The Dead List (5 page)

“What?” she asked, and I could feel her eyes on me.

I thought about telling her what I’d been thinking about last night while I lay awake, the desire to talk about it—to even think about Saturday night—vanished. I shook my head, unsettled more than I cared to admit. “I… hope today doesn’t suck.”

“It won’t.”

We ended up arriving to school with less than two minutes to book it to our homerooms. I was in such a hurry to get to my class that I didn’t even have a chance to worry if people were staring at me.

As I came out of the stairwell on the second floor, I nearly ran into the back of Wendy—the blonde with boobs that should be illegal on a high school girl. I’d finally grown a pair myself, but compared to her, it was like being thirteen all over again and having boob envy.

She and her friends—Monica and Shawna—were literally standing in the middle of the hall like it wasn’t a place people walked through, and they were also talking loudly enough that anyone inside the school and the middle school next door could hear.

“I don’t care if he was the last guy on Earth and it was up to me to repopulate civilization, I wouldn’t get with him,” Wendy announced, flipping a sheet of shiny blonde hair over her shoulder. “Like, there’s not enough jello shooters in the world for that.”

Monica giggled as she slid a sly look to where the metal lockers lined the wall. “Don’t be so mean, Wendy. I think he’s, you know,
special
.”

Then I realized that the boy they were talking about—Luis Clayton—was standing at his locker. The back of his neck was beet red and his shoulders were unnaturally tense.

Bitches.

The whole conversation reeked of a hundred similar scenarios I’d witnessed, reminding me of things that struck too close to home.

Skating around them, I hurried down the hall so I wouldn’t be late to class, but as soon as I walked into homeroom, I was turned right back around, with a note to take my happy butt to Ms. Reed’s office, guidance counselor extraordinaire
and
art teacher of the year.

Christ on a cracker, this was the last thing I wanted to do.

Slipping back down to the first floor, I groaned as the bell rang, signaling the start of homeroom. If Ms. Reed sucked up my time, I’d be late for first period, which meant everyone
would
stare at me as I entered class late.

Ugh.

My flip-flops slid over the recently polished face of a bulldog, and I then made a sharp left, slowing down as I hit the rotunda. The offices to the right were packed with staff, but before I could pay any attention to who was in there, I caught sight of my reflection.

Even in the glass, I could see the red stain on my cheek. Shifting my chin down, I let my hair slid forward, covering the mark. I passed through the rotunda and the door to Ms. Reed’s office burst open and a dark shape stepped out. There was no stopping the collision as the door swung closed.

I bounced off a chest—a hard, male chest. Stumbling a step, I almost fell back into the rotunda, but an arm shot out and a hand caught my arm, steadying me.

“Whoa, you okay?”

My body locked up at the sound of his voice, and my gaze started at the tan hiking boots and traveled up denim clad thighs, over an old screen t-shirt that clung to abs and then a broad chest and shoulders. I forced my eyes all the way up, and they met pale blue ones.

Jensen.

Stepping free from his hold, my mouth dried and my brain conveniently emptied. One brown eyebrow rose as he stared at me, and all I could think was this was the closest we’d been in four years.

Four. Years.

Ms. Reed’s door opened, drawing my attention. Her plump cheeks rose in a smile when she spotted me. “Ah, there you are, Ella. Come on in.” Stepping aside, she opened the door as she adjusted her square glasses. “It will only take a few minutes.”

I glanced back at Jensen, knowing I needed to say something—anything—to him, but no words came to mind. I wondered if I’d suffered brain damage when my head hit the road Saturday night.

Like a complete doofus, I turned toward Ms. Reed.

“Wait.” Jensen shifted forward blocking me. “You have one of those damn stinkbugs in your hair.”

“What?” I gasped, my heart wrenching to an abrupt stop.

“Bug,” he repeated in that smooth, deep voice. “In your hair.”

I raised my hands, swallowing my banshee-like shriek. “Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Reed murmured from the doorway—her bug free doorway.

Jensen’s lips twitched as he stepped closer. “It’s just a bug, Ella.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care.” I squeezed my eyes shut, flinging my hands. “Please get it out.
Please
.”

With my eyes closed, I couldn’t see jack, but I knew the very second he was close. The light scent of cologne mixed with the outdoors filled the next breath I took, and then I felt
his
warm breath along my forehead.

In an instant, I forgot about the bug as a shiver of awareness skated over my skin. Was it necessary for him to get
that
close? The air halted in my throat.

“Got it.” He moved back, and I opened my eyes to see him flicking the brown bug into what was hopefully the afterlife. “It’s gone now.”

I didn’t move. He was still so close. The tips of his boots touched my toes. His arm was close to mine, and I knew if I drew in a deep breath, my chest would brush his.

That one side of his lips curled up again, forming a lopsided smile. “You’re totally okay and have entered the bug-free zone.”

I still stood there.

Ms. Reed cleared her throat loudly. “Yes. I’m pretty sure the bug crisis has been avoided. All is well in the world once more.”

I blinked once. Then twice. And then my body was burning again. Jensen cocked his head and his eyes traveled over my face, lingering on my scratched cheek. He started to lift his hand, but with a little shake of his head, he spun around gracefully and walked away.

“Jensen!” I called out.

He stopped and then, as my heart pounded against my ribs, he slowly faced me. His expression was empty, but his pale blue eyes were locked onto mine with the intensity those eyes always held. I took a step forward. “Thank you.”

A muscle popped along his jaw as he watched me with a look that said he wasn’t quite sure he knew what I was thanking him for, but the words
I got you
cycled over and over again in my head.

“Thank you,” I repeated, holding his gaze. “For helping me Saturday night.”

Jensen hadn’t replied. All he’d done was nod and then turn back around. I probably would’ve stood there forever watching his retreating form if it hadn’t been for Ms. Reed motioning me into her office.

I still, a day and some later, couldn’t believe it had been Jensen of all people that had been the one to show up when he did, startling the attacker. If he hadn’t been getting into his truck at that very moment, turning on the lights when he had, God only knows what would’ve happened.

One thing I didn’t understand, and hadn’t been able to figure out was why Jensen was still out there by the road. He’d left a good five to ten minutes before I had. Or at least I thought he had.

“Why was Jensen here?” The question blurted out before I could stop myself. I flushed as I sat down. “That’s probably none of my business.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t be any of your business.” She sat behind her desk, folding her hands atop a closed file. A lock of dark hair fell across her forehead. “Normally. But I wanted to see him this morning for the same reason I wanted to see you. I wanted to make sure he was okay after everything, being that he was the one who… found you.”

Ms. Reed wasn’t too much older than us, and everyone liked her as far as I knew. She was relatable in a way most of the staff in school wasn’t. I enjoyed my time with her at the end of last year when I’d picked out my classes for senior year and she’d piled on the forms for financial aid and college applications, but that didn’t mean I wanted to care and share with her.

“I really don’t want to talk about Saturday night,” I said, sitting rigidly still.

A sympathetic smile crossed her face. “Too soon?”

“You could say that.” I reached up, picking up a strand of hair and twisting it around my finger, a nervous habit I’d never been able to break. “Before you ask, I’m totally okay.”

“Are you?”

My gaze flicked up, meeting hers.

“I know you can’t be a hundred percent okay, Ella. What happened Saturday night had to have been terrifying for you.”

Really, Captain Obvious?

The chair squeaked when she shifted, leaning back. “That kind of event is going to leave an impact on anyone, especially someone who—”

“I know,” I interrupted, feeling my stomach dip. Closing my eyes, my hands tightened until my sore palms ached. The mask—the porcelain looking clown face—flashed before me, forcing my eyes open. “But I don’t want to talk about it or anything else.”

Ms. Reed held my gaze for a moment longer and then nodded. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

I started to tell her no, but that’s not what came out of my mouth. “Can you help me defend myself?”

She blinked slowly. “Come again?”

“I couldn’t fight him off,” I said, my voice came out unexpectedly hoarse, and I struggled with my next breath. “I didn’t know how to. I couldn’t
fight
him and the only reason why I got away was luck—that’s it. Luck. I was helpless.” My voice cracked. “And I don’t want to feel that way again. So, unless you can help me become a ninja, there’s really no reason for me to sitting here.”

A beat of silence passed. “Well, I don’t know if I can help you become a ninja.”

“Of course not,” I muttered.

But she smiled widely, surprising me. “But I do know something about self-defense classes—more like someone who helped teach the one I was in during the summer. The classes are over, but I’m sure he’ll make an exception for you.”

So wasn’t expecting that. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” She looked happy to be helpful. “And to be honest, I think this is a brilliant idea. I think all women should take a course in self-defense. I wish we lived in a world where that wasn’t necessary and we didn’t have to worry about our safety, but until society wakes up and acknowledges we have a huge, misogynist problem on our hands, I rather be prepared to defend myself than not.”

I nodded so quickly my throat hurt. I was so relieved that Miss Reed hadn’t laughed in my face. “Exactly.”

“It’s also very empowering, and I’m proud that you are taking a step to gain back the power in the situation rather than doing nothing. Come back here at the end of the day and I should have the information for you.”

I stared at her.

Ms. Reed laughed softly. “Look, like I said, I think it’s a great idea for girls to learn how to defend themselves. Besides the fact that sadly a lot teenage boys are have been raised to believe that girls are put on Earth simply for them—”

My brows climbed up my forehead.

“—You can never be too safe. And I think that it will help you feel… better about things,” she continued, taking off her glasses. “Everyone talks about women needing to have ‘girl power,’ as if that’s something we’re just born with. I mean, really what is girl power? A pill or a drink we can take? Having a ton of female friends? Playing sports? Knowing how to kick box coming out of the uterus? Being incredibly wise or a general smartass?” She snorted while I openly gaped at her. “What exactly are we teaching our girls? That to be empowered is all about the things above? What about self-worth as empowerment? Instead of acting like a girl or hitting like a girl being wrong, it’s something to be proud of? Because let me tell you, I hit like a girl and I can knock someone into next week.”

I glanced around the office, my eyes wide. “Um…” “In my opinion, being empowered isn’t so much the act or what you do; it’s the driving force behind playing sports, having friends, knowing how to fight, and so on. It’s knowing when you need help and the conscious decision to seek it out instead of doing nothing. Being proactive and taking back any control I know
you
felt like you’ve lost even though you don’t want to tell me.”

“I… I did feel like I lost control,” I admitted, and I liked the idea I was empowering myself by doing this. I wasn’t just going to hide in my room or go about my life like nothing had happened. I was doing
something
at least.

“I know, Ella. This will help. It will bring only good things, and in the unlikely situation something happened again, even later in life, you’d be better prepared. That’s real empowerment, making that choice to no matter what, not to be a statistic.”

While I liked everything she was preaching—
girl power, roar!
—my brain got hung up on one thing. “Again?” I whispered, thinking about my belief in the statistical improbability of that occurring.

Ms. Reed’ smile faded as she slipped her glasses back on. “Better safe than sorry, Ella.”

#

I glanced down at the slip of paper Ms. Reed had handed to me as I walked out the back door of the school, following the steady stream of students walking to the parking lot. I’d swung by her office after classes had ended, got another sermon on empowerment and then was on my way. There was an address to a warehouse off of Airport Road and a cellphone number I didn’t recognize in case I got lost.

My throat dried as the paper fluttered between my fingers. Was I really going to do this? Ms. Reed told me my ‘instructor’ would be waiting for me after school and had been ‘extremely willing’ to help out.

Self-defense classes.

I almost laughed because the only form of exercise I did recently was walking from my front door to my car, and I imagined that self-defense lessons were going to be one hell of a work out.

An almost familiar buzz of excitement trilled through my veins. I recognized the feeling before it could slip away from me. It was the same sensation when I used to lace up my running sneakers.

A sudden whooping drew my attention to the weight room and locker rooms. Our football team barreled out the door, heading to the football field on the hill for practice. Some carried their shoulder pads, others wore them over white shirts.