Лайза Макманн - Cryer's Cross

“Vassar.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Tons of women there.”

Kendall laughs. “Good for you. You got accepted?”

“Yep.” Eli looks at his feet and blushes. “Got the letter the other day.”

“That is so cool!” She hugs him tightly. “I’m really glad for you.”

“Thanks. Want to make out?”

Kendall laughs. “No, not since that unfortunate spin the bottle incident in sixth grade in stupid Brandon’s basement.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that. But hey, worth a try.” Eli scoops the last bit of salsa from his plate and licks his fingers. “Now for dessert,” he says. “I heard there’s flan. And cookies.” He winks at her.

“Go for it.” Kendall smiles as she watches Eli go back inside, and then she turns back to her plate. She glances at Jacián again, and this time he’s staring intently at her. When he sees her looking, he turns away and roughly shoves charred peppers into a paper bag.

She puts her fork down, suddenly not hungry anymore, and then turns to bring her plate inside.

Inside, people are dancing. Marlena’s still using crutches with her boot, so dancing is out of the question for her. Kendall hangs out on the couch with her and the other girls for a while, but then with a little encouragement, she joins in.

Her adrenaline soars. It feels so good to dance after weeks without it. As the afternoon progresses into evening, the half-drunk adults completely clear the living room of furniture and really start the celebration.

Kendall dances with Hector and with Eli, even though he’s terrible at it and keeps stepping on her feet.

She gets lots of cheers from the partyers. It’s so much fun — she wonders why the little town doesn’t do parties more often. Stupid potatoes.

As it grows late, more people drop out or leave entirely, but Marlena shouts for Kendall to stay, to keep dancing. The other girls get up on the floor with her, and things get a little wild. When one of them spins and trips, Hector turns on a sexy couples song to clear away the singles. It’s perfect for the salsa.

Hector has bowed out of the dancing portion, claiming he’s too old and tired, and none of the boys have a clue how to do it. So Kendall steps to the doorway and watches Mr. and Mrs. Obregon dance. A few other couples join in, but there aren’t many in this town who know the steps.

A moment later Jacián appears inside the house for the first time since the party started. He’s wearing a fresh white T-shirt. He steps into the room and goes up to his parents. “Hey, Mama!” he shouts, a smile on his face. She laughs and waves at him to come. Jacián cuts in on his father, taking his mother by the hand.

The girls in the room go slack-jawed as he moves almost perfectly to the gorgeous dance. When he messes up, he grins wide, and his mother smiles back.

Kendall stares.

Mr. Obregon stands next to her. “He’s not bad, my boy,” he says proudly. Mr. Obregon has a deep accent, deeper than and different from Hector’s. His voice is rich and warm and just a bit more weathered than Jacián’s.

Kendall swallows hard. “How did he learn that?”

“It was a part of his soccer training. All of the soccer, basketball, and football teams at his old school learn to dance. Makes them better players.”

“Impressive,” Kendall says. No wonder he’s so fluid on the field, Kendall thinks. That twinge inside her grows stronger. She feels like she’s drooling. And there, across the room, are Nico’s parents, watching her. Kendall tears her eyes away from Jacián. She weaves through the group of people crowded at the door and slips out, down the hallway and outside to where she can breathe. She takes one last look at

Jacián through the picture window and then walks out into the yard, the chill of evening feeling delicious on her sweaty skin. She walks past the still-smoldering fire pit and heads toward the horse barn, breathing in the scents of fall. Leaves crunch under her feet. She takes in the deep night, the bright stars.

The silence of air.

The horse barn is locked up for the night. It figures, considering the strange stuff of Cryer’s Cross these days. Kendall sinks to the grass and leans up against the barn wall, staring into the night. Thinking.

About everything. Nico. And college. Jacián and how hot she feels lately when she’s around him. And then the guilt comes again. Pounding her, beating her up.

Alongside that is the crazy, otherworldly scariness of the desk. And again, now that she is alone, she wonders if there actually might be something real about it. What if it truly is Nico? What if he is trapped in the school, being kept tied up by. . by old Mr. Greenwood? And maybe he is allowed to roam the school at night, leaving messages for Kendall?

But why wouldn’t he leave them on Kendall’s desk? And if it were Nico doing the graffiti, how could he make the new stuff look like it had been there for years — and why would he want to?

Kendall thinks she knows now. She’s pretty damn sure.

Because that desk, the desk that makes people disappear, is possessed.

And maybe so are the people who touch it.

It dawns on her. There’s no kidnapper. There’s absolutely no need for this crazy buddy system. Kendall could wander Cryer’s Cross naked in the middle of the darkest night and nobody would kidnap her.

It’s not a who.

It’s a what.

She shudders violently. “Fletcher! You’re crazy,” she reprimands. “Knock it off already.”

A stick crackles, as if Kendall’s outburst startles someone. Kendall whips around and scrambles to her feet. She peers into the darkness. Her heart pounds. She backs up to the barn as tightly as she can, as if its size and structure can give her strength.

A figure appears and stops abruptly as if it senses her.

Kendall freezes. “Who’s there?”

“It’s just me,” Jacián says. He walks toward her, peering through the darkness. “Your parents are here.

They’re worried because they couldn’t find you.”

“Oh.”

“I said I knew where you were and that you were fine.”

“Oh,” she says again. Flustered. “Did you?”

“I saw you go out.” He stands there a moment. “So you should probably go back inside and prove that for me now, so I don’t get interrogated again. For the third time.” He turns and starts walking back to the house.

“Jacián,” Kendall says.

“What?”

She jogs to catch up to him, not knowing what she intends to say, only that she doesn’t want him to walk away. “You’re a really good dancer.”

“So are you.” His voice is husky from working in the smoke all evening.

“You saw?”

His silence is affirmation enough.

Kendall shoves her hands into her jeans pockets, shivers a little. “When did you break up with your girlfriend?”

He’s quiet for a minute. “That night I went to your house. It was over between us months ago, when I moved. It just took us a long time to say it out loud.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shoves a hand into his pocket and looks up to the sky. “It didn’t seem like it would make any difference to you.” After a moment he turns toward the house and starts walking again, faster this time.

“Jacián,” she says again, and jogs after him. “Wait.”

“What now?”

“I. . just. .” She grips his arm. Feels her heart pound.

He stops. Turns toward her. “You feel like slapping me again?”

“Yes,” she says. She can hardly breathe.

He stands there for a moment, and then he slips his fingers behind her neck, weaving them into her hair, his breath warm on her face. He crushes his lips against hers, pulls her body close, closer.

Kendall can’t think. She reaches for his neck, his face, tentatively, moving to his chest, grabbing his Tshirt in her fingers. She can’t breathe. Doesn’t want to breathe. Just wants to forget everything.