Ann Aguirre - Mortal Danger

After the services, I paid my respects to the family and Mrs. King hugged me. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” That felt like the wrong response, but I didn’t know what else to say. I stood for thirty seconds, letting her hug me and then I stepped back. No matter what Kian said, I still felt guilty. My head felt like scrambled eggs, and I was full of crazy theories, like what if I asked for the power to make the Teflon crew pay, and then my third wish was for a memory wipe of that request, so I didn’t have to live with the guilt. Surreptitiously, I checked my wrist. Only one hash mark atop the infinity symbol.

I didn’t sleep much that night.

Friday, I went to school late, so I could skip first period. I didn’t feel like dealing with Mr. Love’s scrutiny. Since I’d dropped that warning, he had been different, watchful and cold. The other girls hadn’t noticed, but they were purblind where he was concerned, seeing only the carefully disheveled hair and keen insights into poems we’d read before.

Apart from pictures of Brittany hanging near the main office, things got back to normal. Classes resumed their usual curriculum and the teachers were determinedly cheerful. At lunch, the cafeteria was back to full capacity, though people were quieter than usual, less yelling, less wandering between tables. Most of the Teflon crew was back. After hesitating for a few seconds, I took my lunch to the table, thinking, I should try to make some real friends.

As I sat down, I noticed Russ was still absent. Davina, especially, seemed worried about him. “Has anyone heard from him?” she asked.

I was still feeling horrible about Brittany. Plus, he wasn’t on my list of people worth giving a crap about, but I only shook my head. Surprisingly, the rest of the crew didn’t know anything, either. Davina turned to Cam. “I thought you guys were supposed to be tight.”

“Excuse me for having other things on my mind. My girlfriend just died .”

She looked like he’d slapped her. “I’m just … worried. It’s not like him to—”

“You’re so funny,” Allison cut in. “I bet you think you’re actually dating. On the DL, right? So you don’t have to ‘deal with drama’ from everyone else?”

Davina sucked in a shaky breath. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know everything . You’re not his girlfriend, you’re his bike, available anytime he feels like a ride.” Allison glanced around and seemed to take offense at our expressions. “What? It’s not a secret. Russ is always adopting strays and letting them think they have a shot at being one of us.”

“ Bitch .” Shoving back from the table, Davina grabbed her tray and looked for somewhere else to sit.

Without realizing I’d made a decision, I stood up, too. “There are some chairs over there. This table reeks.”

I didn’t realize we had started a mass exodus until Jen joined us; I glanced over and saw the guys looking at Allison as if she were the shit on their shoes. And then Cam said clearly, “Jesus Christ. I have no idea why Brit was friends with you.”

Then they left the table that they’d staked out freshman year to sit with the three of us, leaving Allison alone. Her cheeks were hot with rage or shame, her eyes dark as thunderclouds. She lowered her head and went back to her lunch, but the other students were smirking at her. Her behavior was odd, like she felt she had to be extra mean to make up for Brittany’s loss.

“That was too far,” Cam said, and the other guys nodded.

Like you’d know. But obviously he had a different rulebook for girls like Brittany. She deserved better than I had. I stared hard at him, remembering.

To her credit, Davina didn’t say anything about Allison; she was focused on Russ. “I’ve texted twelve times and he hasn’t answered. Is he replying to anyone else?”

Cam checked his phone. “Nope. And I’m sorry for what I said before.”

God, I hated seeing him act … human, apologizing to people. In my mind, he was a horned, cloven-hoofed monster with no redeeming qualities. One by one, the rest of the table scrolled through texts and then shook their heads.

“I’ll call Russ’s house. I’m sure his mom can tell me what’s going on.” Cam waited while it rang, then said, “Mrs. Thomas? This is Cameron Dean.” A pause. “Yes, it’s awful.” Another pause. “Thanks, I hope so, too. I was wondering if Russ is sick. I can bring his—what?” He stopped talking, eyes widening. “No, I haven’t seen him in days. And he wasn’t at Brit’s funeral, either. No, I’m sorry. Yes, that’s fine. I’m sorry .”

Shaken, he dropped his cell on the table as a bad feeling swelled in my stomach. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

Cam answered, “Russ told his mom he was staying with me for a few days … because of Brit. So I didn’t have to be alone. His parents thought he was at my place this whole time.”

“Oh my God.” Jen’s face paled. “Shit. So he’s … missing ?”

Hearing it put into words, Davina burst into tears.

That afternoon, I went home with Jen and Davina. Jen’s mother was a beautiful Thai woman who spoke perfect English. She looked as if she might’ve been a former model or actress, which explained Jen’s good looks. Ms. Bishop was also polite and charming, delighted to meet Jen’s new friends. Or so she said; I was inclined to believe her. She drove us to a restored three-story Victorian out near Beacon Hill. That alone told me the family had money, but the inside was breathtaking, tastefully decorated in an East-West-fusion style that was calming and warm.

“I’m sure the three of you don’t need me to hover,” she said, hanging up her jacket in the hall closet. “So Jen can show you to her room, but let me or the housekeeper know if you need anything.”

So it’s that kind of house.

“Come on.” Jen went through to the hall, the walls a pale cream that contrasted beautifully with the dark wood of the staircase.

I’d always liked our apartment; it had character, but I had the feeling I was about to feel inadequate. We went up two flights to the top of the house, where Jen had the whole floor. Walls had been torn down to create an enormous suite with oval windows all around. The ceiling slanted on three sides, and she had a full-size bed with a couple of futons placed on the other side of a rice paper and bamboo screen to create a small TV room. She also had a mini-fridge and an electric kettle. Add in the big en suite bathroom, and I saw no reason why she’d ever need to leave.

Apparently Davina shared my minor awe. “You could live up here.”

“I do, pretty much.”

“Your mother seems cool, though.” I understood why some teenagers wanted privacy from their parents, but Ms. Bishop didn’t strike me as a helicopter mom.

“She’s fine. But my parents have a lot of parties. My dad is an entertainment lawyer and it’s ‘part of his job to schmooze.’” Jen sounded like she was quoting him. “So I’m glad I have my own floor, otherwise they’d drive me nuts with the constant noise.”

“Any celebrities?” Davina wanted to know.

“Depends on what you mean by that. D-list, sometimes, people who were in soap operas ten years ago and are trying to get endorsement deals in Japan or Thailand.”

“Not too exciting,” I said.

Jen grinned. “Trust me, I’d be downstairs if any real stars were in my living room.”

“So what’re we watching tonight?” Davina asked.

“I found an Anna Faris movie for the rom-com and a terrible SF about a time-traveling T. rex for the sci-fi portion of the evening.”