses points for timing. It’s tacky to do it today, even if it’s sort of that time of year. He should have waited. It’s weird to see all this normal happening when everything is so upside-down right now. June didn’t go here, but most of us knew her. It’s too soon. And now that I know she was living in the church, I’m guessing she wasn’t going to school at all.

It starts in British lit. On my desk, for everyone to see, is a giant red puzzle piece, hand-cut out of cardboard, as big as the desk. I have a moment of hope where I think it’s there by mistake, but then I see an envelope with my name on it. I cringe as I open it.

T
HIS
IS
WHAT
THE
handmade card says:

Emma, Emma, fair and bright,

A beacon against the dark night.

Your vision steady, your heart true,

And now a little puzzle for you.

Eight pieces to my heart

This one is just the start.

They’ll be waiting throughout the day

Put them together to see what they say.

Oh god. He just had to pick today, didn’t he?

“Nice,” Katie Reed says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you really think today is a good day for that?”
 

Like this is my fault.
 

Katie and I are sort of surface level-only friends. We’ve never really gotten along. She’s the kind of person who’s always competing, no matter what’s going on. Cheerleading, boys, grades, drama team, everything. I hate that kind of stuff. It makes you feel awful whether or you win or lose.

“Well, maybe you should have told him,” she says. “Guys are clueless about this stuff.”

She
would have told him, I’m sure she’s thinking, if Mike was
her
boyfriend. I wish I could tell her to take him if she wants him so bad. That might solve all kinds of problems. But unfortunately for both of us, Mike has never been interested.

Girls titter nearby. Most of them would be ecstatic to get asked to prom like this. But I just wish it would go away. I tuck the puzzle piece under my seat and look to the front, hoping the girls will stop with the giggling. They don’t.

“Aww. She’s embarrassed. That’s so cute!” It’s Erica.

“Some-body la-oves Em-ma!” says Angela.

I laugh and roll my eyes at them. “Shut up.”

“Couldn’t you have waited a couple days?” I ask Mike when he picks me up from class.

“What are you talking about? Waited for what?”

I lift the puzzle piece. “To ask me to prom.”

He grabs my elbow and steers me into a corner.

“Somebody’s asking you to prom? What the heck, Emma? Didn’t you believe what I said?”

“I thought it was from you.”

He snorts, “I’m not going through that nonsense again. Not this year. I know you’re coming with me. You have no choice.”

I’d really, really like to punch him in the face right now. Maybe it was a mistake to stop Jackson.

“This is that boy, isn’t it?” he says.

“I…,” I say, unsure. I allow myself the momentary fantasy that it is Jackson, that he’s doing exactly what I’ve asked him not to do and is about to put Mike in his place. But this whole cutsie, public-display thing isn’t really his style. Besides, he promised.

“No,“ I say. “It’s not him. I was very clear that it was over.”

But as to who it actually could be? I honestly don’t know.
 

“Then who have you been flirting with? Who thinks they have a chance? Guys only go after girls like you if they know you want them to.”

“Seriously, Mike? You know that’s a messed-up thing to say, right?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the expert on what’s messed up.” He snatches the puzzle piece out of my hand. “Give me that.”

T
HERE
ARE
PUZZLE
PIECES
waiting in every class, on a wall or a door or computer, all with my name on them. Mike’s there to meet me at all four classes before lunch. I never knew he had my schedule memorized like that. Another sort of girl might find that charming. I might even find it charming for a little while. But under the circumstances, it’s not. Every time he sees me with a new piece, he gets angrier and angrier.

In the cafeteria at lunch, I have to listen to him pontificate with Ben about whether or not we should be strictly following Old Testament laws. Bible class is the one class where Mike aces everything, which makes this conversation even more annoying.

He’s practically panting in excitement as he rattles off verses. “John 7:19. Luke 16:17. Timothy 3:16. The New Testament specifically states that we should be adhering to all of God’s laws, not just the ones in the New Testament.”

“So you really think we should go back to the days of having to wear giant beards or not eating fat or cheeseburgers or shellfish?” Ben says.
 

“It’s not up to me, man. I’m only telling you what the Bible says.”

“What about slavery? The Old Testament is pretty clear about that being okay too,” Ben says.

“This is all theoretical. I’m not saying I agree with it. I’m just saying that, “‘All scripture is inspired by God,’” Mike says, quoting the verse in Timothy, chapter 3. “So there has to be something that we’re supposed to learn from everything, not just the parts we pick and choose.”

They go on and on and on and on, but all I can think about is who those puzzle pieces are from. There are forty or so guys in my class, but most of them are either already paired off or not in my social circle.
 

Chuck is a strong possibility. He’s always had a thing for me, even though I’ve been putting water on that fire since day one. But is he really bold enough to go up against Mike? I doubt it.

Maybe Ben? It’s unlikely as he’s barely spoken to me beyond small talk since middle school, when I noticed he had a boner in his pants and laughed at him. I know it was mean, but give me a break, okay? I didn’t mean to. It was the first boner I’d ever seen. But yeah, he hasn’t talked to me much since then. He did break up with Chrissy Hillis a couple weeks ago, though. So it’s not totally impossible.

It could be Anthony Severn, the hot ginger guy in the Media Club, but this doesn’t seem like his style. He’d do something more unique, not some lame puzzle that’s been done a thousand times.

I can’t think of anyone else.

Mike’s voice pipes back into my head. “But if you start ranking them by their occurrence in the Bible, then what happens to, say, homosexuality?” Mike guffaws. “You just gonna go out and get a boyfriend?”

“Oh. My. Lord. You
guys
. Shut up already,” Paige says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
 

The boys just stare at her, a little surprised that anyone exists besides them. She stands up.