Ripple (11 page)

Seth walks me to my fourth-hour class, his hand in mine. But all I can think about is how I swore the police had come for
me
. For the drugs in my locker. And instead, Jack got hauled out of the lunchroom by a cop.

Now I keep thinking how he's probably getting into serious trouble right now. But I don't know why I'm even wasting brain synapses on him. I'm sure he deserves whatever he gets. It's just that, on his way out of the cafeteria, the last person he looked at was me.

“You okay?” Seth asks.

“Yeah,” I say too quickly.

We pass by the art room. I do everything I can not to look in or to sniff at the scent of clay and paint wafting from the doorway. But I can't help it. And the minute I see the controlled chaos of brushes and paintings drying and people putting on aprons as they get ready to create, my chest tightens until I want to cry.

In February, when Grandma Leighton unveiled her plans for the rest of my life to me and my parents, my senior-year schedule got instantly rearranged. Economics replaced the psychology class
I was excited about. My cherished art elective was stomped out of existence by a speech and communications class, apparently good for leadership. Now the closest I've come to art recently is doodling a camera on my arm with pen during my boring second-hour class.

Inside the art room, Mrs. Gretta, my favorite teacher in existence, waves at me. Like she misses me. And I have to turn away before I actually cry.

“Hey there,” Simone Channing calls, strutting up to us. And my already sour mood moves to beyond bitter.

Simone lays a hand on Seth's shoulder as if he doesn't already see her, as if I'm not standing right there. Seth doesn't move away either.

“Did you hear what happened?” Simone's whole body is jittery with excitement like she has just gorged on gossip and is about to puke it all over us. She leans between Seth and me, but more toward him, and says slowly, “Someone hit Emma Hadley.”

“Hit?” Seth asks. “You mean, like, punched her?”

Emma's stalled blue car flashes in my head. Her arms waving as I pass by.

“No, silly. Not punched.” Simone pushes her face so close to his, I think she might go in for a kiss. “Someone hit her this weekend with their car and then took off.”

Her words scrape through me like jagged ice chips. Cold. Painful. All she needed was a ride. Or maybe just a cell phone.
But I didn't stop.

“A hit-and-run?” Seth asks.

Simone nods, her model-worthy features filled with excitement over this gossip.

“Is she dead?” I ask, every muscle tense, my tone higher than normal.

She graces me with a quick glance. “Not dead,” she says, and my relief is instant. “But she's at Worton County Hospital with some pretty bad injuries. I guess she'll need rehab before she can walk again.”

“Wow,” Seth says. I realize his hand has left mine. “That sucks.”

“For sure, right?” Simone says. “Well, I've got to get to class, but I'll see you at the football-cheer mixer on Friday night, right?” I know she asks him for my benefit. He nods. And she smiles all flirty, letting her superior gaze fall on me before strutting off.

But right now, I don't care what Simone does. I shiver. My mind is stuck on Emma's face, on her sad, horrified image as
The Scream
, but with her elf-like wool hat, the balled tip trailing down her back. I left her in the blinding darkness, alone, to crawl into my own dark with a stranger. And no matter how wrong I knew it was, I couldn't stop myself from doing it.

•   •   •

The last bell rings. This day has sucked with the news of Emma, and it's only bound to get worse with a drug deal on my horizon. I head down to the main office to get this new-student tour over with for Juliette. Then I'll get my “errand” done for Ty. My stomach wrenches.

When I come into the office, Mrs. Cronson, the school's head secretary, throws me a wave. “Hey, Tessa.” She gets up from her desk against the wall, then heads to the massive counter between us. She smooths her salt-and-pepper hair around her ears. “Saw your mom at the administration building the other day. Looks like she and I will be working the district fund-raising fair together.”

I force a broad smile and a “That's great!” But all I can think of are Ty's drugs sitting in my bag.

“We were short one person, so she stepped right up to offer a bit of her free time. So it'll be me and Principal Levy and your mom doing the concession stand.”

“Great,” I offer.

“Your mom is a wonderful gal, Tessa.” She nods.

“She is,” I say, genuine this time.

“I hear she's up for tenure. I'll keep my fingers crossed for her.” Mrs. Cronson holds up two crossed fingers. Like my mom, she works hard, makes too little money. The drugs in my bag and my guilt burn.

“What brings you to the office, hon?” Mrs. Cronson asks.

I turn, spy a short Asian guy with thick, black-rimmed glasses standing by the Forms and Flyers kiosk. He reads a flyer on the human papillomavirus, how it's spread through sexual contact. “I'm guessing he does.” I walk up to him. “Hi.”

He ignores me. Keeps reading.

“Hey,” I say again. “Are you here for the school tour?”

He lifts his head, looks at me, confused.

“He is, hon,” Mrs. Cronson says. “He's just not completely fluent in English.”

“Oh.” I turn to him, fill my face with some genuine warmth. He smiles back.

“I thought Juliette was doing the tour today,” Mrs. Cronson says.

“She's got a meeting about the Halloween dance, so I told her I'd do it.”

“Well, his name is Mun-Hee Kwon,” she says.

“I'm sorry?”

“He's a foreign exchange student from Korea. His name is Mun-Hee Kwon.”

“I'm Mun-Hee Kwon.” He points to himself. “American name is Mo.”

“Mo.” I think how this tour might be a little awkward with our language barrier, but I offer him a come-follow-me wave. “Okay, let's do this.”

“Wait,” Mrs. Cronson says. “You've got one more student for the tour.”

“Where is—” I start, but stop as Jack S. Dalton strolls into the office.

“I'm here for the student tour,” he says. His gaze sets on me, and a smile streaks across his face.

“Hi, Jack.” Mrs. Cronson gives him a wave.

“Hey, Mrs. Cronson. You look especially nice today.”

She actually blushes. “Thanks, hon.” She points at me. “This is Tessa Leighton. She'll be taking you on the tour today.”

A dark brown eyebrow shoots high into Jack's forehead as he looks at me. One side of his curvy lips ticks upward. “Tessa Leighton.” He says my name like it's delicious. “Tessa. Okay. Go ahead, Tessa. Guide me.”

My cheeks burn. My mind shoots right back to me on the ground in the hallway, him on top of me.

“I'm Mo.” The Korean kid holds his hand out to Jack and pulls me from whatever stupor I'd fallen into.

Jack towers over him, could probably punt this kid across the entire length of a football field if he gave a crap about football. But he shakes Mo's hand with tons of gusto. Then throws
his arm around his shoulders as if they've been friends since birth.

“Come on, Mo,” Jack says. “Let's see what amazing things Tessa has to show us.”

•   •   •

I'm speed-walking through the school halls, my tote bag scratching against my thigh because there was no way in hell I was going to leave it in the main office with a baggie of drugs stuffed into it. Jack has long legs, strides easily behind me, but Mo is practically running to catch up. I will myself to slow down, even though I feel Jack's eyes on me. I've already steered us past the media center, several bathrooms, the cafeteria, the large-group instruction rooms, and the science lab.

Before we started, Jack shoved ten pieces of gum into his mouth. At every stop we make, he rips off a piece from the masticated wad, sticks it on a wall, a desk, at the base of a door.

“What are you doing?” I finally ask, completely disgusted as he sticks a piece of gum to a bathroom door kick plate.

“Covering my tracks.” He winks.

I look at him, confused.

He pushes his gum wad to one side of his mouth so he can articulate clearly. “At some point in the future, now that I can call this school my own, I may, under certain circumstances, do something that requires an inquiry into my behavior and person. It is simply logic that there are two ways to not get caught when one's behavior is questioned. One: leave absolutely no traces of DNA. Or two: flood the scene with your DNA. I'm simply marking my territory. You know, just in case.”

Mo looks blankly at Jack, then nods as if Jack is actually making sense. But my palm itches to smack Jack's smug face.

I hustle to the lone door at the end of the west-side hallway. I take a deep breath, then say, “And this is the student center.”

Jack's mouth perks up on one side. “We can see that.” He points to the giant “Student Center” sign above the door.

I suppress a glare, grip the strap of my tote, and talk directly to Mo. “So you come here if you want to get some extra tutoring or have questions about graduation requirements.” I'm talking so fast, even a native English speaker couldn't understand me. “There's tons of college information in there, too, in case you want to research your plans after high school.”

“And what
are
your plans after high school, Tessa Leighton?” Jack cocks his head, curious.

“I'll go to the University of Michigan.” I force confidence into my tone but drop my eyes too quickly.

“Hmm,” he says.

I whisk back around. “Okay, then. Let's go check out the gym. That's wildly fascinating.”

“Wait.” Jack's fingers gently grip my upper arm, stopping me. He's got that smug look he had at the football game, like some devious plan's percolating.

“Why?” I say with caution.

He ignores me. “Hey, Mo, you want to take the tour that no other student ever gets?”

Mo looks at Jack, confused. His black-rimmed glasses have fallen down the bridge of his nose.

Jack slowly nods. Mo nods back just as slowly, but I can tell he doesn't completely understand.

“See,” Jack says to me. “Mo wants a better tour.”

“No way, Jack.” I shake my head hard. “I can't.”

Jack steps closer. “You can.” He says it like we're about to jump
off the edge of the world, like he's holding his hand out for me, silently asking me to trust him. His lean, lanky body curls like a rescue hook above me.

I shake my head again, the heavy pressure to be good and successful on my mom's, my stepdad's, my grandmother's terms pushing down on me. “I can't, Jack. I can't get into trouble.”

He stares at me for a moment. His dimpled chin, his forehead beneath the splash of dark bangs, the corners of his mouth, all softened. “I won't let you get into trouble, Tessa.”

He throws one arm around Mo. Then gently wraps his other around my shoulders. His scent, like he's literally a piece of a ripe tree in the forest, instantly crawls into my nose. I will myself not to lean into him.

And I realize that the way Jack simply looks at me affects me. The tiny flutters Seth gives me seem weak and flat compared with how my insides practically turn over when Jack is near. So I let it happen. I let him take me toward whatever crazy place he wants to go.

•   •   •

“Where are you taking us?” I ask as Jack leads us down the hall. The thought of what I'll be doing later pokes in my brain like a giant thistle. I just want this tour over.

Jack gives me a semi-guilty look. “I kind of explored the building before school started this year.”

I'm only half shocked. “You broke into the school?”

His gives a quick shrug. “I plead the Fifth on that one.”

“I bet you do that a lot,” I quip.

“Again, the Fifth. But there is so much more to this school than you know. So it's time for
me
to guide
you
.” He winks, his face inches from mine.

I can't stop wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Want to know how intense he'd be if we were as close as we could get. And for just a second, I question if I could break my rule and hook up with someone right in this school, right in the thick of everything, with my boyfriend right around whatever next hallway.

But like a sharp reminder, my drug-filled tote bag digs deep into my thigh. Stings there. I've already been caught.

Then Jack stops us in front of a wooden door that says “School Staff Only,” breaks out a paper clip, and picks the lock.

“I think I should go,” I say.

The staff-only door swings open to a stairwell. “Too late. Adventure's already started.” Jack motions at Mo to go first. His fingers link with mine. Something warm and electric shoots through me.

I think about how, when I'm with Seth or with one of my hookups, when hands are on me, I close my eyes so often, crawl into my own head to make the moment what I want. But I can't stop staring at Jack's profile as he leads me forward. And what I feel is so much more powerful. Somehow crackling, heating up with his palm simply pressing against mine. It takes every ounce of my strength not to squeeze his hand back.

He pulls me up the stairs, lets my hand loose at the top, leaving me cold again. Old desks, broken chairs, file boxes, random papers litter the space. Obviously a storage room. But I notice on one desk against a far wall that the papers have been cleared and a lamp sits next to a mug filled with sharpened pencils. Like someone uses the spot.

I glance at Jack, but he's too busy chuckling to himself, watching Mo open random desk drawers, rummage through boxes. Mo clearly doesn't understand that here in the United States, we love our forensics. Just like Jack said, his DNA could implicate him later.